Chapter 361 – Roaming the Realm with Blade in Hand, a Martial Heart Still Pure - Part 3

Across the table Yuan Zongzi spoke up. “Eaten and drunk enough, shall we test our mettle?”

“When I was little,” Li Yuan replied solemnly, “my ma said you need a nap after a good meal or you’ll upset your stomach.”

“You’re fifth rank,” Yuan Zongzi snorted. “Your stomach’s fine. Don’t you lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then let’s

duel!

”

Eyes bright with glee, Li Yuan snatched up his long blade and rocketed into the open sky.

A streak of violet flame shot up after him. With no warning, Yuan Zongzi’s fire-kissed blade lunged like a viper.

In any polite match, that first slash would have been called a cheap shot. For Yuan Zongzi, it was simply how you fought.

The crescent of red light whipped past.

Li Yuan twisted aside at the last instant. The blade reversed mid-air like a diving swallow, angling straight for his back.

Fifth rank martial artists could survive being cut in half; Yuan Zongzi meant business.

Li Yuan wriggled through the air like a man doing a drunken folk dance, hip-checks and shoulder-rolls somehow letting every exquisite strike miss by a breath. He wasn’t

good

at footwork, which made using his weakness to dodge someone else’s strength its own kind of training.

Minutes passed.

Breathing hard, Yuan Zongzi finally broke off, staring at the still-wiggling bald giant in disbelief.

“Come on, keep going!” Li Yuan shouted, face glowing with childlike excitement.

“Join the Sacred Fire Palace,” Yuan Zongzi bargained, “and there’ll be feast after feast!”

Not very honest

, Li Yuan thought. He stopped gyrating, hefted his blade. “We’re having fun fighting. Why spoil it with talk? If you won’t swing, I will!”

He raised the weapon. To anyone else it seemed nothing special, but another blademaster like Yuan Zongzi felt a prickle of dread, something profound yet brutal hiding behind that casual lift.

“This is the blade I used to smack my old dog, Ol’ Yeller,” Li Yuan warned kindly. “Careful now.”

“Who’s Ol’ Yeller?” Yuan Zongzi asked.

“My dog. I...accidentally beat him to death.” Li Yuan’s face fell.

Yuan Zongzi’s temper flared. His blade flashed and violet flames howled.

Li Yuan met him with a single chop, adding just a

touch

of explosive force.

BOOM!

The flamboyant fifth rank elder became a home-run ball, slamming into the ground and punching a crater.

A mushroom cloud of dust ballooned upward; shards of rocks sprayed like shrapnel.

At the center of the pit, Yuan Zongzi lay stunned, hands numb, scalding blood oozing from his split palms.

The Sacred Fire Palace disciples sprinted over and hauled him out.

He stared dazedly at the clouds. The bald brute was already gone.

“So... strange,” he muttered.

“What happened, Elder?” a disciple ventured.

“His opening was as natural as heaven and earth, yet his finish hit like a rampaging qilin mammoth, elegance and savagery stuffed into the same sheath... Like a white robbed Immortal wearing a monster’s head... Like a peerless beauty hoisting a cleaver as big as her torso...”

The disciples exchanged looks. All they had seen was their elder getting launched. A few wondered if he was just saving face with fancy words.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Li Yuan didn’t hurry toward the Holy Tree Temple. He drifted wherever whim carried him, the very picture of a carefree martial arts fanatic. More than once, he knocked on the gates of humble sects or schools asking for a friendly bout.

Two months later, his legend had spread across the provinces.

His cultivation realm hadn’t loosened a fraction, but his mastery of Mortal World Transformation grew sharper and sharper by the day. He was becoming more adept at observing, mimicking, and

becoming

other people.

During those wander-about weeks more and more big-name figures tried to recruit him.

One by one Li Yuan slapped them down, and each defeat left him looking gloomier, as though winning were the most discouraging thing in the world.

Then, after flooring yet another challenger in front of a crowd, the

light

finally dawned on him. He scratched his shiny head and asked, “Tell me, who’s the strongest anywhere around here?”

The answer was exactly what he expected.

“In all of Silkfloss Province, that would be Qing Hancheng of the Holy Tree Temple.”

“Great! Where do I find this holy tree thingy?”

Someone snickered, “The temple master is fourth rank. Baldy, you’re way out of your depth.”

Another joker called, “Hey, I’ve got a few wagons headed that way. I’ll give you a lift!”

It was meant as a laugh. Across these provinces the very name Qing Hancheng carried the weight of a household god; no sane person even

dreamed

of challenging him.

Except the bald giant took it seriously. In one blur. he appeared beside the trader, eyes blazing.

“Take me to see Qing Han...? Qing Qing? Ah Qing! I wanna fight Ah Qing!”

“Ah Qing” The surroundings fell so silent you could hear the flies hesitate.

The poor trader back-pedaled. “I-I was kidding! M-my cargo isn’t really going to the Holy Tree Temple.”

Li Yuan seized him by the collar. “Liar! Liar!”

Half-sobbing, the man pointed east-south. “Th-three days that way, I swear! Just three days!”

Released, he ran for his life.

Li Yuan shot into the sky, brandishing the blade that had already beaten a dozen fifth ranks, and arrowed off toward the southeast.

However, he never reached the Holy Tree Temple. Why? Because the bumpkin known as

Bubba

couldn’t read a map to save his life.

Now, Li Yuan wasn’t merely

acting

the part; he was fully immersing himself within the persona. A whole different flavor of living.

Personality shaped ties, ties shaped fate.

Live cautious, dodge trouble; live reckless, chase storms.

For years Li Yuan had walked the first road. Now he was tasting the second.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Early September rain drummed through a small back-alley.

The bald hulk squatted alone beneath a leaking eave, oblivious to perfume drifting from the red-silk pleasure house deeper in the lane.

Excitement flickered in his eyes as he sparred with himself. He had the two fingers of his left hand serve as a blade, and the two fingers of his right hand serve as another. The invisible weapons clashed in mid-air. Every time a move pleased him he broke into a goofy laugh.

Up on the brothel’s high balcony stood a woman wrapped in a pearl colored dress. She was a breathtaking beauty with wounded eyes, smiling lips nowhere in sight, like the legendary consort Bao Si waiting for someone to light the beacons just to make her smile.

A maid hurried over. “He’s been located. The blade madman is right below us.”

“Long live the White Lotus,” the pearl veiled enchantress murmured.

“Long live the White Lotus.” The maid echoed the creed and slipped away, drawing covetous stares even from men who’d sworn they couldn’t afford another night out.

And beneath the dripping awning the giant kept fencing his phantom opponent, rainwater glistening on that bright, uncomplicated skull. He was utterly unaware that yet another powerful faction was about to test its luck against the happiest lunatic in Silkfloss Province.