Chapter 4: Sword Practice

Even so, Wang Lin still stood tall, neither humble nor arrogant.

Fang Zhiyi immediately understood the reason for Feng Luan’s presence the moment she saw her. Feng Luan, being at the Nascent Soul stage, could discern the subtle clues; how could a half-divine cultivator like herself fail to notice?

At first, when she realized Ma Liang had been possessed, she said nothing because she wanted to protect those three disciples.

But now, after using the soul-searching technique on Wang Lin, Fang Zhiyi finally learned the full story: Wang Lin held no ill will toward those three from the start, never harboring any murderous intent.

In this ruthless cultivation world, where people devour one another without leaving a trace, such restraint was somewhat forgivable.

Fang Zhiyi spoke, “I will take him as my disciple. Soon, he will extract the soul blood.”

Feng Luan’s brow furrowed slightly, casting a puzzled glance at Wang Lin.

It was well known that Fang Zhiyi was the strongest in the entire War God Hall. Every year, countless people tried desperately to become her disciple.

Yet Fang Zhiyi had never been interested. Over the years, Ma Liang was the only one she had accepted.

Even Feng Luan had initially advised against it, arguing that Ma Liang’s talent was mediocre and unworthy of being a close disciple. But Fang Zhiyi was stubborn, and once she made a decision, nothing could sway her.

Seeing this, Feng Luan refrained from further argument. She usually turned a blind eye to the top talents who wished to become Fang Zhiyi’s disciples. If anyone could truly receive her teachings, it would be beneficial for the War God Hall.

What was strange was that, after so many years, Fang Zhiyi had only one disciple. Now, unexpectedly, she was willing to accept another, although this one was a possessed soul.

Feng Luan masked her emotions but nodded to Wang Lin, “Those three are outside.”

The meaning was clear: I’ve brought the people; you extract the soul blood.

Fang Zhiyi replied calmly, “Go.”

Wang Lin lowered his head and stepped out slowly. Feng Luan couldn’t help but gaze at him once more. He seemed much stronger than Ma Liang, but—

Worry creased Feng Luan’s face as she turned to Fang Zhiyi. “This possessed person clearly harbors dark intentions. How can you accept such a person as your disciple? If you wish, I can summon all the disciples of the War God Hall tomorrow, and you may choose whomever you desire.”

Fang Zhiyi smiled and shook her head. “Feng Luan, I have performed soul-searching on him. Ma Liang was already dead at the moment of possession, and besides, he has avenged Ma Liang. This matter is between the two of them; I will not interfere. But there is a certain strength within him. In time, he will achieve great things.”

Feng Luan was surprised. She had known Fang Zhiyi for a long time but had never heard her speak so highly of anyone else. It seemed the possessed man must have some shining qualities.

Nodding, Feng Luan ceased her persuasion. She raised her hand to grasp Fang Zhiyi’s, “Remember, Zhiyi, no matter what happens, the War God Hall will always be your strongest support.”

Fang Zhiyi nodded slightly, placing complete trust in Feng Luan.

She was born from an egg deep in a remote mountain forest, without parents. As a baby, she was taken in by an old tiger in the woods.

That tiger was kindhearted, nursing her with its milk until she could speak, feeding her with wild fruits from the mountain.

Had things gone on like that, Fang Zhiyi would have been content. But when she was ten, the tiger went hunting and never returned. When she cried out searching for it, only the tiger’s corpse remained.

This was like the heavens falling for Fang Zhiyi, but she had no time to grieve. A vast forest fire soon broke out.

At the last moment, another tiger that usually hunted alongside the first carried Fang Zhiyi out of the forest.

From then on, Fang Zhiyi drifted, eating wild fruits when hungry and drinking from streams when thirsty, until she reached a bustling city.

This was also where Feng Luan first met Fang Zhiyi, a scene she would never forget.

At that time, Fang Zhiyi was not the stunning beauty she was now. She was thin and small, wearing a tattered cotton jacket even though it was early summer.

In the noisy marketplace, no one noticed the little beggar curled up in the corner.

Yet, inexplicably, Feng Luan’s heart was moved. Though young, she approached Fang Zhiyi and asked, “Will you come with me?”

From then on, Fang Zhiyi followed Feng Luan to the War God Hall.

Many years later, Feng Luan realized what a prodigious cultivator the little beggar she had brought back was.

Fang Zhiyi’s eyes gleamed with determination. “I know how important the War God Hall is to you, Feng Luan. It is not only my support—I am also the support of the War God Hall.”

They had known each other for many years. Some things needed no words; they understood each other perfectly.

Feng Luan nodded slightly. “Very well. Since you have decided to accept him as your disciple, I shall say no more. But a vigilant heart is necessary. If you need anything, come to me anytime.”

Fang Zhiyi, her handsome face lighting up with a smile, said, “Thank you, Feng Luan.”

Wang Lin entered then, witnessing this scene. His hand hesitated as he pushed open the door.

Hearing the sound, Feng Luan slowly released Fang Zhiyi’s hand. “I shall leave first, then.”

Fang Zhiyi nodded. “If anything happens, come to me.”

After Feng Luan left, Fang Zhiyi glanced at Wang Lin before returning to sit on the stone bench. Placing her hand on the teapot, steam soon rose in a gentle swirl.

“Continue.”

“Yes, Master.” Wang Lin picked up his long sword and lightly tapped the tip on the ground, producing a crisp sound. He spun and leaped, sword light cascading like a waterfall, ringing out sharply.

At noon, the sun hung high like a massive fiery orb, and sweat beaded at Wang Lin’s temple.

Finally, Fang Zhiyi called a halt. “Go prepare lunch.”

“Yes, Master.”

Despite having waited here since dawn without breakfast, practicing swordsmanship until now and still needing to prepare lunch, Wang Lin showed no complaint.

For he knew in his heart that Fang Zhiyi truly wished to teach him. This was exactly what he desired.

To grow stronger, to kill Teng Hua and avenge the Wang family—this was his goal. For it, he was willing to pay any price.

“Don’t let your murderous intent weigh too heavily.”

As she walked away, Fang Zhiyi left behind this enigmatic admonition.