Hearing this, Lu Sheng’s eyes gleamed with sudden brilliance.
He had long struggled to find complete and powerful martial arts manuals. Since that was proving difficult, perhaps he could compensate for quality with sheer quantity instead.
With the Modifier in his possession, his cultivation speed bordered on the unnatural. A bit of focus, a few repetitions—and mastery would follow. If he could learn several more techniques this way, the combined effect might be just as formidable as a single supreme art.
In a world where demons, devils, ghosts, and monsters could emerge at any moment, strength was the only shield. If he didn’t seize time to become stronger now, what could he rely on when true danger arrived?
The thought reignited the brightness in his eyes. He finally understood Uncle Zhao’s intent.
There were quite a few old masters scattered across Nine Links City—veterans of the martial path whose prime had long passed. Take for example the former Chief Constable, Zhang Xun, whose Heart-Shattering Palm had once shaken the city. Now old, childless, and penniless, he struggled to make ends meet, surviving only with the occasional help of friends like Uncle Zhao.
If Lu Sheng could use money and connections to reach him, it wouldn’t be difficult to persuade the old man to pass on his technique.
In his younger days, Zhang Xun had been hailed as the Number One Expert of Nine Links City. Age, however, had caught up to him—his body frail, his legs no longer steady. By the time Uncle Zhao and the others rose to prominence, he had already faded into retirement.
There were many such figures hidden in the city’s quiet corners, once great, now forgotten.
Lu Sheng’s pulse quickened. If he could learn from these men and perfect their arts, then even if each skill was merely Third Class, their combined might would be nothing short of extraordinary.
“How is it? Young Master, if you are willing, I can get in touch with some suitable old friends for you.”
Uncle Zhao’s intentions were not merely for Lu Sheng’s benefit. Deep down, he also wished to help a few of his old comrades—men once proud and capable, now living in hardship as age weighed upon them. Perhaps he simply couldn’t stand seeing them fade away in obscurity.
Lu Sheng pondered the matter carefully.
“Uncle Zhao is right on point. However, which experts are you able to get in touch with?”
“Don’t worry about which ones. Just remember—not to bite off more than you can chew. What I can guarantee are the Heart-Shattering Palm and the Eighty-Four Swallows Pursuing the Wind Blade.” Uncle Zhao sighed, his voice low and wistful. “These two old friends of mine lost their heirs to rival factions long ago. Now, they have no one left to depend on and live in hardship. They’ve long wanted to pass down their arts, but as you know—martial arts are a rich man’s pursuit. Without resources to nourish the body, endless practice only brings harm. They couldn’t bear to see a poor disciple ruin his health, so they never chose anyone.”
He looked at Lu Sheng with a faint smile. “It just so happens that Brother Sheng possesses both talent and fortune. We might not reach for the top-tier arts of the great sects, but mastering these two techniques would already be remarkable. You achieve your goals, and I help my old friends—a perfect balance, wouldn’t you say?”
Hearing the man’s sincerity, Lu Sheng’s expression grew solemn.
“Since Uncle Zhao has given your word, then these two elders shall both be my teachers. The manor will provide them twenty taels of silver monthly as teaching fee.”
Uncle Zhao’s face broke into a wide grin. “Brother Sheng is indeed magnanimous and compassionate…”
In truth, most martial academies charged no more than ten taels to learn an established technique. By offering double, Lu Sheng not only displayed generosity but also granted immense honor to Uncle Zhao.
When word spread, Zhao Dahu would be able to hold his head high among his circle of old friends once more.
“Brother Sheng, you continue with your practice. I’ll go and inform my friends of this good news.”
Since the matter was settled, Uncle Zhao wasted no time. He hurried off at once to find Zhang Xun and deliver the good news himself.
A short while ago, Zhang Xun had fallen ill once more. Once hailed as a man of iron, years of overexertion and neglected injuries had left his body frail. Age, poverty, and illness now gnawed at what remained of his former strength. Even his last round of medical treatment had been paid for by Uncle Zhao.
If not for witnessing his old friend’s decline firsthand, Uncle Zhao might never have thought to recommend him as a teacher. He simply couldn’t stand by while a man of such skill wasted away in obscurity.
“As you wish, Uncle Zhao,” Lu Sheng said, cupping his hands while still holding the saber.
When Uncle Zhao left, Lu Sheng remained standing alone in the training arena. The faint wind stirred his sleeves as he lifted his weapon once more.
He began to practice the Black Tiger Saber Technique.
Tiger Kill, Tiger Might, and Tiger Roar—three fierce forms, each composed of over a dozen intricate moves. Though classified as separate techniques, every major stroke contained layers of variations within.
Tiger Kill, for instance, held countless transitions: strikes aimed forward and back, slashes to the left and right, movements designed to counter hidden weapons, long-hilted arms, and even heavy weapons. Each change in form demanded precision, and every variation had to be drilled until it flowed like instinct.
It was not merely one move to master—but a web of motion, alive with possibilities.
As the rhythmic sound of the saber sliced through the air, a servant appeared at the edge of the arena, waiting patiently for Lu Sheng to finish.
Lu Sheng halted mid-swing, sheathed his saber, and turned sharply. His brows knitted.
“What is it?”
“Young Master, a carriage has arrived outside. A young lady who introduced herself as Miss Duanmu says she has an appointment with you and wishes to pay a visit,” the servant said respectfully.
“Duanmu… Duanmu Wan is here, eh.”
Lu Sheng’s heart gave a faint tremor.
Ever since obtaining the Black Fury Skill, he had been cultivating it without pause—yet even now, he still had not managed to reach true initiation.
This incident alone was enough to cast doubt on the authenticity of that so-called inner force manual. Duanmu Wan had once claimed she could procure such secret techniques, yet there was no way of knowing whether they were genuine or forgeries.
Forget it. I’ll meet her first, then decide what to do.
Though the woman was cunning, Lu Sheng was no naïve young master sheltered from the world. If she truly intended to use charm or deceit to manipulate him, she would find him far from an easy target—no matter how practiced her tricks were.
“Invite her into the guest hall. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
After the servant departed, Lu Sheng called for a maid to bring water. He wiped the sweat from his body, changed into a clean set of white robes, and composed himself.
Passing through the training yard, a small flower garden, and a long, quiet corridor, he soon reached the guest hall reserved for receiving visitors.
The large doors stood open. Seated gracefully to the right was a woman in a long purple dress, her posture elegant, her presence commanding. Her face carried a natural allure—snow-pale skin, delicate features, and crescent-shaped pearl earrings that glimmered faintly in the light. It was none other than Duanmu Wan.
Opposite her sat Lu Sheng’s third brother, Lu Chenxin, who was currently leaning in far too close, attempting conversation with enthusiasm that bordered on desperation.
His gaze, however, betrayed his intent—drawn helplessly to the faint curve of Duanmu Wan’s chest beneath her white camisole. His eyes lingered, utterly entranced, until the sound of a soft cough broke the moment.
“Cough, cough.”
Both turned toward the doorway.
“Big Bro…” Lu Chenxin stammered, his face flushing scarlet as he hastily rose to his feet. “Since Big Bro is here… this lady, Miss Duanmu, came especially to see you…”
He faltered over his words, clearly flustered.
“Third Bro, why don’t you head to the kitchen and ask them to bring some sour plum soup? I’ll take it from here.”
Lu Sheng was regarded as one of the more level-headed members of the Lu family. Experienced, steady, and responsible, his words carried weight among his siblings. Unlike many young masters of his generation, he wasn’t frivolous or arrogant.
He had two biological siblings. His second sister, Lu Qingqing, had left home to travel and train in the martial arts, while his younger brother, Lu Chenxin, remained at home, burying himself in the classics to prepare for the imperial examinations—hoping one day to earn scholarly honor.
As for Lu Sheng himself, he had already begun managing part of the family business. His capable performance had long convinced the family patriarch, Lu Quanan, that he would be the one to take over completely in the future.
Because he was destined to oversee the family’s finances, both his siblings and the rest of the household depended on him. In daily affairs, servants and relatives alike treated him with subtle deference, all hoping to earn his favor.
“Brother Sheng, I happened to bring over a pot of sour plum soup. It’s chilled and very refreshing—perfect for this heat.”
A soft voice came from the doorway. Fifth Mother entered with a gentle smile, holding a jade-green pot in her hands.
She was the fifth woman Lu Quanan had married—not a wife, but a concubine. Unlike the first three, both she and her daughter, Lu Yingying, had little standing in the household. After the old master’s passing, they would inevitably have to rely on Lu Sheng’s goodwill to survive.
Thus, though she bore the title of Fifth Mother, both she and her daughter treated Lu Sheng with utmost courtesy, sometimes even with quiet caution. They knew that when the day came, only his favor could keep them from being cast out.
“You’re too kind, Fifth Mother.” Lu Sheng quickly stepped forward to take the pot from her hands, placing it gently on the table. “I can handle things here. Please, go and rest.”
“Yes, yes, Brother Sheng, you go ahead and entertain your guest first.”
Fifth Mother smiled sweetly, then slipped away in haste. As she turned, her eyes flickered with quiet envy toward Duanmu Wan. Though only in her early thirties and still remarkably beautiful for her age, even her carefully maintained charm paled beside the other woman’s effortless grace.
“I’ll take my leave as well,” Lu Chenxin said quickly, using the opportunity to retreat before things grew awkward.
Soon, the guest hall fell silent, leaving only Lu Sheng and Duanmu Wan facing each other across the low table.
“Does Young Master still wish to purchase secret manuals?” Duanmu Wan asked softly, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile.
“Miss Duanmu is indeed remarkable. Even though I took pains to hide my identity and disguise myself, you still managed to find me here,” Lu Sheng replied, his expression perfectly calm.
“You flatter me, Young Master Lu.” A delicate laugh escaped her lips. “In all of Nine Links City, who else is so close with the Zheng family’s Zheng Xiangui and possesses such vast family resources? By matching your height and build alone, it wasn’t difficult to confirm your identity.”
Duanmu Wan’s voice was smooth and graceful, her tone teasing yet precise.
“Such attention to detail—only someone like Miss Duanmu could manage it. Enough of the small talk, then. What manuals have you brought this time? I’ll say this first—I’m only interested in inner force techniques.”
Lu Sheng’s voice remained steady, his composure unshaken despite her uncovering his disguise.
“Naturally, they’re all inner force manuals,” Duanmu Wan replied, her smile deepening.
She reached into her sleeve with slender fingers and drew out three slim booklets. One by one, she placed them neatly on the small side table before him.
Each was bound with fine thread, their pale green covers bearing bold, black calligraphy: Green Pine One-Thought Formula, Jade Crane Skill, Yin Yang Attraction.
Lu Sheng’s expression did not change as he examined them, his gaze steady and unreadable.
“Miss Duanmu is certainly generous. But tell me—how am I to verify whether these manuals are genuine?”
“That’s quite simple.” Duanmu Wan’s smile turned playful. “Each of these inner force skills is easy to begin but difficult to master. Cultivate for a single day, and you’ll feel the flow of Qi immediately. That alone should prove their authenticity.”
Then, with a subtle shift in tone, Duanmu Wan’s voice softened, carrying a faint note of charm.
“As for whether there are any alterations or omissions in them, Young Master, you’ll have to place your trust in Wan’er. Otherwise, no matter what manuals are set before you, I’m afraid you’ll doubt them all the same.”
“Miss Wan’er is right,” Lu Sheng replied calmly, though a spark of elation flickered behind his composed exterior.
If her words were true—if these three inner force techniques were truly simple to initiate—then compared to the Black Fury Skill, they were far more suitable for him.
ns216.73.216.33da2
and then Add to home screen.