Chapter Ninety-Seven: Blood Fury (Please Support)

Stepping out of the reception room, Ning Teng vanished without a trace, leaving only Yang Ze and Huang Mujian standing there.

Beads of sweat still clung to Huang Mujian’s forehead. He exhaled deeply, feeling a great weight lift from his chest, then looked at Yang Ze with a smile. “I was a bit out of line just now. Please don’t make fun of me, Junior Brother Yang.”

“Not at all, Senior Brother Huang. What you say is far from the truth. I’m merely a registered disciple without any rank—I would never dare to mock you,” Yang Ze replied humbly, shaking his head repeatedly.

“Junior Brother Yang, there’s no need for such formality. You’re now under Elder Ning’s guidance. To have caught his eye means your talent must be exceptional. Shedding the status of a mere registered disciple will be no problem for you; perhaps even entering the inner sect won’t be difficult. When that time comes, I may be the one calling you senior brother,” Huang Mujian spoke sincerely.

His words were heartfelt. Had this been another registered disciple, Huang Mujian wouldn’t have regarded them so highly.

After all, Huang Mujian was a second-rank martial artist. Registered disciples hadn’t even broken into the first rank, so he barely glanced their way. But Yang Ze was backed by Ning Teng, and since he had just stirred up trouble, it was wise to curry favor with Yang Ze.

“Senior Brother, you flatter me. But I have a question: before you left the Martial Academy, weren’t you already an inner sect disciple?” Yang Ze asked.

“If I could have become an inner sect disciple, I wouldn’t be here now. To enter the inner court for cultivation, one must have at least fourth-rank mastery, the realm of Unity. My strength isn’t sufficient, and I’ve spent a long time in the outer court, knowing well that I have no hope of advancing. So, I applied for an assignment here, managing a local business venture — it’s quite a comfortable arrangement,” Huang Mujian explained.

Yang Ze was stunned. At Wu Yang Martial Academy, second-rank disciples could be inner sect disciples, but at the Piao Miao Martial Academy in Wen City, inner sect disciples had to reach fourth rank mastery. The disparity in strength was enormous.

“Well, Junior Brother Yang, since this is your first time at the Piao Miao Guild in Wen City, let’s not dwell on such matters. Tonight, I’ll take you on a proper tour of the guild,” Huang Mujian said, clearly wanting to change the subject.

He no longer wished to discuss his own shortcomings. All he wanted was to offer Yang Ze some good things, hoping Yang would speak well of him before Elder Ning. Huang Mujian didn’t want to lose his position over this recent mistake.

Yang Ze wasn’t naive. He immediately saw Huang Mujian’s intentions but didn’t expose them. Judging by the situation, Huang Mujian seemed about to offer him something, so naturally, there was no reason to refuse. He also understood what Huang Mujian expected in return.

“Then please, lead the way, Senior Brother.”

“Follow me!” Huang Mujian said, leading the way as Yang Ze followed behind.

Compared to Yu Yang City, Wen City was incomparably more prosperous and powerful—far beyond anything Yu Yang could match. The treasures within the Piao Miao Guild dazzled Yang Ze’s eyes.

He had never seen so many fine items in his life. He even suspected that the combined treasure troves of all the families in Yu Yang City might not rival that of a single Piao Miao Guild.

As they walked, they arrived at a warehouse storing weapons. Huang Mujian ordered the guard to open the large doors and led Yang Ze inside.

“All the weapons stored here are of the ‘Sharp Weapon’ grade,” Huang Mujian said.

Upon entering the warehouse, Yang Ze immediately sensed an overwhelming aura of lethality—an aura exuded only by truly excellent weapons.

“‘Sharp Weapon’?” Yang Ze asked, curious.

“You may not know, Junior Brother Yang, but in the martial world, weapons are ranked by quality into four categories: Ordinary Weapons, Sharp Weapons, Treasured Weapons, and Spiritual Weapons,” Huang Mujian explained.

“Each category further divides into upper, middle, and lower tiers. Most weapons used by ordinary people don’t even qualify as Ordinary Weapons. The sword you carry on your back could be considered a mid-tier Ordinary Weapon, although by my judgment, it’s not even top-grade among those,” he continued.

Yang Ze understood at once. He hadn’t realized weapons were classified so specifically.

He hadn’t expected his own sword, one of the finest in Yu Yang City, to be only a mid-grade Ordinary Weapon. That was surprising. Perhaps Yu Yang City didn’t even have any Sharp Weapons.

Thinking of the entire warehouse filled with Sharp Weapons, Yang Ze imagined if all these were dumped into Yu Yang City—it would surely plunge the city into chaos.

“Senior Brother, you mentioned the four weapon categories, but what about magical treasures? What rank do they fall under?” Yang Ze asked, recalling the fishing rod Ning Teng wielded—it was a magical treasure.

Huang Mujian’s heart tightened. For Yang Ze to know about magical treasures meant he must have seen one before. Huang Mujian had never laid eyes on a magical treasure in his life. Yang Ze’s connections truly were extraordinary.

Though a trace of jealousy flickered within, Huang Mujian smiled and said, “Magical treasures aren’t weapons. Even a Spiritual Weapon can’t match their power. Every magical treasure possesses immense might. I’ve never seen a Spiritual Weapon, let alone a magical treasure.”

Yang Ze nodded in understanding but didn’t press further.

“I see you favor the blade. Now that you’re a registered disciple, it wouldn’t do to wield a mere ordinary-grade blade. Since it’s your first visit here, I have no fine gifts to offer, so feel free to pick any good blade you like to take with you,” Huang Mujian said heartily, displaying great generosity.

Yang Ze’s eyes gleamed. Why refuse a gift so freely given?

“Do you have any recommendations, Senior Brother? Searching one by one might take forever.”

“Hahaha, since you ask, follow me,” Huang Mujian chuckled, leading Yang Ze to the innermost row of racks.

Stopping at the far left side of the row, Huang Mujian took down a sandalwood box from the top shelf.

“Junior Brother Yang, would you like to open this box and take a look?”

Yang Ze stared at the box and swiftly opened it, revealing a jet-black scabbard inside. The hilt bore two interwoven veins that stood out strikingly.

Pressing his hand on the hilt, Yang Ze drew the sheathed blade from the box.

The moment he grasped it, he felt the weight—at least thirty pounds. It was clearly a heavy blade.

Yang Ze was surprised. Such a sharp weapon weighing this much suggested immense power, though it demanded great strength to wield.

“This blade is called Blood Death. It’s a superior Sharp Weapon. Without the scabbard, it weighs thirty-one pounds and measures three feet three inches. Made from top-quality refined iron, it was forged by a master craftsman through countless hammer strikes,” Huang Mujian introduced.

“The name ‘Blood Death’ comes from its forging process—tempered using flesh and blood, naturally exuding a murderous aura. When drawn, it bursts with killing intent, intimidating foes. This feature elevates it beyond a mid-grade Sharp Weapon, making it a superior Sharp Weapon,” he continued.

Listening to Huang Mujian, Yang Ze swiftly drew the blade halfway out of its scabbard.

Suddenly, a bloody aura filled the warehouse, enough to unsettle anyone with a weak mind.

“A fine blade!” Yang Ze exclaimed.

With a strong tug, he fully unsheathed the Blood Death sword, holding it before him.

Returning the scabbard to the box, Yang Ze drew his own sword from his back. The two blades stood side by side, and at a glance, Yang Ze could tell which was superior.

He lightly tapped the Blood Death with his own blade, noticing several tiny chips along his sword’s edge.

Yang Ze was amazed by the vast difference between an ordinary weapon and a sharp weapon.

“Looks like I wasn’t mistaken. Junior Brother Yang, no need to test further. The gap between these two blades is enormous. A mid-grade Ordinary Weapon compared to a superior Sharp Weapon is like paper against steel,” Huang Mujian laughed.

Yang Ze sheathed both blades and closed the sandalwood box.

Huang Mujian looked surprised. “What’s the matter? Are you dissatisfied with the Blood Death?”

“It’s not dissatisfaction. This blade is too good. I came here empty-handed and to take such a fine sword without offering anything in return feels unearned. I can’t accept it,” Yang Ze shook his head, seeming hesitant to take the blade.

“Nonsense, Junior Brother. We two have a bond from the start. As the overseer of the Piao Miao Guild in Wen City, I have full authority to gift a Sharp Weapon. I only ask that you speak well of me before Elder Ning in the future,” Huang Mujian said with a laugh, reopening the box and handing the sword to Yang Ze.

This time, Yang Ze accepted without hesitation, gripping the Blood Death firmly. “Senior Brother, your kindness is clear. To refuse now would be ungrateful. Rest assured, I will praise you to Elder Ning whenever I can.”

Huang Mujian’s smile grew even broader as he led Yang Ze out.

They spoke at length, and only when night had deepened did Yang Ze leave, returning to the room Huang Mujian had prepared for him.

Before he could enter, he heard Ning Teng’s voice nearby. Changing direction, Yang Ze approached another room.

He knocked twice, and the door opened automatically.

Inside, Ning Teng was seated cross-legged in meditation.

Before Ning Teng could speak, Yang Ze quickly said, “I happened to have something to discuss with Elder. I intended to wait until tomorrow since it was late, but I didn’t expect Elder to summon me now.”