Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 3: Innate Talent

Yun Que appeared calm on the surface, but his heart was in turmoil.

A perfectly good sword had vanished without a trace!

With no warning, it simply disappeared from his hand, as if snatched away by some invisible force.

Yun Que suspected the ghost servant had taken it, but then thought that couldn't be right. The ghost servant had been ordered to deliver the sword, so there was no reason for him to take it back.

Where had the sword gone?

For a moment, Yun Que was utterly bewildered.

Outside the Trial Sword Pavilion, silence reigned.

Everyone stared ahead wide-eyed, barely daring to breathe.

In previous years, the sword trials were lively affairs, but the outcome was merely a few more or fewer candidates. This year, however, the entire pavilion had collapsed.

Unheard of!

Even more outrageous, the two Sword Palace envoys had been buried in the rubble.

"Who did this? Such audacity!"

A dark-faced envoy shoved aside the planks above his head, roaring in fury. The other envoy, pale-faced, was covered in dust and equally disheveled.

No one dared respond.

The atmosphere was so tense it made hearts tremble.

The envoys represented the Sword Palace; to anger them could easily cost one’s life.

"He..."

Chu Xi, blood trickling from his mouth, struggled to raise a trembling finger toward Yun Que.

He could no longer speak, barely clinging to life, but in that moment he glimpsed hope for vengeance.

"Yun Que did it!"

A middle-aged man, richly dressed, shouted angrily, "Yun Que destroyed the Trial Sword Pavilion! He deserves to die! Envoys, kill him at once!"

This was Chu Xi’s father, Chu Heng, who now hated Yun Que with all his being—the son he cherished had been crippled, his treasured artifact destroyed.

"Yes! Yun Que did it!"

"It was him! We saw it with our own eyes!"

Several half-crippled sons of wealthy families testified.

They loathed Yun Que, longing for him to be executed by the envoys right then and there.

"Envoys, please consider—Yun Que acted under provocation, it was Chu Xi and his group who..."

"Silence!"

Han Jiao tried to defend Yun Que, but was abruptly shouted down.

The two envoys fixed their gaze on Yun Que, afraid he might flee.

"It was me," Yun Que admitted forthrightly.

"You destroyed the entire Trial Sword Pavilion by yourself?" Ma Yong, the dark-faced envoy, demanded sternly.

"A true man takes responsibility for his own actions," Yun Que replied.

"What did you use to destroy it?" Niu Bucai, the pale-faced envoy, pressed urgently.

"The sword, of course," Yun Que answered.

"And where is your sword?" The two envoys spoke in unison.

"It shattered," Yun Que said.

Upon hearing this, Ma Yong and Niu Bucai exchanged a glance, their expressions growing peculiar.

"Yun Que, you’re doomed! Heaven has eyes—my son’s vengeance is fulfilled!" Chu Heng cursed venomously.

Not only Chu Heng, but everyone present—including Han Jiao—believed Yun Que was in serious trouble.

Destroying the Sword Palace's treasured Trial Sword Pavilion would surely cost him dearly, if not his life, then at least his dignity.

Yet the envoys’ response surprised everyone.

"Well done!"

Ma Yong’s severe face seemed to bloom into a scorched flower as his eyes creased with laughter.

"Our junior brother is truly gifted—his future achievements will be limitless."

Niu Bucai praised him warmly, even switching to a more intimate address.

Yun Que had expected this, so he bowed respectfully, replying humbly, "You flatter me, senior brothers. I was merely fortunate."

"Luck is itself a kind of talent! Ha ha."

"Throughout history, those favored by fate always carry great fortune."

The envoys’ sudden change in attitude stunned the crowd.

Chu Heng shouted in confusion, "Have you lost your minds? The Trial Sword Pavilion is a Sword Palace treasure. Destroying it is tantamount to declaring war on the Palace! The criminal is right here—why aren’t you killing him?"

"Enough!"

Ma Yong flicked his sleeve, snorting coldly. "The rules of the Sword Palace are ours to uphold—we need no advice from outsiders."

An invisible force sent Chu Heng sprawling backward, landing in an ungainly heap.

He scrambled to his feet, protesting, "Why aren’t you punishing him? He destroyed the Pavilion!"

Chu Heng voiced the confusion of many others.

Yun Que had smashed the Sword Palace’s symbol, yet the envoys were not angry but instead called him brother—unbelievable.

Niu Bucai glanced at Chu Heng and said,

"The Trial Sword Pavilion is indeed valuable, and its destruction is a loss to the Palace. But don’t forget its true purpose."

Han Jiao instantly understood, exclaiming,

"It’s the sword trial! The Pavilion is also the Trial Sword Stone! Those who mark it are swordsmen; those who split it are masters! Yun Que is a sword prodigy!"

Everyone realized the truth, even Chu Heng.

The Pavilion, for all its grandeur, was ultimately just a larger version of the Trial Sword Stone, meant to select disciples.

Ordinary talent would leave shallow marks; exceptional talent left deeper scars. But Yun Que had cleaved the stone in two, proving his swordsmanship was supreme.

A peerless prodigy!

Chu Heng’s face turned ashen; his son died from rage on the spot.

After a brief silence, the crowd erupted again.

Where once they pitied Yun Que, convinced he would be harshly punished, now they envied him.

But that wasn’t all—the two envoys clung to Yun Que, refusing to let him go.

"This is a storage pouch, with a space the size of a cabinet inside," Niu Bucai handed Yun Que a delicate cloth bag, speaking earnestly. "It’s not empty—inside is a cultivation method for the Qi Condensation stage, annotated with insights. Consider it a gift from your senior brother. Take good care of it."

Ma Yong, not to be outdone, produced three dark-gold talismans, each the size of a palm.

"These three sword talismans can be guided by spiritual energy, flying freely within thirty feet. Not only can they be used against enemies, but they also lay the foundation for sword control in the future—perfect for a new disciple like you."

The envoys insisted on giving these gifts, leaving Yun Que no choice but to accept and thank them.

Yun Que had guessed that destroying the Pavilion would not bring punishment, which is why he admitted it so openly. He hadn’t expected so many extra benefits.

With the wooden tower collapsed, the sword trial for the year came to an end.

Because the Trial Sword Pavilions were scattered across the various towns and cities of Yan Country—some near, some far from the Sword Palace—successful candidates had ample time to prepare.

As long as they reached the Sword Palace within ten days, all was well.

Only Yun Que and Han Jiao passed from Yanmen Town. After leaving their entrance tokens with the envoys, Ma Yong and Niu Bucai departed.

Leaving the small town behind, the two envoys exchanged a smile.

With Yun Que’s talent, he was sure to become a key disciple of the academies, perhaps even a future elder.

By making friends early, they would reap countless rewards.

Who knows, perhaps someday they’d ride his coattails to soaring heights!

The townsfolk continued their lively discussions of the event.

The young man in white mounted his horse with dignified bearing.

From the Spring Breeze Pavilion nearby, the girls waved their handkerchiefs flirtatiously.

"Lord Yun is so impressive—and so handsome! He surely deserves to be called Yanmen Town’s finest!"

"Come up for a cup of tea, my lord—I’ll dance for you, no charge!"

"Hehe! Come to me! I’ll sing you a lively tune!"

Faced with the full house of red sleeves, Yun Que laughed as he whipped his horse forward.

"This lord is tired today and must rest. Once I’ve recovered, I’ll come listen to your songs!"

Under the blazing sun, the youth rode away, laughter ringing out.

Han Jiao watched his distant figure, murmuring enviously:

"In those days, young and clad in spring, riding a horse by the slanting bridge, red sleeves beckoned from every pavilion..."

The sword trial ended; some rejoiced, others grieved.

Some were happy, while others seethed with hatred.

"Prepare the carriage! To the Apothecary’s Temple!"

Chu Heng, stripped of all former dignity, shouted like a madman:

"He killed Xi’er! The Taoist won’t let him live! I want that wretched brat to die a miserable death!"