Volume Two: Inheriting the Legacy, Blood on the Brocade Robe Chapter 136: A Bizarre Sword Strike

Bai Yuhe had failed with all four of his previous strikes, and the beautiful face of Chi Danmei was filled with shock. She was well-acquainted with Bai Yuhe’s swordsmanship and knew that he possessed extraordinary talent. Under the tutelage of the Master of White Cloud Island, his mastery of the sword had advanced by leaps and bounds. In his early years, Bai Yuhe had frequently sought out renowned masters to spar, but in recent years, he rarely drew his sword; once he did, he typically defeated his opponent within three moves. His swordsmanship was fierce, and Chi Danmei had firmly believed that within a few years, Bai Yuhe would surely be able to dominate the martial arts world. Yet now, having unleashed four strikes without even brushing a fold of Yang Ning’s clothing, how could she not be astonished? Furthermore, the unpredictable and ghostly footwork Yang Ning displayed was something Chi Danmei had never seen before.

Jingkong and Jingneng exchanged a glance, both looking slightly surprised. Then, Jingkong’s expression turned solemn, and he fell into deep thought.

Having missed with four strikes, Bai Yuhe did not rush his fifth. Being in the heart of the fray, he understood that Yang Ning’s footwork was truly profound and mysterious. His own swordsmanship was not at fault; the primary obstacle was Yang Ning’s movement. He knew that if he were to chase after Yang Ning’s rhythm, he could exert immense pressure and perhaps land a hit within ten moves. However, winning under such circumstances would be a matter of luck, and a victory born of chance was never what Bai Yuhe pursued in his path of the sword. He came to a sudden halt, held his Wuyao sword with the tip pointed downward, and closed his eyes. He let Yang Ning drift around him like a phantom, remaining completely still.

The Hall of Light fell into a deathly silence. The atmosphere grew heavy once more. To everyone watching, Yang Ning had blurred into a mass of shadows drifting through the hall; most could no longer discern his actual steps. Yang Ning, meanwhile, was unaware of the audience’s shock. He had never even considered the possibility of defeating Bai Yuhe; rather, he hoped that Bai Yuhe’s swordsmanship was truly transcendent, so that he could control his strength with ease, stop at the right moment, and avoid causing him injury. The waves of biting cold air had indeed left Yang Ning feeling anxious.

Suddenly sensing that the piercing sword intent had vanished, Yang Ning was puzzled. He did not stop, but looked at Bai Yuhe, watching him stand motionless, wondering what this swordsman was planning. Yang Ning had finished one sequence of his steps and had to loop back to the start. The entire set of footwork had become increasingly proficient and fluid, but the transition to restart the sequence felt slightly sluggish.

It was precisely at this moment that Bai Yuhe suddenly opened his eyes and let out a soft cry. He had been standing firm as a mountain, but in an instant, he shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. His long sword pointed straight ahead, his body and the Wuyao sword forming a single line as he lunged toward Yang Ning.

Caught in that brief moment of hesitation during his step, Yang Ning felt a flash of dark light before his eyes. The sword had not yet arrived, but the chilling aura it carried seemed to have already seeped into his body. Yang Ning was horrified; he had not expected Bai Yuhe to strike so suddenly, nor had he imagined such blinding speed. His mind went blank, and in a reflexive retreat, his foot caught, and he fell backward onto the floor.

Bai Yuhe’s gaze was sharp. Having forced Yang Ning down, he did not pull back his blade; instead, he effortlessly tilted the tip downward, thrusting directly toward Yang Ning’s heart. Seeing the long sword descending, Yang Ning’s expression changed drastically. He thought to himself that this fellow clearly intended to break the rules. Regardless of whether Bai Yuhe would stop, he closed his eyes, raised his right arm, and the Bilu sword in his hand suddenly erupted with light, carving out an incredibly bizarre arc.

At that exact moment, a cry of alarm rang out. Yang Ning thought, "This is the end," feeling a deep resentment toward the monks of the Great Light Temple, vowing that even in death, he would seek revenge on these baldheads.

Suddenly, he felt everything go still. Then, he heard a crisp "ding," as if something had fallen to the ground, followed by a deathly silence—a silence that was terrifying. *Am I dead? Is that why I can't hear anything? But why don't I feel any pain in my chest?*

He opened his eyes slightly and saw that he was still in the Hall of Light. The lamps were still burning bright. He looked down to see his right arm raised, his wrist tilted slightly to the right, and the Bilu sword pointing diagonally upward toward the front right. He shifted his gaze and saw Bai Yuhe standing no more than a pace away. The master swordsman’s face was deathly pale, his expression frozen. His right arm was held forward, his fingers splayed open, and the Wuyao sword was no longer in his hand. More horrifyingly, blood was dripping from Bai Yuhe’s wrist.

Yang Ning did not understand what had happened. He raised his left hand to touch his chest; he was unharmed. Bai Yuhe’s strike had clearly missed his heart. Only then did Yang Ning breathe a sigh of relief. He sat up and looked around to see hundreds of people staring at him, all wearing the exact same expression. Even the seductively charming Chi Danmei was frozen in shock, as if she had witnessed something inconceivable.

Yang Ning frowned, suddenly realizing something. He looked at the floor and saw the Wuyao sword lying four or five paces away from Bai Yuhe. *What happened?* Yang Ning stood up, feeling a slight chill; only then did he realize he was drenched in cold sweat. "What... what happened?" Yang Ning scanned the crowd. "What... what is wrong with all of you?" He looked at Bai Yuhe, about to ask, when his body suddenly jolted. He gasped, "Your sword... did I... did I knock your sword away?"

With Bai Yuhe’s wrist bleeding and his sword disarmed, it was impossible for the man to have injured himself. Unless some hidden expert had intervened, it could only mean that the frantic strike he had lashed out moments ago had struck Bai Yuhe. But that was simply impossible. Bai Yuhe was a famous master of the sword, and Yang Ning had never even touched a sword before today. How could he have defeated such an exceptional swordsman in a single move?

Bai Yuhe slowly retracted his arm, ignoring the blood dripping from his wrist. He glanced at the Wuyao sword on the floor, then turned his gaze back to Yang Ning and bowed deeply. "I am honored to have received your guidance today. Your swordsmanship is transcendent, reaching the realm of perfection. I, Bai Yuhe, am defeated and concede with all my heart."

"Master... Master Bai, wait... what did you say?" Yang Ning’s eyes widened. "You... you say you lost?"

Bai Yuhe sighed. "Only today do I truly understand that the path of the sword lies in enlightenment. You are not yet twenty, yet your strikes are already those of a grandmaster. I am far from your level and cannot hope to reach it."

*What a joke!* But Yang Ning could hear no mockery in Bai Yuhe’s tone; instead, he heard heartfelt reverence. He was stunned, still unable to believe he had defeated this swordsman in one move.

Chi Danmei sighed softly. "The Young Prince hid his skill behind simplicity, moving with careful strategy, and won with a single decisive strike. Since my senior brother concedes, we will uphold our previous agreement. From this day forward, no disciple of White Cloud Island will ever set foot in the Great Light Temple again." She turned to face Jingkong. "Master Jingkong, we apologize for our intrusion. The outcome of this spar is clear. Should any disciples of White Cloud Island encounter the monks of your temple in the future, we shall treat them with the utmost respect!"

Most people in the hall had not yet recovered their senses. Jingkong pressed his palms together and said, "Amitabha. The esteemed guests from White Cloud Island keep their word, which speaks to the nobility of your Island Master. My disciples rarely descend the mountain, but should they meet your disciples in the future, they shall certainly treat them as honored guests."

Chi Danmei smiled tenderly and signaled. A disciple in hempen robes stepped forward, picked up the Wuyao sword, sheathed it, and presented it to Bai Yuhe. Bai Yuhe frowned and shook his head. "The pulse in my right wrist is severed. I shall never touch a sword again." He gave a slight nod to Yang Ning, ignored the sword, and turned to leave.

Yang Ning finally came to his senses. He knew that Bai Yuhe’s wrist had been injured by his own hand. For a top-tier swordsman, a severed wrist pulse meant that even if it healed, it would never be as perfect as before, inevitably affecting his swordsmanship—and in duels between experts, victory and defeat often hinged on a hair’s breadth. Bai Yuhe’s defeat today had destroyed his confidence. Yang Ning had not initially held any fondness for Bai Yuhe, but seeing how the man had acted with such integrity and grace in defeat—and how he did not hold Yang Ning accountable for failing to restrain his strength—he felt a newfound respect. Seeing him turn to leave, Yang Ning hurriedly called out, "Master Bai, wait!"

Bai Yuhe stopped but did not look back. "Does the gentleman have further instructions?"

"You say you will never use a sword again?" Yang Ning frowned. "Isn't that a bit too reckless? It was my fault today—I didn't... didn't control my strength well and injured your hand. I apologize. But... you have practiced for years to achieve what you have today. How can you just give it up so easily?"

Bai Yuhe did not speak.

Yang Ning sighed. "I can see that you are truly obsessed with the sword. If a person loves something and is willing to pour their heart into it, they will surely achieve something great." He paused and asked, "I only want to ask you one thing: what is your purpose in practicing the sword?"

"Purpose?" Bai Yuhe was startled. He turned around to look at Yang Ning. "The purpose of practicing the sword is, naturally, to reach the peak of swordsmanship and be unrivaled under heaven."

Yang Ning shook his head. "Wrong, wrong. If that is your mindset, I fear you will never reach the realm you seek. There is always a sky beyond the sky, and people beyond people. What does 'unrivaled' even mean? In my opinion, the purpose of practicing the sword is never to defeat all your opponents."

Bai Yuhe’s expression turned serious. He was oblivious to the blood dripping from his red-stained wrist as he bowed. "Please, enlighten me!"

Yang Ning thought, *I know nothing about this; how can I enlighten you?* But he did not want the man to sink into despair because of his injury. He could only say, "Let me give you a simple example. Take someone who reads and writes. If their goal is merely to be more talented than others, that is a painful pursuit. But if one reads and writes to find joy in the process, they will truly enjoy it and discover its deeper meaning. This... can you understand that?"

Bai Yuhe closed his eyes and pondered for a long time. Suddenly, he bowed once more, a glimmer of light in his eyes. "I have learned much!" He turned to leave again. After walking a few steps, he turned back and asked, "I have one question. Can you enlighten me on this?"

"What question?"

"That strike just now... was it taught to you by... that person?" Bai Yuhe asked. "If it was taught by them, I have no regrets in losing to such a move!"

"That person?" Yang Ning was stunned and confused. He could only smile. "Actually, I don't even know how I won myself. I just... I just swung it randomly."

Bai Yuhe nodded slightly. Without another word, he turned and walked away, never looking back again. Chi Danmei also gave a charming smile and turned to leave with her four disciples. As she passed Yang Ning, she glanced at him, leaned in close until her faint scent filled his senses, and whispered in a sweet, sultry voice, "Does the Young Prince frequent brothels often? Do they tear clothes more beautifully than I do?"