Chapter Fourteen: Severing Attachment with a Single Stroke

"Sixth Senior Brother's blade."
Sixth Senior Brother Zhang Qianshan had gone to eat and had not taken his weapon with him.

Baili Feihong glanced at the treasured blade resting at his side, and a surge of confidence welled up within. If others from rival martial halls came to stir trouble, they would taste his Blood River Blade Technique.

Though his mastery of the Blood River Blade was still immature compared to Wu Sihai, Baili Feihong understood that even in the face of a Martial Artist at the Five Blood level, he would not feel fear. The sharpness of the blade could compensate for the gap.

"Once this matter is settled, I must join the Bureau of Demon Suppression."

Not for any other reason, but to follow the Bureau on missions—to slay demons and monsters—and quickly accumulate skill points.

With skill points, his strength would rise swiftly. Cultivation through experience was, after all, a way to steadily grow by relying on his golden finger. But after savoring the benefits brought by skill points, Baili Feihong found himself with more ideas on this path.

Skill Book:
Owner: Baili Feihong
Realm: Martial Artist at Five Blood level
Skill Points: 0 (skills can be upgraded, synthesized, or deduced)
Skill 1: Culinary Arts, proficient (Experience: 85/200)
Skill 2: Four Seas Fist Technique, peak mastery (consumes five skill points, can be deduced)
Skill 3: Blood River Blade Technique (incomplete): proficient (3/2000), can add points, can be deduced and completed

Looking at his Skill Book, his attribute information had already changed. His street fighting techniques and ability to unify waist and horse had fused into his other skills, and since these skills were now too low-level, they no longer appeared.

Baili Feihong also noticed a new application for skill points: skill deduction to complete what was lacking. The Skill Book’s functions were becoming ever more refined.

"It seems skill points mustn’t be spent frivolously," Baili Feihong mused, seeing the term ‘deducible skill’ and immediately realizing that perhaps skill points could be used to deduce even stronger martial arts.

"Is Nephew Zhang here?"

Yang Fei, the master of Rolling Stone Martial Hall, once again paid a visit. This fellow truly had his eye on Four Seas Martial Hall. He would not rest until he obtained the Blood River Blade Technique.

"Greetings, Master Yang. My senior brother has gone to rest," Baili Feihong gripped the blade at his side and stood up, his face tense, lips trembling.

He suppressed the blood energy of the Four Seas Fist within, leaving only a single strand of blood energy leaking out.

A One Blood Martial Artist?

"Who are you?"

"My master is Wu Sihai, and I am his newly accepted seventh disciple," Baili Feihong replied courteously, clasping his fists in salute.

"Oh? Brother Wu accepted you as his seventh disciple? Why didn’t I know?" Yang Fei, master of Rolling Stone Martial Hall, sneered.

"Our master at Four Seas Martial Hall doesn’t need Master Yang’s permission to accept disciples, does he?" Baili Feihong’s trembling body seemed to show his backbone, retorting back at Yang Fei.

"Insolent! With your master absent, let me, as your elder, teach you what it means to respect your seniors!"

Yang Fei’s face twisted in ferocity, his aura surging like rolling stones. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to seize Baili Feihong.

The seventh disciple? This blood energy, with the sharpness of the Blood River Blade Technique—clearly, this youth also understood the Blade.

Zhang Qianshan still made him wary. But this unknown youngster, now grasping the Blood River Blade Technique—if he were captured, what could Zhang Qianshan do? He would interrogate this youth, extract the secrets of the Blade, and leave him whole.

Yang Fei’s eyes gleamed viciously; he struck without a word, giving no chance for the junior to counter.

"Rolling Stone relies on force, so does Four Seas!"

"Rolling stones collapse, Four Seas forms rocks!"

These martial arts had always opposed each other.

But...

"To strike me, while harboring distractions," Baili Feihong lowered his head and laughed coldly.

The great river surged, blood energy blazing like the sun!

Blood River Blade Technique, fourth form.

By the time Yang Fei, master of Rolling Stone Martial Hall, sensed danger, it was too late.

Blood energy like a river, blade light like a red sun.

The buildup, the draw—everything happened in an instant.

He gave Yang Fei absolutely no chance to react.

"Ah—!"

One stroke, an arm severed.

Yang Fei’s outstretched hand was cut off by the lightning-quick Blood River Blade Technique.

Sharp, ruthless, cold!

No hesitation, no waste—just a decisive move that shattered the enemy’s ambitions.

Yang Fei clutched his severed arm, his face ashen, retreating hastily.

"Master Yang, I hear the Western Medical Hall can reattach severed limbs. Whether you live to see it depends on your fate," Baili Feihong sheathed his blade, powerful blood energy swirling about him as he stared coldly at Yang Fei.

"You tricked me! You’re no One Blood Martial Artist!" Yang Fei roared.

"Against experienced martial artists like you, I admit my combat experience is lacking. But that’s also the advantage of youth—you old-timers love to underestimate others. This blade didn’t take your head, but your hand, as repayment for your greed and overreaching," Baili Feihong replied expressionlessly.

Yet the blood energy around him gathered, with the aura of river and sea merging; within, it transformed into the image of a blood blade, enveloping Yang Fei.

"Good, very good. Wu Sihai truly accepted an excellent disciple, hiding this trump even after death," Yang Fei, pale and in pain, pinched his right arm’s artery to staunch the gushing blood.

Otherwise, simply bleeding from the stump could have claimed his life.

He picked up his severed arm and fled Four Seas Martial Hall in disgrace.

Baili Feihong breathed a sigh of relief.

Checking his Skill Book, he found the Blood River Blade Technique had gained nearly 120 experience points.

One stroke had given him new insight into the Blade.

"Combat increases experience as well?"

He recalled that night he killed Lady Zhang, Fu Xiang.

Back then, it hadn’t happened.

No—he hadn’t used Four Seas Fist to kill. Besides, Four Seas Fist was already at peak mastery, so there was nothing to gain.

This battle was significant.

It seemed to reveal a way to quickly boost experience.

"No wonder the martial halls have arenas for sparring. Only real combat tempers martial arts best," Baili Feihong murmured.

Hearing the sounds of deep sleep nearby, Baili Feihong relaxed. He began to tidy the mourning hall, scrubbing the blood from the floor.

This was his master Wu Sihai’s memorial; blood had no place here.

"Master, in the spirit world, please don’t blame me for disturbing your hall. After all, I did it to protect Four Seas Martial Hall."

After tonight, there should be no more disturbances.

They now knew the Blood River Blade Technique had an inheritor.

If Baili Feihong could sever Yang Fei’s arm, he could wound them as well.

Obtaining the Blade would be much harder.

He sat quietly in the mourning hall, closed his eyes in meditation, replaying the insight from that stroke.

This too was cultivation—a deeper comprehension of the Blood River Blade Technique.

Experience slowly increased.

Late at night, Zhang Qianshan awoke again.

"Feihong, thank you for your efforts," he said.

"Sixth Senior Brother, you’re too kind. You taught me the Blood River Blade Technique, which counts as taking me in for our master, even if not formally. In my heart, I’m already Four Seas Martial Hall’s seventh inner disciple," Baili Feihong replied, truthfully.

He had received Four Seas Martial Hall’s inner teachings.

Even without formal apprenticeship, he was an inner disciple.

"If master were alive to see you, he’d surely be overjoyed," Zhang Qianshan sighed, "Brother, go home now. I’ll take care of things here."

"Alright," Baili Feihong set the blade he’d held between his knees aside.

Zhang Qianshan paid no mind, thinking Baili Feihong merely needed the blade for courage.

Only after Baili Feihong left and his heart settled did Zhang Qianshan notice something odd.

"Blood scent?"

A faint trace of blood lingered in the mourning hall.

Zhang Qianshan picked up the blade, its cold gleam flashing, but saw nothing unusual. He sniffed near the edge: it carried a hint of blood and moisture.

"What did my junior do with my blade?"

A troubling thought flitted through Zhang Qianshan’s mind, quickly dismissed.

Baili Feihong’s recent conduct had convinced him to regard him as a true junior brother, not merely a student.

Perhaps he stayed to help with their master’s funeral.

It was for this reason Zhang Qianshan had entrusted the Blood River Blade Technique to Baili Feihong.