Chapter 122: Advancement (Please Subscribe)

The white light surged into his eyes and converged within his mind. Yang Ze’s consciousness could clearly feel that something entirely different had manifested deep within his thoughts.

His consciousness perceived a world shrouded in mist, where a bolt of white lightning suddenly tore through the void. Once it appeared, the lightning did not vanish; instead, it took the form of a long saber—a blade that appeared somewhat blurred.

The moment this indistinct saber emerged, a powerful aura erupted from it, causing the mists in that world to roil and churn. When the aura reached its peak, a streak of sword energy suddenly manifested from the blade and descended from the sky with an unstoppable, crushing momentum.

This sword energy was incomparable to anything Yang Ze had ever unleashed. The moment it appeared, all other thoughts in his consciousness were purged, leaving only the terrifying image of that single strike. It spanned the heavens and the earth, a strike that seemed capable of shattering anything in its path. As it fell, Yang Ze’s consciousness shattered, and he was instantly jolted out of his trance.

His eyes regained their focus, and his body swayed. Once he gathered his wits, he stood firmly on the spot. His breathing had become heavy. Looking down, he saw the bamboo slip lying on the ground and reached out to pick it up.

Examining the slip again, the previously blurred and illegible characters had returned to normal. It was clearly just a mundane saber technique with nothing remarkable about it. Yang Ze put the bamboo slip back where it belonged. Though it had returned to its ordinary state, he could never forget the earth-shattering blade energy that had manifested in his mind. He could not even fathom what level of cultivation would be required to execute such a terrifying strike; compared to it, his own blade energy was nothing more than child’s play.

As he pondered the imprint left behind in his mind, Yang Ze slowly closed his eyes. A flash of inspiration struck him. He slowly raised his right hand, and his True Essence automatically emanated, wrapping around his hand and concentrating there.

He did not strike out, but Yang Ze opened his eyes, a look of excitement flashing through them. He could feel that the mere impression left in his mind had already exerted a profound influence on him. Keeping the sensation of that strike fixed in his memory, he walked quickly out of the library. By now, there were few people left in the building.

After quickly making a rubbing of the "Swift Wind Bone-Breaking Hand," Yang Ze rushed out. He did not dare to pause along the way; to an observer, he looked as if he were being hunted.

Deep in the underground chamber of the library, Zhang Chengxuan had already stood up. Even with his fifth-rank cultivation, he had not been able to discover the cause of the aura that had pressed down upon the library moments ago. Recalling that fleeting energy, even someone as strong as Zhang Chengxuan felt a trace of fear in his heart; the feeling that aura gave him was something he could not hope to contend with.

"There are very few in the Martial Academy capable of such an aura, and none of them are on Qingyang Peak. For an outsider to break in is even more impossible; the academy’s defenses are too strict. Even a powerhouse at the level of the Dean could not enter without alerting someone. This is no small matter; I must report this to Piaomiao Peak. If an outsider has truly infiltrated, it will be a disaster." With a wave of his hand, the door to the underground chamber opened automatically.

Just as he was about to step out, Zhang Chengxuan sensed someone moving above ground. Extending his perception, he caught sight of Yang Ze rushing away. While he took note of Yang Ze, he remained indifferent, only showing a hint of surprise when he noticed that the young man’s cultivation had reached the ninth stage of True Essence. However, that was all; a registered disciple, even one with some talent or connections to certain elders, could not command much of his attention.

With a flick of his sleeve, Zhang Chengxuan vanished. Yang Ze, on the other hand, remained unaware that his every move had been observed.

Running all the way back to his living quarters, Yang Ze tossed the rubbing of the "Swift Wind Bone-Breaking Hand" aside and entered his practice room, beginning to ruminate on the aura of that strike. As time passed, only the faintest trace of that image remained in his mind, and it was on the verge of dissipating entirely.

Seizing this final opportunity, Yang Ze unleashed his True Essence and drew the Blood Fiend Saber, which he had kept stored away. The moment his grip tightened on the hilt, a sharp, fierce aura emerged from him—he finally carried a shadow of that previous blade energy.

Clinging to that final flicker, he swung the Blood Fiend Saber downward. No visible blade energy spilled out, but Yang Ze’s face instantly turned deathly pale, drained of all color. His meditation broken, he slumped, nearly collapsing to the ground. He caught himself with his hand, but instead of panic, a smile spread across his face.

"Hahaha, I finally succeeded. Even with just the last shred of that impression, my saber technique has finally broken through to a higher realm." Using the saber to steady himself, Yang Ze’s eyes burned with brilliance.

His saber technique had been stuck in a bottleneck for a long time. The Black Tiger Saber Technique was the first martial art he had practiced, and he had long since reached a point where it could no longer be improved. Even after learning the "Wind-Facing Blade," it had only increased his power, not fundamentally broken through to a higher level. Until now. He finally felt that his technique, aided by this opportunity, had advanced. Once the level of the technique improved, its power would naturally reach a higher state.

He sheathed the Blood Fiend Saber and began to circulate the Nourishing Qi Technique to restore his True Essence. It seemed his cultivation was still not deep enough; the breakthrough had drained his physical and mental strength entirely. If he were in a real battle, he wouldn't be able to sustain such a technique for more than a few strikes. Nevertheless, Yang Ze was overjoyed; he had gained another trump card.

For the remainder of the time, Yang Ze immersed himself in training. As the martial arts tournament approached, the residential area for the top ten registered disciples at the foot of Qingyang Peak became eerily quiet. No one practiced outside; everyone remained hidden in their own rooms, vying for a better ranking. Seven full days passed. Three months after Yang Ze had first entered the academy, a knock sounded at his door.

Yang Ze, who was practicing the "Swift Wind Bone-Breaking Hand" in his room, stopped his movements, feeling puzzled. At such a critical time, who would come looking for him?

Despite his confusion, he opened the door and saw Wu He standing there. Just as he was about to greet him, Yang Ze noticed that Wu He’s aura was extremely unstable—even weaker than it had been when he had first broken through to the ninth stage.

"Brother Wu, what happened to you?" Yang Ze asked, frowning.

Seeing Yang Ze emerge, a flicker of life returned to Wu He’s listless face. He grabbed Yang Ze’s hand and said repeatedly, "Brother Yang, you’ve finally come out! If you hadn't, I would be finished."

This was the first time Yang Ze had seen Wu He in such a state. He pried Wu He’s hand off and said in a deep voice, "Brother Wu, speak clearly. Don’t be so agitated."

"Brother Yang, it’s Shui Ziming. He found me, and we fought. I didn't expect that after a year, his strength would have increased so much. I was no match for him and was severely injured. But he spared me—he demanded that I bring you to him. I agreed, because if I hadn't, he would have crippled me on the martial stage," Wu He said, his voice trembling. To him, this was clearly a terrifying prospect.

"Who is Shui Ziming?" Yang Ze asked, bewildered. He had no idea what was going on.

"The leader of the One-Water Sect is called Shui Ziming. His strength is immense. Brother Yang, I’ll lead the way, but since he’s looking for you, you’d better pray for your own sake," Wu He said nervously.

Wu He started to move, but Yang Ze remained standing where he was. Wu He turned back, stunned.

"I don't know why you ended up in a duel with Shui Ziming on the martial stage, but I want you to know: I do not like being used as a bargaining chip. I will go see Shui Ziming this once, but only this once. If there is a next time, it will be you and me on the martial stage instead," Yang Ze said coldly.

Wu He trembled, his expression conflicted. He had thought that reaching the ninth stage of True Essence would grant him a place among the registered disciples, but he never expected to fall to such a low point—not only beaten by Shui Ziming but now seemingly held in contempt by Yang Ze as well.

"What are you still standing there for? Lead the way. My patience is limited." Yang Ze had already strapped his saber to his back. At his sharp command, Wu He began to lead the way.

The two walked one after the other, heading deep into the Ding District. Along the way, Yang Ze could feel many people watching him from the shadows.