A single day in the mountains—ten thousand years in the world below.
It was the same mountain, the same summit. Upon it stood a youth. His right hand gripped a sword; his left formed a sword gesture. He executed the sword technique move by move. Sword light flashed as the man followed the blade, faster and faster with each strike. In the end, only a mass of sword light could be seen—the person himself blurred into nothing more than a faint shadow, appearing one moment in front, the next behind.
If any Shaolin disciple were present, they would surely cry out in shock:"The Bodhidharma Sword has reappeared! Heaven—can this truly be witnessed with one's own eyes?!"
The Bodhidharma Sword Art had been lost for hundreds of years. Anyone who saw it would be so stunned their jaw would drop to the ground. At this moment, the youth reached the final move. Flying Crane Ascends to Heaven.He pointed the sword skyward, danced several sword blossoms, and leapt upward, his body rising together with the blade. At four or five meters high, he twisted midair, turned downward, and again formed sword flowers as he descended. Just as the sword tip was about to touch the ground, his legs moved in midair, true qi surged through his body, and he suddenly flipped once more, landing lightly on both feet. His face was not flushed, his breathing calm. He withdrew the move, sword flashing as it returned to his hand.
"Seven years… I've finally mastered the last move," the youth murmured to himself.
That's right—this young man was Zhu Siqi. He had gone up the mountain at just over three years old, apprenticed himself to Master Liaofan, and studied there for twelve years. From a tiny child, he had grown into a young man nearly 1.7 meters tall. His face was not particularly handsome, his features merely ordinary—the kind you'd overlook in a crowd. But look closer, and you'd notice his eyes were exceptionally lively. When focused, a sharp gleam would flash within them, making others unconsciously avert their gaze. He was the kind of person who became more striking the longer you looked.
Siqi returned to his room, put away the sword, then stepped back outside. Casually, he picked up a palm-sized stone from the ground. With a surge of strength, the stone shattered on its own into dozens of small pebbles, all of equal size.
"Master's gone down the mountain again. Looks like I'll have to prepare dinner myself today."
His figure moved, and he activated Treading Snow Without Leaving Tracks. Like a tuft of cotton, he drifted toward the primeval forest halfway down the mountain—no, more precisely, like a fallen leaf fitted with an engine. In a few steps, he was dozens of meters away. With several consecutive leaps, he landed on a tree branch deep within the forest.
In recent years, due to Zhu Siqi's practice of lightness skill, hidden weapons, and acupoint techniques—and because his Yijin Yiyuan Gong had reached the fifth level, allowing him to sense everything within a hundred-meter radius—the animals near the summit had suffered greatly. Within two hundred meters of the mountaintop, there were now virtually no large animals left. If Siqi wanted to hunt, he had to venture deep into the primeval forest.
Standing on the branch, Zhu Siqi closed his eyes and circulated Yijin Yiyuan Gong. Everything within a hundred meters seemed visible before his eyes: where each small tree stood, where a rabbit was running, even how many ants crawled beneath fallen leaves—nothing escaped his perception.
Of course, this required full activation of the technique. Under normal circumstances, without deliberate effort, he could sense only about ten meters—equivalent to constantly maintaining the fourth level of the art. If he reached the sixth level, full activation would allow perception out to a thousand meters; even without conscious effort, he could still sense a hundred meters.
"There's actually a wolf! Tonight's dinner will be roasted wolf meat," Zhu Siqi thought, sensing a wolf drooling behind a thicket as it watched a rabbit not far ahead.
He drifted silently toward the wolf's position. "Drifted" was the only way to describe it—he seemed weightless, like a leaf in the wind. In a few moments, he was in a tree beside the thicket.
"Whoosh… whoosh… whoosh…"
Three pebbles shot out, striking three of the wolf's acupoints. There was no helping it—aside from his master, there was no one else on the mountain to test techniques on, so Siqi practiced acupoint sealing on animals.
He leapt down. The wolf wasn't dead—it simply couldn't move or make a sound. It remained frozen in its original posture, eyes filled with terror, not understanding why it suddenly couldn't move or howl. Siqi nodded in satisfaction. The effect was good. He flicked out another pebble, ending the wolf's life.
As for the rabbit in front—it hadn't noticed a thing and continued munching grass.
Zhu Siqi slung the wolf over his shoulder and vanished. The rabbit wasn't even worth a glance. As a child, the only animals he could deal with were small ones—rabbits in particular. He had eaten rabbit meat for years: roasted, grilled, stir-fried, stewed, boiled—every flavor imaginable. By now, he had no interest in rabbit at all.
At a stream in the forest, he took out a small knife from his waist and expertly skinned the wolf, removed the bones, cleaned the organs, and cut off the head, leaving only the meat. His movements were practiced and efficient.
Carrying the wolf meat, he leapt upward—and in an instant, his figure disappeared. Moments later, he reappeared near the mountain cave at the summit. He set up a fire rack, cut slits in the meat, rubbed it with seasoning and salt, then lit the fire. All that remained was to wait.
Suddenly, a sense of alertness arose—someone was approaching. Activating Yijin Yiyuan Gong, he sensed that it was his master returning up the mountain.
"Master, your timing is perfect," Zhu Siqi said as he walked toward him. "I just lit the fire, and you're back already."
"Arriving early isn't as good as arriving at the right time," Liaofan laughed. "Wow—roasted meat!"
Liaofan knew that living alone on the mountain was lonely, so whenever he had time, he chatted with Siqi and deliberately spoke in an ordinary tone, fearing that otherwise the boy might have trouble adjusting when he eventually entered the world.
"Master, I've mastered the final move of the Bodhidharma Sword—Flying Crane Ascends to Heaven."
"Oh? Not bad, not bad! Then your great work is complete!" Liaofan replied, though his eyes were clearly fixed on the roasting wolf meat.
Zhu Siqi's roasted meat was truly exceptional. Based on Liaofan's decades of wandering across the land, he had never tasted anything better. The seasonings were all gathered from the primeval forest and blended into a unique mixture. A light sprinkle produced meat that was incredibly fragrant, slightly spicy, and superb in texture. Liaofan never stopped to consider that Siqi had been roasting meat on this mountain for nearly ten years—and with martial skill to precisely control the fire, it would be strange if it weren't delicious.
"Master, stop staring at the meat—it's not going to fly away. Are you even listening to me?"
"I am, I am—what?! You said you've mastered Flying Crane Ascends to Heaven?" Liaofan snapped back to attention in shock.
"Yes. I'll demonstrate it for you right now." Zhu Siqi ran back into the room to fetch his sword.
Standing on the flat ground of the summit, he began from the first move of the Bodhidharma Sword Art, executing each technique in sequence. Faster and faster he moved, until only afterimages remained. Finally, his body shot upward—Flying Crane Ascends to Heaven.
"Excellent! Excellent! Earlier than I expected," Liaofan laughed heartily. "I thought you wouldn't manage this move until next year. It seems I underestimated your talent."
This time, Liaofan was genuinely delighted—so much so that he didn't even spare a glance at the roasting meat.
"Thank you for the praise, Master," Zhu Siqi said, a little embarrassed.
"It seems your training plan needs adjustment. Originally, I planned to send you down the mountain for tempering next year. Now it looks like you'll be ready to go down much sooner."
"Master, I can really go down the mountain?" Zhu Siqi asked in delight. This was an enormous surprise—the first time in over ten years that his master had mentioned letting him descend.
"Yes, but don't get the wrong idea. You'll only go down during the day and return at night. Daytime trips down the mountain will benefit your Treading Snow Without Leaving Tracks. You'll need to run over a hundred li every day."
Zhu Siqi didn't care how far he had to run. Even a thousand li would be worth it if it meant going down the mountain.
"Then what will I do down there? I'll only have one day."
"That," Liaofan said, "I'll tell you after I finish eating. Hmm—what's that smell? Hurry up! The meat's about to burn!"
With that, Liaofan dashed toward the fire, moving incredibly fast—clearly using Treading Snow Without Leaving Tracks himself.
Watching from the side, Zhu Siqi couldn't help but smile.