“Get lost.”
Without even looking up, Jiang Nian brushed off Zhang Linyu’s foolish jab.
This bastard really had the nerve to ask for anything.
Wanted him to fly?
Did he actually think Jiang Nian was Superman?
Hearing that, Zhang Linyu gave an awkward chuckle. “I just figured, since some people are doubting you, I’d help clear your name.”
Jiang Nian wasn’t buying it. “If you want to prove my innocence so badly, why don’t you fly?”
“Well, I don’t know how.”
“And I do? Keep running your mouth and I’ll make you fly.”
Jiang Nian dropped that threat, and Zhang Linyu immediately shut up.
Seeing him get shot down by Jiang Nian, everyone else couldn’t help but laugh—rather unkindly.
Deng Sha, who had questioned him earlier, now patted Zhang Linyu on the shoulder like she was comforting a child. “Alright, alright, I believe you, okay?”
Yuan Shanshan nodded too. “Same here.”
He tried desperately to defend himself. “No, seriously, everything I said was true! One hundred percent real!”
Everyone else: “Mm-hmm, we never said we didn’t believe you.”
Zhang Linyu: “…Damn it!”
They joked around, tossed out wisecracks, and kept the mood light.
The break flew by in no time.
Huang Wenhao reset himself, then gave Huang Junwen an OK sign.
Huang Junwen immediately got the message and looked over at Jiang Nian.
Jiang Nian signaled that he was good to go.
Seeing that, Huang Junwen didn’t waste another second and jumped straight into the reshoot.
Of course, even though they called it a reshoot, they only needed to patch up a few reaction shots from Yue Buqun. Once that was done without any issues, they wrapped that segment.
And with that, the early storyline of The Smiling, Proud Wanderer officially came to an end.
From this moment on, Lin Pingzhi officially set foot on a path that would lead straight into an endless abyss—a road from which there was no return.
The blood feud weighing on his shoulders wouldn’t allow him to miss even the slightest chance to grow stronger.
After learning the Huashan sword techniques from Yue Buqun, Lin Pingzhi never once let up. He practiced like a man possessed, his mind consumed by nothing but martial arts.
In contrast, Linghu Chong—
Even though Yue Buqun had confined him to Siguo Cliff as punishment, he was living it up.
He spent every day tangled up with Yue Lingshan, never lacking good food or drink, and roamed the caves freely.
If anything, it wasn’t really a punishment at all—more like a perfectly legitimate vacation.
And not only was he on vacation, but he also had little nun Yilin and Dongfang Bubai both pining for him, worrying about him day and night, unable to eat or sleep, drowning their longing in wine.
And so, the days and nights slipped by.
In the blink of an eye, three months had passed since Lin Pingzhi joined Huashan Sect.
One day,
to test how much Lin Pingzhi had improved over that time,
Yue Buqun called him in and arranged for him to spar with one of the senior disciples.
The fight between them was intense,
but to Yue Buqun’s eyes, it looked like nothing more than children roughhousing.
Far from sparking his interest, it nearly bored him to sleep. He had to take several big sips of tea just to stay awake and push through the dullness.
As for the outcome—
no surprise there.
Lin Pingzhi, who had only joined three months ago, was no match for the veteran Huashan disciple.
After barely a dozen exchanges, Lin Pingzhi’s opponent seized an opening, landed a kick square to his chest, and sent him flying backward, his sword clattering to the ground.
Seeing this, a flicker of disappointment crossed Yue Buqun’s face.
He said nothing, simply set down his teacup, rose, and led the group of Huashan disciples away.
He left Lin Pingzhi alone, slumped in the yard, clutching his freshly-kicked chest, his face twisted with frustration.
As for Yue Buqun, once he left, he returned to his quarters and started talking about Lin Pingzhi with his wife, Ning Zhongze.
As the saying goes: the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment.
Before witnessing Lin Pingzhi’s talent firsthand, Yue Buqun had entertained serious thoughts of grooming him—out of respect for his father, Lin Zhennan.
After all, Lin Pingzhi was a living billboard.
The sole surviving heir of the once-famed Lin family, under his careful tutelage, would restore his ancestors’ glory and wipe away old shame.
That would undoubtedly elevate Huashan Sect’s prestige to new heights.
But now, watching three months go by with Lin Pingzhi’s martial skills barely improving at all,
Yue Buqun realized he had completely misjudged the boy.
Yet at this point, there was no way out.
He had already accepted Lin Pingzhi as his disciple, and word had spread across the martial arts world.
He couldn’t very well kick him out just because he lacked talent, could he?
If Yue Buqun did that, not only would he lose face, but Huashan Sect’s reputation in the jianghu would plummet.
“Sigh!”
Dwelling on these tangled matters, Yue Buqun let out a weary sigh.
Just then, Yue Lingshan came bouncing in, pestering Ning Zhongze to teach her the Jade Maiden Sword Technique.
Faced with her lively, adorable daughter, Ning Zhongze could only shake her head in resignation.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to teach the Jade Maiden Sword Technique—it was that the style was specifically designed to counter techniques from other sects.
Since everyone in Huashan practiced the same sword style, even if she taught Yue Lingshan, there’d be no one to practice with her. Teaching it would be pointless.
Hearing that, the quick-witted Yue Lingshan immediately thought of Lin Pingzhi.
As a descendant of the Lin family, he didn’t just practice Huashan swordsmanship—he had his own family techniques too. So she suggested he practice with her.
Normally, Ning Zhongze and Yue Buqun would never have allowed it.
But this time, for reasons unknown, Yue Buqun actually gave his consent.
Yue Lingshan was overjoyed. She immediately ran to find Lin Pingzhi and told him all about her plan and her parents’ approval.
With the master’s order and the mistress’s blessing,
Lin Pingzhi had no reason to refuse Yue Lingshan.
So he agreed to train alongside her.
Little did he know that this seemingly ordinary arrangement would ultimately decide his fate in matters of the heart.
And at the same time, it became one of the few genuinely happy periods in Lin Pingzhi’s otherwise bleak life.
“Teacher Jiang, Teacher Yang, you’ve worked hard.”
They had shot straight through until evening, and only then did Huang Junwen reluctantly call cut.
The reason? Jiang Nian’s performance was simply too good.
Every scene he was in—if it was a solo shot, they nailed it in one take.
And if he was acting with others, it took at most two or three retakes before they wrapped it perfectly.
“No wonder he could pull off a character like Yu Huatian!”
“His acting is phenomenal—incredibly compelling.”
“If he could just tone down that verbal tic, he’d be flawless.”
Rewatching the footage on the monitor, Huang Junwen heaped high praise on Jiang Nian’s acting.
Jiang Nian didn’t respond.
Because right now, he was starving—his stomach was practically glued to his back.
Sure, they’d only been acting all afternoon, not practicing martial arts, so the physical exertion wasn’t huge.
But the sheer frequency was relentless—one scene after another, and all of them featured his character, Lin Pingzhi.
Jiang Nian figured that what he’d shot this single afternoon could fill an entire episode on its own.
It was only thanks to his improved physical conditioning from martial arts training that he could handle it.
Otherwise, anyone else would probably be half-dead from that kind of grind.
“Time to eat, time to eat.”
Jiang Nian mumbled, grabbed five boxes of crew meals, found a random spot to sit, and started wolfing them down.
Everyone was already used to his terrifying appetite, so no one paid it much mind—they just chatted idly among themselves.
After finishing his dinner, Jiang Nian sat on the ground for a while to rest.
He felt the food being rapidly converted into energy by his freakishly efficient digestive system.
Before long, he was brimming with vitality again, refreshed and alert.
So he said his goodbyes to Huang Junwen and the others, headed over to the neighboring hilltop, and began his martial arts practice.
As his proficiency in the Bixie Sword Technique crept higher and higher, nearing a breakthrough,
Jiang Nian couldn’t help but feel a growing restlessness.
Because he had a hunch—
Once the Bixie Sword Technique broke through to “Thorough Comprehension,” the restrictions on him might actually loosen a little!
He didn’t expect to be completely freed from his vows, but this “closed-mouth meditation” was something he desperately wanted to be rid of.
Sure, it seemed like a minor thing, but it caused him no end of trouble in daily life.
Especially since saying the wrong thing cost him proficiency points.
It got to the point where Jiang Nian had to think twice before speaking to anyone—because one careless sentence could wipe out five hours of hard work. It was absolutely infuriating.
[Proficiency +1]
[Advancement]
[Bixie Sword Technique “Minor Achievement” (499/500) → Bixie Sword Technique “Thorough Comprehension” (0/1500)]
Three days later, at 1 AM.
With the system’s notification chime,
in an instant, after more than a month, Jiang Nian once again fell into that mysterious, unfathable state of enlightenment.
Just like before,
this time too, Jiang Nian was completely immersed—as if he had been transported to another world.
But today, something was different.
In the past, whenever he broke through, he would inhabit the unlocked character.
From a first-person perspective, he would vividly experience their hardships during training, deepening his understanding of the martial art.
But now, as he opened his eyes,
Jiang Nian was shocked to find himself standing inside a temple.
He was absolutely certain—this was not Lin Pingzhi’s memory!
Because this temple was the Shaolin Monastery!
At the same time, in front of him, an old monk sat cross-legged beneath a tree, eyes shut, chanting Buddhist sutras without pause.
“Master Hongye!”
Even though it was his first time seeing him, the name surfaced in Jiang Nian’s mind unbidden, and he blurted it out in surprise.
Hearing that, Master Hongye paused his chanting.
He slowly opened his eyes.
Contrary to the expected image of a vibrant, spirited Buddhist master,
Master Hongye’s eyes were dim and lifeless.
A faint aura of death lingered between his brows—it seemed his time was drawing near.
“Amitabha.”
“Du Yuan, you’ve come.”
Reciting the Buddha’s name, Master Hongye looked at Jiang Nian and spoke.
Jiang Nian froze for a moment.
Du Yuan?
“Lin Yuantu?” The name flashed through his mind.
Then he realized that ‘he’ was opening his mouth to speak: “Amitabha, Master, I am here.”
“Mm.” Master Hongye nodded, then dropped a bombshell: “Are you prepared to cultivate the seventy-two forms of the Bixie Sword Technique?”
“Master, I am ready. But there are some things this disciple does not understand.”
“What things?”
Lin Yuantu took a deep breath: “Is it not improper for us—Buddhist disciples—to do such a thing?”
“Improper?” Master Hongye shook his head with a bitter smile. “Du Yuan, you’re right—it is somewhat improper. But someone has to do it. The Five Mountain Sects have grown faster than we anticipated. If left unchecked, they will surely bring disaster and plunge the martial arts world into chaos once more.”
“But aren’t we also stirring up chaos by doing this?” Lin Yuantu retorted.
“Yes.”
Master Hongye nodded. He rose to his feet, his thin frame looking impossibly small beneath the massive tree.
“But we are also preventing an even greater chaos.”
“Du Yuan, you are intelligent and well-read in history. You should understand the way of the world—long divided, it must unite; long united, it must divide.”
“Now, the martial arts world has been divided for years. Do you believe that when the time is right, the Five Mountain Sects won’t seek to unify?”
Master Hongye posed that question.
Lin Yuantu said nothing.
But his silence was answer enough—Yes.
Master Hongye understood this too, so he continued, “We both know that every unification in history has been soaked in bloodshed and conflict before finally coming together. So I won’t say more on that. Instead, I’ll ask you just one question: do you think one mountain can hold two tigers at the same time?”
At those words, Lin Yuantu’s pupils contracted sharply. “You mean—?”
“Precisely.”
Master Hongye nodded. He raised his head and gazed at the giant tree beside him. For the first time, clarity returned to his clouded eyes—though they were filled with deep complexity. “I know that unifying the martial arts world is a good thing—it would unite everyone against external threats. But… who are those external threats? The evil cult? The Xiongnu? Or perhaps…”
He trailed off, staring at the tree.
He didn’t continue.
Because by now, what he wanted to convey was crystal clear.
Lin Yuantu was sharp enough to read his master’s thoughts, and his entire demeanor deflated.
Why couldn’t one mountain hold two tigers?
Simply because neither tiger could be sure the other wouldn’t harm it.
The only way to make it work was if one of the tigers had no teeth.
And what Lin Yuantu and the others were doing right now—was pulling out the tiger’s fangs!
“I understand.”
Having grasped everything, Lin Yuantu stopped resisting and resigned himself to his fate.
Seeing him like this, a flicker of reluctance passed through Master Hongye’s eyes—not just for his beloved disciple,
but for the entire martial arts world.
Yet now, he had no choice.
Because if he didn’t act, sooner or later, the realm would erupt in chaos—a catastrophe that would bring untold suffering.
“Amitabha.”
Master Hongye raised his palm and recited the Buddha’s name.
Lin Yuantu returned the gesture.
And then, in that very moment, he followed Master Hongye and began cultivating the seventy-two forms of the Bixie Sword Technique!
