Chapter Forty-Three: Sweeping the Dragon Serpent, Intoxicated with Ink

Rong Jin’s face changed drastically, his whole body trembling so violently that even the table before him shook. He felt as if that thread of embryonic breath he had pressed to the bottom of the goblet had vanished into nothingness, swept away by Chen Heng’s grasp, leaving no trace behind, impossible to recover.

“Could he really be a disciple of some great sect? But what kind of cultivation art is this…?”

There was no time left for further thought.

In a flash, Rong Jin saw the wine vessel flying straight at his face. Hastily, he roused his embryonic breath and reached out to seize it, but at the very touch, the goblet exploded before his alarmed eyes.

“Not good!”

He quickly shielded his face with a sleeve to prevent the wine from splashing, but the liquor merely quivered, then began to swirl and dance in midair, twisting like a playful silver serpent, slithering about and filling the hall with intoxicating fragrance.

“Stride boldly upon the clouds, aspiring ever higher, surpassing the world of men, breaking branches from the tallest bough!”

Chen Heng laughed heartily, kicking over the table before him, sending cups and plates clattering to the floor.

That serpent-like stream of wine suddenly split into three, condensing into slender swords of liquid, gleaming as they fell upon the three men.

Rong Jin and the others blanched in shock, quickly channeling their embryonic breath to strike at the swords. But before they could get close, the liquid blades had already intertwined and swept away, circling through the air.

“Form the ladder to the moon…”

With a light motion of his hand, Chen Heng made the liquid swords even lighter and more ethereal, but with that reduction, their sharpness only grew, becoming true blades exuding lethal intent.

“Dip the brush in the rivers and mountains, grasp the constellations, laughing proudly as I inscribe my epic upon the winds!”

Stepping forward thrice, each stride quickened the flight of the swords, until, after sixteen interwoven sweeps, he flared his embryonic breath and, in an instant, sent the swords slashing down.

“Scatter!”

By now, Rong Jin cared nothing for great sects or marshal’s titles. The chilling murderous intent pressed on his heart like a heavy stone. His hands whirled rapidly, and with a movement of his throat, he blew forth a mighty gust of wind.

But in but a moment, he heard the ripping sound of fabric being torn, the chill of those sharp blades slicing apart the wind, and saw three points of icy liquid light stabbing straight at his eyes.

…

Rong Jin’s spirit collapsed, his very soul quaking.

He had never before experienced such a deadly duel between cultivators of equal rank. For a time, it was as if his soul drifted away, lost amidst clouds and mist.

He did not know how long he stood thus, until a low sigh from Rong Tuo beside him pulled him back to himself.

Looking up, he saw, three inches from his face, three slender swords of wine suspended, their aroma rich and heady. Behind them, Chen Heng stood with eyes half closed, motionless as if entranced.

He did not move; Rong Jin dared not move either. They remained in silence for a long while, until Rong Jin’s face flushed red, suspecting Chen Heng meant to humiliate him. Just as he was about to disperse the wine with force—

With a soft sigh, Chen Heng lifted his head and pointed with a finger.

“Brush against the blue cliffs, sweep drunken dragons and serpents in ink, soar and circle in flight…”

At his words, the three wine-formed swords lost all strength, fell to the ground with a splash, soaking Rong Jin’s lower leg.

Yet now, his expression was one of humble reverence, ignoring the stains upon him.

---

Rong Tuo and Rong Xuantao were equally silent, exchanging glances, filled only with dread.

With nothing but a single breath of energy, Chen Heng had manipulated a cup of wine into such a display, and even sliced through Rong Jin’s wind-summoning art.

Such immense and powerful breath!

Such unmatched sharpness!

What kind of cultivation art had he studied?

If this man was not a disciple of a great sect, who could possibly claim that title?

As these thoughts swirled, Chen Heng shook his head in quiet regret.

In that fleeting moment, he had felt as if he were separated from the fabled “ten steps, one kill” by only the thinnest veil. One push, and he would break through, ascending his swordsmanship to a new realm.

Yet that thin barrier, so easily pierced, now seemed as distant as a chasm after the inspiration faded, unreachable in the gloom.

“Well?” Chen Heng gathered his spirit, gazing across with neither pride nor arrogance. “Does my cup of wine meet your standards?”

Silence reigned in the hall. After a long pause, Rong Jin sighed, clapped his hands, and bowed deeply.

“Sir, you are worthy of the world!”

…

After this, there was no more dispute.

The two sides quickly came to terms: a thousand talisman coins, five days of cultivation in the Jade Mother Pool, and Tong Gaolu’s cultivation resources, all sealed by contract and sworn by oath.

“Such business calls for a great toast, but alas, my thirst for wine is spent today. What now?”

After securing the golden contract in his pouch, Chen Heng drew Rong Tuo close with a smile.

“I wonder what treasures of geography and lore your library holds. Might I have a look?”

Rong Tuo’s aged face stiffened.

He means to see the secrets of my clan’s arts!

He glared fiercely at the bamboo mask, wanting to shout: Wasn’t it three conditions only?

But Chen Heng’s earlier display had cowed him, and he could only stammer.

“My friend is truly a man of virtue, to show such generosity—I am unworthy of this honor.”

Chen Heng sighed. “You know I am a man of thin skin, and withhold your offer so as not to wound my pride? No need, I understand your intention to present me your clan’s arts. Please, do not let your good will go to waste.”

Rong Tuo gave a cold laugh in his throat, but before he could finish, Chen Heng seized him and shot skyward in a streak of light.

After several rounds of questioning, Rong Tuo relented and pointed the way.

Chen Heng smiled, gathered his breath, and sped their flight.

---

In but the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they arrived at a jet-black tower. As Chen Heng prepared to land, Rong Tuo grabbed his sleeve.

“Only half an hour!” he said fiercely, holding tight. “Whatever happens, you may look for half an hour, no more!”

Chen Heng nodded calmly. “Thank you.”

Watching him enter the tower with no change of expression, Rong Tuo was left bewildered.

Half an hour… What could possibly be seen in half an hour?

Meanwhile, within the tower, Chen Heng found two neat rows of bookshelves, filled with jade slips and bamboo scrolls, a bright candle burning in the corner, and a boy with a weathered face keeping watch.

Chen Heng nodded briefly to the boy, then began browsing the bamboo books.

“This is… ‘The Great Phoenix Spear Unyielding Tactics’?” With a glance, Chen Heng frowned inwardly. “What nonsense.”

He connected his mind with the golden cicada, entering the realm of true law, committing every word to memory before moving to the next book.

To the boy, it seemed Chen Heng merely glanced at each scroll for a few breaths before moving on.

So it went, until half an hour had passed.

Just as Rong Tuo, anxious to the point of bursting in, was about to open the door, Chen Heng emerged, his expression calm as ever.

“How many arts did you memorize?” Rong Tuo asked, studying his face. “There may not be many cultivation arts here, but there are plenty of martial manuals, military texts, and medical treatises. Be careful not to choose poorly…”

“I have memorized them all, every detail committed to heart,” Chen Heng replied.

Rong Tuo could hold back no longer and burst out laughing, not believing a word, thinking Chen Heng merely jested.

He then led Chen Heng to a clean, three-story building, gave orders to the maids, and departed in high spirits.

“I do not speak idly… I truly have memorized everything.”

Watching Rong Tuo’s delighted departure, Chen Heng shook his head.

He refused the maids’ service, ascended to the top floor, locked the door, and settled into a great ebony chair, immersing his mind in the realm of true law.

So time passed, until one day—

In that vast, empty expanse, Chen Heng suddenly shuddered as streams of energy swirled, emitting the resonant chimes of bells and the roar of dragons, cascading down like a waterfall.

“It is done!”

With a smile, Chen Heng reached out to gather the swirling energies.