Chapter Sixteen: Zhao Jinian

On the stone steps, the middle-aged Daoist opened his eyes, a trace of confusion on his face. He carefully examined his surroundings, and when he saw the dense sword rain in the sky, he could only shake his head with a bitter smile.

After a long while, the Daoist sighed and stepped upward with resolute determination. The trees swayed, and his solitary figure on the stone steps appeared somewhat frail. His pace was not fast, lingering traces of hesitation remained on his face, yet he never considered stopping.

Upon reaching the hundredth step, he found that this slab of blue stone differed from the others, filled with black and white spiritual energy. At the same time, a phantom of a white ape appeared before Lin Ze, standing amidst a brook. In its hand was a bamboo pole, and as a splash of water rose, transforming into countless sparkling droplets, the ape suddenly thrust the bamboo, shattering one of the beads. The white ape did not stop, but continued to strike at the even smaller droplets.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

The ordinary bamboo pole became a blur in the air, causing Lin Ze to instinctively shut his eyes.

“I began practicing sword at ten, chanced upon the white ape playing in water. What is the meaning?”

The black and white colors on the stone steps represented two distinct interpretations.

The middle-aged Daoist pondered carefully, and with utmost caution, stepped onto the black side.

“Only speed is unbreakable.”

Lin Ze watched the spiritual light dissipate from the stone step, momentarily dazed, then breathed a sigh of relief. The sword intent in the sky did not react—did this mean he guessed correctly?

Suddenly, the perspective shifted. The Daoist collapsed to the ground, panting with lingering fear, and only after a long pause did he force himself to stand and continue upward.

The Eightfold Sword Array—this was merely the first trial.

Another hundred steps. The white ape’s phantom slowly faded, transforming into two long swords. One was slender and elongated, the other broad and heavy.

“At twenty, I reached the late stage of Foundation Building and wished to exchange my wooden sword. What is the meaning?”

Though he was inside the simulator, Lin Ze found himself infected by the Daoist’s mood, feeling a bit nervous as he pondered, then looked toward the step marked by the slender sword.

The character card was modeled after Lin Ze, so the Daoist made the same choice.

How could a cultivator who wielded a swift sword choose a clumsy heavy blade?

He lifted his foot and gently stepped onto it.

In the next moment, a sudden roar echoed from above, and the Daoist looked up, his eyes reflecting countless sword shadows.

With a sickening sound, sharp blades pierced his robe, and his thin figure fell like a torn sack.

[Simulation ends]

...

Lin Ze raised a hand to his neck, a bitter smile on his face.

Truly ruthless. One wrong answer meant being pierced by a thousand swords.

Who could have guessed that the one who laid the array would choose the broad, heavy sword in the end?

Fortunately, he had many chances to try again.

Time in the simulator was only a blink in the outside world. To the other disciples of the Eastern Yue Sect, Lin Ze walked directly into the sword array without hesitation, advancing to places even the elders dared not tread.

Now he seemed poised to continue upward.

Lin Ze’s toes touched the stone steps, his green robe fluttered lightly as he soared ahead. Before the white ape’s phantom could appear, he had already stepped onto the black stone and moved on.

His gaze sharpened, awaiting the appearance of the two swords.

He quickly stepped onto the side representing the heavy blade, and a voice sounded by his ear.

“True skill lies in simplicity.”

Watching the spiritual light fade from the step, Lin Ze silently fed materials into the simulator.

[Simulation starts]

The middle-aged Daoist opened his eyes again.

Sword rain loomed, awe-inspiring, but did not fall as before.

The second trial of the Eightfold Sword Array was passed.

...

...

“What’s going on?” The disciples watched, dumbfounded.

The green-robed Daoist moved too swiftly. Before they could react, he had already crossed over two hundred steps.

Where was the array...

What happened to the great formation laid by the Golden Core Sword Immortal?

The elder in grey almost toppled from the treetop, his heart in turmoil.

The Daoist showed no trace of tension when breaking the array, but acted as if strolling through his own backyard. The elder had to wonder if he had misjudged the situation—could this early Foundation Building rogue cultivator truly be someone Qin Hongxiu found?

This… this was against the rules!

How could an inner sect elder interfere with affairs of the peaks so casually?

“Impossible,” Zhao Jinian muttered, pushing past several people toward the foot of the mountain.

There must be something wrong with the array.

He refused to believe that his master, who could not even spare half a pill, truly knew a lofty Sword Immortal.

Standing before the sword marks, Zhao Jinian steeled himself and entered.

Then, he looked up and saw the dense sword rain in the sky. With a shriek, he fled in the same embarrassing fashion as before.

He dragged his weakened legs and collapsed to the ground, breathing rapidly, eyes vacant:

“The formation is intact… how can this be?”

This array stopped the entire outer sect, yet could not stop a lone rogue cultivator—what a joke!

If this man were so capable, why send them to the Eastern Yue Sect at all? Clearly, the old man felt he had nothing left to teach, and to avoid embarrassment, resorted to such measures.

It must be so!

Su Bailu approached slowly with Xiao Bao, speaking calmly, “Come, Master won’t want to see you now.”

At her words, Zhao Jinian struggled to his feet, a twisted smile on his lips: “You think you’ve won? He just got lucky. Wait and see—soon, he’ll come tumbling back down.”

“No, he has no chance to turn back now.”

Even Zhao Ling’s gaze toward him changed, as if she were looking at a fool.

She lifted her chin, indicating he should look up the mountain.

Lin Ze’s figure, at some point, had vanished into the mist along the mountainside, disappearing completely from sight.

“He’s already gone ahead, yet you’re still spouting nonsense.” Zhao Ling shook her head, refraining from voicing her thoughts. There was a bond of master and disciple between them; as an outsider, it was best not to say more.

Still, to take such a disciple—who knew what karma Senior Lin carried from a past life?

Others merely wanted to see a joke, but as a disciple, wishing for your master’s death—did he not fear retribution from heaven?

Time passed slowly.

A melodious sword cry suddenly echoed atop the green mountain.

With that sound, the entire peak seemed to shed a veil, returning to its former vitality.

Seeing this, Zhao Jinian seemed drained of his last ounce of strength, eyes blankly fixed on the summit.

The sword array was broken.

He swallowed, and stammered to Su Bailu, “Third Sister, after all these years, how could Master change so much?”

“...”

Su Bailu suddenly felt an urge to draw her sword and strike.

She glared coldly at him.

Barely restraining the nausea rising within, she replied curtly, “Zhao Jinian, don’t dirty my ears.”

Zhao Ling coughed lightly, decisively turning away, pretending not to hear.

It must be said, though he was a Foundation Building master and favored by the elders of Huayang Peak, his demeanor was truly revolting.