Chapter 214: The Most Important Lesson!
At only four years old, Cheng Lingshuang carried a heavy iron sword strapped to her back that was nearly as tall as she was. The sheer disproportion of the massive weapon against her tiny frame made her look incredibly awkward as she waddled through the bustling street.
Despite the curious stares and whispering crowds parting around them, her small face remained completely blank. She kept her dark eyes locked firmly on the cobblestone path beneath her little boots and on Rovel's back just a few steps ahead, showing absolutely zero interest in the vibrant market stalls or the noisy pedestrians surrounding her.
"Two skewers of candied haws, please," Rovel said, dropping a few copper coins onto a wooden cart. He accepted the two glistening sticks of sugar-coated fruit from the smiling roadside vendor and turned, handing one down to the little girl.
Cheng Lingshuang took the wooden stick in both hands. She stared at the bright red spheres of candied haws for a long moment, tilting her head slightly, before shifting her gaze up to Rovel.
Slowly, she tentatively stuck out her little pink tongue and gave the hardened sugar shell a cautious lick. A bright, sugary sweetness instantly danced across her taste buds.
It tasted... not bad?
She opened her mouth wider and bit gently through the crisp, translucent outer layer of brown sugar. The large, plump hawthorn hidden inside burst with a sharp, refreshing touch of tartness. The sour juice and the sweet sugar shell balanced each other perfectly, melting over her tongue and ensuring the treat wasn't overly cloying.
"Remember, the small hawthorn pits inside aren't edible. You have to spit those out," Rovel reminded her, watching her chew with a soft smile.
Cheng Lingshuang nodded silently, immediately committing the instruction to memory.
She worked her way down the wooden stick with methodical bites. Soon, the candied haws were entirely gone. However, the four-year-old now felt a bit sticky. Without realizing it, she had smeared some of the melting syrup across her cheeks and the back of her small hands.
With sugar crusting around her mouth and nose, she looked exactly like a messy little calico cat.
Chuckling softly, Rovel led her toward a nearby water basin to wash her face, carefully wiping away the sticky brown sugar until her pale cheeks were clean again.
Once they left the town behind, the atmosphere shifted. The vibrant greens of the forest gradually gave way to withered gray brush.
"Lingshuang, the first lesson I'm going to teach you today is also an ironclad rule," Rovel said, his tone dropping its previous warmth. "It is a law that every disciple of the Taixu Sword Sect, and indeed everyone who walks the martial world, must follow without question."
"The Corrupted must be eliminated."
Rovel stopped walking and looked down at Cheng Lingshuang, his expression hardened into absolute seriousness. Seeing the rare, solemn weight in her senior brother's eyes, Cheng Lingshuang tightened her grip on her oversized sword and nodded vigorously.
"But before you can execute that rule, I believe it's necessary to teach you how to properly judge whether someone has actually become one of the Corrupted."
Rovel led Cheng Lingshuang deeper into a desolate valley, a place heavily saturated with corrosive Honkai Energy. The air here tasted metallic, and a faint purple mist clung to the dead soil.
"First, when the Corrupted reach the point of deep infection, most lose their sanity entirely. They become mindless, bloodthirsty beasts with no human consciousness left behind." Rovel kept his eyes scanning the rocky terrain. "Even if their limbs are broken, even if their organs are crushed, they will not stop attacking."
Just as the words left his mouth, a frenzied, twisted figure suddenly burst out from the shadows of a nearby boulder, lunging at them with jagged fingernails and a guttural shriek.
"Immortal Art: Renji," Rovel murmured. He raised his hand slightly, gathering a sharp burst of True Qi. With a casual backhand strike, an invisible pressure slammed into the monster, pinning the thrashing Corrupted face-first into the dirt.
The creature continued to struggle violently, its jaw snapping at the empty air as it let out meaningless, animalistic roars.
"This kind is the easiest to identify. You don't need to hesitate; you don't need to think. You just kill them."
As Rovel spoke, a blinding flash of sword light flickered from his fingertips. The Corrupted man, who had been thrashing wildly just a second ago, kicked his legs once and went completely still, his head cleanly severed.
Rovel turned to look at Cheng Lingshuang. The four-year-old stared back at him with wide, innocent eyes, completely unfazed by the spray of dark blood.
"Senior Brother said they can be killed," she stated flatly, as if reciting a math equation.
"I'm trying to give you a lesson on morality and judgment..." Rovel sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in defeat. "Forget it, it's basically the same thing."
"Second," Rovel continued, stepping over the corpse. "When the corruption reaches a certain stage, they gradually lose control of their consciousness. This manifests physically. Their skin turns an unnatural, sickly white, while their hair also progressively bleaches to the same color."
He gestured toward the dead creature on the ground, pointing out the chalky skin and ash-white hair.
"Do not show mercy to these either. Kill them immediately. If you hesitate, it won't be long before they turn into the first type." Rovel's eyes narrowed. "These specific Corrupted are the best at playing the victim. Once the bloodlust rises in their veins, they will do and say absolutely anything to survive."
"They might even suddenly attack you while crying and begging for mercy."
Rovel drew his sword, quickly dug a shallow hole, and kicked the corpse inside to bury it. Once the dirt was packed down, they continued their search through the infected valley.
It didn't take long before Rovel found a second type among the Corrupted.
Exactly as Rovel had warned, the pale-skinned man resisted fiercely at first. But upon realizing his martial arts were completely outmatched by Rovel's overwhelming pressure, the man dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, and began to wail for mercy.
He slammed his forehead against the dirt, claiming to have an eighty-year-old mother to support and a bedridden three-year-old child waiting for him at home—it was a tragic, desperate story designed to make any listener weep with pity.
Seeing that Rovel and the little girl simply stared at him with cold, unresponsive eyes, the man feigned a tearful, stumbling approach. Then, in a split second, his sorrowful expression twisted into a vicious snarl. He lunged forward like a coiled viper, his hand snapping out to grab Cheng Lingshuang by the throat, attempting to use the tiny child as a hostage.
The result, naturally, was a flash of cold iron. Cheng Lingshuang drew her massive blade and cleanly bisected him with a single, flawless sword strike.
Until his dying breath, as his upper half slid off his lower half, the Corrupted man couldn't understand why a four-year-old child possessed such terrifyingly sharp swordsmanship and such a ruthless, unshakable temperament.
"The third type are those who have just begun to turn," Rovel explained, stepping past the fresh bloodstain. "Purple patterns will appear on their bodies. Those with better physical constitutions can still move freely and completely control their thoughts. However, those with weaker constitutions will appear as if they've contracted a grave illness, coughing blood, with their days clearly numbered."
"As for these..." Rovel paused, looking down at the small girl.
"Not kill them?" Cheng Lingshuang looked up at Rovel, her dark eyes blinking slowly.
"They must be killed too," Rovel gave the cold answer.
Cheng Lingshuang: "..."
"However, because they still retain their humanity, you can give them some time to write letters or say their final goodbyes to their families. During this granted time, if they try to escape, then kill them immediately," Rovel explained, his voice heavy with the grim reality of their world.
Cheng Lingshuang nodded, silently committing this new rule to memory.
"The fourth type..."
"There's more?" Cheng Lingshuang blinked, her tiny brows furrowing slightly.
"Yes," Rovel nodded.
"Remember Yan Shiluo on Wang Mountain? Those who can use True Qi to manipulate flames are basically..."
Rovel stopped mid-sentence. A complicated emotion flashed across his eyes, and he suddenly changed the subject.
"Forget it. You don't need to remember this type."
Cheng Lingshuang tilted her head, her twin tails swaying. "Why?"
"Because the conditions for their birth are far too harsh; it's almost impossible for them to appear in this era. Just remember what I said: forget the fourth type," Rovel told her firmly.
"...Okay." This was the very first time Cheng Lingshuang had ever been ordered by Rovel to forget something.
In the past, her training was always about remembering—memorizing the Sword Heart Mantra, perfecting the Sword Forms, reciting the sect rules.
For a moment, she stood there, her small hands gripping her sword strap, genuinely unsure of what to do with this contradictory command.
"The fifth type of the Corrupted are the people around you," Rovel continued, his voice dropping to a quiet, intense whisper.
"Whether it's me, your other senior sisters, your junior brothers, or even our Master, Red Kite."
Cheng Lingshuang's breath hitched slightly, her dark eyes widening.
"When they fall to madness, you must ask your own heart. You must ask the sword in your hand: should this sword be drawn?"
"Remember this, Lingshuang. You must be absolutely clear about your own thoughts, rather than being swept up by the opinions, rules, or demands of others."
"If you truly feel that it is your own will, and that the time has come for this sword to be unsheathed... then go ahead and do it."
Rovel placed his warm hand on Cheng Lingshuang's small shoulder and crouched down slightly so they were at eye level. His expression was more serious, more burdened, than she had ever seen before.
"Senior Brother, I don't understand." A rare hint of genuine confusion and distress appeared on Cheng Lingshuang's small, doll-like face.
"Can you teach me how to judge? Just like you taught me how to read the characters in the books, and taught me the Sword Forms, and the Sword Heart Mantra..."
This was the first time Rovel had ever asked her to think entirely for herself, unconstrained by the rigid rules of others.
Thus, the genius prodigy of the Taixu Sword Sect felt completely lost, standing at a total loss for words.
"I'm sorry, but not this time. Lingshuang, you must learn this lesson yourself." Rovel gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "This is the most important lesson I will ever teach you!"
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