79: My Godly Father (Part 10)

"Would you be willing to practice the sword with me?"

The Cripple's voice echoed through the silent courtyard, carrying a sense of heroic passion.

Quan Yun looked up, tear stains still streaking his dirty face. He looked at the uncle, The Cripple, before him, his heart full of confusion.

Practice the sword?

Uncle, The Cripple... since when did he know how to use a sword?

His gaze subconsciously drifted past the wooden sword and landed on The Cripple's back.

Something was strapped diagonally across his back, wrapped in coarse cloth, but the outline of a scabbard was still discernible. However, the scabbard seemed a section too short, and the object inside appeared incomplete.

It looked like a broken sword.

"Uncle, The Cripple, your sword is broken..."

He looked at The Cripple straightforwardly, stating his judgment in a very serious tone.

"I suppose your swordsmanship must not be very good."

The heroic smile on The Cripple's face froze on the spot.

His face couldn't help but twitch.

His swordsmanship... not very good?

Back in the day, he, Li the Madman, with a single sword, had swept across the Eastern Region, leaving the so-called Prodigies of various Imperial Dynasties and Grotto-Heaven Blessed Lands in disarray.

Even those reclusive old monsters had to furrow their brows whenever his name was mentioned.

The title of Sword God was earned through slaughter, not bluster!

And now, he was actually being told by a six-year-old brat that his swordsmanship wasn't very good.

This remark choked him so much that he almost couldn't catch his breath.

He stared fixedly at Quan Yun, wishing he could pry open the brat's head to see what was inside.

But looking at Quan Yun's clear and innocent eyes, he ultimately suppressed his anger.

Why bother arguing with a brat.

From then on, the youth began practicing the sword with The Cripple.

There were no sword manuals, no sword techniques taught, and certainly no profound Mind-Cultivation Technique chants.

The Cripple only taught him one move.

The thrust.

The simplest, most basic thrust.

"Level your wrist, unite your waist and stance, let the power rise from the ground, and let your intent precede the sword."

The Cripple sat under the eaves, lazily drinking wine, only occasionally speaking up to offer guidance.

Quan Yun stood in the center of the courtyard, repeating this boring movement over and over again.

From sunrise to sunset.

Sweat soaked his clothes, only to be dried by the sun.

The wooden sword in his hand, initially light and flimsy, eventually became an extension of his arm.

He didn't know how many times he had thrust.

A thousand times? Ten thousand times? Or a hundred thousand times?

He only knew that when he collapsed onto his bed, exhausted every day, his mind was still filled with the trajectory of the sword thrust.

Meanwhile.

In the Eastern Region, in a treasured land abundant with spiritual energy, such a celestial blessed land was nothing more than a Grotto-Heaven Blessed Land.

In the center of an Immortal Cave, a middle-aged man sitting cross-legged suddenly opened his eyes.

"Boom!"

A terrifyingly peerless aura erupted from within his body, sweeping through the entire Immortal Cave.

This disturbance alarmed the Grotto-Heaven Blessed Land.

"This direction..."

"It is Junior Martial Uncle Quan."

"Junior Martial Uncle Quan has come out of seclusion..."

The man slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air; the color of that breath was, surprisingly, a faint gold.

He felt the surging, vast Heavenly God power within him, now countless times stronger than when he had first achieved his Breakthrough, and a cold light flashed in his eyes.

The injuries caused by forcibly refining that small pagoda had all recovered, and his cultivation had progressed even further.

He stood up and looked up toward the sky, his gaze sharp, as if it would pierce the firmament.

"Zhuer..."

He murmured softly.

"Yun'er..."

"Wait for me..."

The next second, his figure vanished from the Immortal Cave.

It was time to go find those people and demand a proper explanation.

Two years of time passed in the blink of an eye.

In the small courtyard of Xin'an Village, the child of the past had grown into a ten-year-old youth.

Quan Yun's height had increased significantly, and his previously thin body was now full of muscle, with smooth and solid lines.

He still stood in the center of the courtyard, holding the same wooden sword that had long since been worn smooth.

He slowly raised his hand and thrust.

A plain and unremarkable movement, without any flourishes, not even feeling like there was any force behind it.

Yet, at the very instant the sword tip was extended, a leaf slowly drifting down three feet away suddenly, without warning, split into two halves down the middle.

The cut was as smooth as a mirror.

Under the eaves, The Cripple watched this scene, a sharp gleam flashing in his turbid eyes.

Sword Intent.

This kid had actually, relying solely on a Mortal Body and day-after-day of bitter training, touched the threshold of Sword Intent.

If this were to get out, the entire Eastern Region would likely be shaken.

"The master leads you through the door, but cultivation depends on the individual."

The Cripple took a swig of wine and sighed inwardly, "Kid, I have already found your path for you. How far you can go in the future depends on yourself."

He felt deeply moved, yet also very helpless.

Quan Yun's Physique lacked even a trace of spiritual charm; it was a pure Mortal Body.

Even he, the former Sword God, was helpless against this.

However, the youth who had just grasped Sword Intent, although his Realm was still Body Tempering, his combat power could no longer be spoken of in the same terms.

Now, even a Spirit Nurturing Realm Cultivator might not necessarily be able to gain any advantage against him.

It was time to let him leave this small mountain village.

As The Cripple was thinking this, Quan Yun put away the wooden sword and walked over to him.

The youth's thoughts were completely different from what The Cripple was thinking.

Over these two years, he had practiced the sword even more diligently, but his heart had grown increasingly anxious.

Sister Yu's health was getting worse day by day.

Her hair had turned completely white. Despite being only in her early thirties, she looked even older than Granny Si.

Quan Yun vaguely understood in his heart that his sister didn't have much time left.

He looked at The Cripple, his eyes full of hope and pleading.

"Uncle, The Cripple."

The youth's voice was somewhat dry due to nervousness.

"What Medicinal Pill can save my sister?"

The Cripple looked at him and remained silent for a moment, as if he had long expected him to ask this.

He put down his wine gourd and slowly began to speak.

"One month from now, the Cang Yun Empire will hold its triennial Genius Grand Competition."

"The winner will be awarded a fifth-grade Medicinal Pill, the 'huitian elixir'."

"Although this pill cannot eradicate her shattered Origin, it can manage to extend her life."

Cang Yun Grand Competition...

huitian elixir...

A light never seen before instantly erupted in Quan Yun's eyes.

All the confusion and helplessness of the past few years had found an outlet at this moment.

He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles standing out.

Win the championship...

I must become the champion!