Chapter 9: I Have a Mountain-Splitting Saber Technique That I Can Teach You

For a martial general, a beloved warhorse is truly like their own flesh and blood.

Zhang Yuan was born into a family of Great Qin martial guards. With a father’s legacy passed to the son, the military, comrades-in-arms, and the duty to protect the nation were etched into his very bones.

When Zhang Yuan’s father was alive, he had spoken countless times of the glory of Great Qin warriors and the responsibilities of the Great Qin martial guards.

One hundred thousand years ago, relying on the martial valor of their ancestors and the invincible might of their military formations, the Great Qin swept across the myriad domains and unified the nine continents.

Thirty thousand years ago, immortals and demons descended, the nine continents collapsed, and the living were scattered.

When the immortals and demons arrived and evil spirits fell from the heavens, thirty million Great Qin soldiers fought to the death without retreating, and nine Qin kings perished beyond the Great Wall of the Northern Frontier.

In Great Qin, there were warriors who slew immortals, daring to battle the heavens, dying in a hundred battles without regret.

In Great Qin, there were emperors who led from the front, and the royal family fought until the last, never retreating a single step.

In Great Qin, there were civil officials who died remonstrating and martial generals who died in battle.

Ten thousand years ago, the last Great Qin martial king fell in battle, three hundred million iron-blooded soldiers were wiped out, the Northern Frontier’s Great Wall was lost, and the Qin territories of the nine continents disintegrated, leaving only one continent remaining.

For ten thousand years, as immortals and demons encroached and evil spirits harassed, the single continent held by Great Qin was continuously infiltrated and divided, splitting into five nations and three domains, locked in endless war.

From what he had seen and heard since childhood, a Great Qin martial guard would shed their last drop of blood for the Great Qin, dying a hundred times without regret.

At his age, Zhang Yuan had not experienced much, but his blood had yet to run cold.

The main hall fell into a heavy silence.

"My lord, I noticed there is a pond in the courtyard. We could drain the water and catch the fish and shrimp; that would sustain us for another day..." Zhang Yuan raised his head slightly and spoke in a low voice.

On the way here, he had been thinking about whether there was any way to find food.

When he stood in the front courtyard, he had specifically observed that pond, which was over three zhang in diameter, for quite a while.

There were fish.

Yu Lin looked somewhat distracted as he turned to Zhang Yuan. After a long while, he said softly, "Zhang Yuan, do you think we can still hold this place?"

Can we hold it?

For one hundred thousand years, Great Qin’s land could be lost and its soldiers could die, but it had never voluntarily abandoned a single inch of territory.

The land of Great Qin was paved with the bones of its soldiers; not an inch could be abandoned.

Zhang Yuan had not expected that Yu Lin, the Commander of the Red Scale Army and the highest-ranking military officer here, would ask him such a question.

According to Great Qin military law, if a location is lost, the commander is to be beheaded.

If Fengtian County fell, the first to die would be he, the Red Scale Army Commander, Yu Lin!

"Even if we cannot hold it, we must. Great Qin only has lost cities; it has never had abandoned territories." Zhang Yuan straightened his posture and spoke loudly.

The duty to defend the land was a Qin law carved into Zhang Yuan’s bones.

"Right, the land of Great Qin—not an inch can be abandoned." Yu Lin’s hand, resting on the table, slowly tightened as he whispered.

It was as if he were speaking to Zhang Yuan, or perhaps to himself.

The main hall fell into silence once more.

"Zhang Yuan, you want me to grant you a cultivation technique, don't you?"

"How is the technique you currently practice? Can you demonstrate it for me?"

A moment later, Commander Yu Lin’s voice rang out.

Demonstrate?

A sixteen-year-old at the middle stage of the Houtian realm.

Blade techniques and fist techniques at Great Perfection—is that enough to catch the Commander’s eye?

A bright light flickered in Zhang Yuan’s eyes as he cupped his fists in a salute.

"Understood."

Standing in the center of the small courtyard, which was no more than two zhang wide, Zhang Yuan gripped the scabbard at his waist with his left hand and slowly pressed his right hand onto the hilt.

The moment his hand touched the blade, his aura changed abruptly.

It was an indescribable state, one that Zhang Yuan himself did not fully understand.

In front of him, Yu Lin, who stood on the steps with his hands behind his back, felt his eyes light up.

*Clang—*

Zhang Yuan’s long blade left its sheath. His left foot lunged forward half a step, his single blade traced a circle, and he slashed horizontally.

The blade light was perfectly round, the edge clear and bright.

It was a fine blade, and the strike Zhang Yuan delivered showcased the sharp and heavy characteristics of the weapon to the fullest.

With a horizontal slash, Zhang Yuan lunged to the right, shouting in a low voice: "Kill—"

The blade traced an arc, his cloak whistling in the wind.

Zhang Yuan’s blade was fast. Stepping up to slash, stepping back to hack, turning to meet the wind—every move was clean and decisive.

After eight moves, the long blade returned to its sheath, and Zhang Yuan stood with a bow.

"Cloak Blade Technique at Great Perfection, good!" Yu Lin’s eyes flashed with excitement as he clapped his hands.

Yu Lin was a Xiantian realm expert; naturally, he could see that Zhang Yuan’s blade technique had reached Great Perfection.

Looking Zhang Yuan up and down, a hint of satisfaction appeared on Yu Lin’s face.

"Sixteen years old, middle stage of the Houtian realm, Cloak Blade Technique at Great Perfection. Your martial talent is no less than that of the elites from the great clans."

Walking slowly toward Zhang Yuan, Yu Lin reached out, took the long blade from Zhang Yuan’s waist, and drew it from its sheath.

"How about this: I have a Mountain Blade Technique that I can teach you."

"Watch closely—"

With the blade in hand, Zhang Yuan felt as though Yu Lin and the blade had become one.

The blade slashed out, feeling like a collapsing mountain, or perhaps like ten thousand galloping horses.

After Yu Lin finished the sequence, he turned back to look at Zhang Yuan, who stood frozen in place.

"How many moves did you remember?"

Zhang Yuan was stunned for a moment and shook his head: "I didn't remember a single move."

Zhang Yuan admitted that he was no martial genius.

He was truly just a very ordinary ninth-rank constable in Luyang Prefecture, the kind of commoner who should have been unable to step into the middle stage of the Houtian realm for his entire life.

Didn't remember a single move?

Yu Lin frowned slightly.

It seemed that although Zhang Yuan had talent, he was limited by his own experience and could not master profound techniques.

What a pity for such a good seedling.

"Then tell me, what did you remember?" Yu Lin asked again.

If Zhang Yuan truly could not master the Mountain Blade Technique, it could only be said that he had no affinity with his legacy.

Zhang Yuan pondered for a moment, clearing his mind, leaving only the sensation of watching Yu Lin’s blade technique.

This was the result of the Chaos extracting insights from his cultivation and turning them into a long river of memory, which Zhang Yuan had then observed.

Years of cultivation condensed into an instant; Zhang Yuan could not see the specific moves clearly, only the impressions those moves revealed.

"Heavy, precipitous, a mountain collapsing... if I were standing before that strike, I wouldn't even have the courage to lift my blade..."

Zhang Yuan whispered.

Zhang Yuan’s answer made Yu Lin’s eyes burst with brilliance.

What is true martial talent?

What Zhang Yuan displayed was exactly that.

Not being able to remember the specific moves, but having one's own understanding and insights regarding them.

At the level of the strong, what they fought with was no longer moves, but intent—the martial intent revealed within those moves.

It was precisely because Zhang Yuan had unimaginable martial talent that he could sense the mountain intent within Yu Lin’s blade technique, even without seeing the moves clearly.

In truth, Yu Lin’s blade technique was still far from reaching the level of manifesting intent; it was merely in its infancy.

This only made Zhang Yuan’s talent appear all the more extraordinary.

"Good, good! I will demonstrate it one more time. Watch clearly, and remember as much as you can."

Yu Lin’s voice carried a hint of excitement.

With the long blade in hand, he slowly thrust it forward.

Zhang Yuan had regained his focus by now, whispering softly: "Chaos, assist in battle."

In an instant, a dark, murky pillar of light appeared above Yu Lin’s head.

And the path of the blade in Yu Lin’s hand, his footwork, and his posture were all enveloped in a grid of countless phantom lines.

An insight bead shattered, turning into illusory light and shadow, condensing before Yu Lin.

(End of chapter)