In the afternoon, by the small stream.
Lu Yuan crouched on the bank, his finger pulsing with a faint trace of spirit power as he touched the leaf of a wild weed.
No reaction.
He let go, and the leaf floated into the water.
Behind him, gravel rattled loudly.
“Well, if it isn’t Scholar Lu.” It was Qian Xiaohao’s voice.
Lu Yuan didn’t turn around, simply standing up and patting the dirt off his clothes.
Three shadows blocked the path a few paces behind him.
Qian Xiaohao stood with his arms crossed, his chin held high, the short sabre at his waist gleaming under the sun.
His two followers stood on his left and right.
“Need something?” Lu Yuan turned around.
His tone was far too flat.
Qian Xiaohao’s jaw twitched.
“I heard your dad broke through?
A white spirit ring, real impressive.” The short, chubby follower chuckled.
“Squeezing out a white ring after fifteen years is a talent in itself.” Lu Yuan didn’t take the bait.
He looked at Qian Xiaohao as if looking at a rock.
That gaze made Qian Xiaohao’s temper flare.
He took half a step forward.
“Town folks say you know cultivation methods.
What, can Blue Silver Grass teach people now?” The wind by the river blew through the reeds.
In the distance, people on the field dikes turned to look.
“My dad figured it out himself,” Lu Yuan said.
“Figured it out?” Qian Xiaohao sneered.
“If he could figure it out, what was he doing for the last fifteen years?” He lowered his voice.
“He didn’t use some crooked path, did he?
Forcing a breakthrough with evil methods brings massive backlash.” The words were laced with malice.
Lu Yuan’s eyelids flickered slightly.
“Even Spirit Hall hasn’t made a judgment.
Do you know better than Spirit Hall?” Qian Xiaohao was choked up.
He had been holding in his anger for days, and today he was determined to vent it.
His hand rested on the hilt of his sabre.
“Fine, let’s not talk about your dad.” He took half a step back.
“Let’s talk about us.
Mine is an Ironback Sabre, Rank 4 spirit power.
Yours is Blue Silver Grass, Rank 0.5.” He drawled out the last words.
“Isn’t the gap a bit wide?” The short, chubby follower chimed in loudly, “The difference between heaven and earth!” “Exactly,” Qian Xiaohao laughed.
“I’m curious, how does a useless spirit cultivate?
How about…
you demonstrate for me?” The two followers shifted slightly to the sides, forming a rough triangle.
Lu Yuan’s gaze fell on the short sabre.
The scabbard was inlaid with copper and intricate patterns, but the blade’s edge showed signs of wear.
A decorative piece.
He raised his eyes.
“Demonstrate how?” “A spar,” Qian Xiaohao released his sabre hilt.
“No spirit skills, just moves.
Show me what a Blue Silver Grass can do.” The provocation was blatant.
A few onlookers gathered around—farmers, washerwomen, and half-grown kids peeking through the reed patches.
Lu Yuan was silent for two seconds.
“A spar is fine.” Qian Xiaohao’s eyes lit up.
“But I have a condition,” Lu Yuan continued.
“No spirit power, only techniques.
You use your sabre, I use this.” He raised his right hand.
A faint blue phantom of Blue Silver Grass emerged, its slender leaves swaying gently.
Low jeers erupted around them.
Using grass against a sabre?
Qian Xiaohao froze before bursting out laughing.
“Are you serious?” “Do you dare or not?” The ball was kicked back to him.
Qian Xiaohao couldn’t afford to lose face.
He had originally wanted to force Lu Yuan to use spirit skills and embarrass himself, but now that the other party proposed such an absurd match, backing down would make him look cowardly.
“Fine!” He gritted his teeth and drew his sabre.
“No spirit power it is.
I want to see what tricks a piece of trash grass can play.” The blade shone brightly.
Lu Yuan took two steps back and loosely cupped his right hand.
Spirit power pulsed faintly, causing the edge of the grass blade to gleam with an extremely dim fluorescence—hardening, though only for an instant.
Qian Xiaohao didn’t notice.
He took a stance, pointing his blade forward.
“Come on!” “You first.” Qian Xiaohao snorted, stepping forward with a diagonal slash.
The movement wasn’t fast, but his posture was standard.
Lu Yuan sidestepped, the phantom of Blue Silver Grass flicking outward as its leaves brushed past the blade.
He didn’t block, using the momentum to retreat half a step.
The strike missed.
Qian Xiaohao frowned, pulling back his sabre to thrust forward.
Lu Yuan continued to dodge.
His footwork was minimal, barely evading each strike while the grass leaves occasionally tapped against the blade or swept toward his wrist.
The movements were light and lacked power, but they were deeply annoying.
After seven or eight exchanges, Qian Xiaohao hadn’t even touched the hem of Lu Yuan’s clothes.
Whispers began to circulate in the crowd.
“He dodges pretty fast…” “What’s the point of just dodging?” Qian Xiaohao’s face flushed hot.
Growing impatient, his sabre techniques began to turn sloppy.
Another slash cut through empty air.
Lu Yuan suddenly stepped half a pace forward.
The Blue Silver Grass phantom shook violently, its leaves stiffening straight like needles as they jabbed toward the wrist holding the sabre.
Qian Xiaohao reflexively pulled his hand back, his sabre momentum stalling.
In that brief stall, the Blue Silver Grass wrapped around the blade, and the leaf tip lightly struck the web between his thumb and index finger—the tiger’s mouth point.
Ice-cold.
Numb.
His grip loosened, and the short sabre clattered onto the river pebbles.
The surroundings fell instantly silent.
Lu Yuan retracted his Blue Silver Grass and took two steps back.
His breathing was slightly rushed, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
That last move had consumed nearly thirty percent of his spirit power, and the hardening had lasted for only half a second.
But it was enough.
Qian Xiaohao stared blankly at the sabre on the ground, his face turning bright red.
He scooped up the blade and gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“You…” his voice trembled.
“You used spirit power!” “I didn’t,” Lu Yuan said calmly.
“We agreed on no spirit power.
If you think I used it, feel free to ask Spirit Hall to test me.” The response blocked any retort.
Qian Xiaohao opened his mouth, unable to utter a word.
He indeed hadn’t felt any spirit power fluctuations, but the sharp pain at the base of his thumb didn’t feel fake either.
The short, chubby follower leaned in.
“Brother Xiaohao, should we…” “Shut up!” Qian Xiaohao growled.
He glared at Lu Yuan as if wanting to swallow him whole.
“Again!” “That’s enough.” Old Chen the carpenter pushed through the crowd.
He looked at both of them and frowned.
“Just kids messing around, know when to stop.
If someone actually gets hurt, your parents will come looking.” Qian Xiaohao gritted his teeth.
Old Chen was on friendly terms with his father, so these words gave him a way out.
He was unwilling, but everyone was watching.
Lu Yuan spoke first.
“Uncle Chen is right.
It was just a spar, stopping at a touch.” He looked at Qian Xiaohao.
“Do you still want to continue?” Polite, but the meaning was clear: if you want to stop, now is the right time.
Qian Xiaohao’s chest heaved a few times before he slammed his sabre back into its sheath.
“Consider yourself lucky today,” he squeezed the words through his teeth.
“I’ll see you at the Spirit Master Academy.” He turned and walked away, his two followers hastily catching up.
The crowd dispersed.
Old Chen patted Lu Yuan’s shoulder.
“The Qian boy has a hot temper.
Try not to provoke him.” Lu Yuan nodded.
“Thank you, Uncle Chen.” Only he remained by the river bank.
Opening his right hand, the phantom of the Blue Silver Grass had already dissipated, leaving his palm sore and aching.
He looked down.
The tiger’s mouth point was the starting point of the Hand Yangming Large Intestine Meridian—a crucial point for exerting force with a sabre.
A gentle prick there disrupted muscle control.
It was a trick, but an effective one.
Turning back toward home, he mentally reviewed every detail.
Reaching the entrance of the town, he paused.
A grey-robed figure leaned against a mud wall by the roadside.
It was Zhao Shi.
He stood with his arms crossed, a faint, half-mocking smile on his face.
“Quite impressive.
Using Blue Silver Grass against an Ironback Sabre and still coming out on top.” Lu Yuan’s heart tightened, though his face remained unreadable.
“Luck.” “Luck?” Zhao Shi took two steps closer, his gaze sweeping over Lu Yuan’s right hand.
“During that last move, the grass blade hardened, didn’t it?
Even if it was just for an instant, you can’t hide it from me.” Lu Yuan remained silent.
Zhao Shi didn’t push him further, continuing casually, “The Qian boy holds grudges.
But compared to him, I’m more interested in something else.” He stared into Lu Yuan’s eyes.
“On the night your father broke through, what exactly was buried under those tiles in your backyard?” Lu Yuan’s pupils shrank slightly.
Zhao Shi smiled.
“Don’t be nervous.
I’m just curious.” He turned and waved his hand.
“Take your time thinking about it.
We have plenty of days ahead.” The grey robe vanished around the corner of the alley.
Lu Yuan stood in place, letting out a long breath after a good while.
Trouble had arrived—and more than one kind.
He looked up at the sky.
The sun was tilting westward, heavy clouds stacking high.
He needed to speed things up.
Stepping forward, he walked toward home.
Passing the Qian family compound, the gate was tightly shut, and the sounds of scolding and heavy thuds against wooden training posts came from within.
His footsteps didn’t pause.
Reaching his own alley entrance, he pulled a small cloth pouch from his chest pocket.
Inside were a few shriveled seeds—Soul-Gathering Grass.
He picked up one seed and held it against the light.
Its surface was rough, completely devoid of luster.
According to his knowledge base, Soul-Gathering Grass had less than a one percent chance of mutating under specific spirit power fluctuations.
It required a continuous, stable spirit power field for induction.
Previously, he lacked the conditions.
Now…
He put the seed back into the pouch and tucked it away securely.
Pushing open the courtyard gate, his mother Lin Xiu was hanging clothes to dry.
“Where were you?
It’s so late.” “Just took a walk by the river.” Lin Xiu nodded and asked no further questions.
Lu Yuan walked to the backyard.
The broken tiles at the wall corner were still there, the soil beneath them slightly damp.
He crouched down, his fingers brushing aside the loose dirt.
The Soul-Gathering Grass hadn’t sprouted yet.
However, he could feel an extremely faint trace of spirit power gathering deep within the soil.
It was very slow, but it was moving.
He withdrew his hand and stood up.
A ray of setting sun leaked through a gap in the western clouds, red as blood.
Lu Yuan narrowed his eyes.
Soon.
Once the seeds broke through the soil, once he had a few more bargaining chips in hand…
Certain debts would need to be settled.