Things moved faster than I expected—I dismantled the White Specter gang internally through the war with the Black Fist gang. The Young Master continued:
"There's also a region rich with rare refined herbs that the Tang family reclaimed using court evidence. That land originally belonged to our ancestors, but the sect gang somehow forged the deed. Fortunately, we proved the forgery and arrested the culprit. We've reclaimed the land, and I intend to use it to refine my skills. Based on your achievements, you are welcome to take one rare plant of your choice once I secure the remaining stock. We also recovered all the money they illegally obtained, and about 80% of the planted herbs—most of them rare and tremendously valuable."
I replied: "Thank you, but I don't need it."
He asked: "I don't wish to pry into your affairs, but who are you and where did you come from? Your family is unknown, and your name unheard of. You appear to be in your twenties, yet your experience is like someone who lived thousands of years. The sword forms you use are polished to perfection. The scars on your body tell of countless battles. Who are you, for God's sake? Do you have a master?"
I answered: "I'm just a 23-year-old country youth. Nothing special. My mentor is both companion and instructor—but otherwise I'm an ordinary person."
He said: "Alright. I think I've troubled you enough. You may stay as long as you wish." Then he left the room.
After his departure, I dressed and went into the courtyard. There I saw Sheng Yan and Sheng Jin sparring. I observed them carefully—though their attacks were perfect, they relied purely on foresight, not skill or strategy. The combat felt hollow; they needed better sword control, not just tactics.
Sheng Jin launched a full-power aura strike, but Sheng Yan stood firm. He wrapped his sword in a 24‑cm thick aura and began mirroring my own style—surpassing the strike's path and instantly slashing through the aura.
A voice said: "Interesting. This generation holds greater talent than previous ones. Exceptional skills indeed. And you, young man—what are you doing?"
It was the former head of the Tang clan.
I replied: "Honorable sir, I've been watching the duel. They make many mistakes by relying solely on foresight without real experience. They must forge a symbiotic union with their sword and refine their tactics. If they develop enough predictive adaptation, they'll repel attacks without conscious thought—something that becomes second nature—but that requires dedicated training."
The old man responded: "Young man, your reply is seasoned. It comes from eons of sword polishing and sensory refinement—not from a child in his twenties. Your skill surpasses even those at Sword Perfection, reaching toward Realm of Ascendance. If I hadn't been in an unconscious state when I fought you—if you hadn't dodged that surprise strike—I might have matched you even at full power. Your combat experience is devastating. Your body instinctively evades because it anticipates millions of possibilities. But you haven't acquired true foresight yet. Perhaps you lack the inner drive. You may even lack natural talent, so your body compensates with experience, pushing beyond limits. Develop your sensory awareness to its utmost boundary. It may help to blindfold your eyes and rely solely on perception—even while eating or training daily. You might discover your enlightenment through that."
The patriarch departed. I sat and closed my eyes, listening. Through sound waves I could sense the number and position of people: warriors drinking, the young master flipping documents, the clan head with his wine jug, Sheng Yan and Sheng Jin in heated exchange. Even the chirps of birds being fed by their mother. My sensory radius—once narrow—now extended to 800 meters. Was this expansion due to the Tree of Memories? Or my dominion over the unconscious realm and absolute will? I wasn't sure—but I felt the difference.
Days passed. My sensory range stretched to about 1,200 meters. I could hear nearly all sounds, yet I still hadn't reached the Realm of Peak. Perhaps my talent is poor—but I compensate with experience. That's why experience can overshadow innate talent.
A thought came to me: What if I abandoned even perception—entered my own mental world without senses—and trained with the old man again? So I decided to try.
This time, when I entered I sensed no Jian Chang, but a brilliant light filled the space. This... this is absolute will. It seemed to have separated from me and manifested its own entity. It appeared as a woman in white robes, long hair, blue eyes. I assumed will would take a masculine shape. I bowed. "Greetings, my lord," she said. "I am Absolute Will. Honored to know you. From now on I will oversee the realm of your subconscious in your absence."
I said: "It's an honor. Let me give you a name... Lan Ying."
She smiled: "Thank you, lord. I will fulfill your command. Excuse me—now I must manage the Tree of Memories."
Before she vanished, I asked: "Can I train my senses here in the subconscious world?"
She answered: "Yes, you can—but the method is complex. First, I will suppress your senses. Then you strike the subconscious plane with your foot—it will reveal who you need. The subconscious is the foundation of all other realms within your mind. Now, strike it."
She pulled my hand and placed it on my chest, releasing an aura. Suddenly, all sensations were gone. I remembered the summoning method for that old man I wanted to fight. Even without senses, I felt his presence.
He didn't assault me, but communicated via code-like perception:
"Hmm—your perception has grown too strong. You wish to refine your awareness without senses?"
I responded mentally: "You are correct. I need to evolve without perception. This may lead me to enlightenment."
He said: "Come. Let's see what you have."
I moved toward him relying only on internal awareness—but suddenly I reappeared in the same spot. It meant he had killed me.
I attempted the fight again. I dodged 5 strikes in the tenth attempt. By the 38th, I dodged twenty-four. At attempt number 150, I resisted for 15 minutes. I even regained a sense of touch, despite having none. I wondered if I had attained unity with the sword—true Perfection.
At attempt 180, the old man advised: "You've reached near perfection with your sword. With your experience, you could defeat late-stage Ascendance warriors—but you would fail against those at the peak. The gap is immense. You have refined your sword and awareness almost completely—but perhaps your limited talent is your barrier. However, you can still transcend it with the right motivator. Many discover it themselves."
I pondered: So maybe I can't reach Sword Integration or Ascendance yet—unless I find that motivation.
He said: "You will find it, young man."
I resolved to continue the trials until I understood the nature of that motivator.
In that realm between seconds and years, I have fought for 200 years exact. Yet I still can't defeat the old man—they show a new technique each time that counters every previous tactic.
I asked: "Who are you, old man?"
He answered: "I'm the unconscious will of a humble old man named Zong Jian. I'm not his entire being—but I hold all his memories. I won't reveal them until you can defeat me."
I replied: "As you wish."
He began with a vertical crushing blow. I responded with a counter technique: a wave slash that redirects an incoming strike from its hilt to flow into the opponent's blade. Yet none of that was enough. With one strike, he cut me in half.
He then sent a message: "Now we begin in earnest, young man."
Over 20,000 years passed. In the first ten thousand, I lost 4,800 times and tied 5,200—never won a single fight. Every 100 matches, I lost 48 and tied 52. But gradually my senses expanded—now I feel the environment up to 10 km around with automatic prediction of attacks. My body evades without thought, but foresight remains out of reach.
This final encounter—I cannot fail again. Too much is at stake.
Scars crisscross my back and stomach; only one remains on my head. If this goes on, I will become grotesque. Now.
This is the last battle. If I win now... everything changes.