Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wushan Sword Academy

In Zhao Zhiming’s courtyard, Yu Ge held a three-hundred-pound stone lock in each hand, swinging them with ease and grace. As his muscles flexed, the veins on his bare arms bulged, twisting like fierce serpents writhing beneath his skin. These were the veins above his wrists.

Ever since he had ascended to the second level of the Yang Body—the Muscular Refinement stage—just the day before, he had been eager to test his new strength here in the courtyard. Compared to before, the difference was unmistakable. What once had required considerable effort to lift now moved as if weightless, the hefty stone locks manipulated with fluid, almost playful precision, even through complicated maneuvers.

He set the stone locks down with a dull thud.

“Brother Yu, so this is where you are,” came a clear voice from behind. The familiarity struck Yu Ge, and he turned to see Lin Maozhi, his broad frame nearly filling half the doorway.

Lin Maozhi was now clad in an elegant azure robe, his spirits high, though his round figure somewhat undermined the effect.

“Is it another gathering place for mountain spirits?” Yu Ge asked. Previously, he had asked Lin Maozhi to alert him should any sign of mountain spirits arise.

“No, not this time. I’ve come for something else,” Lin Maozhi replied, shaking his head. His gaze lingered on the massive stone locks in the courtyard, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He had arrived moments earlier and witnessed Yu Ge wielding the stone locks with effortless strength. Familiar with their weight, Lin Maozhi marveled at how Yu Ge now treated them like mere toys—a testament to strength far surpassing what it had once been. Even Lin Maozhi could not help but be secretly astonished at such rapid progress.

“In a few days, the Wushan Sword Institute will begin recruiting students. I’m about to set off for Shanglin City to enroll and pursue systematic training. I recall you previously lacked a cultivation method—why not join me?”

Yu Ge’s expression changed. The Wushan Sword Institute was renowned throughout Shanglin City and the hundreds of surrounding towns. Every family hoped their descendants could enter its gates. The selection requirements were said to be extraordinary—he’d heard as much from Zhao Zhiming—but until now, having been limited by his own abilities, he had never considered attempting it.

Now, Lin Maozhi’s invitation stirred something within him.

***

Not only the famed Sword Institute, but even Shanglin City itself held a strong allure for him. This small town, after all, felt so confining.

After agreeing upon a departure time with Lin Maozhi, Yu Ge stopped by Aunt Li’s bun shop on his way back, buying ten meat buns. He returned to his small courtyard to pack his belongings.

In the afternoon, after informing Zhao Zhiming of his plans and bidding him farewell, everything was settled, and he was left to await his journey’s start.

***

At dawn the next day, Yu Ge arrived at the edge of town. At his waist hung a black iron dagger and a refined blade; on his back, a bundle and his Demon-Slaying Saber wrapped in black cloth, along with a few other bags.

Because Lin Maozhi traveled with a caravan from the Hundred Herbs Hall, Yu Ge needn’t prepare much more.

After waiting a short while, three horse-drawn carriages appeared at the far end of the long street. Yu Ge noticed that all three bore lanterns on their front crossbars, emitting a faint red glow. Had his eyes not been particularly sharp, he might have missed the subtle, dim light.

“Yu Ge, come aboard!”

Spotting him by the roadside, Lin Maozhi called out from within, lifting the curtain. The carriage halted; Yu Ge nodded, climbed the mounting block, and entered.

Inside, he found the carriage surprisingly spacious, with only Lin Maozhi present; the steward Li, who was to accompany them, must have been in one of the other carriages.

After a brief stop, the three plain carriages set off again, leaving the town and merging onto the main road, gradually picking up speed.

The carriage’s ceaseless jolting and creaking, combined with the unfamiliar motion, made Yu Ge feel unsettled. He leaned toward the window for fresh air.

Through the narrow window, he watched as Cloud Gathering Town slowly faded from view, his gaze lingering for a long time. After so many years, he felt a strange pang of reluctance.

A quarter of an hour later, after passing a high slope, the dark brown city wall and the picturesque Cloud Gathering Town were gone from sight.

Still unaccustomed to this rustic, bone-rattling mode of travel, Yu Ge soon grew dizzy from the relentless shaking, so he leaned back and closed his eyes to doze.

The carriages paused only briefly along the way before continuing swiftly onward. Within the compartment, all that could be heard was the iron-shod wheels grinding against the uneven road, the crack of the driver’s whip, and the black horses’ snorting breaths.

***

As the sun dipped toward the mountaintops, dusk crept in, and darkness began to spill silently across the wilds toward the three moving carriages.

Yu Ge noticed then that the lanterns hanging from each carriage had lit up, casting a fiery glow.

Traveling at night was a grave taboo, a fact the seasoned drivers knew well. After some distance, upon reaching a roadside pavilion, the three carriages stopped in unison, forming a triangle around the shelter.

Yu Ge peeked out through the curtain and noticed another carriage had arrived before them—an old man and a youth traveling together. Those who ventured out at night were rarely ordinary folk. Yu Ge took only a glance before looking away.

Unexpectedly, the old man seemed particularly sensitive and shot him a fierce glare in return.

Yu Ge merely smiled, unbothered.

The sun, now hanging upon the mountain’s crest, finally gave way, plunging beneath the horizon. Night’s curtain surged across the land like a tide.

The drivers, accustomed to such scenes, soothed their horses and waited quietly.

Yu Ge, meanwhile, kept his gaze fixed on the encroaching crimson mist. He had experienced its eerie presence in the wild before and still recalled the lingering fear. This time, he wanted to see how the red-stone night lanterns would ward it off.

Soon, the crimson tide surged up to the carriages, and the two lanterns at the lead suddenly brightened. The red mist halted, kept at bay by the lanterns’ glow, unable to breach a perimeter of eight or nine meters around the convoy.

The same was true for the old man and youth’s carriage.

“Have you ever heard the tale of this red mist? Some say it’s the breath of the Wasteland itself,” Yu Ge asked, glancing at Lin Maozhi, who was also watching through the window.

Lin Maozhi started, then nodded. “Yes, I’ve read about it at home. They say the corpse of a demon god is hidden deep within Great Wushan.”

Yu Ge turned and gazed at the distant end of that endless red tide, as if he could see the winding Wushan Mountains stretching for hundreds of miles.