Chapter 42: Journey towards Mount Hua

However, the man's spirit was worthy of praise.

"This is how I spar!"

-He shouted, and Qing had nothing to say.

In the end, it was a training session focused purely on the art of the sword—completely devoid of real combat applicability.

Qing thought it was just a waste of time.

With the added bonus of physical fatigue.

What's the point of sparring like this?

But, strangely enough, it was a worthwhile experience.

“Lady Ximen's skills are truely exceptional.”

"There's no need to state the obvious. You don’t praise the sun for being diligent just because it rises and sets each day."

"That confidence! A splendid mindset for a swordsman! I’ve learned something new once again."

Namgung Shinjae nodded and continued.

"However, Lady Ximen's sword is too honest. A swordsman’s blade must be free."

“……?”

Qing tilted her head.

What does it even mean for a sword to be free?

Was it supposed to wander around on its own, like Master’s sword that once abandoned its owner to go on a journey of self-discovery?

If that were the case, why was Qing still struggling to break though?

"Here, you’ll understand once you see it. This is the third form of the Azure Sky Sword—'Rebounding Wind.'”

The descending sword tip barely skimmed the ground as it flowed in motion, the wielder spinning twice before slashing horizontally two more times.

And then he performed the same move several more times.

Then, the same technique was repeated multiple times.

Yet, despite being the same move, each execution was distinct.

At one moment, the blade coiled like a snake about to strike, brimming with tension.

Then, in repetition, it pressed down with the weight of a rolling boulder, overwhelming and oppressive.

In another instant, it exuded the grace of a soaring crane.

And finally, it rippled like a swarm of ants, buzzing with relentless movement.

"Oh..."

"Do you see? Even if a technique remains the same, the essence of the sword changes depending on how it is wielded. Lady Ximen’s forms are refined to such an extent that none outside my Namgung Clan could possibly grasp their intricacies. But they always remain the same."

It was true, but… why did he sound more like a master than her?

Qing, who was a little annoyed for some reason, scoffed.

"Shame. If you'd managed to win even once before saying all that, it might have been a little cool."

"Hmph, there is no shame in lacking. The only shame is in failing to strive forward."

"Damn… Then what does that make me?"

Cheong promptly apologized.

"It’s fine. Are we not fellow swordsmen?"

Namgung Shin-jae grinned, flashing his pristine white teeth.

What the hell? Why is this weirdo also a likable guy?

"In my view, Lady Ximen should train using the principles of the Three Prime Techniques. What do you think?"

"The Three Prime Techniques? You mean those? Chop, slash, and stab?"

It was embarrassing to even call swordsmanship, only just three moves that are considered the basics of the sword.

A downward vertical slash. A horizontal cut.

And one varied from region to region.

Some schools advocated for a thrust, others a diagonal cut, and others still a sweeping strike while spinning.

It was akin to the three most famous dishes in different regions—where the first two were fixed, but the last was always a way to slip in a hometown favorite.

In other words, the first two were the real core techniques.

The vertical slash was Taesan Pressure—"Mount Tai's Crushing Pressure."

A grandiose name that perfectly encapsulated its purpose: to bring the force of a mountain down upon the enemy.

The horizontal cut was Hengso Thousand Army—"Sweeping Through a Thousand Troops."

An equally grandiose but vivid metaphor, depicting a single swing cutting down countless foes.

"So. Hmm. Lady Ximen, how about sparring against me using only those two techniques? No internal qi—just pure swordsmanship."

“Um……?”

Qing carefully examined Namgung Shinjae’s expression.

The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly.

Qing immediately caught the hint.

If she could only use two techniques—and couldn’t rely on internal energy...

How the hell am I supposed to win?

He was obviously scheming to finally land a victory.

I was just starting to respect the guy… this little shit, huh?

But Qing’s abilities were already teetering at the peak of human limits.

If the world were devoid of internal energy, Qing would have long been hailed as the strongest under the heavens, renowned with titles like The Undefeated of Jianghu or The Sword Queen of the Age.

And moments later, as he held his broken wooden sword, Namgung Shin-jae muttered,

"Now that I think about it… fighting without internal qi doesn’t really help improve one’s swordsmanship much, does it? Internal qi is important, after all. Yep."

King Darius of Persia once said—

"A wise and devoted friend is the most precious treasure in the world."

The Outer discipline of the Divine Maiden Sect, Qing, agreed with that sentiment.

And she had one thing to add:

"That friend is even more precious if they’re rich."

Namgung Shinjae was a truly magnanimous man.

If one had to pick the most manly trait about him, it was that whenever he was in a city, he always dined at the most famous restaurant.

Normally, at such places, even if one were to barge in and demand, "Bring me food!" the response would be a polite but firm, "Reservations are required."

These establishments were typically booked solid for months.

But Namgung Shin-jae was from the Namgung Clan.

Great noble families were either local aristocrats or the descendants of former rulers.

Among them, a select few still wielded overwhelming influence.

The Namgung Clan was not merely an old, powerful family.

It was, in essence, the true ruler of Anhui Province.

The restaurant, having welcomed the young master of Anhui, was more than honored to serve such a distinguished guest.

How dare they talk about reservations when it's an honor!

Qing, however, was simply overjoyed at the sight of food.

It was a natural reaction.

For someone who had once starved, their obsession with food wasn't mere preference—it was a deeply ingrained need.

Qing had lived a life where discarded scraps of food were worth fighting over—not just against beggars, but against strong beggars, rats, insects, and even stray dogs.

This naturally left a lasting imprint.

Since entering Murim, had there ever been a time as comfortable as now?

Of course, the Divine Maiden Sect was an exception—it was home, after all. And home was always a place of comfort.

Yet, it wasn’t just the fine cuisine that was satisfying.

This thing called sparring… it’s actually kind of fun.

"Alright! I’m full—let’s spar! Come on, sword-comrade!"

"Excellent! Sparring right after a meal? You truly deserve to be called my sword-comrade!"

Namgung Shinjae was a man truly devoted to the sword, and he possessed an unrecognized talent for teaching.

Qing, of course, eagerly absorbed every bit of insight he unknowingly shared.

And at last…

At the end of their duel, Qing exhaled deeply.

"Hoo..."

She had finally reached enlightenment.

The difference between sword force and sword forms became clear.

To embody one's force into a form—this was what made the same technique unique to each wielder.

At long last, she had grasped it!

To reach the Transcendent Realm was to internalize and adapt martial techniques as one's own.

In extreme cases, it was the reconstruction of martial arts.

This was the beginning—the very first step in that interpretation.

With this enlightenment, Qing had finally entered the early stage of the transcendence.

She had gained the understanding she should have mastered long ago!

The gap between her raw skill and her actual comprehension of martial arts had now begun to close.

After all, Qing had never been properly trained—she had learned martial arts in the most haphazard way possible.

No proper foundation, no structured basics—just brute-forcing techniques into her mind and using them as they came.

Half a month has passed.

Qing reached Hwangcheon, the southwesternmost tip of Henan Province.

She frowned.

"Seriously, a city called ‘Huangquan’? Isn’t that ominous?"[^In Chinese, "Huangquan" (黄泉) literally translates to "Yellow Springs" and refers to the underworld or afterlife. ]

"I succeeded in Huangquan, made a name for myself, and now I’ll bring my parents to Huangquan with me—"[^Qing, is initially unaware of the city named Huangquan and only understands the word in its traditional sense as the underworld. Therefore, she finds the expression "My son succeeded in Huangquan" to be nonsensical and ominous, as it would imply that the son has died and now intends to bring his parents to the afterlife as well.]

No matter how she tried to phrase it, it never sounded good.

Unbeknownst to Qing, Huangquan was not an uncommon city name in Murim.

If one counted the small villages, there were well over a hundred places with the same name.

This was because many of the rivers in the Central Plains carried yellow, murky waters, leading to settlements named Huangquan wherever people built homes along their banks.

However, Henan’s Huangquan was special.

It was the largest among them all.

After arriving, they headed to the stables to return their carriage, where Namgung Shinjae paid the remainder of their travel expenses.

Then, naturally, they asked for directions to the best inn in Huangquan.

As expected of the best, it was a spectacle from afar.

The sheer number of people gathered there was overwhelming—almost as if a human fortress had formed around it.

Qing’s eyes sparkled.

"Oh? What kind of inn is this? It’s this popular? This has to be a good sign, right?"

"No matter how fine the establishment, there’s no way an inn could attract this many people. There must be something unusual going on."

"Something unusual?"

Namgung Shinjae’s eyes gleamed.

"It must be that a transcendent swordsman is staying here. No doubt, all these people have gathered, hoping to witness a glimpse of their unrivaled swordsmanship!"

"...Sure. If you say so, then that must be it."

Qing sighed deeply.

"Now that I think about it, I simply must meet them and seek guidance. I cannot resist this opportunity!"

Unable to contain his excitement, Namgung Shinjae strode ahead with determination.

Qing shook her head.

"What is it with swords? What is it with swordsmanship? How does it turn perfectly normal rich young masters into this?"

With a resigned sigh, she followed her generous patron.

And then—

Namgung Shinjae came to an abrupt halt.

Qing caught up, only to find his expression filled with disappointment.

"What’s wrong?"

"It’s nothing but women."

"And? What about it?"

"I've seen this too many times before. It’s clear that no great swordsman is here. For a moment, I was truly excited..."

Ah. This wall of women.

Qing immediately understood.

So this is how it looks from the outside, huh?

"Ah. You’re right."

Even without looking inside, Qing could already imagine the scene.

No doubt, some sort of trash disposal competition was underway.

Namgung Shinjae let out a deep sigh.

"I do have an acquaintance inside. He doesn’t use a sword but a dao—foolish, really. But though he’s dull-witted, he’s not a bad person. I should at least say hello. You don’t mind, do you?"

Do all rich young masters know each other?

Then again, heirs of conglomerates probably stuck together too.

It actually made sense the more Qing thought about it.

"Of course not. Go ahead."

But then, Namgung Shinjae gave a cautious warning.

"Actually… that fool is particularly hostile toward women. He might act rudely towards you—or rather, I know he will. He’s not malicious, just... ignorant. Please, be understanding. You can simply ignore him."

Qing didn’t respond.

Instead of answering, Qing just smiled slyly.