Chapter 13: Laughing in the Face of Death

Zhang Ye's breath was steady. His muscles ached, but the burning exhaustion from before was fading. His body was starting to adapt.

Wei Han watched him carefully, sword raised in a perfect guard. Every movement was precise, disciplined the mark of someone who had trained under a real martial school.

But Zhang Ye wasn't fighting like a martial artist.

He was fighting like a survivor.

Master He's voice cut through the stillness. "Again."

Wei Han moved first.

He dashed forward, sword thrusting toward Zhang Ye's chest.

Zhang Ye sidestepped, twisting his blade just enough to deflect the attack. CLANG! Sparks flickered as steel met steel.

Wei Han didn't pause his footwork shifted instantly, his next strike aiming for Zhang Ye's leg.

Zhang Ye clicked his tongue. Smart. If that lands, I'll be too slow to dodge the next hit.

He jumped back, barely avoiding the slash.

Wei Han pressed forward.

A downward strike.

A feint to the left.

Then a sudden thrust toward Zhang Ye's ribs.

Fast. Efficient. No wasted movement.

Zhang Ye grinned.

He had seen this before.

Right before the strike landed, Zhang Ye let himself fall backward.

The sword missed by a hair.

Wei Han's eyes widened.

Zhang Ye twisted mid-fall, using the momentum to kick out his foot slamming into Wei Han's wrist.

CLACK! Wei Han's sword wobbled in his grip.

Zhang Ye rolled back, flipped onto his feet, and lunged forward before Wei Han could recover. His sword stopped an inch from Wei Han's throat.

Silence.

Then Wei Han laughed.

"Dirty," he admitted. "But effective."

Zhang Ye smirked, his arms shaking from exertion. "I fight to win, not for style points."

Master He's deep chuckle rumbled from the side. "Not bad. You still lack proper control, but you're learning to read movements. That's a step forward."

Zhang Ye exhaled, lowering his sword. His whole body felt like it had been set on fire. But he had lasted against Wei Han a real martial artist.

And more importantly he had won.

Wei Han smirked. "Let's go again tomorrow."

Zhang Ye wiped the sweat from his brow. "Only if you can keep up."

Master He nodded. "Good. Tomorrow, we push harder."

Zhang Ye's smirk widened.

Bring it on.

Zhang Ye barely made it back to his shack before his legs gave out.

The moment he stepped inside, he collapsed onto the straw mat, his arms numb, muscles burning. His body screamed in protest, but his mind was sharp.

Today had proven something he could fight against real martial artists.

He wasn't at Wei Han's level yet, but he was closing the gap.

Xiao Lan knelt beside him, frowning. "Brother, you look worse than before."

Zhang Ye chuckled. "That's because I'm getting stronger."

She pouted. "That sounds dumb."

He laughed, but it hurt. "Maybe."

Xiao Lan held up a small bowl of herbal tea. "Drink."

Zhang Ye took it without arguing. The bitter liquid burned down his throat, but almost instantly, he felt the warmth spreading through his body. The soreness didn't vanish, but it dulled.

"You're getting good at this," Zhang Ye muttered.

Xiao Lan grinned. "I have to be. You keep coming home half-dead."

Zhang Ye smirked. "Only half?"

Xiao Lan rolled her eyes but smiled.

As he lay back, staring at the cracks in the wooden ceiling, his fingers drifted toward his black-and-white pendant.

The Sky Piercing Sword.

He had to reach it. But for that, he needed more than just reflexes and tricks.

I need real power.

His grip on the pendant tightened.

I'm not waiting a year. I'm not waiting at all.

If Master He wasn't going to teach him cultivation yet then he'd figure it out himself.

Tonight.

Alone.

The moon hung high over Qinghe Village as Zhang Ye quietly slipped out of his shack. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of burning wood from distant chimneys.

He glanced back once Xiao Lan was still asleep.

Good.

He didn't want her to worry.

Zhang Ye walked toward the forest clearing he had used before. The same spot where he had first tested the black-and-white pendant.

Tonight, he wasn't just going to see visions.

He was going to cultivate.

Zhang Ye sat cross-legged on the damp grass, his breath slow and steady. His fingers brushed against the pendant, feeling its cool surface.

The last time he focused on it, he had seen a vision of the Sky Piercing Sword.

But if this artifact could connect to something that powerful…

Could it help him cultivate?

He exhaled and closed his eyes.

This time, he didn't just wait for something to happen.

He reached inward.

The warmth of qi flickered faintly inside him, buried deep, like a single ember struggling to burn. Too weak. Too slow.

Zhang Ye's grip on the pendant tightened.

"You dragged me into this world. You showed me that sword. If you're going to keep pushing me forward then give me more."

The pendant hummed.

A low vibration deep, ancient.

Then heat flooded his body.

Zhang Ye's eyes snapped open as his chest burned.

The warmth inside him exploded, surging through his meridians like wildfire. His vision blurred his heart pounded his muscles tensed like they were being torn apart and rebuilt at the same time.

Then darkness.

Zhang Ye's body jerked.

For a brief second, he wasn't in the forest anymore.

He was standing on an endless sky.

Clouds stretched beneath his feet. A distant mountain range loomed in the horizon.

And before him

A sword.

Floating in the air.

The Sky Piercing Sword.

It wasn't a vision this time.

It was real.

And it was waiting.

Zhang Ye couldn't move.

The Sky Piercing Sword hovered before him, suspended in the air like a weapon of the heavens. Its blade was long and slender, glowing with an ethereal blue-white light. The hilt was ancient yet pristine, adorned with intricate patterns that pulsed like flowing energy.

This isn't just a weapon. It's something more.

A deep hum vibrated through the air.

Zhang Ye's heartbeat quickened.

He took a step forward

And the entire world trembled.

A massive force slammed into his body, like the weight of the heavens trying to crush him. His knees buckled. His breathing turned ragged.

This is a test.

The Sky Piercing Sword wasn't going to just let him take it.

Zhang Ye gritted his teeth. Fine. Bring it on.

He forced his legs to move, stepping forward despite the unbearable weight pressing down on him. His body screamed in protest, but he refused to fall.

The sword pulsed.

BOOM.

Another wave of pressure hit him.

Zhang Ye's vision blurred. His muscles tore, his bones groaned, his very soul felt like it was being tested.

But he kept walking.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

The Sky Piercing Sword hummed louder.

A faint voice echoed in the air ancient, distant, unreadable.

Zhang Ye's vision spun.

Then

Everything went black.

When Zhang Ye woke up, he was back in the forest.

The pendant in his hand burned hot, but the moment he let go, the heat vanished.

His entire body felt like it had been shattered and rebuilt.

But something was different.

His qi.

It was no longer just a flickering ember.

It was flowing. Alive.

Zhang Ye sat up slowly, his breathing steady.

He didn't just cultivate tonight.

He had stepped onto the true path of power.

And now, there was no turning back.

Zhang Ye sat in the quiet forest clearing, his breath steadying as the last traces of his vision faded. The Sky Piercing Sword… it had felt so real. The weight of its presence, the crushing force, the way it tested him.

And yet he had failed to reach it.

Not yet. But soon.

His qi had changed. Before, it was nothing more than a weak flicker. Now, it was flowing through his meridians, subtle but steady like a river beginning to carve its path.

He clenched his fist. I can feel it now. It's mine to control.

The pendant around his neck was cool again, as if it had gone dormant. But it had done its job.

Zhang Ye slowly stood up. His muscles ached, but beneath the soreness, he felt… stronger. Lighter.

He exhaled, shaking off the exhaustion. "Guess that counts as a breakthrough."

A sudden rustling in the bushes made him tense.

Footsteps.

Zhang Ye turned, gripping his sword instinctively but relaxed slightly when he saw who it was.

Wei Han.

The martial artist stepped into the clearing, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his eyes.

"You weren't at the forge," Wei Han said. "Master He told me to check if you finally collapsed somewhere."

Zhang Ye smirked. "Tell him I'm still alive. Barely."

Wei Han's gaze flicked to the sweat on Zhang Ye's forehead, the way his stance was slightly unsteady. "You did something last night, didn't you?"

Zhang Ye raised a brow. "You always ask this many questions?"

Wei Han chuckled. "Only when someone suddenly feels… different."

Zhang Ye didn't answer. Because Wei Han was right.

Something had changed.

And soon the world would notice.