Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter Four: Drawing the Spirit Within

Marquis Manor, Main Hall.

A chubby, foolish-looking boy was hungrily devouring his meal.

A burly man dressed as a blacksmith stood admiring the furniture in the room.

"The food here is amazing! Father, hurry and eat! Big Bro will charge us when he returns!"

The little fat boy raised his head from the mountain of dishes, speaking with his mouth full.

"Charge us? He took two taels of silver from you just for a single candied fruit! Have you any idea how much he’s tricked you out of over the years? From now on, this is your home—everything in the Marquis Manor belongs to you!"

The blacksmith impatiently corrected him, "And another thing: Yun Que isn’t your big brother. You’re my only foolish son."

The chubby boy scratched his head. "Oh, I get it… but this is the Marquis Manor. Big Bro is the Marquis!"

The blacksmith explained patiently, "The deed is in my hands. The manor has a new owner, and you, my son, are now the young master of the Marquis Manor."

Again, the boy scratched his head. "I understand! I’m the Marquis’s son, you’re the Marquis’s father! Big Bro is the Marquis, so he must be the Marquis Grandpa!"

The blacksmith could only cover his forehead, helpless.

Suddenly, with a loud crash, the doors to the manor were kicked open and a young man in white strode in.

"Marquis Grandpa is back! Quick, Father, let’s hide! This meal must be expensive!"

The fat boy hurried to hide his round head under the table, though his whole body remained exposed.

"Son, just call him Big Brother," the blacksmith sighed, resigned. At least if you call him Big Brother, it doesn’t lower your own status.

Seeing Yun Que seat himself at the head of the table, the blacksmith put on a stern face. "Marquis Yun, have you forgotten this is no longer your manor?"

With a clang, two broken pieces of a sword were thrown to the floor.

"See for yourself. Your so-called sword was useless—couldn’t withstand the sword energy in the Sword Testing Tower."

"Impossible!" the blacksmith exclaimed. "A perfectly good lower-tier artifact, combined with your skill, should be enough to withstand three rounds in the Sword Testing Tower."

Crawling out from under the table, the fat boy suddenly seemed clever for once.

"Big Bro, Big Bro! Father says the manor belongs to us now—you’re homeless!"

Yun Que kicked the fat boy aside and sneered, "So, the renowned swordsmith of Yan, is trying to renege on our deal! Isn’t this the very sword I traded the manor to you for?"

"It is," the blacksmith replied.

"Is it broken?"

"It’s broken."

"Then hand over the deed."

After glancing at the broken sword, the blacksmith silently returned the deed.

"I, Hu Tieshan, have always been a man of my word. A sword may break, but a reputation cannot."

With the deed back in hand, Yun Que ordered the feast to be reset. He intended to have a proper meal—he’d gone to the Sword Testing Tower at dawn and his stomach was still empty.

"Big Bro, Big Bro! Did you win your sword match today?" the fat boy asked excitedly.

"It was a piece of cake," Yun Que said, tossing the Sword Palace token nonchalantly onto the table.

"Big Bro, you’re amazing!" The fat boy admired the token from every angle, but soon his attention was stolen by the food, and drool began pooling beneath him.

"Smart boy—this is your second meal already, isn’t it?"

Yun Que tapped the table and calculated aloud, "Two meals, at least thirty dishes. Each dish is one tael of silver. How much do you owe?"

"Thirty taels! I’ll get the money as soon as Father’s not home!" The little fat boy, named Hu Congming, seemed to forget his father was right there, making Hu Tieshan’s face turn livid.

"Never mind, you can eat for free this time," Yun Que said, glancing sidelong at Hu Tieshan, his words laced with hidden meaning. "I’m not a miser, after all."

The blacksmith and his son were Yun Que’s neighbors. Hu Congming had grown up trailing after Yun Que, and though he’d lost plenty of silver to the boy over the years, Yun Que was always kind to him. He’d fought hundreds of battles to protect the boy since they were children.

In truth, Yun Que didn’t care about the money. He was needling Hu Tieshan deliberately.

As one of Yan’s foremost swordsmiths, Hu Tieshan had been close friends with Yun Que’s father, and their families had always been on good terms. Yet over the past five years, Yun Que had to trade the entire Marquis Manor just to obtain a single lower-tier artifact from Hu Tieshan. Without it, he couldn’t even enter the Sword Testing Tower.

In Yun Que’s eyes, Hu Tieshan, the so-called master swordsmith of Yan, was nothing but a self-serving opportunist.

"How did you manage to pass the Sword Testing Tower?" Hu Tieshan asked, eyeing the Sword Palace token on the table.

"None of your business," Yun Que replied curtly. "Congming can eat here for free, but you can’t. A single cup of wine in the Marquis Manor will cost you a hundred taels of silver."

Normally, Hu Tieshan would have stormed out in anger. But this time, he simply sat down, poured himself a drink, and sipped it slowly.

"You’re going to the Sword Palace?"

"If I don’t study swordsmanship there, how can I ever uncover the truth behind my father’s death?"

Hu Tieshan fell silent, his lowered eyes reflecting distant memories.

"You must think me stingy," he finally said after a long pause. "A lower-grade artifact means nothing to me. Do you know why, all these years, I never gave you a sword good enough to pass the Sword Testing Tower?"

"Because people are fickle, and the world is cold," Yun Que replied, his tone ice-cold.

Hu Tieshan laughed bitterly. "I didn’t give you an artifact because you have no spiritual root. Without it, the path of cultivation is closed to you."

He spoke earnestly, "The Sword Testing Tower is only an entrance exam. Every year, hundreds pass it. But to become a core disciple of the Sword Palace and learn the true path of swordsmanship, you must pass the spiritual root test. Without a spiritual root, you’ll never be able to cultivate. At best, you can become a martial grandmaster."

Hu Tieshan sighed. "For mortals, a martial grandmaster is outstanding. But compared to cultivators, it’s nothing. A true swordsman can take a grandmaster’s head from a hundred paces away."

This was the first time Yun Que had ever heard of spiritual roots. "Why can’t someone without a spiritual root become a cultivator?"

"A spiritual root is the foundation for circulating spiritual energy. Without one, you can’t connect with the energies of heaven and earth, no matter how gifted you are."

"How do you know I don’t have one?"

"I’ve known since you were a child. Otherwise, why do you think your father, one of Yan’s greatest experts, never taught you to cultivate? Because he knew his son would never walk the path of cultivation."

Hu Tieshan gave Yun Que a long, heavy look and sighed. "Rather than struggle hopelessly in martial arts, why not live as a carefree Marquis, enjoying an ordinary life?"

"I refuse to accept that!"

With a crash, Yun Que overturned the table.

Hu Tieshan finished his last half cup of wine and left.

Even the simple-minded fat boy sensed Yun Que’s distress and chased after his father out of the manor.

"An ordinary life… I will not accept it!" Yun Que rasped, his voice hoarse.

The truth revealed by Hu Tieshan was hard for him to bear.

He had planned to enter the Sword Palace, master the sword, and one day, with his cultivation complete, travel to Coldwater City to uncover the truth behind his father’s death.

He’d worked for five years, only to be told he could never cultivate.

He could not resign himself to this fate.

Calming himself, Yun Que opened the cultivation manual left by the Sword Palace envoy and quickly immersed himself in it.

Even without a spiritual root, he was determined to try. All roads in this world are walked by people—why should the path of cultivation be any different? If it’s a road, it can be walked!

The cultivation method was somewhat obscure, but Niu Butsai had annotated each section with his insights, providing detailed guidance.

With his intelligence, Yun Que grasped the essentials of the first layer of the Qi Refining stage by nightfall.

Unfortunately, when he tried to circulate the technique, he could not sense any spiritual energy.

He tried several times, but the result was always the same.

It seemed he truly was without a spiritual root.

Disappointed, Yun Que resolved to try once more before giving up.

It was on this final attempt that he sensed a peculiar aura.

Frowning, Yun Que closed his eyes.

The aura he felt was unlike spiritual energy. Spiritual energy, as described, should be like drifting wisps of cloud, floating throughout the world.

But in Yun Que’s perception, there were only three strands of energy before him—and they were completely still!

What could this be?

He opened his eyes abruptly. Before him lay nothing but his storage pouch, the cultivation manual, and three sword talismans.

"Sword talismans?"

He concentrated again, confirming that the aura came from the talismans.

How could this be?

Sword talismans were a type of offensive charm, not spirit stones designed to store spiritual energy.

He had never heard of anyone cultivating by absorbing spiritual energy from sword talismans.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Gritting his teeth, Yun Que picked up two of the talismans and began circulating the method.

A miraculous scene unfolded.

Before his eyes, the two sword talismans rapidly withered, while at the same time, two unique streams of energy flowed into his body.

Drawing spiritual energy into the body!

The most crucial first step of the Qi Refining stage—one that Yun Que crossed with ease, though in a manner both strange and uncanny.