48: Chapter 48 The Man Who Fell into Darkness

A swarm of bats, like a black tide, surged out from the left fork.

They were dense and covered the sky. The sound of flapping wings rang out in a cacophony, and the screeching pierced the eardrums painfully. Those fist-sized beasts had eyes glowing with a ghostly green light in the darkness, and as soon as they saw the fire starter, they lunged at it like they were mad.

"Protect your heads and faces!"

Lu Zhao shouted and activated the Golden Bell Cover, his True Qi suffusing his entire body. The bats collided with him as if hitting an iron plate, bouncing off with a series of "bang, bang, bang" sounds; some were knocked unconscious on the spot and fell to the ground, twitching.

He Shan didn't have it so easy. Holding his blade in one hand and protecting his eyes with the other, a flash of blade light swept past, cutting down five or six, but even more swarmed up, clawing at his face and biting his hands. Several bloody scratches were clawed onto his cheeks, stinging with pain.

A-Fei had it the worst. Being small and weak, he was knocked staggering backward by the bats, missed his footing, and fell toward the right fork.

"A-Fei!"

Shen Qingqiu reached out to grab him, her fingertips brushing against A-Fei's clothes, but she failed to catch him. She herself was knocked off balance by the bats and dodged to the side—

Her foot slipped, and she fell into the right fork.

"Miss Shen!"

He Shan tried to pursue, but his path was blocked by the bats. He cut down two with one strike, but more swarmed up.

Uncle Ya rushed over, holding a torch in each hand, waving them frantically. The bats feared fire and were forced back by the torches, but they refused to disperse, hovering nearby and waiting for an opportunity to swoop in.

Lu Zhao braved the swarm of bats and rushed to the right fork.

The fork was pitch black, unable to see one's own hand. He raised the fire starter to shine inside, revealing only a downward-sloping passage with damp, moss-covered stone walls. At the end of the passage, a light flickered vaguely—that was the glow of an activated talisman.

Shen Qingqiu's voice came from the depths, very soft and very distant: "I am fine... but there is... something here!"

Lu Zhao looked back.

The bats in the left fork were still surging out, endless; there was no telling how many were inside.

In the darkness of the middle fork, something was moving—something very large, with heavy footsteps; every step it took caused the ground to tremble slightly.

"Thud."

The footsteps were getting closer.

Lu Zhao made a prompt decision: "He Shan, Uncle Ya, hold off the bats! A-Fei, follow me inside!"

He grabbed A-Fei and rushed into the right fork.

The passage in the right fork was very long.

Sloping downward and winding, it was like a snake burrowing into the belly of the mountain. The stone walls were covered in dark green moss, slippery and greasy, requiring extra caution when stepping. The air was damp and cold, carrying a musty, stale odor; the deeper they went, the heavier the musty smell became.

A-Fei followed closely behind Lu Zhao, clutching his short sword, his face pale.

"Sir, Miss Shen, she..."

"Don't speak, follow me."

The two walked quickly downward.

After walking for about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the passage suddenly opened up.

It was a stone chamber.

The stone chamber was not large, about three or four zhang in circumference and about two zhang high. The four walls were smooth, polished neatly as if carved out by a Sharp Weapon.

Shen Qingqiu stood in the center of the stone chamber, her back to them, motionless.

Before her was a stone wall. The wall was densely covered with sword marks.

Horizontal, vertical, diagonal, curved. Deep, shallow, long, short. Some were like a violent storm, densely covering the entire wall; others were like a solitary peak rising, a sword mark slashed down from above, three inches deep.

Although those sword marks had been sealed in dust for many years, every single one exuded a fierce killing intent.

Standing before the stone wall was like standing amidst a sword formation of thousands of troops and horses, with a chill rushing toward them.

"Miss Shen!" A-Fei shouted.

Shen Qingqiu did not turn around.

She merely stared at the sword marks, murmuring: "This is... the Basic Thirty-Six Moves."

Lu Zhao walked over and stood by her side.

"What?"

Shen Qingqiu pointed at the sword marks, her fingers trembling slightly: "The Basic Sword Technique of the Canglan Sword Sect, the Thirty-Six Moves. But this is the ancient method; it is different from what is passed down today. Look at this Move, 'White Rainbow Piercing the Sun'—the current sword Move is a direct thrust, focusing on speed, accuracy, and ruthlessness. But this sword mark..."

She pointed at a vertical mark on the wall.

"It is first an upward flick, then a downward slash, and only then is it thrust out. It has one more turn, is slightly less fierce, but has more variation. This is... the lost ancient Sword Intent."

Lu Zhao focused his attention and looked closely.

Although the sword marks were chaotic and disorganized, upon careful examination, one could indeed discern thirty-six different patterns of movement.

Some were rigid and fierce, some gentle and soft, some quick, some steady. Each movement contained a certain unique charm.

"Did your father leave these?" He asked.

Shen Qingqiu shook her head: "No. These sword marks... are at least three hundred years old."

She reached out and gently stroked a sword mark on the wall.

The moment her fingertips touched the stone wall, the sword marks suddenly lit up.

A faint cyan light seeped out from every sword mark, illuminating the entire stone chamber.

The light gathered together and gradually condensed into a human shape—blurry, transparent, like a wisp of green smoke.

The human shape held a long sword and began to dance slowly.

One Move, two Moves, three Moves...

It was exactly the Basic Thirty-Six Moves.

Shen Qingqiu watched, entranced.

She had practiced sword techniques since she was young; she had practiced these Thirty-Six Moves no less than a thousand times and could perform them with her eyes closed.

But this set of sword techniques before her was completely different from what she had practiced. The same Moves had a bit more ancient simplicity and less flashiness; a bit more weight and less flippancy.

As she watched, she suddenly understood something.

"This is..." she murmured, "This is the ancient method. The current sword techniques were simplified from this. After simplification, they are easier to learn, but they have also lost their original charm."

The human shape finished the thirty-six Moves and slowly dissipated.

The cyan light, however, did not disappear; instead, it flowed down along the sword marks, little by little, gathering in the center of the stone chamber.

There, there was a circular groove.

The cyan light flowed into the groove, and the groove gradually lit up.

Shen Qingqiu's expression changed: "Oh no!"

No sooner had she spoken than countless lines suddenly appeared on the floor of the entire stone chamber. Those lines crisscrossed, dense and thick, like a giant spider web, covering the entire stone chamber tightly.

The moment the lines lit up, countless Sword Qi suddenly emerged in the stone chamber!

The Sword Qi was formless and intangible, yet it could be felt—fierce, cold, and murderous Sword Qi surged in from all directions, trapping Shen Qingqiu in the center.

"A sword formation!" Shen Qingqiu shouted, "Don't come over!"

Lu Zhao paused in his steps.

He stared at the Sword Qi, his pupils slightly contracting.

The Sword Qi was numerous, dense, at least a hundred of them. They crisscrossed in the stone chamber, shuttling back and forth, fast as lightning. But after watching for a while, Lu Zhao suddenly discovered—

The trajectory of this Sword Qi had a pattern.

It was not flying around chaotically, but following a certain rhythm. Some were fast, some slow, some fast then slow, some slow then fast. Between the fast and slow, there were gaps.

Those gaps were extremely short, fleeting. But if the timing was grasped accurately and the speed was fast enough, one could pass through the gaps.

He stared at the Sword Qi, and a set of fist techniques suddenly flashed through his mind.

"Wudang Long Fist."

That set of fist techniques emphasized rhythm. Offense and defense transition, fast and slow alternating; every strike must be timed to the gap in the opponent's Move transition. If timed accurately, one could use the slow to strike the fast, and use softness to overcome hardness.

The Sword Qi before him was so similar to an opponent of Wudang Long Fist.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again, only focus remained in them.

"Miss Shen!" he shouted, "Listen to my commands!"

Shen Qingqiu looked back at him.

Lu Zhao stared at the Sword Qi, his pupils moving rapidly. After three breaths, he suddenly shouted: "Forward!"

Shen Qingqiu subconsciously took a step forward.

A stream of Sword Qi swept past her back, slicing off a lock of hair.

"Left!"

She dodged to the left.

Another stream of Sword Qi flew past her shoulder, tearing her sleeve.

"Crouch!"

She suddenly crouched down.

Three streams of Sword Qi whistled over her head, hitting the stone wall with a "bang, bang, bang" and exploding into points of light.

"Up! Right! Back!"

Shen Qingqiu followed the commands; Forward, Left, Crouch, Up, Right, Back... Every step landed in the gaps of the Sword Qi, barely avoiding the lethal attacks one after another.

A-Fei watched, dumbfounded.

The Sword Qi was fast as lightning, and Shen Qingqiu's movements were not particularly fast, yet every time she was able to dodge exactly. It was like dancing on the tip of a blade, extremely perilous, yet marvelous to the highest degree.

Lu Zhao's shouting became faster and faster.

"Forward! Left! Crouch! Right! Up! Back! Left! Forward! Crouch!"

Shen Qingqiu was drenched in sweat, her hair disheveled, her clothes torn in a dozen places, but her steps were not chaotic, and her body did not sway. She gritted her teeth, staring at the trajectory of the Sword Qi, and according to Lu Zhao's instructions, moved forward step by step.

Finally—

The last stream of Sword Qi flew past her ear, hit the stone wall, and dissipated.

Shen Qingqiu stumbled, rushed forward a few steps, and fell straight into Lu Zhao's arms.

Lu Zhao steadied her.

"It's all right now."

Shen Qingqiu gasped for air, trembling all over. She raised her head and looked at Lu Zhao, her eyes reddening.

"You... how did you figure it out?"

Lu Zhao said: "Sword Moves are dead; the person using the sword is alive. Although this Sword Qi is fierce, no one is controlling it; it is just running according to a fixed trajectory. As long as it is fixed, there is a pattern to follow."

He paused.

"You are smarter than the sword Moves."

Shen Qingqiu was stunned for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

As she laughed, tears flowed down.

A-Fei ran over and helped Shen Qingqiu sit down by the wall. She leaned against the stone wall, closed her eyes, and panted for a long time before her complexion slowly returned to normal.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Lu Zhao shook his head and walked to the stone wall carved with sword marks.

Those sword marks had now dimmed, looking like ordinary stone carvings, with no light left. But the Sword Qi from just moments ago had clearly been triggered from these sword marks.

"This is the base of the sword formation," Shen Qingqiu said. "The person who carved these sword marks sealed their Sword Intent inside. When someone triggers it, the Sword Intent is released, forming a lethal Sword Qi formation."

She paused.

"If it weren't for you, I would have died here today."

Lu Zhao didn't respond, just stared at the sword marks, was silent for a while, and suddenly said: "You said this is the Basic Thirty-Six Moves?"

Shen Qingqiu nodded.

"Do all the people in your Canglan Sword Sect know it?"

Shen Qingqiu smiled bitterly: "The current Thirty-Six Moves are different from this. This one is too complex, too difficult to practice, and has long been simplified."

Lu Zhao said: "If someone were to master this ancient method, how would their combat power be?"

Shen Qingqiu thought for a moment and said: "More than three times stronger than the current Thirty-Six Moves."

Lu Zhao nodded and didn't speak again.

He walked to the back of the stone chamber, where there was a stone door, half-ajar, leading to who knows where. Just as he was about to push the door, he suddenly heard a voice—

Old and weary, as if coming from very, very far away.

"Descendant of Canglan... to be able to walk here is not easy."

Shen Qingqiu shuddered and stood up abruptly.

The voice continued: "Come in. This old man has waited three hundred years and has finally waited for someone who could come in."

The stone door slowly opened.

Behind the door was a larger stone chamber. In the center of the stone chamber sat a skeleton cross-legged. The skeleton was dressed in tattered Daoist robes, head bowed, hands folded on its knees. Beside it was a long sword stuck in the ground, the blade bright and snow-white, without a speck of rust.

The voice came from the skeleton.

"Three hundred years..." the voice sighed, "Is the Canglan Sword Sect still well?"

Shen Qingqiu stared at the skeleton, her lips trembling, unable to speak.

The skeleton suddenly moved.

The bowed head slowly lifted. In the empty eye sockets, two faint blue lights lit up.

It "looked" at Shen Qingqiu.

"Child, that token at your waist... is from the Disciplinary Hall. Who is your father?"