Volume One: Another World Chapter Twenty-Seven: This One Doesn’t Need to Be Learned

Bloodlines can indeed be inherited, especially after reaching the third rank. The beneficial changes to one’s bloodline achieved through cultivation can even pass on to the next generation. This is why many great families place extraordinary importance on marriage. The strong only grow stronger; if one were to carelessly mate with a low-ranking bloodline, each successive generation would be weaker than the last.

Li Yu watched the woman at the lectern speak eloquently. The contents of the “Guidelines for Early Childhood Education” were numerous and diverse, yet not a single child found them difficult to accept. Even the five- and six-year-olds listened with rapt attention.

This was because in this classroom, not one child’s elder was weak. The immense strength of their bloodlines made them exceptionally precocious.

After an hour passed, the woman finally stopped, still a little reluctant to end, and said, “Alright, my lesson is over. Go on to your next class as you wish.”

“Goodbye, teacher!”

With that, many of the children left in small groups. Li Yu listened in—some were off to study swordsmanship, others etiquette, and some made plans to soak in medicinal baths together.

It was reminiscent of children attending various after-school classes, except these children were particularly proactive. Even in their conversations, they seemed like little adults, their social skills remarkably advanced.

Once most of the children had gone, Li Yu picked up his blanket and headed out.

Xiao Cui waited apologetically at the door. Seeing Li Yu emerge, she hurried over. “Let me carry that, young master.”

She looked every bit the part of someone ready to take a scolding or even a beating, but Li Yu didn’t say much. Instead, he turned his head and asked, “Anqi, why are you here?”

Qing Anqi scuffed her shoe against a stone. “I’m waiting for you. We have the next class together.”

Li Yu suddenly remembered—his days of suffering through school had only just begun. If what Xiao Cui told him last night was true, there was an overwhelming amount he still had to learn!

The curriculum, broadly divided, consisted of martial arts, governance, and etiquette.

Martial arts were what interested him most, with courses focused on the divine and martial paths. This was the main reason Li Yu had agreed so readily to study.

Governance referred to leadership skills and military training.

Etiquette had two main branches: guest rites, covering ceremonies for receiving guests and diplomatic interactions between states; and social rites, which focused on interpersonal communication and building relationships.

Although the thought of more study almost made Li Yu physically ill, he had no intention of giving up this opportunity. Compared to his time in Stone Village, the courses arranged by the Qing family were a chance to gain a deep understanding of the world. It was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss.

What’s more, he had his proficiency “cheat”—so long as he had learned something once, he could master it completely.

Thinking of this, Li Yu looked at Qing Anqi with mock sympathy. “Anqi, you poor thing—so young and already burdened with endless learning.”

“My father says these are things ordinary people could only dream of,” Qing Anqi replied with disdain, brushing off Li Yu’s hand. “And stop patting my head, it’ll stunt my growth.”

So that superstition existed here too? He’d thought only on Blue Star did people believe patting a child’s head would stunt their growth. And were children in this world all so eager to learn?

Li Yu fell silent, remembering how, when he was young, he’d go to any length to avoid studying, faking illness and the like with practiced ease.

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The two of them made their way into another building.

Already, many older students were waiting in the hall. Each one exuded an intense spiritual force—none below the sixth rank! Li Yu realized Qing Anqi was right: this was an opportunity ordinary people could only dream of. How could a common family ever afford to have sixth-rank cultivators teach one-on-one?

Li Yu, wishing to learn beautiful swordsmanship, parted ways with Qing Anqi for the time being.

Standing before him was a burly man nearly two meters tall, yet wielding a slender three-foot sword.

Seriously? Isn’t there something off about this?

Li Yu was speechless. This sword instructor, who called himself Qing Shan, had the build and even the name of someone who ought to wield heavy weapons—like a pair of massive hammers, perhaps.

Qing Shan seemed to sense Li Yu’s thoughts. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the sword spinning into a graceful flourish and announced in a resonant voice, “I specialize in the Lady Buddha Sword. Each stroke is as if a gentlewoman dances—this style is graceful and calm, excellent for compressing spiritual power and tempering the meridians.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Qing Shan tilted forward at a forty-five-degree angle, spun as he swung the sword, and smoothly regained his stance.

“Watch closely,” Qing Shan said.

From the very first move, Li Yu was captivated. When Qing Shan told him to watch, he didn’t dare blink, staring unerringly at the dancing sword.

To Li Yu’s eyes, Qing Shan, trailing afterimages, seemed to transform into a lithe maiden, each movement imbued with ineffable grace.

At length, Qing Shan sheathed his sword. “This set of sword techniques is sufficient for cultivation up to the fifth rank—a fifth-rank sword style. Before the seventh rank, practicing this along with the proper internal skills can open the meridians. From the sixth rank up, with spiritual energy unleashed, its lethality is astonishing!”

Li Yu now realized that opening the meridians was not limited to mindless meditation; it could be done in tandem with various secret techniques, gaining multiple benefits—opening the meridians while simultaneously learning to attack.

“Can all secret techniques achieve this?” Li Yu asked curiously.

Qing Shan shook his head. “Only a select few. How much of what I just showed you do you remember?”

“Well,” Li Yu thought for a moment, “let me give it a try.”

On a nearby rack, there were many swords of different lengths and shapes. Li Yu chose one that felt right in his hand.

Qing Shan watched with interest as Li Yu stepped onto the practice floor. Li Yu took a deep breath, closed his eyes in concentration, and began to move.

What was I expecting just now? Qing Shan’s anticipation quickly turned to astonishment, then to speechless disbelief.

Li Yu executed the entire set of sword forms with some hesitation and awkward pauses, but then grew more confident. “I’ve memorized the entire set!”

Does your conscience not ache, or do you just think I’m blind? Qing Shan was about to rebuke him—but wait, hadn’t he really made no mistakes? As a fifth-rank cultivator, Qing Shan carefully replayed the demonstration in his mind. Although Li Yu’s performance was halting, and he sometimes paused to recall the next move, not a single action was wrong.

Qing Shan fell silent. Come to think of it, the boy hadn’t lied.

“Let me try again,” Li Yu said.

He shook the sword and began anew.

“What the—?”

Qing Shan’s jaw dropped. Every move the youth made was as if he’d practiced the Lady Buddha Sword a thousand times—his technique was flawless.

Qing Shan had at first suspected that perhaps the boy’s elders had already taught him this, and he was merely feigning ignorance to show off. But now, in Li Yu’s swordplay, Qing Shan saw traces of his own style.

Everyone left their own marks on a technique; several of the boy’s movements were uncannily similar to Qing Shan’s own.

This could only mean that the youth had truly just learned it from him.

Heavens, what kind of peerless genius was this?

Li Yu had no idea what his instructor was thinking. He’d gotten into university at fifteen, already gifted with an exceptional memory. After taking two Marrow-Cleansing Pills, his recall had only improved. After memorizing the sword forms and practicing them once, he’d used the proficiency bonus he’d earned from today’s check-in, achieving his current level of mastery.

Why waste a cheat if you’ve got one? Li Yu wasn’t the stubborn type. He finished with a dramatic sword flourish and sheathed his weapon.

Qing Shan was left speechless. There was no need to copy that final flourish—it was something he’d added years ago for show, and it had simply become a habit.

Qing Shan opened his mouth, but the words that came out were, “Excellent. Very good!”