Chapter 106: Chapter Nine: Overview

Humanity did not leap directly to its present civilizational achievements, nor did that majestic mountain of swordcraft rise instantly with the forging of the first sword.

The sword, an ancient and enduring weapon, has been exhaustively studied by humanity for thousands of years, and it seems indeed to possess infinite potential—even after millennia and millions of practitioners have developed it, it still occasionally gives rise to unprecedented new wonders.

The “Compendium of Sword Arts from the Six Dynasties,” as its title suggests, traces the evolution of swordcraft from the Xia Dynasty through Shang, Zhou, Qin, Han, and Jin, presenting it as a continuous flow—neither omitting essential points nor sinking into triviality, grand in scope and clear in logic.

The first half of this book focuses on the individual, discussing the very practice of “cultivating the sword”; its most essential contribution lies in summarizing the Five Stages of Swordcraft, thereby providing clear guidance on how to train within each stage. One can imagine the author’s own lofty realm in swordcraft.

The second half discusses the development of the sword—the evolution of Laozi’s and Zhuangzi’s sword styles, the mutual refinement between Wu and Yue sword traditions, and how they became today’s Daoist Sword, Yunlang Sword, and Dongting Sword. The author presents these with rigorous precision, revealing his profound research and broad vision.

Zhu Gaoyang now explained this to Pei Ye, repeating each passage three times.

The first time, he clarified every word and phrase—from pronunciation and meaning to the classical allusions each term invoked—explaining every detail meticulously. The second time, he expounded the sword principles within the text, making the profound accessible, occasionally using two brushes as swords to demonstrate. The third time, he closed the book and, drawing on his own deep experience growing up in Long Jun’s Dongting and his exceptionally high sword realm, imparted to Pei Ye his unique insights into the passage.

After this full process, the “Compendium” in Pei Ye’s mind seemed stripped of fog and meticulously deconstructed; the words remained the same, yet when he looked at them again, everything became instantly clear, his mind wide open.

But this method was indeed extremely time-consuming; he did not know how long had passed when Xing Zhi quietly pushed the door open and peered in, puzzled: “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Pei Ye suddenly snapped back to awareness, turning toward the door—the night outside was deep and silent.

“Hmm,” he rose with reluctant reluctance, shook his head—this was the first time in his life he had felt knowledge, precious as treasure, pouring freely into his mind.

“It’s already this late? Then Brother Zhu, let’s continue tomorrow.”

Zhu Gaoyang smiled—he had not forgotten the time, but seeing Pei Ye so utterly absorbed, he had simply kept going.

“With such thirst for learning, you shouldn’t even be unable to recognize all the characters,” he teased.

Pei Ye shot him a disgruntled look, nodded to Xing Zhi, and picked up the book to leave.

For most people, eagerness to learn is not normal; only when learning the right thing at the right time does one feel the hunger of thirst.

Pei Ye had just been guided by Ming Qi Tian to see the path of swordcraft clearly, and under that insight, he had genuinely strengthened his own ability—he was now in desperate need of knowledge about “sword principles.” For the past eight years, he had overly emphasized “action” while neglecting “understanding”; now that he recognized this, the suppressed craving of eight years erupted uncontrollably.

New knowledge continuously confirmed his past insights, answered long-buried questions, and validated those occasional wild, fanciful thoughts—this feeling was truly intoxicating.

He returned to his own quarters.

As he pushed the door open, the room was pitch black—he was still accustomed to not lighting lamps. Feeling his way in the dark to the bed, he turned his head and saw a faint moonlight streaming through the window, pooling on the pillow, where a black lump curled beneath it, its smooth fur shimmering with a silvery glow.

Pei Ye climbed onto the bed silently, not disturbing it.

The black cat had its own matters to attend to.

It now possessed only this small form; though still growing, restoring its original state would take a very long time.

Unlike humans, Immortal Hunters have no meridian trees and no true qi—the unique human energy. Their bodies generate spiritual energy for their own use; thus, clearly, the strength of their bodies determines their power.

Although through the pact, the Black Chi could now draw and manipulate cosmic qi, manipulating cosmic qi itself requires the self as a lever. For humans, that lever is spiritual insight and the meridian tree; for Immortal Hunters, it returns to the body itself.

Thus, the Black Chi trained ceaselessly day and night; when it paused, it would stare blankly at the sky, its emerald eyes occasionally flashing with cold light.

Pei Ye did not disturb it all day, only holding it on his lap during meals.

Immortal Hunters can survive without food or drink, but they are not incapable of consuming them—at least, the Black Chi showed clear interest in eating. Moreover, its taste did not align with that of ordinary cats, but leaned toward human preference; whatever Pei Ye ate, he would share a small spoonful with it.

Pei Ye lay down, closed his eyes, savored the fullness of the day, and soon fell asleep.

After an unknown length of time.

In the depths of his dream, Pei Ye suddenly felt his body being prodded.

The dream continued, but his deeper consciousness had awakened—he sat up abruptly, opened his eyes, and looked around—but the night remained calm, nothing had happened.

Then he felt something prodding his leg.

Pei Ye looked down—a sword, translucent as Liuli , hovered in midair, gently nudging him through the blanket with its hilt.

The sword’s deep blue glowed faintly in the night, eerie and sinister.

Pei Ye’s heart jolted—the relentless consumption over several days had nearly reached the sword’s core; sharp ice crystals were about to pierce the delicate red bead.

Pei Ye grabbed it and placed it on his lap; the sword trembled slightly, as if enduring great pain.

Pei Ye frowned, placed his hand upon the blade, and gently stroked its length, whispering: “Bear with it—I’ll help you right away.”

Binglu operated at full capacity; this time, he did not target a single point, but slowly moved his palm across the entire blade. It was a temporary measure—he pulled each venomous serpent backward, keeping them temporarily distant from the red bead, to relieve the pain of Zhanxin Liuli.

Pei Ye pressed his hand against the sword, lingering over every inch; by the time his hand left the tip, nearly two hours had passed, and the sky was beginning to lighten.

Pei Ye took several deep breaths—he felt the fatigue of Binglu for the first time—it, too, like arms and legs, could tire from overuse.

“Now do you understand how serious this is?” Pei Ye lightly tapped the blade, whispering, “I told you I’d heal you, yet you insisted on running off.”

Zhanxin Liuli stirred slightly on his lap.

“Alright, it’s temporarily safe. Let’s leave it at this for now—I need rest too,” Pei Ye sighed. “I’ll carefully remove the rest tomorrow.”

Zhanxin Liuli floated gently upward and settled at the head of the bed.

Pei Ye pulled the blanket over himself and lay down to sleep.

Sad news! Starting today, I’ll post only one chapter per day for a few days.

I’m traveling on official business for a week—I’ll still try to write daily, but I’m unsure when I’ll resume two chapters per day. As soon as I have enough material, I’ll post it; no later than the 15th.

The transitional chapter is ending soon—I’m preparing to launch into the main events of Volume Two, and this is a good time to let the plot settle.

Thank you to Boss Yanben Huyan for your donation! I remember you once wrote “Please don’t kill the old man.” Thank you to Boss Wei Chang for your donation!

Sigh, I truly wish I could become a tentacle monster—producing stories quickly, reliably, and in abundance for everyone.

(End of Chapter)