High Martial Arts: Enlightenment after Practices

Langya City High-Speed Railway Station.

Xu Wuyi sat down on a seat in the waiting hall, opened his personal terminal, and brought up Shao Yu’s profile.

Shao Yu, fifty-three years old, an elder of the Shao family in Su’an. He had advanced to Quasi-Grandmaster at the age of thirty-nine. He majored in the Sword Dao and was renowned for his Fast Sword.

The profile included several photos. In his youth, Shao Yu had distinct, sword-shaped eyebrows and starry eyes. He exuded a cold, unapproachable aura. In his recent photos, the hair at his temples was slightly graying, but his gaze remained as sharp as a sword. His signature swordsmanship was the *Thunder Shock Nine Swords*. Rumored to be the Shao family’s ancestral ultimate technique, it was famous for its speed—striking like sudden thunder, arriving in an instant.

Xu Wuyi finished reading the profile and leaned back in his chair.

The Fast Sword was actually the most common approach in swordsmanship, though its execution varied wildly. His gaze drifted to the ceiling of the waiting hall as his thoughts wandered.

Previously in the True Dragon Star Realm, Ye Yixin’s sword had reached the absolute limits of speed; he had barely been able to block it. However, after that battle, his understanding of speed had deepened significantly. Later, when he fought Zhou Chen, his opponent’s sword was also incredibly fast, but in Xu Wuyi’s eyes, it was no longer enough to pose a threat. He wondered how fast Senior Shao Yu’s sword would be. He didn’t know, but he was looking forward to it.

The station broadcast chimed, announcing the start of ticket checking. Xu Wuyi stood up and headed toward the platform.

As the train pulled out of Langya City, he looked out the window. The silhouette of Mount Langya loomed faintly in the morning mist, the woods at its peak gilded by the rising sun. He watched for a moment before retracting his gaze.

The next stop was Lingchuan City, the provincial capital of Su’an.

Shao Yu’s residence was not in the city center, but at the Shao family’s ancestral estate in the suburbs of Lingchuan. It was a vast manor with a rumored history of over three hundred years. The train sped along at five hundred kilometers per hour, blurring the scenery outside into a rapid retreat.

One hour later, the train arrived in Lingchuan City.

It was already ten in the morning when Xu Wuyi walked out of the high-speed rail station. The sky was clear, and the sun shone brightly. The temperature in Lingchuan was slightly warmer than in Langya, and the air carried a distinct, bustling city scent.

He didn’t linger in the downtown area. Instead, he hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the Shao family estate. The driver, a middle-aged man in his forties, gave him an extra glance upon hearing the destination.

”Going to the Shao family estate?” the driver asked. ”Are you a guest of the Shao family?”

”You could say that,” Xu Wuyi replied.

The driver eyed him a few more times through the rearview mirror but didn’t pry further. He started the car.

The vehicle left the city limits, cruising down a wide highway toward the suburbs. The further out they went, the sparser the buildings became, giving way to lush greenery. Vast stretches of farmland and woods lined both sides of the road, with an occasional villa peeking out from the trees.

After driving for about forty minutes, the car pulled up in front of a manor. The estate’s main gate featured classical architecture with gray bricks and slate-blue tiles. A plaque bearing the large characters ”Shao Residence” hung above the lintel. Two young men in security uniforms stood by the entrance; their postures were ramrod straight, and their eyes were alert.

Xu Wuyi got out of the car and walked toward the gate.

”Hello, are you Martial Artist Xu Wuyi?” one of the security guards stepped forward to greet him, his tone polite.

”That’s me.”

”Please wait a moment. I’ll notify them of your arrival right now.” The guard turned, went back to the sentry booth, and spoke into his walkie-talkie.

A moment later, the estate’s heavy gates slowly swung open.

A middle-aged man dressed in a dark gray Mao suit walked out. His steps were steady, and he wore a welcoming smile. He looked to be around fifty, with slightly graying temples, yet he was robust and full of spirit, his eyes bright and lively.

”Martial Artist Xu, I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a long time.” The middle-aged man stepped forward and offered his hand. ”I am the steward of the Shao family; my surname is Zhou. The master asked me to wait here and welcome you inside.”

Xu Wuyi shook his hand. ”You’re too polite, Steward Zhou.”

”Please follow me.” Steward Zhou stepped aside to lead the way, guiding Xu Wuyi into the estate.

The Shao family estate was incredibly expansive. Its interior layout mimicked traditional Jiangnan gardens, featuring pavilions, terraces, towers, and flowing streams under small bridges. An omnipresent sense of quaint elegance lingered in the air. A winding path paved with bluestone slabs meandered through the grounds, flanked by various precious flowers and exotic trees. The faint, sweet fragrance of blossoms permeated the surroundings.

Xu Wuyi followed Steward Zhou through several moon gates and over a stone arch bridge before finally stopping in front of an independent courtyard.

The courtyard wasn’t large. Its walls, built from gray bricks, were covered in lush ivy. The wooden door was left ajar, and a small wooden plaque hung above the lintel, bearing the three characters for ”Sword Listening Hut.”

”Here we are.” Steward Zhou stopped and turned to Xu Wuyi. ”The master is inside the courtyard. He instructed that you should go straight in upon your arrival.” He paused for a moment and added in a lowered voice, ”Martial Artist Xu, there’s something I’m not sure if I should say.”

”Please speak your mind, Steward Zhou.”

”The master... has a rather eccentric temper.” Steward Zhou’s tone carried a hint of helplessness. ”If anything he says later comes across as offensive, please bear with him. The truth is, the master is simply obsessed with the Sword Dao; his way of doing things is just a bit different from ordinary people.”

Xu Wuyi nodded. ”Thank you for the reminder, Steward Zhou.”

Steward Zhou didn’t say anything more. He bowed slightly and turned to leave.

Xu Wuyi stood outside the courtyard door for a moment before pushing it open and walking in.

The courtyard spanned roughly thirty square meters. The ground was paved with gray bricks, and a few slender bamboo plants grew in the corner. Beneath the bamboo sat a stone table and two stone stools. In the center of the yard, an old man wearing a gray cloth robe sat cross-legged on a futon with his back to the door. A longsword in its scabbard rested horizontally across his knees.

The old man had a lean figure and a slightly hunched back. His gray hair was casually tied into a bun at the back of his head. He just sat there quietly, as if completely merged with the entire courtyard. Had Xu Wuyi not seen him with his own eyes, he would hardly have sensed the man’s presence.

Xu Wuyi didn’t make a sound to disturb him. He simply stood just inside the door, waiting quietly.

After about ten minutes, the old man slowly broke the silence.

”You’ve arrived?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it reached Xu Wuyi’s ears with absolute clarity, carrying a slight hoarseness.

”This junior, Xu Wuyi, greets Senior Shao,” Xu Wuyi said, bowing slightly.

Shao Yu slowly stood up.

The moment he turned around, Xu Wuyi’s eyes slightly narrowed in focus. It was a gaunt face with high cheekbones and deep-set eye sockets. His brow carried an aloofness born from years of solitude. Yet, those eyes were astonishingly bright, as if two invisible swords were hidden deep within his pupils, ready to tear through the air at any moment.

Shao Yu sized Xu Wuyi up, his gaze sweeping from top to bottom, then from bottom to top, as if trying to see right through the young man.

”Twenty-three years old,” Shao Yu said, his tone flat. ”I heard you sparred with Wang Hanshan a few days ago?”

”Yes.”

”That old geezer Wang Hanshan has heavy fists, but his brain isn’t very bright,” Shao Yu said. ”What he can teach you is limited.”

Xu Wuyi didn’t respond.

Shao Yu walked over to the stone table, sat down, and placed his longsword on the table. ”Sit.”

Xu Wuyi sat opposite him. The stone table separated them, and the sheathed longsword lay between them. The scabbard was made of ordinary ebony and lacked any decoration, looking entirely plain and unadorned.

”The Dongjiang Battle Group sent word that you wanted to spar with me.” Shao Yu got straight to the point. ”I agreed.”

Xu Wuyi nodded. ”Thank you, Senior.”

”Don’t be in such a hurry to thank me.” Shao Yu waved his hand. ”I agreed, but there is a condition.”

”Please tell me, Senior.”

Shao Yu looked at him, his gaze utterly calm. ”If you want to spar with me, you have to beat me first.”