Chapter 12: The Eight-Step Frenzied Blade

The night was deep and heavy, with wind and rain intertwining. The residents of Dye Street had long since taken refuge in their homes, and the shops had all shuttered, leaving only a few patrolling soldiers and constables hurriedly passing by in the rain, lanterns in hand.

Ye Jingtang walked slowly along the dark street, holding an oiled paper umbrella. Birdie perched on his shoulder, chirping incessantly as if complaining, “Xiaoxigua sister is better, fried eggs don’t please Birdie…”

Although Ye Jingtang had just shared an intimate moment with the heroine Luo, stirring some emotions within him, he did not indulge in memories. Instead, his thoughts returned to the martial techniques Luo had taught him earlier.

The path of martial arts, though endlessly varied, never strays from its essence. While not universally applicable, the fundamental principles remain consistent.

Ye Jingtang had once practiced martial arts at the escort agency, pursuing the ‘semblance of form.’ Emphasizing strength and momentum, he focused on routines for breaking and countering moves, never delving deeply into the realm of ‘spirit and intent.’

As for the art of ‘energy manipulation,’ his sworn father had never taught him, and he was unaware such techniques even existed.

Yet it seemed unlikely that his sworn father had deliberately withheld this knowledge. From childhood, his father had shown great ‘concern,’ training him rigorously every day—hardly the behavior of one who wished to harm him.

Since his father had laid a solid foundation, he must have hoped for Ye Jingtang’s success. Unless there was some reason, he would not have refrained from teaching him blade techniques.

What could that reason be?

Was it fear that such knowledge might bring him trouble?

Or had the teachings already been given, but Ye Jingtang failed to perceive their deeper meaning?

Carefully recalling the moves his sworn father had taught, though few, they were foundational skills. In the past, Ye Jingtang had only sought power and speed, neglecting their deeper essence. Now, reconsidering them through the lens of the Fourteen Cloud Touches’ energy pathways…

At this thought, Ye Jingtang stood in the rain, shifting his sword to his back, gripping the handle with his left hand reversed. His mind replayed the drawing of the blade, comparing it to the energy channels of the Fourteen Cloud Touches.

Imitating blindly was clearly impossible. Just beginning to explore ‘energy manipulation,’ he realized it involved acupoints, muscles, breathing, posture—all facets of the body.

Each step’s variation multiplied exponentially; no one could try every possibility. One could only follow the guidance of the ‘moves,’ feeling out the correct energy path.

Creating a new ‘move’ was extraordinarily difficult. Yet standing in the rain, Ye Jingtang quickly grasped that the draw his father taught was the beginning of a ‘move.’

The form ended with the initial motion; what followed was a blank slate. To perfect this blade stroke, he would need to chart the energy pathway himself, building on this move.

After a moment’s thought, Ye Jingtang closed his eyes in the rain. Using his father’s taught opening as the base and the blade’s release as the conclusion, he intuitively imagined the intervening process. He pondered how to use this opening to unleash the blade’s killing power to its utmost…

Pat-pat-pat—

Large raindrops struck the umbrella’s surface, sliding down the ribs.

Birdie on his shoulder seemed initially confused, but after a while, its eyes widened in alarm—Ye Jingtang appeared to have entered a meditative state!

Ye Jingtang’s eyes remained closed for a long time. The veins on his right hand gradually bulged. Raindrops landing on the back of his hand quickly evaporated into faint mist.

This phenomenon began at his hand and spread to his left arm, then his entire body. Even the veins on his forehead became prominent as a gentle mist arose.

A warm heat radiated within the curtain of rain.

The raindrops falling outside the umbrella shifted noticeably, as if moved by the wind, whose center was precisely beneath Ye Jingtang’s umbrella.

Buzzing—

After an undetermined silence, the long blade within its sheath emitted a low, dragon-like hum, resembling a submerged dragon preparing to break through the deep pool’s surface.

The latent dragon quickly amassed its energy to the peak. Before the cold pool could withstand it, its form sprang upward like a celestial dragon emerging from water, soaring toward the heavens!

Clang—

A flash of cold light streaked silently across the long street.

The curtain of rain seemed disturbed by some force, pushed outward slightly.

The cold gleam vanished in an instant, and the street returned to its tranquil state.

Ye Jingtang stood quietly beneath his umbrella in the rain, left hand inverted on the sword hilt, the blade sheathed as if never moved.

Not far beside him, an ancient sturdy locust tree groaned softly under the storm’s assault.

Soon, unable to bear the wind and rain, the tree snapped in the middle and toppled to one side.

Crash—

A muffled sound followed as the old locust tree fell to the ground.

Raindrops dripped onto the freshly split trunk as if onto a mirror, sliding sideways without clinging to a single drop!

“Chirp!”

Birdie’s eyes were wide with astonishment.

Ye Jingtang opened his eyes beneath the umbrella, tilting his head to glance at the fallen locust tree, admiration gleaming in his gaze:

“The Eight-Step Mad Blade truly lives up to its name. Seems my sworn father never held back… But why not just teach it directly? Why make me struggle so hard to figure it out myself? Isn’t that unnecessary…”

Ye Jingtang approached the locust tree, examining it carefully for a moment. With some puzzlement, he scraped away the splintered wood, then left Dye Street, heading toward the nearby market.

Birdie, previously startled, chirped and hopped incessantly until Ye Jingtang bought it a box of meat jerky, calming it down.

Soon, Ye Jingtang returned to Twin Osmanthus Alley, carrying two oiled paper packages and an earthenware pot.

The courtyard was quiet but illuminated.

Ye Jingtang pushed open the gate with his shoulder. Before he could close it, a small figure wearing a conical hat stood behind the door, gripping a sword hilt and staring at him:

“Why were you out so long?”

---

Ye Jingtang tossed the oiled paper packages to Zhe Yunli:

“There are no restaurants on Dye Street. Did you expect me to run back and forth?”

Zhe Yunli took the packages, opening them to reveal several roasted sweet potatoes, nodding slightly:

“Hm~ you’re quite…”

Before she could finish, Ye Jingtang carried the earthenware pot inside and placed it by the bedside. Opening it, steam billowed from hot black-bone chicken soup, accompanied by bowls and chopsticks. The paper packages held freshly steamed mantou.

Zhe Yunli was stunned, glancing at the dark roasted sweet potatoes in her hand:

“Hey? You treat us differently when buying food?”

“Don’t have legs or no money in your pocket? Do you really think you’re a lady of high rank?”

Zhe Yunli opened her mouth but was left speechless.

Luo Ning was already seated on the bed. Seeing Ye Jingtang return, she recalled the humiliation from earlier but kept her composure, softly inviting:

“Yunli, and you too, come join us for a meal.”

“Madam, you eat first. Don’t mind us.”

Zhe Yunli stood at the doorway, glaring at Ye Jingtang for a moment, then took a big bite of the roasted sweet potato:

“You’re sensible enough to take care of people. For that, I’ll help you. Stick with me and Madam, and I guarantee you’ll walk proudly in the martial world.”

Ye Jingtang handed the mantou to Luo Ning and approached the doorframe, leaning on it and looking down at Zhe Yunli:

“You little brat, trying to act like you belong in the martial world. Your Madam needed my rescue, I bought your food, and you want to hang with us? Won’t you be starving every day?”

Zhe Yunli gripped the sweet potato, stepping back to the threshold, meeting his gaze:

“Do you know who I am?”

Inside the room, lacking chairs, Ye Jingtang sat on the doorstep:

“An uninvited guest, crashing someone’s home, mooching food and drink. Right, Birdie?”

Birdie squatted nearby, a box of jerky before it, pecking while chirping, seemingly disapproving.

After all, Ye Jingtang hadn’t even invited Sister Xiaoxigua to a meal before—how was that different from freeloading?

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you.”

Zhe Yunli sat down as well, casually picking up some jerky from Birdie’s box and popping it into her mouth.

“Chirp?!!!”

Ye Jingtang waited until Zhe Yunli finished chewing, then frowned:

“You two really have it tough if you can even swallow rat meat…”

Birdie nodded cooperatively.

Zhe Yunli’s expression changed sharply; her jade-like cheeks turned pale as she fought back nausea but refused to lose face, gripping her sword hilt:

“You scoundrel, if you say that again today I won’t…”

Luo Ning on the bed finally frowned and said:

“Yunli, he’s teasing you deliberately. That bird is very intelligent; he wouldn’t feed it rat meat. No merchant would bother making rat jerky and packaging it for sale.”

Zhe Yunli, half doubtful, took a piece of jerky and forcefully shoved it into Ye Jingtang’s mouth:

“Eat!”

Surprised, Ye Jingtang opened his mouth and accepted it. Before Zhe Yunli could relax, he nodded approvingly:

“Didn’t expect you to be quite good at taking care of people.”

His words angered both women deeply.

Luo Ning could be ignored, but after Ye Jingtang’s earlier disrespect toward her and now teasing Yunli, she could not tolerate it:

“Scoundrel! Try saying that nonsense again and see what happens!”

Luo Ning stood, her cold and elegant aura fully displayed.

Backed by Madame, Zhe Yunli raised her chin, glaring back.

Ye Jingtang knew his joke had gone too far, raising his hand in surrender:

“Alright, alright, I won’t say more. Let’s eat.”

Only then did Zhe Yunli smile, revealing two small tiger teeth, eating jerky and sweet potato without heeding Birdie’s tugging at her sleeve:

“So young and slick-tongued… What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“Ye Jingtang, from Liangzhou.”

Ye Jingtang scooped up the ruffled Birdie, placing it on his lap, and asked:

“You two ladies came to the capital to rescue someone?”

“A senior who instructed me in blade techniques was captured by the Black Yamen, Qiu Tianhe—you’ve heard of him? Last year I trained under Master Qiu. There was a traitor who betrayed him. The Black Yamen’s ghost officers besieged the mountain. To let us escape, Master Qiu alone defended the mountain gate and was captured…”

Qiu Tianhe…

Ye Jingtang recalled vaguely having heard the name before—when he trained with his sworn father, the old man often spoke drunkenly of the martial world, mentioning ‘Heavenly Harmonious Blade’ Qiu Tianhe several times with high regard.

“He’s said to be a great hero with a sense of righteousness, but I don’t know much. Is he powerful?”

Zhe Yunli broke off a piece of sweet potato, handing half to Ye Jingtang:

“You’re ignorant. The ‘Three Heroes of Yunze’ from thirty years ago—you should know about them.”

Ye Jingtang bit into the sweet potato:

“You mean the three outstanding young men from Yunzhou and Zezhou?”

Zhe Yunli looked puzzled but nodded:

“The wording’s odd but close enough. ‘Yunze’ refers to the great lake near Junshan Terrace, where many young swordsmen gathered because of the ‘Blade Champion’ Xuanyuan Chao. Thirty years ago, the three most outstanding young swordsmen were: Qiu Tianhe, the Heavenly Harmonious Blade; Xuanyuan Tiangang, the Dragon-Slaying Order; and Zheng Feng, the Eight-Step Mad Blade. The three were both rivals and friends, often sparring, known as the ‘Three Heroes of Yunze.’”

Ye Jingtang realized Zheng Feng was likely his sworn father. He hadn’t expected his father to have such a reputation in youth and asked curiously:

“Who was the strongest among them?”

Zhe Yunli said proudly:

“Of course, Master Qiu. Zheng Feng’s blade technique was the weakest. He was included in the Three Heroes mainly because of the fame of the Eight-Step Mad Blade, but he declined after a few years. Xuanyuan Tiangang was the strongest back then, but after a falling-out with Zheng Feng’s father, he retired from the martial world.”

Ye Jingtang frowned. In his father’s letters, the Qiu family was associated with ‘Blade Champion’ Xuanyuan, but the old grudges were never explained. According to Zhe Yunli, the past was complicated. He asked:

“What happened to Zheng Feng back then?”

Zhe Yunli shook her head:

“Master Qiu won’t say, so how would I know? I’m from the Southlands. For the old Yunze martial affairs, you’d have to ask the locals.”

Seeing Zhe Yunli’s ignorance, Ye Jingtang switched questions:

“Your territory is in the Southlands. Who controls Yunzhou?”

“It used to be the Red Flower Tower. They had influence over both river and land transport. But when I arrived, I took a boat from the Water Cloud Sword Pool, so the control might have changed.”

“Oh? The Red Flower Tower is a major sect, with a martial reputation seemingly higher than Water Cloud Sword Pool.”

“That was before.”

Zhe Yunli leaned closer, adopting a knowing tone as she explained:

“The previous leader of the Red Flower Tower was the ‘Spear Champion,’ seventh in the world, naturally commanding great prestige. But after the Spear Champion died, his son succeeded him but was killed by the current Spear Champion, who turned out to be a woman.”

“A woman?”

Ye Jingtang blinked, recalling the stature and manner of the ‘Red God of Wealth,’ growing more suspicious of her identity.

But the Shao family seemed not to run dockside business, so he could not yet link her to the Third Lady. He continued:

“And then?”

“Losing the Spear Champion title greatly diminished the Red Flower Tower’s prestige. The Water Cloud Sword Pool belongs to the family of the contemporary ‘Sword Saint,’ ranking tenth alongside Yan Prefecture’s Jieyun Palace. Without a new leader to restore the Red Flower Tower’s might, it will be absorbed within years, becoming a second-tier sect…”

“Oh…”

After some idle talk and finishing their meal, night had deepened.

Ye Jingtang rose to fetch water and wash up.

Zhe Yunli, feeling sleepy, stretched at the door, surveying the empty house:

“Where will you sleep tonight?”

Ye Jingtang wiped his face and entered, puzzled:

“Sleep on the bed of course. This is my home; where else would I sleep?”

Zhe Yunli frowned, glancing at the double bed—three might squeeze in but it was possible…

Still, was it feasible?

She cleared her throat softly:

“Madam is injured and needs rest. Let her have the bed… I’ll sleep by the wall with you, okay?”

Seeing her so considerate, Ye Jingtang did not object:

“Fine.”

He then moved to a dry corner of the room, laid down a cloth, and sat leaning against the wall, holding his sword.

Zhe Yunli placed her raincoat as a cushion and sat beside him, beckoning:

“Big dumb bird, come here.”

“Chirp?”

Birdie, displeased with this girl who had tried to steal its food and almost cooked it for soup, flew up to the roof beam, pushing aside the raincoat and poking its head out.

Zhe Yunli looked up, puzzled:

“What’s it doing?”

“On watch.”

“Heh! That bird’s not so dumb after all, I didn’t realize…”

The night deepened, the rain lightly tapping outside, while inside the small room, three figures prepared to rest, each with their own thoughts lingering in the quiet.