Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Professor

Having become a Foundation Establishment cultivator, Yang Wenhao no longer needed to spend day and night in relentless cultivation. Now, he could operate the Heavenly Dao technique on his own; although not quite as fast as dedicated practice, the difference was negligible.

When Li Lingyun arrived, Yang Wenhao didn’t immediately teach her anything.

“For a week, you’ll work here in the tavern,” Yang Wenhao said. “You’re not allowed to mention your identity to anyone. Remember, if you break this rule, I’ll go straight to your father.”

“Why should I?” Li Lingyun protested, her face full of complaints.

“Because I’m your master, and you’re my disciple,” Yang Wenhao replied. “If you don’t want to learn, you’re free to leave.”

“Hmph.” Li Lingyun turned her head away.

“As for your duties, Sanbao will instruct you. I’ll check your performance after one week,” Yang Wenhao added, and then prepared to leave.

“Always picking on me…” Li Lingyun muttered quietly as she watched Yang Wenhao’s departing figure.

The Heavenly Profound Nine Swords.

This was the sword art he’d been rewarded with upon advancing to the Foundation Establishment stage. Since his main path was the sword, most rewards were naturally related to swordsmanship.

There were nine forms in the Heavenly Profound Nine Swords, but with Yang Wenhao’s current strength, he could only perform the first three; the remaining six were far beyond his reach.

After finishing his sword practice, Yang Wenhao sheathed his sword just as Sanbao came running over.

“Sir, Sir! Mr. Yi is looking for you.”

Yang Wenhao nodded in acknowledgment. After changing into a fresh set of clothes, he went to meet Yi Xiaochuan.

“You finally made it,” Yi Xiaochuan said, seated with two others—a man and a woman.

The man appeared somewhat effeminate, a cold sharpness in his eyes, while the woman was strikingly beautiful.

“Xiaochuan, who is this?” the man asked, looking at Yang Wenhao with some curiosity.

“This is Yang Wenhao,” Yi Xiaochuan whispered by his ear. “He’s from the same place as us.”

The man was taken aback, then quickly stood to clasp his hands in greeting. “A pleasure, a pleasure! So you’re a fellow townsman. My name is Gao Yao, and this is my sister, Xiaoyue.”

“A pleasure,” Yang Wenhao replied with a respectful gesture.

“He’s also the owner of Water Moon Grotto,” Yi Xiaochuan said.

Gao Yao nodded. “I see. No wonder the wine here tastes so much like the kind we had back in modern times.”

With Yi Xiaochuan’s introduction and their shared hometown, Gao Yao held Yang Wenhao in high regard. More than that, Gao Yao was well aware that both Yang Wenhao and Yi Xiaochuan were personally appointed as Orchid Pond Warriors by the current Emperor of Great Qin—a distinction he deeply admired.

After some conversation, they quickly became familiar with one another. As the drinks flowed, Yang Wenhao pondered a question: if Gao Yao had not been made a eunuch, he would be the likeliest candidate to become emperor. If Yang Wenhao wished it, there was nothing stopping Gao Yao from ascending the throne. Unfortunately, history had never allowed a eunuch to become emperor. Thus, the pinnacle of Gao Yao’s power would always be just below the sovereign—second only to one, above all others.

“What a pity.”

Yang Wenhao couldn’t help but feel regret. Perhaps for this reason, Gao Yao was never an option in any of the system’s missions.

A week passed, and in these days, Li Lingyun had become quite adept at her work within Water Moon Grotto.

One day, Yang Wenhao called her over.

“What is it?” Li Lingyun asked.

“Why do you want to learn martial arts?” Yang Wenhao queried.

Li Lingyun glanced at him, then replied, “I want my future husband to be a peerless hero. So, to achieve that, he’ll have to defeat me first. That means I need to master martial arts.”

Hearing this reasoning, Yang Wenhao was left speechless. Was that really a reason to train in martial arts?

He nodded. “Very well, I’ll teach you. What kind of martial art do you want to learn?”

“Of course, the sword,” Li Lingyun answered. “The sword is king of all weapons—it must be the strongest.”

Yang Wenhao refrained from commenting; she thought much like he did. He’d chosen the sword for the same reason. However, he didn’t believe any weapon was inherently the strongest—only the wielder could be called the strongest.

“I’ll teach you a sword technique called the Nine Swords of Dugu.” Yang Wenhao began instructing her step by step.

“Yang—”

“Call me Master.”

“Yes, Master. But why does this swordplay feel so ordinary? It seems to lack any power,” Li Lingyun complained. She hadn’t formally studied swordsmanship before, but she knew a little. The Nine Swords of Dugu seemed basic, each move little more than a simple cut or slash. Compared to the legendary techniques she’d imagined, it fell far short.

Yang Wenhao reached out and tapped her on the head.

“Master, why did you hit me?” Li Lingyun pouted, staring at him in protest.

“You know nothing,” Yang Wenhao said. “This sword art ranks among the best I have. If you master it, no matter who your opponent is, you can break all techniques with a single strike.”

“Wow, is it really that powerful?” Li Lingyun’s bright eyes widened.

“Of course,” Yang Wenhao assured her. He spoke nothing but the truth.

“Then that’s what I want to learn,” Li Lingyun declared.

The Nine Swords of Dugu was easy to begin, but had immense potential. Other sword techniques required strong internal energy; without it, their power was limited. But the Nine Swords of Dugu was different—it needed only skill with the blade. Once perfected, it could break any technique with a single sword.

No matter what weapon the opponent wielded, the sword could counter it.

Once Li Lingyun understood the true power of the Nine Swords of Dugu, she began her training in earnest.

Yet her lack of talent puzzled Yang Wenhao. How could someone with such passion for martial arts be so slow to learn? Some moves he’d demonstrated over a dozen times, and she still performed them imperfectly.

This left him frustrated. His first disciple, and she was so lacking—how disappointing.

Fortunately, he had ample time. All he needed now was to take the millennium wild ginseng daily; there were just over two weeks left before his goal.

Though Li Lingyun’s talent was poor, her diligence won Yang Wenhao’s admiration. Where others might practice their sword forms a few dozen times a day, she would practice hundreds.

He could tell that she truly loved martial arts. Whether it was for the reason she claimed, he could not say.

Every day as she trained, Yang Wenhao guided her attentively, occasionally sparring with her to correct her form.

After a week, Li Lingyun had reached the level of a third-rate fighter. With more practice, she might even reach second- or first-rate.

(End of chapter)