"Jing Qian, in competitive sports, without talent you're nothing but cannon fodder!"
"What use is hard work alone?"
"Fencing doesn't suit you. Better to give it up and focus on studying!"
…
"Jing Qian, you've lost to me twenty-seven times in official matches! Recently, I read an online novel, and there was a line that fit you perfectly!"
"If you do not cultivate, then when you look at me, it's like a frog at the bottom of a well gazing at the moon."
"If you do cultivate, then when you face me, it's like an ant staring up at the heavens."
"Hahaha, isn't that cool?"
…
"My grandson Jing Qian, if you're reading this letter, it is as if we were face to face!"
"Your aunt insists on taking me to the capital for treatment of my lungs. But at my age, whether they look at me or not, what difference does it make?"
"Still, you know your aunt's temper. If I refuse, our household will be thrown into chaos again!"
"I've mailed you the entire manuscript of the Jing Clan Eight Trigrams Sword. From now on, the swordsmanship of the Jing family shall be carried on by you."
"My grandson, you were born a natural swordsman. But alas, your parents forged blades for the nation in Jiuquan and were tainted by radiation. Because of that, you were born with deficiencies, your foundation damaged. Though you possess talent in sword-forging, your body limits you, preventing you from reaching your full potential."
"Alas, alas…"
…
"Jing Qian, member of the provincial fencing team, acted bravely against multiple knife-wielding robbers in the street. One dead, four wounded. He died a hero."
…
"I killed someone!"
"I really couldn't hold back."
"With a sharp blade in hand, killing intent surges forth, and courage is born!"
"When faced with injustice, if I cannot draw my sword like a dragon and strike to ease the pain in my heart, then why did I train in the sword at all?"
"It's a pity, though. The bandit leader I fought was also a skilled martial artist. Even though I had mastered the Jing Clan Eight Trigrams Sword to a high degree, the best I could do was trade injury for victory in a narrow escape!"
"For him to hone his skills to that extent, he must have been a man of iron will and relentless effort. How could such a person stoop to being a common robber, stealing for a jade stele?"
"But this world after death… is truly fascinating!"
"The man I slew with my own hands dared to return as a vicious ghost to haunt me?"
"Then I'll just cut you down a second time!"
Thoughts surged endlessly in Jing Qian's mind. After death, he inexplicably found himself in a narrow space.
It was no more than ten square meters. Other than himself, there stood the very bandit leader he had slain!
Now, the enemy's face was a ghastly blue-purple, no longer human. Yet his fatal wounds had completely healed; he had risen from the dead!
And worse, unlike Jing Qian, who stood empty-handed, the man still carried his weapon from life, a steel deboning knife gripped tightly in his hand.
On this narrow path, battle was inevitable!
Jing Qian felt a surge of blood energy rising from his tailbone, like an electric current rushing straight to the space between his brows, then sinking into his dantian and organs, transforming into boundless strength!
He planted his left foot hard, kicking against the ground. The immense rebound force shot his body forward like thunder and lightning.
With his right hand, he brought two fingers together as a sword and thrust with all his might, unleashing the most lethal strike of his family's sword art:
[Kan-Li Pointing Star]!
His body flowed with grace, his right arm tracing a twisted arc, evading the slash of the steel blade and stabbing straight toward the opponent's eyes.
His fingertip pierced through the cornea, and blood mixed with vitreous fluid sprayed outward!
He had blinded the man with a single strike!
When martial artists fight for their lives, hesitation means death. With his sight destroyed, the bandit leader could no longer defend himself. Naturally, he was no match for Jing Qian.
Circling calmly, Jing Qian seized another opening. His finger lashed out again, striking directly at the enemy's temple!
Fueled by inner strength, his finger was as hard as steel. The strike penetrated three inches into the skull.
That ghostly, half-human opponent's head burst under a single strike, killed outright!
After resurrection, the man had moved like a stiff corpse, his reactions dulled, his speed and agility greatly reduced. His strength was far weaker than it had been in life.
When Jing Qian finished him, a faint smoke rose from the body.
The smoke was pale blue-white, formless, and without scent. It drifted straight toward Jing Qian, who inhaled it into his abdomen with a single breath!
Jing Qian felt a rush of heat spread from his chest and abdomen, flooding through his entire body in the blink of an eye.
A warm, comfortable sensation enveloped him, filling him with ease and satisfaction.
He realized his physical strength had slightly increased, and even his thinking had become sharper!
More importantly, along with the inhaled smoke, a strange new martial insight fused naturally with his consciousness.
His body twisted as he set up a brand-new fist stance and began practicing right there in that narrow space.
Normally, Jing Qian trained in his clan's art, the Jing Clan Eight Trigrams Sword, so his boxing was naturally rooted in Eight Trigrams Palm (Bagua Palm) methods.
But this time, his movements displayed a practiced mastery of Form-Intention Boxing (Xingyi Quan)!
All of it came from the memory he had absorbed from the slain opponent.
That wisp of memory carried over ten years of bitter Form-Intention training now fused into Jing Qian, granting him the very essence of Form-Intention Boxing (Xingyi Quan) and raising his strength by leaps and bounds!
At that moment, the enemy he had pierced to death suddenly staggered back to his feet, picked up the fallen steel knife, and lunged at him again.
But Jing Qian, stronger than before, felt no fear.
He charged forward and once again thrust out with his finger-sword, striking the crown of the enemy's head at the vital Heavenly Spirit point. The foe collapsed, killed a second time.
A second wisp of smoke emerged, laced with martial knowledge, and drifted into Jing Qian's body.
Yet still the bandit did not stay dead; he rose again, swaying unsteadily!
Jing Qian pierced him seven times in total before, at last, the man's figure dissipated with the release of the final wisp of smoke.
Afterward, in the corner of the narrow space, a stone stele suddenly rose from the ground.
Approaching it, Jing Qian saw a few lines shallowly carved upon its surface:
[Host: Jing Qian]
[Lifespan: 1 / 84 years]
[Life Essence: 0.1]
[Life Pattern: None]
"What? I'm only one year old?"
"And this Life Essence and Life Pattern… what exactly are they?"
Puzzled, Jing Qian wandered the space.
Apart from the stele, the place was seamless and empty.
Circling behind it, he found four large characters carved into the back:
"Draft of Jing Qian's Chronicle."
He didn't understand, nor did he have anywhere else to go. So he sat cross-legged before the stele and began meditating.
In the very next moment, his consciousness shifted strangely. He had escaped the narrow space!
When he opened his eyes, he discovered he had become a swaddled infant, lying in a hanging cradle, gently rocked by a kindly old woman.
As she rocked the cradle, the grandmotherly figure muttered softly to him:
"My grandson, you must grow quickly. Once you have settled your Life Pattern and cultivated your Life Essence, you will be able to fight alongside your grandmother to slay our enemies!"
"Even if the Jing family is reduced to only the two of us, we cannot allow our lineage to fall."
"In this world, if fools come knocking at our door, we strike them down without hesitation."