Just as Yu Wenqiu had said, the Sword-Questioning Stone's trials were priced at a genuinely absurd premium.
Gu Chengming made a round of inquiries at the External Affairs Hall. One look at the contribution-point cost — enough to wipe him out entirely — left a dull ache in his back teeth.
At his current rate of accumulation, forget once a month. Even saving diligently for three to five years, he'd be lucky to stand before that stone for the length of a single incense stick.
Still, all roads led to Rome. Having no money just meant playing the game a different way.
He had another card up his sleeve.
.........
Huiyuan Gate. Elder Hall.
Ren Wencai sat upright in the seat of honor, idly working two smooth jade walnuts through his fingers, his gaze carrying the particular languid inattention of a man who already knew how things would go.
He watched Gu Chengming bow respectfully below the dais and allowed himself a private smirk.
This kid never showed up without an agenda.
Just a few days ago he'd handed the boy a favor; now here he was again at the door. Clearly he wanted something.
But Ren Wencai was in no hurry.
Projecting an air of measured authority was a skill any superior had to master. He lifted his teacup and sipped at a leisurely pace, letting Gu Chengming stand there for a good long while. Only when the last of the tea was gone did he let his attention drift back, as though just now remembering someone was waiting, and spoke in an unhurried drawl:
"Ah, Little Gu. What brings you by today?"
Gu Chengming didn't beat around the bush. He cupped his hands again and bowed.
"This disciple has come to ask a favor of Elder."
"Oh?"
Ren Wencai raised an eyebrow — but rather than asking what the favor was, he pivoted smoothly, dropping the question with an air of casual afterthought:
"No rush on that. First — the Flowing Light, Sword Shadows I passed along to you the other day. How is your practice coming along?"
Even as he asked, he was already drafting the script in his head.
He'd taken more than a few strolls past that little courtyard these past days. With his own eyes, he'd watched this kid spend every waking hour either staring blankly at medicinal herbs or grinding away at that hopelessly dated foundational sword art. The Flowing Light, Sword Shadows scroll hadn't been touched once.
His plan: use this moment to deliver a well-aimed rebuke. Teach the boy a lesson about overreaching ambition. Let him stumble over his words, stammer out some excuse — then put on a stern face, deliver a proper dressing-down, and finally relent with great reluctance and grant whatever he'd come to ask. Strike and soothe in the same breath. Authority established, goodwill earned. Neat and clean.
And then.
In the very next instant, Gu Chengming's movement lodged the prepared reprimand squarely in Ren Wencai's throat.
Without a word, without any change in expression, Gu Chengming simply let his right hand rest lightly on the wooden sword at his hip.
"Zheng——"
A sword-cry rang out — faint almost to the point of inaudibility, yet impossibly clear.
No winding buildup. No elaborate opening stance.
Gu Chengming's frame swayed — and in that single instant, the whole of him seemed to dissolve into a streak of flowing light.
A heartbeat later, a pale blue sword-mark had appeared on the stone pillar at the center of the hall — three fen deep, the cut face smooth as a mirror.
And Gu Chengming himself stood exactly where he'd been standing before, as though he had never moved at all. Only the hand that had rested on the hilt now hung at his side.
"…"
The entire hall fell into a dead silence.
The jade walnuts stilled in Ren Wencai's hands. He stared, wide-eyed, fixed on the sword-mark carved into the pillar, his mind a perfect blank.
How was this possible?! He had watched this kid with his own eyes — he hadn't practiced at all!
Was this what people meant by a genius? See it once and you've got it? Sleep on it and wake up knowing it?
Was this boy even human?
What shook Ren Wencai even more was what he sensed buried within that seemingly unremarkable sword-mark — a thread of something profoundly strange.
It was not the upright, razor-keen sword intent typical of a sword cultivator.
It was something else entirely. An aura that felt as though it had been forged specifically to prey on its own kind.
"This…"
A disquiet took root in Ren Wencai's chest.
That quality — it felt like something designed to counter sword cultivators specifically.
Flowing Light, Sword Shadows had its roots in Yunyue Sect, yes, but it was still a clean, upstanding fast-sword technique. How had it ended up like this in the boy's hands?
What was this — a sword cultivator bane?
Ren Wencai turned it over and over and couldn't make sense of it. He even began to wonder if the manual he'd given the boy had some flaw in it, or whether the kid had trained the qi astray and stumbled down some crooked, deviant path.
But not a flicker of any of this crossed his face.
Because — come on. He'd been sitting here two seconds ago ready to dress the boy down for "not putting in the work," and the boy had promptly turned around and thrown a masterclass right in his face.
If he showed surprise now, wouldn't that just make him look like an elder with no eye for talent?
Ren Wencai drew a slow breath, forcibly arranged his features into an expression of warm, knowing approval — the look of a man who had foreseen all of this — and pressed his palms together in appreciation.
"Excellent! Excellent!"
He clapped and laughed, his voice rich with admiration.
"I hadn't expected you to possess such insight. In a mere matter of days, you've already grasped the essence of this technique. It seems this old man's eye for talent did not lead him astray."
"Ahem, ahem."
He coughed twice to smooth over the awkwardness and swiftly changed the subject.
"Now then — what was it you came to ask of me today?"
Gu Chengming knew when to quit while he was ahead. He had no interest in puncturing the elder's slightly wooden performance, and answered with composed deference:
"In my cultivation of late, I have felt something stir — yet my mind remains clouded, and my sword intent cannot fully break through. I have heard that the sect possesses a Sword-Questioning Stone, capable of honing the sword-heart and calling forth one's true self."
"And so, this disciple makes bold to ask — would Elder permit me to attempt a trial at the Sword-Questioning Stone?"
"The Sword-Questioning Stone?"
Ren Wencai's brow furrowed faintly, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes.
The Sword-Questioning Stone was a profound treasure, but it was ordinarily reserved for disciples who had reached the Second Realm or even the Third — those on the verge of condensing sword intent or struggling against a mental-demon bottleneck.
This kid was only at the Fifth Layer of the First Realm. What business did he have poking around over there?
Wait.
A flash of clarity struck Ren Wencai. His gaze snapped back to the sword-mark on the pillar, and his heart gave a sudden lurch.
"Cultivation stirring within… sword intent failing to break through…"
Surely not…
This boy hadn't merely learned the technique — he was already standing at the threshold of sword intent?!
Sword intent at the Fifth Layer of the First Realm?
How many Second Realm cultivators spent their entire lives unable to so much as brush against sword intent? And this kid — how long had he even been at this?
If he actually managed it…
Almost on instinct, Ren Wencai nearly blurted out a yes on the spot.
Never mind one trial at the Sword-Questioning Stone — ten trials, a hundred, whatever it took to help this boy condense sword intent: every last contribution point would be money well spent.
But he was an old hand at this game.
The more tempting the moment, the steadier he had to hold. Show too much eagerness, and the boy would get ideas about his own indispensability — and then he'd become very hard to manage indeed.
Ren Wencai forced down the excitement roiling in his chest. The expression on his face settled back into unhurried composure — with just a hint of careful deliberation.
His fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the tabletop. Tap. Tap. Tap. The picture of a man weighing costs against gains.
"The Sword-Questioning Stone is one of the sect's great treasures. Each activation consumes considerable resources. It is not something to be lightly extended to those without great merit or great virtue."
His voice was measured and flat, impossible to read.
"You are a disciple this old man values, true enough — but rules are rules. If I make an exception for you, and every other disciple follows suit demanding the same, where does that leave the sect's order?"
Gu Chengming understood completely.
They were now negotiating.
He didn't panic. He simply waited for what came next.
And sure enough, Ren Wencai's tone pivoted smoothly.
"That said — rules are rigid, but people are flexible."
"You have this dedication to the Dao-path. As your senior, I naturally cannot simply stand by and do nothing."
"Here is what I propose."
Ren Wencai leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening as it fixed on Gu Chengming.
"The Sword-Questioning Stone trials — I can arrange that for you. Not just one session either. If you need it, I can give you three chances."
"However…"
He extended one finger and gave it a slow, deliberate wag.
"I am bending the rules for you. In return, you'll need to give me something that proves you're worth bending them for."
"The upcoming disciple assessment…"
Ren Wencai left the sentence unfinished, fixing Gu Chengming with a long, meaningful look.
His meaning was plain.
Merely passing the assessment was no longer enough to satisfy his appetite.
Since the boy had given him such a magnificent surprise, the boy could damn well take that stage and put on the loudest, most spectacular performance it had ever seen.
Gu Chengming raised his head, cupped his hands once more, and answered in a clear, steady voice:
"This disciple understands."
"In the coming assessment, I will give everything I have. I will not fail Elder's expectations."
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