pertwk Chapter 11 Distinguished Guest Arrives
Chapter 11 Distinguished Guest Arrives
The character 乾 (qián) signifies the gathering of soldiers.
He used his Qi to transform into gold, condensing a golden short blade in his hand.
The shape of the blade can be freely shaped by the caster; it can be a dagger, a short sword, or a throwing knife.
Weapons formed from metallic Qi are sharper than ordinary metal and can dissipate and reform according to the user's will.
The drawback is that maintaining the condensed state requires a continuous consumption of true qi.
This is the most basic introductory technique of the Qian character method. In addition, the Qian character method also has similar illusion techniques such as the dazzling array of flowers.
A moment later, Zhuge Yan slowly closed the manual, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes.
Finally, after so many years of practice, from meditation to planning, I can finally begin to formally practice real magic!
-----------------
Spring came earlier than usual in 1922.
The peach blossoms on the back hill bloomed in February, a sea of pink that stretched from the edge of the bamboo forest all the way to the mountain stream.
Zhuge Yan stood in the open space in the middle of the peach grove, shirtless.
The three years had left a much deeper mark on him than he had anticipated.
The slender figure of a boy who was eight years old has completely disappeared, replaced by a lean but well-defined body.
His shoulders broadened, his back thickened, and the muscles in his waist and abdomen were arranged in pieces as if they had been sculpted by a knife, rising and falling slightly with his breathing.
Three years of oil hammer initiation practice repeatedly tempered his bones and muscles, like forging iron, squeezing out impurities little by little, leaving only the most refined part.
His skin was a bit darker than it had been three years ago, a tan that was constantly soaked with morning light and sweat.
Her hair was casually tied back with a hemp rope, and a few stray strands of hair were stuck to her forehead with sweat.
The lines of her brow bone are more defined than when she was a child, and the contours of her jaw are tighter. Only her eyes still retain the clarity they had at eight years old, but they also have something else in them.
Nine golden swords were stuck in the ground in front of him.
The nine swords are arranged in a nine-square grid, with the blades inserted diagonally into the ground, only half of them protruding.
Each sword has a slightly different shape; some have broad, thick blades, some are narrow, long, and sharp, and some have barbed patterns on their guards.
This is Zhuge Yan's daily method of practicing external martial arts.
After condensing the nine lightsabers into form, instead of activating them to attack, they were allowed to remain in a state of "existence," and then...
I'll bear it with my own body!
Zhuge Yan took a deep breath and walked to the front of the first sword.
He took a half step forward with his right foot, lowered his waist, and tensed the muscles in his shoulders and back in an instant.
Then he used his right shoulder to strike the spine of the sword head-on.
The dull thud of metal clashing exploded in the peach grove; it wasn't the sound of a sword cutting through flesh, but the sound of flesh hitting a sword.
The golden sword, powerful enough to cut through iron armor, trembled violently from his shoulder impact, its blade emitting a buzzing sound, and the part that was embedded diagonally in the ground slid outwards by two inches.
Zhuge Yan had a faint red mark on his right shoulder, as if he had been burned by a red-hot iron rod.
The skin wasn't broken.
He glanced at the red mark, then turned and walked toward the second sword.
He took a deep breath, this time using his left shoulder.
boom!
The muffled thud exploded again.
A flock of birds in the peach grove were startled and flew fluttering across the mountain stream to the other side.
The third one, the fourth one, the fifth one...
He crashed into them one by one.
After all nine swords had struck him once, his shoulders and chest were covered with red marks of varying shades, some of which were turning blue, but there was no broken skin or bleeding.
Three years ago, when he first conjured a lightsaber and tried to withstand the blow with his bare body, the first strike tore a three-inch-long gash in his shoulder.
That day, he walked back to the west wing clutching his wound, blood seeping through his fingers the whole way.
But that was three years ago.
Zhuge Yan moved his shoulders slightly, and his joints made a slight cracking sound.
The golden light on the nine swords dimmed slightly compared to before. After he struck the light swords condensed by the Qian character technique with his physical body, the true qi structure within the swords was disturbed, so it was normal for the golden light to dim.
What he needs to do is to "feed" the swords back to their original state before they completely dissipate.
He walked to the center of the nine palaces and sat down cross-legged.
Nine swords surrounded him, their golden blades gleaming like nine candle flames, flickering gently in the morning mist.
Zhuge Yan closed his eyes, and the true qi in his body surged out from his dantian, splitting into nine streams that flowed silently along the ground toward the nine swords.
The true qi he released and the true qi remaining in the sword belonged to the same source. The moment they met, the golden light on the sword began to brighten again, like water being poured back into a dried-up riverbed.
This is a cultivation method that he figured out on his own.
The Qian method demands extremely high physical strength, and in his "barrel," the physical body is always one of the shortest planks.
Qi can be gradually increased through daily cultivation of true Qi, but the density of tendons and bones, the endurance of muscles, and the impact resistance of internal organs are also important.
These things can only be "brought out" little by little through repeated shocks.
The essence of metal is not sharpness, but endurance.
Metal can overcome wood, not because metal is harder than wood, but because metal can withstand much greater impacts than wood without deforming.
When a knife strikes wood, the wood cracks, but the knife remains—that is the true nature of gold!
Soon, the golden light on the nine swords returned to normal.
By the time Zhuge Yan returned to his ancestral home from the peach grove, the sun was already setting.
He went to the kitchen for lunch first. Fifteen bowls of food were served, but the chef didn't even lift his eyelids. He just pushed the bowls of food towards him.
After finishing their meal, they encountered several young disciples from a collateral branch in the corridor.
When they saw him, their voices unconsciously lowered, their gazes lingered on him for a moment, and then looked away.
Three years ago, they would laugh at him to his face, but not anymore.
It's not because he became stronger, but because when the gap becomes large enough, jealousy turns into something else.
It's not respect, it's a sense of distance.
The fact that someone who couldn't even get started in two years suddenly becomes a genius is unsettling in itself.
If he climbed up the ladder step by step through some visible effort, people might be able to accept it.
However, Zhuge Yan's methods of progress were invisible to others.
Yesterday, someone was about the same level as you, but today they've left you far behind, and you can't even see when they overtook you.
This is the most unsettling part.
Zhuge Yan walked through the corridor and returned to the west wing.
As is customary, the first thing to do after returning to the room is to summarize.
The fifth injury was to the right shoulder, with a true qi density of approximately 73%. The estimated recovery time is six hours.
I had just put down my pen when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Zhuge Duan stood in the doorway.
Upon seeing this, Zhuge Yan also quickly stood up.
"Father."
Zhuge Duan nodded and slowly stepped in.
He was the patriarch of the Wuhou faction, forty-five years old, of medium build, with a thin face and some gray hair at his temples.
He was not a man of many words and rarely appeared in the clan himself, leaving most of the daily affairs to Zhuge Zhong and Zhuge Ji.
But everyone knows that the most important matters of the Wuhou faction will ultimately have to pass through his hands.
Zhuge Duan stood in the room for a while, his gaze sweeping over the pile of books in the corner, the calculation diagrams spread out on the table, and the "wooden bucket" on the wall, before finally settling on his son.
He hadn't visited Zhuge Yan alone for a long time.
Three years ago, Zhuge Yan went from being a good-for-nothing to a genius, and the whole family was talking about it, but his father almost never commented on it to his face.
It's not that I don't care, it's that I don't know how to ask.
He noticed the changes that were happening to his son.
The change was so drastic, so drastic, that it was not a speed that could be achieved through normal cultivation.
As the patriarch of the Wuhou School, he had seen geniuses as well as those who took shortcuts.
The progress of geniuses is traceable; those who take shortcuts often get stuck at a certain point and can never go any further.
But Zhuge Yan was neither like the former nor like the latter.
His progress was not like that of a genius, but it was faster than that of a genius.
And he didn't get stuck. For three years, he not only didn't get stuck, but he got faster and faster.
Zhuge Duan's gaze lingered for a moment on the "wooden barrel" painting on the wall before he spoke.
"sit."
Zhuge Yan sat down.
Zhuge Duan also sat down at the table, remaining silent for a moment, as if he were carefully considering his words.
"Your progress over the past three years has been witnessed by the clan and by me."
His voice was soft, and he spoke slowly.
"Of the four magical arts of Heaven, Earth, Man, and God, other disciples in the clan are considered once-in-a-century geniuses if they can master two of them in three years, but you have mastered them all."
Zhuge Yan remained silent, knowing that his father would surely have more to say.
I won't ask how you did it.
Zhuge Duan looked at him.
"Every warlock has their own path, but I know one thing: you choose your own path, and you bear the consequences yourself."
If you can withstand it, that's your skill. If you can't, that's your fate.
Zhuge Yan's Adam's apple bobbed slightly.
"I didn't come here tonight to talk about that."
Zhuge Duan's tone suddenly changed, from contemplation to explanation.
"Tomorrow, a distinguished guest will be visiting the Wuhou Sect."
"Distinguished guest?"
"The head of the Sanyi Sect, the Great Ying Immortal, Zuo Ruotong."