Midnight update coming! Let's push for the weekly rankings—votes, bookmarks, and support welcome! Also recommending the classic xianxia novel "One Sword to Shatter Nine Heavens."
Zhang Qingxi's explanation had been overwhelming. Sun Yanwan didn't know where to start. He decided to clarify one thing first.
"Isn't our founder, Grandmaster Feng, also one of the top?"
Zhang Qingxi smiled. "Our founder passed away. It wouldn't make sense to keep a seat for the deceased."
"Back when he was alive, there were five Supremes and four Grandmasters."
"After he and another Supreme passed, new figures rose—our Master and the monk Kongchan from Shaochan Temple. Now we have today's lineup."
"Among the current Five Grandmasters, Hu Qingdi is two generations old—he's long since retired. Xuanming Daoist is from the same era as our founder. Demon Sect Leader Yang Wuji is of our Master's generation, but ten years older. The youngest is Kongchan of Shaochan Temple—seven or eight years younger than Master. He's considered the greatest martial genius the temple's seen in two centuries, and likely their next Supreme."
"Below the Supremes and Grandmasters are dozens of ordinary Grandmasters spread across major sects and clans."
Sun felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Miao Youxiu. He had assumed Miao simply passed him off to some random master because he couldn't teach him. Now he realized Miao had sent him to an elite sect.
Miao really was a good man.
Though Zhang Yuanqiao had left Songyang due to conflict with its leader, he hadn't broken ties. The sect had a Supreme founder, was top among sword sects, and Zhang himself was a true Grandmaster. Just the names of his sect or master would grant him safety across the martial world.
Zhang Qingxi added, "The Hu clan's ability to produce a Grandmaster is no surprise. Their Hunyuan Stances are top-tier—outer-to-inner cultivation builds internal force naturally, excellent for combat."
"You're right to be impressed—it's a solid technique."
"But one warning, Junior Brother."
"Hu and Miao clan arts are family secrets, never taught to outsiders. You can train secretly, but never reveal or use them in public."
"We at Taiyi Temple have world-renowned techniques. There's no need to cling to Hu clan skills."
Sun chuckled awkwardly. "You're right, Senior Brother."
He wasn't actually clinging—he just noticed that Ziwu Jing and Hunyuan Stances complemented each other. Where Ziwu Jing was weak, Hunyuan filled the gap; where Hunyuan was tough, Ziwu had easier paths. Combined, they accelerated progress.
Still, he noted the warning. Miao had also told him not to reveal his training method.
About a week passed with no word from Master Zhang Yuanqiao.
One morning, Sun remembered the ordered robes and told Qingxi he'd head to town to collect them.
At the tailor, he picked up three Daoist robes, bought vegetables, food, and supplies.
With Master gone and Qingxi bad at cooking, Sun had taken over the kitchen. Back on Earth, he'd cooked often and studied many culinary styles—his meals were highly praised.
Still, good chefs need ingredients. Taiyi Temple lacked variety. Sun saw a chance to upgrade their meals and bought extra items.
With so much cargo, he hired a wagon to haul it back. As he inspected the goods, a thunder of hooves broke the peace. Over ten fierce riders—clearly gang members—stormed into town. Their energy was aggressive and murderous.
An old vegetable seller failed to move aside fast enough. A flash of steel—he was sliced in two by the lead rider, who galloped past as blood sprayed.
The killer didn't even pause. He rode into the town square and roared, "Has anyone seen a girl in red? Speak, or die!"
Sun had been too far to help the old man, but hearing the killer's threats made his blood boil.
"You murderers—come face justice!"
He had come to this world, learned martial arts, and now saw innocents threatened. He couldn't stay quiet.
He didn't have his Demon-Slaying Sword but charged barehanded toward the killer.
The thug grinned and swung his blade, confident. His technique was even fairly advanced—like a falling waterfall.
Sun, fired up, moved instinctively. He dodged using the Twin Crane Form—a sophisticated disarming move from the Demon-Slaying Sword Style.
It looked elegant and harmless, but the real danger was hidden. Without deep understanding, few could counter it.
The thug wasn't that skilled. He dismissed the motion and cut down—but hit only air.
Before he could react, Sun had seized his blade. Shocked, the man's wrist went numb—and the blade was gone.
Sun, furious at the murder, flipped the blade and used it like a sword. One stroke—Cloud Splitter Across the Sky—took the thug's head clean off.
The Hu clan's sword style wasn't famous for nothing. Even as a beginner, Sun was unstoppable against common fighters.
After the kill, Sun felt both triumphant and uneasy. He'd never killed before—let alone in public. On Earth, such a thing was unimaginable.
But something shifted in him.
He'd acted on instinct—justice, impulse, and the thrill of power.
For once, his sword moves flowed without resistance.
Then he spotted something.
A woman in red stood on a nearby rooftop, bow in hand. Wind teased her skirt. In a blink, she drew and loosed an arrow.
The shot was precise—headed straight for his face.
He saw her stunned expression.
He could practically read her thoughts from her eyes:
"Crap—I shot the wrong guy."
Well, sh*t.