After Su Yunyu demonstrated his skills before Xiao Shuying that day, he directly began leading him through sword practice, posture by posture, starting the very next day.
Being the number one person in the world and an authentic sword cultivator himself, teaching Xiao Shuying personally naturally doubled their efficiency.
With gentle breezes swirling and sunlight reflecting off the mountain mist, Su Yunyu took advantage of the fact that Xiao Shuying’s stature only reached his shoulder to pull the youth close and grip his wrist, guiding his force through every single posture and movement.
Xiao Shuying had never expected that someone of such standing would bother to patiently teach him down to the finest details.
It seemed that the Su Yunyu before him truly differed vastly from the one in his first life.
Lost in deep contemplation, Xiao Shuying inadvertently drifted off for a moment.
“Focus.”
Until an ethereal voice suddenly sounded directly above his head, he snapped back to his senses instantly and banished all other thoughts.
Amidst the swirling lights and shifting sounds, Xiao Shuying was dazzled by the sharp edge swept up by the sword flowers, feeling especially awkward given this position where his every movement was entirely controlled by someone else.
Just as a wave of irritation washed over him, Su Yunyu led him through a downward slash. Bending slightly at the waist with his long black hair slightly disheveled, a strand brushed directly against the side of Xiao Shuying’s face.
The point of contact immediately produced a sensation like crawling ants. Feeling utterly repulsed, Xiao Shuying nearly jumped in place.
No, he still couldn’t bear Su Yunyu’s excessive physical proximity.
The fragrant, cool scent drifting from fluttering robes and flashing swords simply drove him out of his mind.
Therefore, he simply spoke up:
“Master, why don’t you let me practice on my own for a while?”
Hearing this, Su Yunyu stopped his movements. Without paying mind to the fact that Xiao Shuying had immediately distanced himself the moment he spoke, his expression relaxed as he nodded:
“Very well.” With that, he handed the Xuehua Sword to Xiao Shuying.
In truth, he didn’t enjoy hand-in-hand sword teaching either. However, seeing it portrayed everywhere in Xianxia dramas, he discovered upon trying it himself that it was genuinely exhausting.
Especially since Xiao Shuying kept zoning out and acting reckless in his movements, making Su Yunyu almost want to take a hands-off approach.
Having taken the conversational out offered by Xiao Shuying, Su Yunyu simply walked over to the veranda, leaned his body against the pillar to relax, and watched Xiao Shuying practice on his own.
If not for his persona constraints, he would have genuinely loved to fetch a stool, grab a handful of melon seeds, and critique the world while snacking.
Ah, what a pity, Su Yunyu thought with internal melancholy.
Meanwhile, holding the Xuehua Sword, Xiao Shuying couldn’t help stroking its snowy, chilling scabbard, sighing first that it was a fine blade.
Then, for some reason, he once again recalled the scene from his past life where Su Yunyu had been pierced through the heart by this very sword.
His admiration for the Xuehua Sword instantly twisted into a different color. Lowering his gaze to stare at it, a tempting idea welled up in Xiao Shuying’s mind.
Since this sword could kill its master in his past life, if he held it in his hands now and feigned a slip, tumbling toward Su Yunyu, wouldn’t he be able to replicate the exact outcome of his previous life?
With this thought, Xiao Shuying lifted his gaze to look at Su Yunyu nearby, a triumphant smile curving his lips as his eyes flickered with anticipation.
Success or failure—how would he know unless he tried?
Besides, Su Yunyu was easy to fool, and if he failed, he had plenty of excuses ready.
Thus, swinging the Xuehua Sword and recalling the moves Su Yunyu had just taught him, Xiao Shuying deliberately exaggerated his movements, making them wide and open so that his footing appeared unsteady as he slowly crept closer to Su Yunyu.
As the distance closed step by step, Xiao Shuying feigned the motion of executing and recovering a sword strike while internally measuring the exact angle from which to trip and thrust straight through Su Yunyu’s heart.
After putting on this pretense of sword practice for a little while, Xiao Shuying finally reached a suitable position. Catching a furtive glimpse to confirm that Su Yunyu appeared completely unguarded, he resolved to finish it swiftly. Feigning a slip of the foot, he lunged forward with the long sword.
A raised sword shines like arrayed halberds; a single strike surpasses ten thousand blades.
Yet, just as Xiao Shuying lunged, a slight miscalculation in his momentum caused him to brush right past Su Yunyu, sending him tumbling straight to the ground.
Though he fell, fortunately, no rogue banana peel materialized beneath his feet, nor did the Xuehua Sword pierce his heart at some bizarre angle.
Right before crashing heavily to the floor, a flash of relief crossed Xiao Shuying’s mind:
It seems the Will of Heaven still favors him after all.
Just moments prior, Su Yunyu had been in his sea of consciousness debating an inventory of subjects with the system, ranging from Tom and Jerry to the Four Great Classical Novels, arguing over which one they should watch next.
Before they could reach a verdict, a sudden booming crash echoed beside his ears, sounding like a collapsing mountain or shattering clouds, startling Su Yunyu into an involuntary shiver.
He hurriedly looked toward his side. For reasons unknown, the disciple who had just been practicing swordsmanship was now sprawled out flat on the ground. When Su Yunyu asked the system what had happened, the system claimed it had no idea either.
Left with no choice, Su Yunyu leaned down to help Xiao Shuying up. Noticing that Xiao Shuying kept his gaze lowered and refused to look at him, he asked with some bewilderment:
“How did you manage to fall?”
Xiao Shuying maintained a silence for a full second. Enduring the dull, throbbing aches across his body and feeling utterly mortified, he remained tight-lipped for a moment before finally muttering:
“I lost my footing…”
Aside from the humiliation, he harbored lingering suspicions that Su Yunyu might have seen through his scheme.
He then stealthily cast a cautious glance at Su Yunyu’s expression. Seeing that he looked faintly bewildered, Xiao Shuying felt a weight instantly lift from his chest.
It seemed he had noticed nothing at all, just as expected.
That furtive, sneaky look of his, when viewed by Su Yunyu, was mistaken for embarrassment, so naturally, no reprimand followed.
After channeling a bit of spiritual energy to finish healing his wounds, Su Yunyu pondered for a moment and calmly stated:
“Your foundational skills are too weak. Add another two hours of practice starting today.”
After practicing sword forms day and night like this for three full days, upon stepping out of the Misty Peak, Xiao Shuying felt as though every mountain peak he saw was a sword, and every ravine a razor-sharp edge.
When he arrived at the martial arts grand selection, the venue was already a boiling sea of clamoring voices, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with no room to squeeze through. Xiao Shuying’s entry sequence was 69, and the matches were currently at number 65.
Had Su Yunyu delayed releasing him from the peak by even a little longer, he likely would have forfeited the grand selection entirely without a fight.
In this martial arts competition, he was the sole participant completely devoid of cultivation.
He had no idea why Su Yunyu placed such heavy stock in him, convinced that he would surely win.
As he walked, Xiao Shuying overheard discussions about himself, with onlookers questioning why someone with severed meridians would insist on participating in the martial arts tournament, utterly lacking in self-awareness.
Undoubtedly, the vast majority shared this exact sentiment.
Therefore, Su Yunyu’s inexplicable trust actually evoked somewhat complicated feelings within him.
Yet there was no time to dwell on these emotions. The matches on the stage moved at a rapid pace, and in the blink of an eye, it was almost his turn to take the stage.
“The next match is Xiao Shuying versus Yan Angao.”
Accompanied by the beating of drums, loud discussions erupted among the spectators below.
Without listening closely, one could easily pick out several loud mentions of “Xiao Shuying’s” name.
The person in question wore a calm expression, tightly gripping Wuling as he stepped up onto the stage.
His opponent made his entrance at the exact same moment. As their eyes met, Xiao Shuying was startled to realize that his opponent was none other than Xiao Qingran’s lackey, the very person who had bumped into him at the Granary Hall the other day.
Truly, bitter enemies always cross paths.
This time, old grievances and new scores would be settled together.
The two bowed to each other before the match commenced. After returning the bow, Yan Angao scratched his head with an embarrassed smile as he straightened up, saying:
“Senior Brother Xiao, offense is taken.”
He spoke as though victory were already securely in his grasp.
Xiao Shuying ignored him, only tightening his grip on his sword.
Far away on the elevated pavilion, Su Yunyu leaned against the railing, gazing down at the martial arts arena.
On one hand, he regretted not being able to munch on melon seeds; on the other, he watched the drama unfold with keen interest.
The system piped up: [Aren’t you worried the protagonist might lose?]
Su Yunyu replied: [You have to trust the protagonist’s god-forsaken luck.]
Right on cue, the match commenced. Yan Angao drew his sword and thrust diagonally. His style relied on unorthodox angles, flexible and elusive, hissing like a snake, deceptive and shadowy.
As he thrust diagonally, Xiao Shuying sidestepped, lifting his sword to parry and strike. The ringing of his blade was resonant and solid—inheriting Su Yunyu’s teachings, it was the quintessential, orthodox swordplay closest to the Great Dao.
Truth be told, the sword techniques Xiao Shuying learned from Su Yunyu compensated for many of his weaknesses. If he had been wielding Su Yunyu’s Xuehua Sword, he likely could have won instantly.
His opponent, Yan Angao, clearly recognized that this sword technique was transcendent and razor-sharp, naturally deducing who had taught it to him. A vicious look flashed across Yan Angao’s eyes: As a good-for-nothing, what right did he have to enjoy such exceptional treatment?
Consequently, his sword strikes grew increasingly fierce, and his offensive momentum denser by the moment.
Up on the pavilion, Su Yunyu wiped a bead of sweat for the protagonist. His disciple possessed no cultivation and had shattered meridians, meaning his stamina was destined to fall short of his opponent’s from the start.
Though his swordsmanship was top-tier, his sword intent lacked maturity; whether he could win depended entirely on the will of heaven.
Just as Su Yunyu had anticipated, after a few exchanges of blows, Xiao Shuying visibly fatigued. Seizing a flaw in his sword stance, Yan Angao sliced forward with his blade—
To evade, Xiao Shuying fell flat to the ground, almost dropping his sword in the process.
If a swordsman’s weapon left his hand, victory and defeat were instantly decided. Therefore, Xiao Shuying clutched his sword with a death grip, struggling to scramble back up.
However, the next second, Yan Angao planted his foot heavily down on Xiao Shuying’s wrist, attempting to force him to loosen his grip and let go of the sword.
He even lowered his body to taunt Xiao Shuying with malicious words:
“Senior Brother, you’d better just give up. It’ll make things easier for everyone.”
“…Hah,” Xiao Shuying let out a cold sneer, lifting his gaze to glare at Yan Angao. There was not a shred of submission in his eyes, only an overwhelming, condescending arrogance.
That single glance infuriated Yan Angao. Pumping in more strength, he twisted and ground the toe of his boot viciously against Xiao Shuying’s wrist, sneering aloud:
“You really are stubborn to a fault.”
A piercing agony shot through his wrist, accompanied by an audible cracking sound. Down below, the spectators’ chatter amplified instantly, drilling straight into his ears:
“What an utter disgrace to the Immortal Venerable.”
“So useless. What on earth does the Immortal Venerable see in him?”
“Does a piece of trash like that even deserve to stay in the Tianxuan Sect?”
At that moment, Yan Angao piled on more taunts. That grating laughter, intermingled with these degrading remarks, gradually blended with the abusive words that had surrounded him day in and day out during his first life:
“He’s nothing but a jinx! He literally cursed his mother to death the moment he was born!”
“Young Master Qingran’s things must have been stolen by him—they simply must be!”
“Useless piece of trash! If you don’t clean all of this up, you’ll get what’s coming to you!”
The five fingers pressed into the ground beneath Xiao Shuying’s foot gradually tightened, clawing desperately into the earth. He exerted so much force that the pads of his fingers shattered, staining the ground with streaks of blood.
Imperceptibly, that inexplicable, surging malevolent aura gathered within him once more, acting like a raging prairie fire that dyed his pupils crimson in an instant—
His meridians ceased to ache at that precise moment, and his body regained its vigor. Xiao Shuying jerked his head up, startling Yan Angao so severely that he lost his footing; in the next split second, Xiao Shuying violently flipped him over.
As Yan Angao shrieked in shock and tumbled backward onto the ground, Xiao Shuying sprang up and kicked straight toward the hand holding Yan Angao’s sword.
Clang-crack! Yan Angao’s sword was sent flying straight out of his hand, and he crashed heavily to the ground himself.
“Xiao Shuying, wins!”
The beating of the drum resounded abruptly the next instant, proclaiming the settled outcome.
The chatter below the stage instantly vanished into thin air, leaving a dead, graveyard silence.
He won.
Realizing it, Xiao Shuying curled his lips into a smile, but his meridians suddenly flared with agony, pain so excruciating it robbed him of the will to live.
As he collapsed to the ground, just as he was about to black out from the pain, he caught sight of a streak of white robes flying in from afar.
It was Su Yunyu once more.
An immortal stepping across water, leaving behind no trace of footsteps.
His cold fragrance bloomed like orchid blossoms, casting its light across the wide-open plains.
For some reason, Xiao Shuying inexplicably released his tension, allowing himself to slip into unconsciousness.
He had won. He won.