I had no intention of entering the martial world.

Did you see Chapter 10 clearly?

Life in the thatched hut passed more slowly than Lu Chenzhou had imagined.

Every day was the same routine: practicing swordsmanship in the morning, learning "intention" from Lu Jinghong in the morning, figuring it out on my own in the afternoon, fetching water and cooking in the evening, and reading the books Lu Jinghong brought by the oil lamp at night—not martial arts manuals, but local chronicles, landscape studies, and even a book on agricultural seasons called "Qimin Yaoshu".

"In the end, martial arts training is all about training the mind," Lu Jinghong said. "If you can't calm your mind, nothing you read will help. These books can help you calm your mind."

Lu Chenzhou remained noncommittal. But he still read it. He read it very slowly, word by word, as if completing another assignment. At first, it was just out of "should," but gradually, he discovered that another world was hidden within these dry words.

The book "A Study of the Waters of Zhongnan Mountain" records that deep in the Zhongnan Mountains there is a "cold pool" that never freezes, with water as green as jade and unfathomable depths. A kind of grass called "dragon whisker grass" grows by the pool, which can be used as medicine and has a remarkable effect in stopping bleeding.

The book "Qimin Yaoshu" states that spring plowing should be done seven days after the Awakening of Insects, when the land thaws and the yang energy rises. Sowing at this time will result in strong seedlings and deep roots.

There was even a handwritten copy of "Jiangnan Customs and Products," which detailed the customs, products, and daily life of Lin'an, Jiangling, Suzhou, and other places. When Lu Chenzhou saw the words "Qixia Town," his finger paused. That passage was brief, only saying, "Qixia Town, under the jurisdiction of Lin'an Prefecture, is famous for its silk weaving. In the south of the town is the Lu Family Silk Shop, which is quite famous."

Just that one sentence. A casual remark, as if talking about something insignificant.

Lu Chenzhou stared at those words for a long time. Then he turned the page and continued reading the rest.

Has he calmed down? He doesn't know.

But he was indeed "seeing" and "taking notes." Like a dry sponge, he passively absorbed this knowledge that had nothing to do with revenge, or even with the martial arts world.

The change occurred on the seventh day.

That afternoon, Lu Chenzhou practiced "intention" in the center of the platform as usual. He could barely grasp the feeling of flow, but it was sometimes effective and sometimes not, like looking at something through a thin veil, able to see the outline but not the details.

Lu Jinghong sat on the threshold, holding the scroll of "Jiangnan Scenery" in his hands, reading it with great interest.

"Interesting," he suddenly said. "This book says that there is a 'Listening to the Waves Villa' outside Jiangling City. It was built by a wealthy merchant surnamed Yang in the early years, but it was abandoned later. However, in the past year, strangers have been frequently seen there."

Lu Chenzhou paused.

"stranger?"

"Hmm." Lu Jinghong turned a page. "The book says that those people have a northern accent, act suspiciously, and often loiter around the villa, as if they are looking for something."

Lu Chenzhou put away his stance and walked to Lu Jinghong's side. The old man handed over the book and pointed to a passage.

It is indeed written: In recent years, many northerners have been visiting the abandoned garden, their behavior mysterious, some saying they are looking for treasure, others saying they are visiting secluded places, but no one knows the details.

"Northern Guest"...a person from the shadows?

"What are they looking for?" Lu Chenzhou asked.

"What do you think?" Lu Jinghong asked in return.

The Azure Sword. Or something related to the Azure Sword.

Lu Chenzhou remained silent. He recalled the jade pendant his mother had given him, and the way it gleamed faintly after being stained with blood. He kept it close to his body, like a burning secret.

"Master," he suddenly asked, "what exactly did you encounter at Tingtao Villa back then?"

Lu Jinghong closed the book and gazed at the distant mountains. His gaze was distant, as if he were recalling something from long ago.

"I met someone," he said. "Someone... who shouldn't exist."

"Who?"

"Xiao Bieli." Lu Jinghong uttered the name with a complex emotion in his voice, "The 'Qingyun Ke' who disappeared thirty years ago, the previous owner of the Qingming Sword."

Lu Chenzhou's pupils contracted slightly.

"Is he still alive?"

"He's dead," Lu Jinghong said with certainty. "I watched him breathe his last. But before he died, he told me something."

"What is it?"

Lu Jinghong remained silent for a long time. The mountain wind blew across the platform, bringing with it the faint roar of the distant waterfall.

"He said that the Azure Nether Sword is not a sword, but a 'door'," Lu Jinghong said slowly. "What lies behind the door, he doesn't know. He only knows that this door opens once every hundred years, and it requires a 'key' to open. There are three keys, and Azure Nether is one of them."

"The other two?"

"Purple Lightning, White Rainbow," Lu Jinghong said. "Xiao Bieli spent his entire life searching for only Qingming. He said that the day the three swords are gathered together will be the day the Heavenly Gate reopens. At that time, fortune and misfortune will be unpredictable."

Lu Chenzhou recalled the cold power within his body. A key? A door?

"Does Master believe it?"

Lu Jinghong smiled, but there was a bitter taste in his smile.

"Whether I believe it or not is not important. What is important is that someone believes it." He paused, "and those who believe are looking for these three keys."

"Shadow Hall?"

"Not only that." Lu Jinghong shook his head. "There are even more troublesome people behind Yingtang. Before he died, Xiao Bieli said that he had found a clue that pointed to the Lin'an Imperial Palace. But he died before he could finish speaking."

The Imperial Palace. Eunuch Qin. Mr. Hai.

These fragments spun and collided in Lu Chenzhou's mind, gradually piecing together a blurry outline.

"So that's why you told me to go to Tingtao Villa first after I go down the mountain?" he asked.

"Yes." Lu Jinghong nodded. "There should still be clues about Xiao Bieli there. Only by finding them can you find out what kind of situation you've gotten yourself into."

Lu Chenzhou didn't speak. He looked at his outstretched palm, at the fine lines on his palm.

A trap? He thought he was only seeking revenge for his family. But now it seems that his family revenge might just be the smallest link in this trap.

"Are you scared?" Lu Jinghong asked.

Lu Chenzhou shook his head. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid, but that he couldn't feel fear. The wasteland in his heart couldn't even give rise to fear.

He just felt that the road seemed to have become longer.

---

Three more days passed.

That morning, Lu Chenzhou was awakened by a burst of urgent bird calls. It wasn't the usual clear chirping, but a sharp, warning cry.

He sat up and listened intently.

The birdsong came from below the valley, and from more than one place. Like some kind of signal, it rose and fell, rapidly approaching the platform.

Lu Jinghong was already standing at the door, holding the wooden stick in his hand, his expression solemn.

"Here it comes," he said.

Before the words were even finished, three dark figures suddenly shot out from the bushes at the edge of the platform!

It wasn't a person, but an arrow. A jet-black arrow, silently piercing the air, aimed straight for Lu Jinghong's face, throat, and heart! The angle was tricky, the speed extremely fast—clearly the work of a master!

Lu Jinghong didn't move. He simply flipped his wrist, and the wooden stick drew an arc in front of him.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

With three crisp sounds, the three arrows were accurately struck by the wooden sticks, changing their direction and embedding themselves diagonally in the door panel of the thatched hut, their fletchings still trembling.

Almost simultaneously, six figures leaped down from the cliffs surrounding the platform!

They were all dressed in black, their faces covered with black scarves, only their eyes visible. But this time, their attire was more streamlined, with curved swords at their waists and short crossbows on their backs. They moved as swiftly as leopards, landing silently.

Six.

Moreover, Lu Chenzhou noticed that their positioning was quite strategic—two people blocked the platform exit, two people blocked the doors and windows of the thatched hut, and the remaining two people stood on the left and right, subtly forming a pincer movement.

They were not a rabble. They were highly trained killers.

Lu Jinghong remained standing at the doorway, his wooden stick pointing diagonally at the ground, his expression calm.

"That's all?" he asked.

No one answered. The six men in black moved simultaneously!

There were no shouts, no communication, yet their movements were perfectly synchronized. Two men on either side drew their swords and charged forward, their blades flashing like snow, one aiming for the throat, the other for the waist and abdomen; the two men blocking the doors and windows nocked arrows, the arrowheads gleaming with a ghostly blue light, clearly poisoned; the two men sealing the exit pulled out black spheres from their robes, as if about to throw them.

The coordination was seamless. Attack, support, control, and kill were all executed in one smooth motion.

Lu Chenzhou's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't fear, but a cold, almost instinctive alertness. He subconsciously reached for his waist—the wooden sword was left by the waterfall.

But Lu Jinghong made a move.

He moved very little, only taking half a step forward with his left foot and raising the wooden stick diagonally upward with his right hand.

It's slow and casual.

But the two men in black at the forefront seemed to have run into an invisible wall, their momentum abruptly halted! The blade flashed in mid-air, and then their bodies began to lean backward uncontrollably, as if pulled by an invisible rope, staggering backward!

At the same time, Lu Jinghong waved his left hand, and two cold stars flew out from his sleeve, accurately hitting the wrists of the two crossbowmen!

Clang! Clang!

The crossbow flew from their hands and hit the ground. The two crossbowmen groaned and retreated hastily, clutching their wrists.

The two men in black who had pulled out the spheres felt a sudden lightness in their hands before they could even throw them—the spheres had somehow ended up in Lu Jinghong's hands. The old man weighed them in his hand, then casually tossed them aside. The spheres traced a long arc as they flew towards the deep valley beyond the platform.

"boom!"

A muffled sound came from mid-air, and black smoke exploded, only to be dispersed by the mountain wind.

The whole process took less than three breaths.

The six men in black froze on the spot. They stared at Lu Jinghong, their eyes revealing horror for the first time.

Who exactly is this sickly-looking old man?

Lu Jinghong didn't give them time to think. He took a step forward and was already in front of the man in black on the far left, gently tapping his chest with his wooden stick.

It was slow and soft, like a greeting.

But the man in black was struck as if by a giant hammer; he flew backward, crashed into the cliff face, slid down softly, and fell silent.

"One," Lu Jinghong said.

The remaining five men retreated simultaneously, raising their swords and crossbows, staring intently at him.

Lu Jinghong didn't chase after him. He simply turned around and looked at Lu Chenzhou.

"Did you see it clearly?"

Lu Chenzhou nodded. He saw it clearly. It wasn't a technique, it was "intention." Every movement of Lu Jinghong carried a clear "intention"—the intention to defeat the enemy, the intention to subdue the enemy, and even... the intention not to kill.

"Your turn," Lu Jinghong said. "Use what you've learned to leave one alive."