Chapter Eight: Enlightenment of the Sword (Part One)

"Why must you seek out Commander Ling? Is there some grudge between you?"

"I've said it before—I want Leper Town. I refuse to leave empty-handed."

Late Glow saw that he was not jesting in the least. Though she found it absurd, an inexplicable feeling rose within her.

"If that’s so, we might as well go together. If you think our sect is all flowery fists and embroidered kicks, you’re mistaken. We certainly won’t let our benefactor risk his life alone while we sit idly by."

Seeing her turn solemn as she spoke, Bu Jinxian nodded in agreement.

Late Glow immediately called her two junior sisters to follow.

Grim Specter, seeing the four of them leaving, hurriedly shouted after them, "What about me?"

Without turning his head, Bu Jinxian replied, "Find somewhere to wait."

Grim Specter was stunned for a moment, then suddenly stamped his foot and cursed, "Damn it! Are you saying I'm not even as good as those girls? Hell, I’d rather die than be laughed at by women!" He grabbed his weapons and strode after them.

Inside the city gate stood a massive ballista. That such a small town had military equipment like this astonished Bu Jinxian.

On either side of the ballista, soldiers stood in rows; half of them had their bows drawn, clearly ready for battle.

Commander Ling stood atop the ten-foot-high wall. Seeing Bu Jinxian approach, he shouted an order: "Fire!"

Ten volleys of arrows shot forth like a swarm of locusts.

Bu Jinxian told Late Glow and the others to circle around the city tower to rescue the captive, then leapt into the air, swung his heavy sword to deflect a swath of arrows, and caught some in one hand, hurling them back to block the rest.

Seeing his power, Late Glow led her junior sisters through the alleyways toward the city tower.

These arrows seemed frightening, but to Bu Jinxian, they were nothing compared to the secret weapon attacks from his fellow disciples atop North Spirit Mountain. He faced the arrow storm without breaking a sweat.

The ballista let out a sharp twang, launching a bolt as thick as two strong men’s waists.

Bu Jinxian neither dodged nor retreated; he swung his heavy sword at the incoming bolt.

The massive bolt exploded at the impact, the shaft spinning sideways and smashing into a rank of soldiers, knocking them down like ninepins. Before it hit the ground, Bu Jinxian caught its tail, spun, and hurled it straight at the ballista, smashing it to pieces and scattering the terrified soldiers.

With a surge of strength, he brandished his sword and unleashed the explosive technique of the Royal Art—Soaring Dragon Shatters the Sky. When performed by Chu Gaoge, the sword would blaze with golden energy, forming the shape of a soaring dragon as it flew, a truly awe-inspiring sight. But the Soul Art lacked the Royal Art’s ability to condense the Five Elements’ gold energy; Bu Jinxian could only mimic the destructive power, capturing the spirit but not the form.

The heavy sword crashed into the city wall. The wall, already flimsy, couldn’t withstand the blow. Dust and debris exploded outward, leaving a crater three yards wide.

Commander Ling hurriedly dodged aside atop the city tower. When the dust settled, he stared in disbelief at the shattered wall. He had only served in the army for three years, promoted through connections to command at Leper Town after a year. Though experienced in skirmishes, he had never seen real war. He had always believed his own martial skills were exceptional—he could best three or five centurions with ease—never imagining human strength could reach such terrifying heights.

Looking down at Bu Jinxian, a nameless fear crept into his heart.

There was a cell where the wall had been smashed. It had not originally been for prisoners but was Commander Ling’s own quarters in the tower. When the sect leader of Late Glow's sect was captured, it had been turned into a prison.

The cell now had a gaping hole. The woman inside, quick to avoid the debris, was unharmed. With curiosity, she walked to the opening, her eyes as clear as autumn water, gazing at the man standing six yards away.

When the dust cleared, Bu Jinxian saw Commander Ling's face, now filled with fear rather than arrogance. Bu Jinxian smiled.

"General Ling, are you still unwilling to surrender Leper Town to me?"

The soldiers below circled Bu Jinxian from a distance, exchanging fearful, incredulous glances. The centurions dared not order an attack; they knew their men were as frightened as they were.

From her cell, the woman took in the scene. She never imagined that a man of such lowly status could possess the majesty of a lion or tiger. Amid the army, the soldiers seemed like helpless sheep, desperate to flee. She couldn’t help but ask the man:

"Who are you?"

Only then did Bu Jinxian notice the woman in the ruined cell. Her features bore a resemblance to Late Glow—he realized she must be the sect leader, Late Glow’s elder sister. Like Late Glow, she had beautiful eyes, crescent brows, and crimson lips. But where Late Glow’s emotions were open, her sister’s were reserved. Though imprisoned and on the verge of rescue, her face betrayed no joy.

She wore a robe shimmering with the hues of sunset, one hand folded behind her back, her demeanor calm as still water, making no move to leave her cell.

"I am Zuo An. Your sect’s Miss Late Glow is here as well."

So it was an alias. The sect leader gave no sign of recognition, showing no reaction to the mention of Late Glow.

"Thank you for your help."

"You’re welcome," Bu Jinxian replied, then swept his gaze over the terrified soldiers and smiled. "You can stay, or you can leave Leper Town at once. I’ll count to three—hesitate and you die. One..."

Commander Ling’s face turned crimson with rage; his earlier composure was drowned in fury.

He had schemed endlessly for this woman, the sect leader. He did not want her dead, so he had tolerated her defiance, believing that with time, in the grip of hopeless captivity, she would ultimately bow to him.

Now, she was about to be rescued.

Commander Ling drew his sword in resolve.

"Zuo An! Do you want to make a fool of me—let me be the biggest laughingstock in the land, a man who toils for others’ benefit? Never in my life have I been so humiliated!"

With that, he leapt from the tower toward Bu Jinxian. At once, Bu Jinxian recognized the technique: the eighth stance of the North Spirit Sect’s Battle Formula—The Brave Never Return!

The Battle Formula was designed for battlefield generals: its moves were straightforward, their effectiveness determined by the user’s wit and courage. It was of immense practical value and easy to teach to soldiers. In the martial world, only those of exceptional talent could hope to defeat others with it, because its techniques were direct and lacked subtlety. Yet on the battlefield, few martial arts were more valuable.

The techniques consumed little energy but dealt great damage—broad or narrow as needed. A battle-hardened general could use the eight stances for a day and night without exhausting his strength. With other martial arts, even three hours of fierce combat would be remarkable.

Bu Jinxian had always admired the eight stances and had studied them closely in secret.

The Brave Never Return had no fixed form, only variations in energy flow for different situations: charge and slay on level ground, leaping strike from below, death blow from above, or wild slashing when outnumbered.

Commander Ling, judging by his energy, was using the death blow variant.

This form was the most powerful—meant to kill in a single strike, leaving no room for error. The best response was to evade, let the blow expend itself, and then counterattack while the user’s energy was depleted. On the battlefield, this was fearsome, as it was used only when the opponent was defenseless or unable to dodge. In single combat, a quick opponent could usually escape.

But Bu Jinxian dared not be careless; he knew that a master of the Battle Formula could accelerate mid-strike, catching an opponent off guard. Commander Ling was no fool—he would not use The Brave Never Return from this distance unless he was sure of success.