Chapter Five: Sparring

Late at night, the silver moonlight poured through the window of the thatched hut, illuminating the interior in a cold glow. Lei Yan sat cross-legged on a straw mat, a faint blue radiance undulating gently from his body like ripples on water. Ever since discovering in a medical text that every part of the human body could serve as a dantian, Lei Yan had abandoned the traditional practice of focusing his inner energy on the sea of qi. Instead, he treated his entire body as the dantian. This method not only enhanced his extraordinary abilities but also gradually cleansed the impurities from his meridians.

Ordinary martial artists, in their pursuit of the innate realm, absorbed the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, storing up inner power, and then used that power to forcefully clear their meridians one by one. This method was akin to dredging a river: at first, it was manageable, but as the silt and debris accumulated further downstream, the passage became increasingly congested. In other words, these impurities formed a chasm between ordinary and innate martial artists—a gulf difficult to cross.

Lei Yan’s approach was clearly more effective. The spiritual energy he absorbed was distributed throughout his meridians, muscles, and bones, rather than concentrated in the sea of qi. As this energy merged with his body, it also expelled small amounts of residual impurities. Day after day, as long as he persisted, there would come a time when he could step into the innate realm with ease.

Suddenly, Lei Yan opened his eyes, a trace of disappointment flashing through them. The blue radiance surrounding him vanished in an instant.

“Still no breakthrough!” Lei Yan rose and walked to the window. His ability had reached a bottleneck; though it allowed him to sense his surroundings much like a cultivator’s spiritual sense, he longed for it to reach a higher level, broadening the scope of his perception.

Summer nights were not entirely silent—somewhere, the steady chorus of insects accompanied the solitude. Lei Yan gazed out the window, the moon’s silvery light casting a bright glow over the landscape. After a moment of distraction, he stepped out of the hut, recalling the open space beside the village—an ideal place to continue his practice.

In the open field, Lei Yan stood motionless at the center, as if he were carved from wood. Stillness—only in the deepest stillness could he fully merge his fist techniques with the rhythm of heaven and earth.

Abruptly, Lei Yan moved. Fist and foot seemed to shift slowly, yet each motion trailed afterimages, creating a visual dissonance that was oddly unsettling. What looked slow was, in truth, swift—his fists cut through the air with a whistling roar.

The Dragon-Seizing Hand was the only technique from his memories truly suited to him. This style targeted the bones, meridians, and muscles directly and effectively. Through repeated study, Lei Yan had condensed its original eighteen forms into seven, incorporating the principle of force transmission, which he named the Seven Folded Waves.

At present, the Seven Folded Waves only carried the effect of transmitting force. Lei Yan had yet to blend inner energy transmission into it—not for lack of desire, but because channeling inner energy was fundamentally different from merely transmitting force. He was still exploring how to achieve this.

His fists roared through the air, each move more forceful than the last. The entire set was not long; in a short span, he completed all seven forms.

Applause sounded from behind. Lei Yan turned instinctively and saw Batu approaching, single saber in hand, accompanied by two villagers.

“Brother Lei, your fist technique is truly exquisite!” Batu said with a laugh, then instructed the villagers, “Go check the village entrance.”

“Brother Batu, you flatter me,” Lei Yan replied. He hadn’t expected to encounter Batu so late, but quickly understood—after the incident with the abducted children, the village likely sent out patrols every night.

“No need for modesty, Brother Lei! How about a friendly match?” Batu’s eyes gleamed eagerly. Ever since he’d witnessed Lei Yan’s skills in the forest earlier, he’d wanted to test himself against him.

“A match?” Lei Yan frowned. His fist technique was designed to kill—a style crafted for slaughter, leaving no room for half measures. How could one spar with such a technique?

Noticing Lei Yan’s hesitation, Batu chuckled, “I saw your technique this afternoon, Brother Lei. I know fists and feet show no mercy, but if I don’t spar with you, I’ll never be at ease. Please, indulge me!”

“Very well,” Lei Yan replied with a wry smile. Some martial fanatics simply could not resist challenging those with superior skills. He resolved to avoid striking vital points, hoping not to endanger Batu’s life.

“Be careful, then!” Batu said with a confident grin, giving his saber a quick flourish and holding it at the ready.

“Go ahead,” Lei Yan said, stepping forward with his left foot, extending his right arm, and placing his left hand at his chest—a poised opening stance, quietly awaiting Batu’s move.

“What stance is that?” Batu muttered, circling Lei Yan slowly, searching for an opening, while Lei Yan turned in place, always keeping his right hand pointed at Batu.

“A true expert!” Batu suddenly halted. After circling Lei Yan halfway, he felt as though facing a mountain—no chink in his defense. Frustrated, he recalled his master’s advice: “If there’s no opening, force one to appear!” Batu’s gaze sharpened, his aura rising as he let out a low shout, “Direct Strike!” In a flash, he closed the distance, saber cleaving down from above.

A torrent of force crashed down on Lei Yan like a waterfall.

“Break!” Lei Yan leaned back, his right hand snapping out like a serpent, striking the edge of the saber. The blade veered involuntarily, sliding past him.

Batu’s arm went numb—he was astonished. “Such strange, powerful force!” The wave-like energy coursed from the saber into his arm; had he not blocked it with inner energy, it would have penetrated further. He realized, with a chill, that those two martial artists killed earlier must have fallen to this uncanny power.

Lei Yan was not surprised Batu withstood the blow. Transmission of force could be blocked; only surprise or overwhelming strength allowed a lethal strike. Otherwise, if force alone sufficed, he would already be invincible.

Just then, the patrolling villagers, drawn by the commotion, hurried over. Batu signaled that they were only sparring, and the villagers settled in to watch. To them, Batu was the most formidable man in the village, and now this youthful stranger seemed evenly matched—naturally, they were eager to see the outcome.

“Look at that boy—so young, how could he be Batu’s match?” one villager whispered.

“Nonsense! Can’t you see Batu is evenly matched with him?” another retorted.

Some villagers supported Lei Yan, others dismissed him as courting disaster. Though their voices were low, Lei Yan heard every word. Batu’s saber was skillful, but lacked the true intent to kill. If Batu had experienced real bloodshed, his swordsmanship would be far more dangerous. Simply mimicking killing intent was no substitute for the real thing.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!” Batu’s saber slashed at Lei Yan again and again, his body moving with the grace of a butterfly, while his blade crashed down with mountainous weight.

Each attack was gently deflected by Lei Yan. Had Lei Yan truly wanted to kill, Batu would already be dead. Such was the difference that martial skill could make, even between two of equal cultivation.

“Ha! Exhilarating!” Batu leapt back, face flushed with excitement. “To unleash all thirty-three cuts in one go—Brother Lei, your fist technique commands my utmost respect. What do you call it?”

“The Seven Folded Waves,” Lei Yan replied with a smile. He admired Batu’s saber technique as well; though Batu had yet to fully master it, the style itself deserved praise.

“Seven Folded Waves? The name fits perfectly!” Batu laughed, massaging his numb hand. “My saber technique was created by my master during his travels. There are thirty-three forms—I have only grasped the first thirty. The last three, I haven’t fully mastered. Now, be careful!”

“The last three? Could those be the ones he used against Wanchuan earlier?” Lei Yan grew alert—those three were clearly far more powerful. “Don’t hold back, Brother Batu. I, too, want to see their might.”

Batu’s expression turned solemn, a faint red glow appearing on his face. Threads of white inner energy streamed from his saber, shattering the rocky ground where they landed.

“Void-Cutting Strike!” A crushing force descended on Lei Yan like a mountain, threatening to engulf him entirely.

Lei Yan’s face changed. This move was vastly different from the previous ones; mere force transmission would not suffice—he’d be gravely injured. Gathering his inner energy in both hands, he struck the saber’s edge with his palm.

With a resounding crash, the saber shattered, and Lei Yan was sent flying back. Yet exhilaration filled his face—at the critical moment, he’d managed to channel his inner energy into the weapon, breaking through the barrier between force and energy transmission. Ignoring the blood trickling from his mouth, he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation as strands of inner energy drifted from his hands, dissolving into the air.

Batu, meanwhile, was shaking all over. A wave of inner energy surged into his body like the sea, far more powerful than any force transmission he’d known. Weakened from their exchange, he could not resist it. Just as he feared for his life, a rush of warmth flooded his back, meeting and dissipating the invading energy within his muscles. He glanced back instinctively to see his second uncle—his master—standing there. “Uncle, why are you here?”

“If I hadn’t come, you’d be dead,” the old man replied coldly. “Don’t ever think of sparring with him again—you’re not in the same league. Even innate martial artists gain nothing against him!”

“But… but…” Batu wanted to argue, but recalling that terrifying assault, he relented.

“No buts!” the old man barked at the gawking villagers. “Get back to your patrols—and don’t disturb the young man. He won’t wake up for a while!” With that, he departed, inwardly just as shaken. Lei Yan’s attacks were monstrous—techniques born for killing, surpassing even his own saber in lethality.

(P.S. Only one chapter today!)