Chapter 53: Chapter 49: A Mere Drunkard

Lu Mingyuan stood on the other side of the main gate. He frowned the moment he heard the man’s lazy, nonchalant tone.

’This master?’

’Such arrogance.’

’Still, this was someone sent by my father, the Emperor. I can’t be disrespectful.’

He slowly opened the vermilion gate and saw a middle-aged man who was neither tall nor stout. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either; he was the very definition of plain.

He had a thick, unkempt beard that made him look sloppy. He wore a conical bamboo hat and had a cloth bundle slung across his body, suggesting he had just returned from a long journey. His right hand, wrapped in white bandages, leaned on a bamboo staff, and a wine gourd hung from his waist.

The reek of alcohol wafted off him, so strong it could be smelled from several yards away.

He didn’t look like a reclusive Taoist practitioner, nor a Martial Artist with the vitality of a dragon. He looked like a staggering drunk.

The middle-aged man seemed to have no concept of courtesy. He strode right into the courtyard, looked around, and sized up Lu Mingyuan before finally speaking with a smile. “You must be the Sixth Prince. This master has already read the Holy Decree. From today on, I’ll be teaching you martial arts. This master’s name is Zhao Xuanwu. Of course, you can call me whatever you want.”

Lu Mingyuan glanced at the seemingly unremarkable man. He felt no contempt, only a deep curiosity about the man’s identity.

There was a saying in the Jianghu: when roaming the world, there are four types of people you must never take lightly—Daoist Nuns, old monks, children, and drunkards. Beyond that, the less someone looked like a Grandmaster, the more you had to watch out for them.

Though he couldn’t pinpoint what made the man so powerful, he could sense his aura was incredibly deep and sustained, like the ripples from a stone dropped in the ocean, spreading out endlessly.

Aura was crucial for all Cultivators, whether they were Martial Artists or Qi Cultivators. Breathing was the act of drawing energy from nature’s spiritual energy—the fewer breaths one took, the stronger they were.

A Mortal breathed with every blink of an eye, but a Martial Artist could go as long as it took an incense stick to burn—or even Half an Hour—on a single breath.

He’d once read in an ancient text about a legendary figure on the Southern Cold Continent who went into seclusion beneath a Ten Thousand Year Ice Mountain and survived on a single breath for a full sixty years.

Looking thoroughly displeased, Lu Mingyuan decided to test him. “I am meant to be learning the Saber Technique, yet you don’t even carry a proper saber. How do you intend to teach me?”

Suddenly, a hearty smile broke out on Zhao Xuanwu’s face beneath his conical hat. He tapped his bamboo staff lightly. “Every time this master swings a saber, no blade can withstand my overwhelming power. Not a single one can be found in the entire Central Plains World, so I’ve stopped wasting them.”

Hearing this, Lu Mingyuan secretly breathed a sigh of relief. ’As long as he’s a true expert, that’s all that matters. My only fear was that he’d be a fraud.’

“Such arrogant words. Aren’t you afraid you’ll bite your tongue?” Lu Mingyuan challenged, deliberately putting on a skeptical expression. “The Central Plains World is filled with countless Treasures. How could it be impossible to find a single suitable saber?”

Zhao Xuanwu chuckled. “That’s what you don’t understand. Of all the Cultivators in the world, in all the Blessed Land Cave Heavens, ninety-nine out of a hundred are either Sword Nurturers or Swordsmiths. But who forges sabers? And who tries to craft a good one—a blade that can’t be chipped or broken?”

“A saber is nothing more than a tool for killing. Almost no one cares if it’s well-made or not. In that, it is completely different from a sword.”

For some reason, Lu Mingyuan found himself thinking the man had a point.

Zhao Xuanwu took the wine gourd from his waist and took a long swig, smacking his lips in satisfaction. His eyebrows shot up. “Alright, kid, enough chitchat. How far along are you with your saber practice?”

“I need to set some ground rules. This master is a very busy man. I can only teach you for one Hour a day, for a period of six months. The rest of the time, you’ll have to practice on your own. How much you learn depends entirely on you.”

“I understand.”

Lu Mingyuan nodded, then asked, “But why only six months?”

“This master is only back for six months. Go on, go on… Why all the questions!”

Zhao Xuanwu waved his hand dismissively as if shooing away a child, clearly unwilling to say more.

He raised his bamboo staff, tapped the scabbard of the Saber at Lu Mingyuan’s waist, and gestured.

“Enough idle talk. Use every ounce of your strength—your true ability—and strike me once. Let this master see what level you’re at, then I’ll decide what to teach you.”

“Fine.”

Lu Mingyuan agreed at once. The two moved to the center of the large courtyard. He drew the Saber from his waist, faced Zhao Xuanwu, and took a deep breath, focusing his mind and spirit.

’If I’m using my full power, then I have to use my Winter Thunder Saber Momentum combined with the Desolate Dragon Elephant Force to unleash my greatest strength.’

In the next instant, layers of momentum condensed around Lu Mingyuan’s entire body, heavy as a mountain and seeming to contain terrifying power.

The flow of his Martial Dao Primordial Qi roared like thunder. He gripped his saber with both hands, pouring the Dragon Elephant Qi into the hilt and generating force from his legs and waist.

In an instant, his Cross Saber spun and slashed out!

He became a blur, appearing above Zhao Xuanwu’s head in the blink of an eye and bringing his saber down in a heavy chop.

At that same moment, Zhao Xuanwu was still sipping his wine with a relaxed expression, his face slightly flushed. He squinted and glanced up.

Lu Mingyuan’s saber was already falling. Just as he expected the man to counterattack—or at the very least, dodge—something happened that horrified him.

The saber in his hand seemed to freeze mid-air, and his entire body along with it.

But Lu Mingyuan knew better than anyone: this wasn’t a stop in time. An immense force had appeared before him, preventing his blade from moving another inch!

And so, Lu Mingyuan became a statue, held fast in the air by an invisible power.

Zhao Xuanwu, holding his bamboo staff, took an interested step forward. He stroked his bushy beard, studying and assessing Lu Mingyuan.

“The Momentum is sufficient, the power is heavy. You have a preliminary grasp of Saber Momentum—looks to be Fourth Grade or higher. Not bad at all.”

“The power of your Saber Technique is also decent. Judging by your grip and stance, you practice often. The only things you lack are a bit of Overlord Force and the right state of mind.”

“I’ve got the gist of it.”

As he finished speaking, Lu Mingyuan felt the invisible force around him vanish instantly. With a THUD, he fell to the ground.

“Kid, did you learn that Saber Technique on your own?” Zhao Xuanwu asked with a smile, looking at Lu Mingyuan.

“Yes.”

Lu Mingyuan got to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes.

“Your Saber Momentum is rudimentary and your strength is only adequate, but the power of your strike is surprisingly great. You could kill a Fifth Realm Furnace-Building Martial Artist while only in the Fourth Realm. If you truly are self-taught, then you’re promising material.”

After speaking, Zhao Xuanwu raised his wine gourd and took another swig.

“In that case, I’ll teach you a move.”

“Once you learn this move, you should be unrivaled, at least within the Lower Seven Realms.”

Hearing that the lesson was about to begin, a look of anticipation appeared in Lu Mingyuan’s eyes. He couldn’t help but ask:

“What about the Middle Fifth Grade?”

Zhao Xuanwu glanced at him. “That will depend on you. A master can only open the door; the cultivation is up to you. This master can only guarantee your floor. As for your ceiling, that will depend on your future achievements.”

“Give me the saber.”

Lu Mingyuan obediently handed the saber over by the hilt.

Zhao Xuanwu grinned, revealing a set of uneven teeth. “Watch closely now. This move is a real beauty.”

And so, Lu Mingyuan watched with rapt attention.

After taking the saber, Zhao Xuanwu stuck his bamboo staff into the ground. He then held the saber with its tip pointing down. His eyes were calm, but the moment he gripped the hilt, his entire aura changed. It was as if a Martial God were looking down upon the Mortal World, his gaze filled with pride.

He leaped into the air, his robes whipping about him. Then, as he descended, he swung the saber and spun it. The Saber whirled swiftly in front of him, eventually forming a bright ring of light where the blade itself was no longer visible.

Two streams of Saber Astral instantly exploded from his body, like a pair of azure dragons gliding over a river’s surface. The Saber Intent was piercing and utterly dominant.

The Saber Qi circled once, its power increasing another notch. The azure astral grew denser, and all the leaves in the backyard began to RUSTLE violently.

A fierce wind kicked up. The shockwave from the azure dragons formed a vortex, pulling in everything from all directions. Nothing could escape being swallowed by the cyclone.

Instantly.

From not far away, Lu Mingyuan felt as if he were witnessing a Giant Dragon descend, unleashing a terrifying power that could sunder the heavens and split the earth, its aura swallowing the world itself!

After Zhao Xuanwu landed, his momentum completely dispersed. He tossed the saber back to Lu Mingyuan and looked up to ask:

“Did you get it?”

Lu Mingyuan possessed the Hidden Dragon talent, so his comprehension was naturally outstanding. Yet even he was baffled by this move, having only grasped its general form.

“I only understood a little…”

But Zhao Xuanwu smiled. “You understood a little? That’s already quite good. This master thought you wouldn’t understand a thing.”

Lu Mingyuan asked curiously, “What’s this move called?”

“Celestial Spirit Hidden Dragon.”

Zhao Xuanwu answered casually.

“This move primarily cultivates a domineering power, which will perfectly compensate for your state of mind. Once you’ve mastered the basics, you should have no rivals in the Lower Seven Realms.”

Zhao Xuanwu tipped his wine gourd over, and finding it empty, turned his head and instructed:

“That’s all for today’s lesson. Meditate on it well. Class dismissed.”

He then pulled his bamboo staff from the ground and left Qingzhu Hall.

“Celestial Spirit Hidden Dragon…”

Lu Mingyuan stared at the Saber in his hand, still replaying the move in his mind. The next second, his expression changed drastically.

Because he suddenly discovered that the saber in his hands…

Had cracked…

…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep