Chapter Sixteen: Heart-Sword and Jade Avalokitesvara, A Young Man's Chest Houses a Fierce Tiger

The carriage had stood quietly in the spring rain ever since it halted, unmoving, as though time itself had paused. The driver perched on the shaft seemed to have stilled even his breath, not disturbing the man inside in the slightest.

Even when the exalted man within, with his formidable cultivation and unrivaled will, pressed down upon the young man just embarking on the path of cultivation—his heart brimming with hope—the driver remained impassive, unmoved, as if nothing could ruffle his calm.

But when a corner of the carriage curtain was suddenly severed, fluttering down onto the carriage, battered to the ground by the scattered rain and caught up in the swirling water running through the cracks, the driver’s eyes abruptly narrowed.

A chill swept through the driver, whose body, hot with vital energy like a blazing furnace, suddenly felt as if plunged into an icy abyss. No amount of vigor could ward off that bone-deep cold.

Moments later, the driver jerked his head up, the spring rain lashing his face beneath the conical hat. In his eyes was reflected the awe-inspiring sight: a sword intent, forged from three thousand drops of spring rain, swept in from the silent depths of the street.

It appeared like a silver waterfall cascading from the heavens.

The driver dared not move; every channel in his body, brimming with powerful energy, froze solid in that instant—he could not even circulate his qi.

Each drop of rain, transformed into sword intent, carried enough sharpness and power to pierce him through!

This was the manifestation of a master of spiritual refinement, one who could roam the skies, wield spring thunder, and cleave the dark clouds of evening—a display of unparalleled might.

A strand of sword intent, formed from the spring rain, drifted lightly past his upturned face.

The conical hat split in two, bursting apart to either side. The driver’s body, barely perceptibly, quivered with an unseen tremor. Goosebumps prickled every inch of his skin as the chill entwined him.

...

In the distance.

Anle, struggling to withstand the oppressive aura from the man inside the carriage, felt the pressure and restraint dissipate the moment the first drop of rain, steeped in sword intent, arrived.

It was as though a mountain had shifted. His chest, dampened by rain, heaved slightly, but his eyes grew brighter—a light now tinged with defiance and a hint of fierceness.

Eighteen this year, and yet he stood as a mere underling.

Before true cultivators, he was woefully weak. His pride at stepping into the world of cultivation evaporated instantly in the face of such power.

Today’s oppression nearly sullied his dao heart, but it also awakened a deep, hidden anger and fighting spirit.

He would climb higher and further on the path of cultivation, step by resolute step.

...

Inside the carriage.

For the first time, Master Luo’s expression changed. Gazing at the sword intent streaming in, conjured from three thousand drops of rain like a rushing waterfall, a gloom fell over his heart. He drew back his imposing aura, collecting his spirit entirely within the carriage.

A strand of sword intent sliced through the driver’s hat, shredded the curtain, and drifted toward the carriage.

Within, the man sat upright, a bloodstained sword hovering before him, humming softly. Its resonance echoed down the silent street, shattering every raindrop that neared the carriage.

He pressed his thin lips together, finally extending a hand to guide the small sword into collision with the incoming strand of sword intent.

The sword intent dissipated, but the sword lost its luster, falling into his arms.

He had exerted himself to the utmost—yet all he managed was to offset a single strand of the opponent’s sword intent.

And yet, there remained an entire cascade of such sword intent!

The sky above the alley darkened—a waterfall of swords formed from three thousand drops of spring rain!

“The Lin family’s Hua Jie Bing, Heart-Sword Jade Guanyin...”

The man murmured.

The next moment, unable to restrain himself before the sword waterfall that blotted out the sky above Silent Street, he could no longer remain indifferent.

The carriage’s ornate roof exploded. The man floated upward, but the rain, now a torrential downpour like silver threads and thunder burning the clouds, crashed down upon him.

His figure, so suddenly risen, fell back into the carriage, his face ashen.

Three thousand drops of spring rain descended.

Each drop fell like a sword from the heavens—white rain as fierce as chessmen, striking the carriage walls, splintering them piece by piece; landing on the table within and reducing it to dust.

Yet when this blade-like spring rain touched the man’s face, it felt soft and gentle, like nourishing spring drizzle, devoid of sharpness and instead carrying a life-giving warmth.

But the shattered remnants of the carriage, and the man—Master Luo—sitting among the rain and debris, understood full well: though his life was spared, a seed of terror had been sown deep within his heart.

Three thousand drops of spring rain watered that seed, letting it slowly take root and sprout.

The driver still sat atop the shaft, but the carriage behind had been reduced to rubble, leaving only Master Luo sitting miserably on the muddy ground.

Slowly, Master Luo raised his head and looked at Anle.

Never had he imagined that Hua Jie Bing of the Lin household would so brazenly intervene for this youth.

He had tried to subdue the young man, to make him bow.

But Hua Jie Bing responded by sowing terror in his heart with a sword conjured from spring rain.

This youth had merely painted a portrait for Hua Jie Bing—was such indulgence and protectiveness truly warranted?

Master Luo’s body trembled faintly, his throat choked with emotion, and for a moment he felt like weeping. But he quickly composed himself, scrambled awkwardly to his feet, and, gaze complex, looked at Anle.

Then, turning toward the Lin residence, he clasped his fists and bowed deeply, as a pupil to a master.

“Madam, please quell your anger. In this matter, Luo was indeed excessive.”

“You work for Qin Qianqiu and wish to test the Lin family—that’s understandable. But to oppress a youth who has only just stepped into cultivation? Luo Qingchen, all these years of cultivation are but a joke if this is what you’ve learned at the Academy—shamelessness? Be gone.”

A faint voice echoed suddenly through the alleyways.

Master Luo pressed his fists together, a warm, gentle smile on his face as he turned to Anle. “Young friend, I have offended you. I merely wished to test your limits, but did not expect to displease the Madam. I hope you will not take it to heart. For today's mess, I will personally come and apologize another day.”

Anle regarded the apologetic man with cold eyes, as if the pressure to make him bow moments ago was nothing but a jest.

The apology was insincere.

Anle drew a deep breath, a faint smile on his face as he returned the salute.

“Master Luo, is it? Think nothing of it. Today, you have shown me what a true cultivator’s confrontation is like, and taught me that there are always greater heights to reach. I will devote myself to my studies and learn from Madam Hua, hoping that one day I may seek your guidance, and bring you as much satisfaction as you have enjoyed today.”

Master Luo’s genial smile faltered for a moment—what a fearless, spirited youth!

“Very well. I will always be here to await you.”

The two exchanged bright smiles, as if they were old friends, but beneath their expressions, each concealed their own swirling thoughts.

Anle’s smile was radiant, and in the meantime, he quietly drew two wisps of lifespan energy from Master Luo.

Though Luo’s cultivation was formidable, Anle did not experience the same sense of depletion as when he had siphoned energy from Madam Hua—there was no sense that he could take no more.

With two strands of lifespan energy in hand, Anle’s smile dimmed slightly. Turning toward the driver in the distance, he nodded in greeting—and took two more wisps of lifespan energy, leaving none behind.

Applause sounded.

Footsteps splashed through water—at the entrance to Silent Street, constables in uniform, swords at their waists, arrived in formation.

“Master Luo,” they greeted with cupped fists.

“Arrest those two who assaulted a scholar of the current dynasty. Interrogate them thoroughly and uncover the mastermind. Vent this grievance for young friend An,” Luo said blandly.

“As you command!” the lead constable replied. Drawing their blades, the officers surged forward, swiftly apprehending the three thugs who had been petrified by the clash of cultivation masters.

Anle watched these well-prepared officers calmly, saying nothing.

He nodded to Master Luo, picked up his oil-paper umbrella, shook the blood from it, opened it to shield himself from the spring rain, and turned to walk toward the Lin residence.

Master Luo stood quietly in the rain. The water had long since dried from his clothes, his white robes pristine once more. He watched Anle’s retreating figure beneath the umbrella, narrowing his eyes.

He could sense the tiger lurking in the youth’s chest, his spirit burning like a furnace.

But so what?

His anger, his hatred, his refusal to yield—what did it matter?

The gap between Luo Qingchen and this youth was like that between the stars above and dust below, utterly incomparable.

Moreover, the youth had begun so late—his foundation already set, his chance for solid footing forever lost. The road ahead would be arduous. He might have a tiger in his breast, but he lacked the means to unleash it.

With a faint smile, Master Luo turned and walked away in the opposite direction.

“Master Luo, what about these thugs?” a constable asked respectfully.

But Master Luo had no interest in replying.

The driver led the horse over, expressionless, voice hoarse: “To assault a scholar, to assault a cultivator—both are capital crimes.”

The constable understood instantly.

...

Passing through the stone arch that inspired awe among the powerful, Anle composed himself before the Lin residence, closed his umbrella, shook off the rain, and knocked on the bronze knocker.

This time, Madam Hua had intervened on his behalf. Anle felt deeply grateful and intended to thank her in person.

The vermilion doors swung open, revealing Lin Zhuifeng’s valiant face.

When Lin Zhuifeng saw Anle, drenched like a drowned rat, a fierce look flashed in her eyes. Those probing the Lin family’s strength were becoming ever more brazen.

She already knew what had occurred. The moment Madam Hua intervened, Lin Zhuifeng sensed it and had learned much from her. Thus, her gaze held both anger at the offenders and some regret for Anle getting caught up in it.

“Master An, please come in. Madam is waiting for you in the waterside pavilion.”

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