Meng Dajiang looked at his son, recalling Meng Chuan's recent battles with monsters at the Slaying Demon Ceremony. In his heart, he understood. Chuan'er's wings were still young, but it was time to let him truly spread them.
"Before Meng Chuan begins cultivating the Godfiend body, bring him to me to take the Godfiend Marrow Elixir," Immortal Aunt Meng instructed.
"Yes," Meng Dajiang responded.
That single drop of Godfiend Marrow Elixir was priceless.
Even in the capital, among ancient Godfiend families, most talented youths could never obtain even a drop to forge a Godfiend foundation. Only rare prodigies, born once every hundred years, would receive such devoted cultivation. And even those families had limits—none could wager everything like the Meng family.
"Meng Chuan, if you encounter difficulties in cultivation, you can come to Great-Aunt," she smiled. "Any troubles, speak to me."
"Great-Aunt," Meng Chuan said immediately, "I do have one question, which has been troubling me."
"You mean how to reach the next level in blade mastery?" she asked with a gentle smile.
"Yes," Meng Chuan nodded. "I asked the Academy Dean, but he only said that he created a top-tier blade art to comprehend Blade Momentum."
"That is indeed one method," she nodded, then turned to Meng Dajiang. "Dajiang, how did you breakthrough?"
Meng Dajiang paused, a trace of recollection in his eyes. "During military service, I was in a squad with specific roles. I was responsible for engaging monsters. So I mainly trained just three blade moves… I stayed at Qinyang Pass for ten years. Later, I left to return home and traveled nearby. By chance, I witnessed a woman fighting a monster."
Meng Dajiang looked at Meng Chuan and smiled. "That woman was your mother."
Meng Chuan's heart skipped.
Mother?
"She was beautiful. In the sunlight, her silhouette battling the monster… I will never forget it. I was filled with strength and charged directly, using my blade to easily engage the monster. That time, my blade form felt ethereal, effortless. And just like that, I comprehended Blade Momentum," Meng Dajiang said with a smile. "The first time I met your mother, I realized the Momentum. Quite a coincidence."
"Dajiang had ten years of battlefield experience to accumulate, and on that day, achieved a breakthrough," Immortal Aunt Meng said. "You only trained three moves, while your Academy Dean created a full top-tier blade art. The difference: your dean focused on breadth, Dajiang on depth. Neither is superior. In fact, in engaging enemies, your father is even more skilled."
Meng Chuan nodded. "I've read Godfiend biographies. Deng Feng practiced alone in the mountains, drawing his blade ten thousand times daily for twenty years. Emerging from seclusion, he killed a Wulou Stage opponent in one strike with Marrow-Washing Stage power."
"Yes. Killing a Wulou Stage opponent at Marrow-Washing Stage, that strike surpassed Blade Momentum. He represents specialization, but his talent far exceeded your father's. That one strike stunned Yuanchu Mountain, and they recruited him directly—no tests needed. Yet without guidance, his blade art had a fatal flaw: he only knew that one strike! If anyone exploited it, he would be doomed. Luckily, Yuanchu Mountain quickly corrected this, making his specialization even stronger, allowing him to dominate his era."
Meng Chuan nodded slightly.
"I spent much time at Anhai Pass and received instruction from King Anhai," Immortal Aunt Meng continued. "His strength is unfathomable, and his status in Yuanchu Mountain supreme. In terms of power, he is not inferior to Deng Feng."
Meng Chuan knew King Anhai was formidable.
In Dongning Prefecture, ordinary recruits went to Qinyang Pass. Godfiends on the battlefield mostly went to Anhai Pass. Its supreme commander, King Anhai, was deeply respected even by the Zhou royal family.
"King Anhai told me," she said, looking at Meng Chuan, "cultivation must follow your intuition, pursue what your heart loves most. You will progress further each step. Decades later, looking back, you will have surpassed your former self. Remember this: follow your intuition, pursue what you truly love."
"Understood," Meng Chuan nodded.
…
Back at the Mirror Lake Meng Residence, Meng Chuan returned to the arena.
Sitting alone, eating fruit, he pondered.
"King Anhai's guidance to Great-Aunt aligns with my own 'Nine Principles of Cultivation,' fourth rule: Artisan and Master," he thought. "Following intuition and the heart's desire allows deeper focus, more obsession, and greater mastery toward becoming a master."
"After listening to the Dean, Father, and now Great-Aunt, and comparing with my Nine Principles…"
"I know the direction I should take next."
Meng Chuan had long decided his path.
He still sought the guidance of senior cultivators to cross-check ideas.
"Sixth principle: what you learn must form a system. A strong cultivator's life often hinges on their weakest point. One flaw can be fatal. Even mastery in one technique repeatedly can fail once, costing life."
"Deng Feng excelled in one strike. Great-Aunt said he had a fatal flaw, fortunately corrected upon entering Yuanchu Mountain."
"As a swordsman…"
"Killing, defense, escape—three aspects," Meng Chuan said. "These three form a system. I will specialize in these paths."
"Fifth principle: daily progress leads to monthly change, culminating in achievement. A little improvement each day over three, five, ten years becomes immense."
"Ancient wisdom: 'Accumulating earth forms mountains, water forms deep seas; accumulated virtue brings enlightenment…' This resonates with the fifth principle."
"But there is a flaw: daily progress without direction is meaningless. Even thousands of steps may circle back. Direction is key."
"Cultivation is the same. Without a clear direction, one may wander endlessly. This explains why many fail practicing Deng Feng's blade art."
Some successors of Deng Feng practiced tirelessly. Most failed midway, unable to ignore distractions, spending four hours daily on one blade. Even without distractions, misalignment was common. Success existed, hence the saying: 'master one, conquer all.'
"One must have a clear path, moving forward each day. No detours, no circles. Every day extends the distance. Eventually, you reach the destination."
"Why do I love fast blades? Because they are fast."
"My direction is clear: speed!"
…
In the training arena.
"Young Master, shall I begin?" a guard asked, perched on a tree branch, crossbow aimed below.
"Begin."
Meng Chuan stood ready.
Whiz.
The guard fired an arrow downward.
Meng Chuan drew his blade in an instant, cutting through it.
Shing!
The arrow split; a trace of blade energy scored the sturdy tree trunk.
"As long as the mark climbs the tree, it shows my blade exits faster, splitting the arrow earlier," he thought.
Three paths: killing, defense, escape.
For killing, he practiced only one move, following intuition and desire: the Draw Blade Technique. He loved the instant the blade left the sheath—the silence, the wind's whisper. This beauty obsessed him. Faster strikes, sharper wind whispers.
Only one move. Pursue speed.
Whiz. Another arrow shot from above. Consistent speed allowed Meng Chuan to gauge improvement. Precision mattered: the blade must cleave the arrow in a flash.
Daily, Meng Chuan trained the Draw Blade Technique: three hours, eight thousand draws.
His Draw Blade derived from the Falling Leaf Blade, perfected by Yuanchu Mountain Godfiends and taught across Zhou's academies.