After Jiang Lu took his leave, the hall fell silent, Liu Enchuan alone remaining.
He sat at his desk, fingers tapping idly against the tabletop.
Jiang Lu had spoken with absolute conviction — but Liu Enchuan still wasn't sure what to believe.
It was just too absurd, when you thought about it.
A disciple who hadn't broken through in three years, universally written off as a lost cause — and now, out of nowhere, he was supposed to be a once-in-a-generation sword prodigy?
The gap between those two pictures was simply too vast.
"That said, the boy's never been one to talk nonsense."
Liu Enchuan sat in thought for a moment, then finally rose to his feet.
"Fine. If he's that certain about it, I'll go see for myself."
"Seeing is believing. If this Gu Chengming truly has some ability to him, that would be a blessing for Huiyuan Gate."
That said — if he was going to size the boy up, he couldn't exactly make a scene of it.
A Meritorious Elder of his standing, going to spar with an outer disciple? If word got out, he'd never live it down.
And besides, if Jiang Lu was right and the boy really was a deep-hidden expert, showing up in an elder's robes would only make him hold back.
No, he'd need a disguise.
For a cultivator of the Third Realm, a simple change of face and appearance was child's play.
Liu Enchuan turned his mind inward, spiritual energy circulating through his body — and a moment later, the stern middle-aged elder was gone. In his place stood a sharp-browed young sword cultivator in green robes, eyes bright as stars.
Liu Enchuan regarded the dashing "young man" in the bronze mirror and gave a satisfied nod.
"Not bad at all. Reminds me of how I looked in my prime."
.............
Meanwhile, in Gu Chengming's courtyard.
Gu Chengming was seated at the stone table, brush flying across paper, diligently laboring over the second installment of his storybook — all in service of the Qingxin Formula's next favorability surge.
Knock knock knock.
Someone rapped at the courtyard gate.
Gu Chengming set down his brush, mildly puzzled. Jiang Lu had only just left — had he forgotten something?
He went and opened the gate, only to find that the person standing outside was not Jiang Lu at all, but a young cultivator in green robes he had never seen before.
The stranger was tall and upright, with striking, sword-etched brows. Young in appearance, certainly — yet his bearing carried the quiet, settled weight of someone long accustomed to authority.
"And you are, Senior Brother...?"
Gu Chengming found it strange. He didn't think he knew anyone in the sect who looked like this.
The cultivator in green cupped his hands and spoke in a clear, open tone:
"I am... Liu En."
He paused briefly, as though gathering his words, then continued:
"Junior Brother Jiang Lu recommended me to come."
This green-robed cultivator was, of course, Liu Enchuan in disguise.
To avoid slipping up, he had taken care to give himself an alias — simply dropping the last character of his name.
Gu Chengming looked him up and down.
The face was young, and while the bearing was exceptional, he figured this had to be a fellow inner disciple of roughly his own generation.
So he returned the salute with cupped hands — though he hesitated for just a moment over the honorific:
"Ah — Liu En... Junior Brother?"
After all, he had been in the sect for three years. Low cultivation or not, seniority was seniority.
Calling someone junior brother seemed perfectly reasonable.
"..."
At the word "junior brother," Liu Enchuan's mouth gave the faintest, barely perceptible twitch.
He was a Meritorious Elder. In his normal life, everyone who crossed his path addressed him with deferential respect. And now here he was, being called junior brother by an outer disciple.
But he didn't correct the boy. He swallowed the peculiar feeling and cut straight to the point:
"Junior Brother Jiang tells me you have a considerable command of the Huiyuan Sword Art — remarkable depth, he said. As it happens, I've done my own share of study in that art, and I've been itching for a good spar. I thought I'd come find you to compare notes."
At the stated purpose of the visit, the mild disinterest in Gu Chengming's eyes immediately lit up.
A sparring match over the Huiyuan Sword Art?
This was a pillow dropped right into his arms the moment he dozed off.
He'd been fretting for ages over the Huiyuan Sword Art's favorability stalling out at a bottleneck with no way forward.
By game logic, what a moment like this called for was exactly this — a high-quality duel, or a skilled opponent who knew the art deeply enough to shake something loose. Something that might just trigger a bond event and shatter the favorability ceiling.
The trouble was that Jiang Lu, bless his earnest heart, was honestly a bit... well. His grasp of the Huiyuan Sword Art left something to be desired. Fighting him was little more than a cleanup exercise — there was no real stimulus in it.
But this "Junior Brother Liu En," whoever he was — Gu Chengming didn't know him, but if Jiang Lu had sent him over, and if that bearing was anything to go by, this had to be someone with real skill.
"Gladly! If Junior Brother Liu is in the mood, then who am I to refuse?"
Gu Chengming agreed without a second's hesitation, anticipation gleaming in his eyes.
Seeing such ready — even eager — enthusiasm, Liu Enchuan was genuinely taken aback.
This didn't quite match the image of Gu Chengming he'd formed in his head.
Perhaps, he thought, there really was something to what Jiang Lu had said.
The two moved to the open ground in the courtyard and stood facing each other, swords drawn.
"Please."
"Please!"
The words were barely out before two arcs of sword-light crossed.
Since this was a Huiyuan Sword Art sparring match, both men naturally used that same art.
Liu Enchuan was an elder who had steeped himself in the art for years. His swordsmanship was refined to a consummate degree — each exchange flowed like a great river in full current: orthodox, expansive, without a single crack to exploit.
Gu Chengming's sword style, however, was something else entirely.
His blade was fast, it was tricky — but its defining quality came down to a single word: clinging.
No matter how powerful or forceful Liu Enchuan's strikes, Gu Chengming's sword always found some impossibly precise angle to latch on, adhering to the flat of his blade and gliding along its momentum, dissolving the attack into nothing — and in the same motion, drawing Liu Enchuan's own movements into a leash.
At first, Liu Enchuan had nothing but contempt for this approach.
As he saw it, the Huiyuan Sword Art prized centeredness and serenity — a sustained, unbroken flow of qi and intent.
This obsessive, smothering, borderline-pestering clinch-fighting that Gu Chengming was employing was a complete perversion of the art's true meaning. A travesty.
"What on earth are you doing with those forms?!"
Caught off guard for a moment, Liu Enchuan instinctively fell into his usual manner of correcting disciples — parrying with his sword while launching into a stern rebuke:
"A sword should move with agility, its intent aimed at clarity and flow! This sticky, shambling mess of yours is like a back-alley brawler wrestling in the mud — it's a complete betrayal of the Huiyuan Sword Art's true meaning! Absolute rubbish!"
— How is it possible that every single person who practices this art ends up with a completely different idea of what its 'true meaning' actually is?
Gu Chengming grumbled inwardly, though his hands never stopped moving.
A flick of the wrist sent his sword darting out like a serpent from its den, coiling around Liu Enchuan's blade once more — and his mouth kept pace just as easily:
"Junior Brother Jiang said something along those lines too."
His tongue gave nothing away:
"Let's hope Junior Brother Liu doesn't lose even faster than he did."
Liu Enchuan nearly choked on a laugh.
Sharp little brat.
Fine — don't blame me for what happens next. Today I am going to give you a proper lesson in what the Huiyuan Sword Art actually looks like.
Fury sparked in his chest, and the force behind his strikes sharpened involuntarily, his sword intent cutting keener with every exchange.
Yet as the bout wore on, the anger in Liu Enchuan's expression gradually dissolved — replaced by something he couldn't quite hide: astonishment.
The longer they fought, the more unsettled he became.
This Clinging Formula of Gu Chengming's — it looked chaotic on the surface, but beneath the surface it was anything but.
Every contact between blades, every redirect of force, landed precisely at the hinge between an old force spent and a new force not yet gathered.
It was like sinking into a bog. Every ounce of strength he brought to bear found nothing to push against — and instead, he kept finding himself dragged along by the nose.
What shocked him even more was this: Gu Chengming's comprehension of each and every form within the Huiyuan Sword Art was in no way inferior to his own — and he had spent years immersed in this art.
In certain transitions and variations, the boy was actually more fluid, more penetrating than he was.
And what did that mean?
It meant Jiang Lu hadn't lied to him.
This Gu Chengming was real — a hidden genius with an understanding of the sword that went far beyond the ordinary.
"Ha — excellent!"
As the bout reached its height, Liu Enchuan let out an involuntary shout.
In that moment, he had entirely forgotten he'd come here to assess someone. Forgotten, too, that he was an elder.
The pure joy of meeting a true equal — of finding one's match on the sword path — swept him up completely, and he threw himself into the contest with wholehearted abandon.
On Gu Chengming's side, the surprise was just as great.
This "Junior Brother Liu En" was genuinely formidable.
His grasp of the Huiyuan Sword Art was the deepest Gu Chengming had ever encountered — a full tier above even that tearful You Yuyao and her Flowing Cloud Sword Art, and then some.
Every collision, every exchange, sparked a new understanding of the art in him.
The two of them moved faster and faster. Sword-light flashed and sang. Fallen leaves scattered through the courtyard, shredded to confetti by the wash of sword qi.
And then — in an instant of perfect clarity — something struck Gu Chengming like lightning.
Ever since the Huiyuan Sword Art's favorability had reached the "Adoration" stage, there had always been this sensation hovering at the edge of his awareness — something profound, something just out of reach, veiled behind a gossamer curtain. At this moment, that curtain finally fell away.
It was as though a long accumulation of quantity had at last tipped into a change of quality.
The sword in his hand transformed.
Gone was the clingy, stubborn grappling. In its place rose something that permeated everywhere and left no trace — a sword presence, a momentum, all-pervading yet trackless.
The blade flashed: an antelope hanging its horns upon a branch — no mark of its passing.
This strike pierced straight to the Huiyuan Sword Art's deepest truth — all things return to the origin; life flows on without ceasing.
Confronted with this sudden, inspired stroke, Liu Enchuan — fully absorbed in the match — felt his pupils contract sharply.
On pure instinct, his wrist turned — and without conscious thought, he unleashed his signature technique.
— "Severing the Current" — his sword flew from his hand!
The moment the move left him, he knew something had gone wrong.
He wrenched the technique back with all his will — but between masters, victory and defeat live on a razor's edge.
In the instant his forced recovery caused his body to stutter and freeze, Gu Chengming's antelope-ghost strike had already arrived.
Thud.
A muffled impact.
Liu Enchuan had managed to shield his vitals in time — but the blow caught him clean across the shoulder.
The force behind it sent him stumbling two full steps backward before he barely steadied himself.
The courtyard fell utterly still.
Only a few fragments of split bamboo leaves drifted slowly down.
Gu Chengming shook out his wrist with a clean flourish, spinning a neat sword-flower, then swung the blade back to rest behind him.
He looked at the slightly disheveled Liu Enchuan, smiled, and cupped his hands:
"Junior Brother Liu En, you really are a step above Junior Brother Jiang Lu."
"You are too gracious."
..............
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