Chapter Forty-Seven: Hope

What Xiao Yue said left Chu Feng with a complicated mix of emotions. The simple phrase “fallen to this point” seemed to encapsulate all the misfortune and bitterness Xiao Yue had suffered over the years.

Earlier, when Chu Feng had learned that Xiao Yue might be connected to the elder Xiao Butian, he had inquired into the mysterious disappearance of the Xiao clan. The Xiao family was an ancient lineage nearly ten thousand years old, its history stretching even further back than the Mo family to which Mo Xuan belonged. Though only one Saint Spirit Warrior, Xiao Butian, had ever emerged from their ranks, his significance outweighed even the three Saint Spirit Warriors of the Mo family, for Xiao Butian was counted among the most powerful figures in human history.

Because of this, the Xiao clan possessed tremendous foundations and remained one of the ten great families among humanity—its status even higher than that of the Mo family. Who would ever have imagined, then, that a scion of the illustrious Xiao clan would become a teacher in the Twentieth Newcomer Battalion? Even Chu Feng found this difficult to believe.

“What really happened?” Chu Feng asked.

Xiao Yue made no attempt to hide the truth. In his eyes, Chu Feng was not just his student but his friend, and so he shared everything with him.

As it turned out, Xiao Yue was a direct descendant of the Xiao clan, awakening his spirit at seven, an extraordinary prodigy in his youth, and the most promising candidate to inherit the clan leadership. Yet in such a powerful family, internal struggles and intrigue were fierce. By fifteen, Xiao Yue had already become an eighth-rank Earth Spirit Warrior, but at that very moment, he was struck by a hidden plot—poisoned by a mysterious toxin. Though he narrowly survived, his cultivation was crippled, his body left half-wasted, and he lost his eligibility to compete for the clan leader’s position. Now, in his early thirties, he could barely manage the rank of sixth-rank Earth Spirit Warrior.

Losing the right to inherit the leadership was not what troubled Xiao Yue most. While he was serving in the military, both his parents were killed in battle. When he returned to his clan, he was ostracized, mocked, and bullied by his former rivals. In a fit of anger, Xiao Yue left the Xiao clan to seek his fortune in the Spirit Warrior Pavilion, accepting the role of a teacher.

Xiao Yue was indifferent to the clan leader’s position, but the humiliation he suffered at their hands was hard to bear. Naturally, he longed for revenge, to wash away the shame, but he knew well that his prospects in cultivation were now limited.

He once tried to study the “Way of the Sword,” a discipline no one before had mastered, but found the path impassable. So he placed his hopes in his students. If he could nurture an extraordinary disciple, perhaps one day his shame might be avenged.

Yet the students of the Twentieth Battalion had mediocre talent—none approaching even his own diminished abilities. Xiao Yue held little hope, but this became his spiritual solace in life.

Until he met Chu Feng. He discovered that, though Chu Feng could not awaken his spirit, he possessed extraordinary willpower and a rare talent for swordsmanship. Xiao Yue thus guided him, encouraging him to practice the “Way of the Sword” that no one had ever succeeded with.

Chu Feng marveled in silence, having never imagined that his teacher had endured such a past. He was deeply moved—he, unable to awaken his spirit, had been entrusted with such high hopes by Xiao Yue, who had indeed helped him greatly.

“Rest assured,” Chu Feng said solemnly, “let me be the one to wash away the disgrace you once suffered.”

“Thank you!” Xiao Yue replied, gratitude in his voice.

“No need for thanks between brothers,” Chu Feng said with a laugh. In his eyes, Xiao Yue was barely ten years his senior—calling each other brothers was only natural.

Xiao Yue was briefly startled, then smiled. “Indeed, there’s no need for formality between brothers. But I’m counting on you for the rest of my life, so you must walk this path well. I have a feeling that if you truly achieve something in the Way of the Sword, you will become an extraordinary figure.”

“No problem,” Chu Feng nodded.

After parting from Xiao Yue, Chu Feng walked alone along a stone path, the “Way of the Sword” in hand, his mind still full of emotion. Never had he imagined that, alongside body refinement, he would glimpse another path through sword practice.

Chu Feng was naturally delighted. To continue growing stronger was what he needed more than anything now. Yet he had no idea how to truly study the “Way of the Sword,” for it was neither mere sword technique nor cultivation method—it contained no concrete training regimen, only an ethereal and profound artistic conception.

“It seems the key to the Way of the Sword lies in continually experiencing its essence,” Chu Feng muttered as he walked. He had no doubt about its power—after all, he had felt it himself before. But the state of mind required was incredibly elusive; even having experienced it, it felt nebulous and mysterious, impossible to grasp.

Chu Feng pondered for a long time. “That previous moment of enlightenment came from practicing the sword. It seems to truly experience that state, I must keep practicing.”

Though his swordsmanship had already reached a high level, Chu Feng had no intention of stopping. Practicing the sword did not hinder his body refinement; on the contrary, it benefited both pursuits.

Ten days passed in the blink of an eye. Throughout, Chu Feng practiced swordsmanship with a thousand-pound weight on his back, all the while seeking to comprehend the first realm described in the Way of the Sword—Controlling the Sword with Qi.

He had already memorized the descriptions of this realm by heart. Though his study of the Way of the Sword made little progress, his physical strength increased day by day.

During these ten days, Chu Feng visited the Heaven Battalion twice. Long Yue had yet to take on missions, but was also training hard.

Three days ago, Chu Feng participated in the test for Squad Nine. As expected, though there was no sword technique assessment this time, he still took first place by a wide margin. The thousand taels of silver were his once again.

With two consecutive first-place finishes in Squad Nine, Chu Feng had shocked many in the Twentieth Battalion. His reputation now spread far and wide. Even before the battalion’s official competition, he had already become one of its rising stars.

Carrying a thousand pounds was far from Chu Feng’s limit, but after two hours of sword practice, even he was exhausted.

One day, he began his training early, bearing his thousand-pound load for three full hours before reaching his limit.

Utterly exhausted, Chu Feng lay on the ground, his mind drifting through the contents of the Way of the Sword, and drifted off to sleep.

Unnoticed, the air around him grew thick with spiritual energy, forming a white ribbon visible to the naked eye. The dense energy surged toward him, pouring into his body, and a look of peaceful comfort appeared on his face.

Before long, the energy dissipated and Chu Feng awoke, sitting up abruptly.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep. I wonder what time it is now?”

He checked the timer in the corner—he hadn’t slept more than half an hour.

Chu Feng was astonished. Normally, after training with a thousand pounds for two hours and soaking in dense spiritual energy, it would take nearly an hour to fully recover. But now, after three hours of practice, he recovered completely in less than half an hour.

“What on earth happened?” Chu Feng was baffled, unable to understand.

He fell silent, replaying the Way of the Sword in his mind. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.

“Just now, in deep sleep, I entered a state of unconsciousness—my mind utterly empty. Could this be what the text calls ‘transcending the self’? It must have been in that state that something miraculous occurred.”

Chu Feng pondered, then frowned. What happened in an unconscious state is difficult to control—so much depends on chance, and the mysteries remain obscure.

“If I could achieve the same empty-mindedness in a conscious state, would I also transcend the self?” he wondered.

Reflecting on the experience, Chu Feng realized that this mysterious state resembled what he had felt before, when he unleashed sword energy.

Determined, he decided to imitate the cultivators, seated himself cross-legged, relaxed his body, closed his eyes, and focused his mind. At first, he concentrated on the artistic conception described in the Way of the Sword, then let go of all thoughts.

To empty one’s mind and transcend the self is an immense challenge for any conscious being. The more he tried to think of nothing, the more his mind raced, less tranquil than when he was practicing the sword.

“It seems I must proceed step by step,” he thought. He regulated his breathing, calmed his heart, and focused only on the image of a sword—a peerless, invincible sword that could subdue all domains.

Though he was unable to completely transcend the self, his mind grew calmer.

After half an hour of meditation, Chu Feng rose to practice his sword, letting each move flow naturally from his heart.

He found his movements smoother than before, his mind more absorbed in the practice.

And so, day after day, Chu Feng focused on his swordsmanship, contemplating the Way of the Sword and meditating regularly.

Soon, twenty days had passed. By then, his swordplay contained an ethereal quality, and he clearly felt that with the same explosive strength, his speed had increased, and his adaptability improved.

It wasn’t just Chu Feng who noticed—Long Yue, whom he saw once during this period, also remarked that his swordsmanship had become more natural, possessing a certain airy grace.

This was a result Chu Feng hadn’t anticipated. He had thought his skills had already reached their peak, but now they had improved even further.

“It seems that mastery in swordsmanship is not true perfection,” Chu Feng realized. There was still room for growth.

During this time, his recovery after fatigue increased significantly, which in turn greatly accelerated his body refinement.

In just twenty days, his physique advanced again—he could now easily bear a load of fifteen hundred pounds.

In a single explosive punch, his strength was astonishing—nearly three thousand pounds of force. In terms of sheer power alone, he was now the equal of any third-rank Earth Spirit Warrior.

This result was enough to astound the world. Never before had such a unique and heaven-defying figure appeared, overturning all previous understanding.

On the morning of the next day, Chu Feng sat cross-legged in the training room, the Subduing Domain Sword resting across his knees. His mind was tranquil, and he had almost forgotten the heavy weights on his body.

Suddenly, Chu Feng called out, “Han Yan, Gu Xin—why are you two whispering outside? Why not come in?”

Outside the training room, Han Yan and Gu Xin exchanged glances.

“What’s going on? How did the boss know? Has he developed clairvoyance?” Han Yan exclaimed in shock, clearly stunned by what they had just witnessed.