I'm the Fourth Party!

"A sword is fundamentally ordinary iron. Held in hand, it becomes attuned to the spirit; driven by the heart, it moves; nourished by blood, it comes alive; tainted by stray thoughts, it dies..." In the alleyways of the slums, Feili, clad in a pitch-black raincoat, swung a bamboo sword to parry the strikes of a vagrant's wooden stick. The slums had been built earlier this century, at a time when they were the city's finest district, mostly made up of six-story residential buildings. But they hadn't been renovated in seventy or eighty years, and had cleanly missed the golden age of elevators becoming commonplace. Coupled with Jiashi's city center gradually shifting to other new districts, the wealthy had all moved away, slowly turning this into a slum rented by those at the bottom of society. Property management was nonexistent here. Illegal shanties and makeshift extensions sprouted everywhere. Clothes hung to dry from crisscrossing power lines. Warped flagstones acted like booby traps, squirting dirty sewage the moment they were stepped on. The walls were covered in mottled, flaking plaster and highly suspicious water stains. Drunkards' vomit and the excrement of unknown creatures layered the ground in coat upon coat of grim patina, and if a residential building's sewer ever burst, it turned into an absolute carnival. When the vagrant said they were going to train in swordsmanship here, Feili was utterly dumbfounded. In her mind, practicing swordsmanship ought to take place in a clean, spacious dojo, dressed in protective gear and training with a full sense of ceremony. Then again, the man was a destitute vagrant who slept rough, so Feili hadn't expected such luxuries. But the open, flat grounds along the riverbank or in public parks were free and open to everyone! Yet the vagrant had shut her down with a few blunt questions: "Are you practicing for competitions, or for real combat?" "Flat ground? In real combat, are you going to sweep away all the pebbles first?" "Spacious? If you love wide, sweeping swings, why aren't you swinging a hammer or a battleaxe? In real combat, can you guarantee there won't be walls, trees, or bystanders beside you? When your blade gets stuck in flesh or bone, are you going to discard your sword and fight empty-handed?" "Protective gear? I wouldn't mind if you walked around clad in armor, as long as you don't mind people treating you like an idiot." Though terribly blunt, his words did carry some truth. So Feili went out of her way to get a dingy black raincoat. It served to conceal her looks—she was well aware of her own allure—and more importantly, she didn't care if it got dirty, sparing her any heartache if sewage splashed onto it. And so, over the past month, the slum residents saw two mad vagrants fighting each other in the alleys every day. Normal people steered clear of madmen, while any hooligans brazen enough to pick a fight with lunatics merely served as experience fodder for Feili. Before long, everyone grew used to the sight. *Crack!* The vagrant kicked up half a paving brick. The instant Feili shattered it with the tip of her bamboo sword, he hurled the wooden stick, seized a broom leaning nearby with both hands, and brought it cleaving down like a two-handed greatsword! Feili had barely dodged the stick when she saw the broom crashing down toward her right flank—the exact zone where her leverage was weakest. Most of her muscles couldn't exert force from that angle, and trying to block it head-on would have certainly knocked the bamboo sword from her grip! "Hah!" Shouting as she stepped back, she slashed toward the broom! Yet her opponent was far stronger than her, with longer arms and vastly superior power generation from his feet, waist, and shoulders. Sheer strength could crush ten refined techniques; she had no hope of deflecting it cleanly. Instead, the force behind the broom would travel down the bamboo sword and sprain her wrist! Yet just before the bamboo sword touched the broom, air compressed to its absolute limit shuddered violently, rippling outward like a wave to slash through the broom! *Snap!* The broom was sheared clean in two. Though the vagrant reacted with lightning speed and sprang back, the bamboo sword still flashed forward right before his eyes. "I won!" Feili drew back her bamboo sword, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, but then sounded uncertain: "I... won?" "You won," the vagrant replied. "Though you've only won once in an entire month. There's nothing to be proud of—" "You two bastards broke my broom?!" A middle-aged woman charged out of a nearby apartment, swearing as she rushed toward them. Feili and the vagrant bolted immediately. They ran to an abandoned construction site—whether unfinished or halted for other reasons, it was empty either way. Feili sat down on a pile of steel rebar, clutching her bamboo sword, and asked excitedly, "I won! Does that mean I've learned all your swordsmanship, Professor? Have I graduated?" Voslodar glanced at her without a word, plucked a branch from a nearby tree, and slashed toward a steel pipe, severing it clean in two. Feili stared dumbstruck at the pipe's smooth cut. Voslodar said leisurely, "Though you can unleash sword qi waves in real combat now, you're still miles away from the peak. Frankly speaking, I'm disappointed. You already had the foundation to produce sword qi waves, yet it took you an entire month to pull it off in actual combat. You're easily the worst student I've ever taught." "Is that something a human can actually do?" Feili tried striking the steel pipe, but could only leave a faint scratch at best. "Professor, you're not cheating, are you? Do you have superpowers?" Voslodar's brow twitched. He countered, "If you had seen someone slash out a sword qi wave a month ago, wouldn't you have thought they had superpowers too? Any craft pursued to its depths looks like an unimaginable miracle in the eyes of onlookers." Feili thought that made sense. When she first started training and the professor told her, "striking the air with a sword creates sword qi waves," she had also assumed it was some video game mechanic. But after a month of practice, she could now consciously unleash sword qi waves. It seemed incredible, yet was surprisingly simple in reality. Just as pushing across the surface of water stirred outward ripples, sword qi waves were merely the ripples created in the air when the sword pushed through it. The rest was simple: just as water ripples gathered enough force could become a tsunami, with a little technique, Feili could turn those air ripples into blades sharp enough to cut through anything. At that thought, Feili stood and bowed deeply to Voslodar. "Thank you, Professor!" Though she had studied swordsmanship under the professor for a month, Feili didn't know his name. The professor had claimed his company warehouse was in Canaan City, and that he had gone bankrupt and was on the run from loan sharks, which was why he couldn't reveal his identity. He had also forbidden Feili from disclosing his whereabouts, instructing her to tell outsiders she was taking regular swordsmanship lessons. Canaan City was the location of the first Angel Hunt; now that the entire city was gone, his company's warehouse had naturally been reduced to rubble. With an excuse so impeccably tied to current events, Feili couldn't find a single flaw in it, so she simply addressed him as "Professor." "Mm," Voslodar said calmly. "Starting tomorrow, I will also use sword qi waves at the same level as yours. Prepare yourself." "Yes, Professor!" Feili nodded vigorously, turning around and taking out her phone as she mumbled to herself, "Should I tell him right now? Or should I spar with him later? But if I win, will it hurt his pride?" Voslodar's expression was conflicted. Over the past month, he had witnessed Feili pining over her boyfriend countless times. Even her reason for learning swordsmanship was for him—according to her, the kid's living environment was dangerous, so she wanted to learn swordsmanship to protect him. And so, for five consecutive days, Voslodar had broken the limbs of every hooligan in Jiashi whose "living environment was dangerous," but unfortunately, that kid wasn't among them. Feili's lips were sealed tight, refusing to reveal any details about the boy. Voslodar had considered tailing her, but Feili left via public transit, which he couldn't board—in his disguised, hood-and-face-concealing state, there was no way he could pass security checkpoints. Yet showing his face was completely out of the question. With a little thought, Voslodar knew that the few Stars Legendaries like him were bound to be the primary targets of other factions. That was why, upon entering the Country of All Stars, he had abandoned his original identity and hidden in the slums. His instincts had proved correct: a few days ago, men in black had been going around asking about him, the Night King, and the Pope with photographs. After a brief interrogation, Voslodar learned that the underworld had placed bounties on their heads. Thus, Voslodar could only watch helplessly as Feili fell deeper into love, and he couldn't even say anything. Whether in this world or the other, he had no right to lecture her. "That kid can't beat you," Voslodar said flatly. "Unless he has a Sanc... Regardless, no ordinary person could ever beat you now that you can control sword qi waves. Still, there are some deeply insecure men in this world who throw tantrums, lash out, or even belittle others once they realize they've been surpassed. So I suggest you go over right now and beat him up, just to see what kind of person he really is." "He's definitely not like that!" Feili retorted without thinking. "After all, Sword—" Though Feili clamped her mouth shut immediately, Voslodar picked up on it with razor-sharp intuition. "Sword what? Aside from you, is there another woman around him who trains with a sword?" The little lamb thought about it. Over the past month, she had grown quite familiar with the professor, and he always gave her a sense of warmth reminiscent of Senior Dimier. Convinced he wouldn't harm her, she began to share a little of her romantic troubles. However, she remembered to conceal the identities of Yaxiu and the others: Yaxiu became "Xiuxiu," Sword Princess became "Jianjian," and the Witch became "Momo." "Hold on," Voslodar interrupted anxiously before she could even finish. "You mean that aside from you, his official girlfriend, that kid has two other mistresses—a third and a fourth party?!" Feili froze. She suddenly realized that because she had been speaking from her own biased perspective, she had unconsciously glossed over a certain premise. Hanging her head, she muttered, "No, it's not what you think..." "Feili, I..." Voslodar said rather clumsily, "I know a middle-aged uncle like me shouldn't butt into the lives of young people, but I know you're a good girl. You deserve someone better, not some trash of a boyfriend you fished out of a garbage can!" "It really isn't what you think!" "Anyone who cheats is scummy trash who can't keep it in their pants, and third parties who throw themselves at someone knowing they already have a partner are even more shameless and vile! And he doesn't just have one—he has two mistresses! I don't know what those women are thinking. Aren't they disgusted with themselves—" "I'm not his girlfriend! I was the last one to show up!" Feili shouted, throwing all caution to the wind. "I'm the third—no, the fourth party!" That left Voslodar completely flabbergasted. His mouth opened, but not a single word came out. He looked around helplessly, as if hoping a thug would jump out from the shadows to break the awkward silence—alas, every thug in the slums had already had their legs broken by them.