At Baishi Crossing, Li Xin and the others gazed anxiously toward the woods.
Someone could not resist proposing in an undertone, "Second Shopkeeper, shouldn't we cast off and sail out first?"
Li Xin glared at the clerk and barked, "Stop spouting that utter bullshit!"
The clerk lowered his head, not daring to utter another peep. The rest, who had secretly thought leaving early was a fine idea, were now terrified to say a word as well.
Li Xin wanted to flee danger just as badly, but in his heart, he knew that navigating a boat in the dead of night was perilous in its own right; one misstep and they would end up at the bottom of the river.
Even if they were fortunate enough to survive, if they abandoned Zhou Wuji to save their own skins and Zhou Wuji returned unharmed, there would be hell to pay.
Besides, Zhou Wuji was Daoist Yiyuan's direct personal disciple. Daoist Yiyuan would never let them off lightly either.
No matter which choice he considered, their only viable path right now was to remain and wait for news.
Just as the agonizing wait was pushing the group to their limits, a figure flickered into view at the edge of the woods.
The distance was too great to make out his facial features, but they could see a lone man with broad sleeves billowing in the wind—undoubtedly Zhou Wuji.
Li Xin and his men were overjoyed. Since Zhou Wuji had returned unharmed, the deserters had surely been taken care of, meaning none of them had to die!
A few of the sharper ones rushed forward in haste, calling out, "Daoist Zhou, you're finally back!"
"If you took any longer, we were about to head out and escort you..."
Li Xin also hurried forward, asking with great agitation, "Daoist Zhou, are you hurt?"
Once he drew near, Li Xin caught the sharp stench of blood radiating from Zhou Wuji. Looking closer at his Daoist robe, he noticed patches and speckles of dark stains across the cloth.
Though the light was dim, he immediately understood that they had to be bloodstains. A chill ran down his spine, and the expression on his face froze.
Zhou Wuji paid no mind to Li Xin's reaction. "I'm unhurt. The deserters have been dealt with. Many people died in Baishi Village; go over and see to them."
Zhou Wuji had inspected the place earlier. The village held only a dozen or so households, around forty or fifty people in all. Every grown man had been slaughtered, leaving behind only women and children.
Plundering valuables was secondary for the deserters; their main concern was avoiding detection.
Small villages were tightly insular; butchering all the men made them easy to control.
Zhou Wuji was not the sentimental sort, nor had the disaster been brought about by him.
Still, seeing ordinary lives treated like worthless weeds dampened his spirits.
He had recited the Supreme Rebirth Incantation for the villagers' departed souls and cast the Golden Light Incantation twice to keep lingering resentment from congealing into vengeful wraiths.
The remaining funeral arrangements could be left for Li Xin and the others to handle.
Li Xin naturally agreed without hesitation.
Returning to his cabin, Zhou Wuji first inspected the blade of his Seven Stars Sword. Seeing no nicks or damage whatsoever, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Though the Seven Stars Sword was a treasured weapon, the weapons carried by the deserters were hardly subpar.
Had the edges met in direct clashes, the blade would have inevitably suffered harm. It was only thanks to his superior swordsmanship—deflecting and striking with the flat and spine of the blade whenever their weapons clashed—that he had preserved the cutting edge intact.
Although no blood clung to the blade, Zhou Wuji still wiped it down twice with a clean handkerchief before returning the sword to its scabbard.
The sword could be cleaned, but his blood-splattered Daoist robe was another matter.
He had departed in too much of a hurry and brought along no spare clothing.
For now, he simply had to make do.
Taking advantage of the empty boat, Zhou Wuji hauled up the chest of gold submerged in the water.
Earlier, when the situation was dire, he had secured the chest with his pocket-sized strand of ice silkworm silk and tossed it into the water, with the other end looped around the window frame.
Ice silkworm silk was woven from a unique silk blended with spider thread. Hardly thicker than a human hair, it could withstand three to four hundred jin of weight. It was extraordinarily handy for binding things up or even fishing.
It was one of the little trinkets Zhou Wuji always kept on hand.
Had the boat departed, the silk would have slipped free, and the gold would have been lost to the riverbed where no one could ever find it.
Zhou Wuji was not particularly greedy, but this chest of gold was crucial for taking his precepts and receiving his investiture of the seal.
Both ceremonies required the opening of an altar. An advanced ceremonial altar incurred enormous expense, and inviting a register-ordained Daoist to preside over it drove the cost even higher.
Learning arts also required tuition.
Furthermore, if he wished to secure the position of abbey master at Canglong Temple, he would need to curry favor up and down the hierarchy. Navigating those interpersonal relationships required pouring in genuine gold and silver.
He had accompanied his master to the Yunlong Branch Abbey in the past, and his master had explained the procedure for ascending to rank eight many times, leaving him well-acquainted with the ins and outs.
Two hundred liang of gold might not even be enough...
Caressing the dripping chest and verifying that the gold inside was completely safe, Zhou Wuji could not help sighing. If only he had an artifact that could store items on his person.
Unfortunately, not even his formidable master possessed such a thing; a wondrous treasure like that was far beyond his reach.
After such a fierce bout of combat, Zhou Wuji felt a pang of hunger. He swallowed an inedia pill, closed his eyes, and sat cross-legged to regulate his breath.
Only after circulating his true qi through one hundred and eight heavenly cycles did it return to a replete state, sweeping away both his mental and physical fatigue.
Zhou Wuji glanced toward the shore. The crew was still busily bustling about, and more than two hours had likely passed.
He stripped off his bloodstained Daoist robes, shoes, and socks, then lay down on the bed, his mind and body finally settling into genuine relaxation.
With a moment of free time, Zhou Wuji opened the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment.
Fourteen deserters were listed on the blank pages, yet none possessed a name.
Evidently, if he did not know their names, neither did the book.
The Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment could only weigh their destiny patterns.
The squad leader's destiny pattern was two liang seven qian, followed by two liang two qian, two liang one qian, and another two liang one qian. The rest all fell below two liang.
Judging from previous experience, two liang seven qian was quite substantial—far superior to Zhang Wuding.
Tonight's battle had reinforced Zhou Wuji's conviction that swordsmanship was currently his best choice.
The primordial profound spirit converted from destiny patterns by the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment could only elevate martial arts and techniques; it could not advance his tier of true qi.
In truth, he had no other option.
Tonight had actually been perilous. Had he not ambushed the seven deserters in the woods beforehand, a frontal clash would have cost him dearly even if he triumphed.
When all was said and done, his swordsmanship was still not strong enough.
Zhou Wuji immediately converted the four destiny patterns above two liang into primordial profound spirit and channeled all of it into the Xiaoxiang Sword.
A miniature world unfurled, and Zhou Wuji, sword in hand, plunged into relentless, unceasing practice through day and night.
Through this continuous training, Zhou Wuji developed a deeper comprehension of each of the Xiaoxiang Sword's eight stances, making massive strides in weapon execution, spatial positioning, and the circulation of qi.
When Zhou Wuji opened his eyes, he rolled nimbly off the bed. Without even looking, he reached out and drew the Seven Stars Sword resting beside his pillow.
In the span of a single breath, he thrust nine times in succession.
Sheathing the sword and drawing it anew, he unleashed another nine thrusts, this time in harmony with his footwork, shifting his steps nine times alongside the nine strikes.
Still without needing to look, he casually returned the sword to its scabbard, the entire sequence effortless, fluid, and refined.
He quietly savored this sensation of complete mastery, feeling refreshed and exhilarated inside and out.
Advancing from seven consecutive thrusts to nine marked a twenty-percent leap in sword speed, yet that increase was holistic.
It was not just raw speed, but also his footwork, body mechanics, the modulation and circulation of true qi, and precise control over the angles and tempo of every strike.
Within the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, his mastery over the Xiaoxiang Sword Technique had indeed climbed to the realm of Minor Accomplishment.
The so-called Minor Accomplishment signified attaining solid achievement beyond standard proficiency.
If proficiency made one an expert, Minor Accomplishment elevated one into an elite master.
This breakthrough in swordsmanship also directly enhanced his understanding and control over Tianshu true qi.
This was primarily because the Xiaoxiang Sword was an exceptional match for Tianshu true qi. Elevating the sword technique's realm had conversely propelled the refinement of his true qi.
His five senses were sharpened further as well; aided only by the moonlight filtering through the window, he could clearly discern the minute details and contour of the teacup on the table.
Zhou Wuji felt his progress this time was immense. With his current swordsmanship, even if he engaged all fourteen deserters head-on, he ought to come out victorious, right?!
Taking on a ten-man squad of fully armored soldiers face-to-face was already a formidable display of martial prowess.
Yet the higher his swordsmanship climbed, the more Zhou Wuji understood the terrifying strength of a rank seven martial artist. Though he had no exact measure of Zhang Xinhu's might, using his master as a yardstick, he knew he was still a far cry from that level.
Ten deserters' destiny patterns still remained in the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, and they could not be wasted.
Without needing to test it, Zhou Wuji knew his swordsmanship had reached a refined plane; these deserters' destiny patterns were too meager, and even combining all ten would not suffice to elevate a single sword stance.
After a moment's thought, he decided to improve the Rejuvenation Technique first.
If mastered, even a low-grade healing art could prove useful.
The Golden Light Technique was meant for warding off evil and banishing ghosts, which he hardly needed given that he possessed the Seven Stars Sword.
Or perhaps he should hold off for now and wait until he learned new arts?
Chapter 12