Chapter Fifty: The Fox’s Tail

Butler Qu led them to the martial training grounds, where many estate guards and warriors were already practicing, their swords flashing at their waists. In the distance, a line of wooden targets stood a hundred yards away, prepared especially for those training in archery.

On one side, Zuo Qingcheng, with only one arm, wielded a steel saber, slicing through the air with such force that dust and fallen leaves swirled up from the ground, the sound drawing cheers from a group of estate men.

Elsewhere, Lin Feng was instructing Ye Ziyin in swordplay and comprehension. The two young men, both elegant and outstanding in appearance, drew admiring glances from several young women nearby.

Among the young warriors of Bamboo Grove Manor, there were both men and women, each possessing remarkable martial skills, no less than those of seasoned soldiers.

"Ziyin, the Illusory Cloud Sword Technique is founded on gentleness and focuses on adaptability. The sword follows the will, and only when one achieves unity between sword and self can true mastery be attained." All martial arts share similar principles; practicing with a sword is like training with a spear—only when man and weapon are as one can the practitioner act with true freedom. This was a truth Lin Feng had only come to last night.

But compared to the Spear of Pure Yang, the Illusory Cloud Sword Technique contained far more variations—sixty-four forms in all—and mastery could not be achieved in a short time. Ye Ziyin had no foundational training, so he had to build his skills steadily, one move at a time, if he was ever to reach great heights.

As the sun rose higher, nearing midday, Xia Baizhu's hearty laughter rang from beyond the bamboo grove. "The two young masters are here practicing sword and spear—how I envy you both!"

"Master!" the gathered warriors bowed in unison.

"Enough, enough. Someone fetch my Fire-Tilling Staff. Today, I shall spar with Young Master Lin," Xia Baizhu said with a broad smile, turning to Lin Feng. "Young Master Lin, you promised—you can't go back on your word now."

"Please, Master!" Lin Feng smiled, delighted at the chance for friendly competition.

Two burly servants hurried off, soon returning from the back courtyard carrying a staff of iron, its surface a deep copper-red, about eight feet long, with half-foot brass bands at either end, polished to a lustrous shine. Judging from the servants' strained steps and breath, the Fire-Tilling Staff must have weighed at least two or three hundred pounds, rivaling the weight of the Frost-Pearl Spear.

Xia Baizhu took up the staff in one hand, spun it in a flourish, and slammed it to the ground with a sudden thud, making the entire earth tremble.

"Please, Young Master Lin!"

"Very well! Master, be on your guard!" Lin Feng's expression grew solemn as he assumed his stance.

Xia Baizhu spun his iron staff up, down, left, and right, stirring up a fierce wind as he swept it straight for Lin Feng's chest. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! The crisp ring of metal on metal echoed as the pair each retreated several yards. The air was thick with a scorched, powdery scent, and beneath their feet, a series of deep footprints had been stamped into the earth.

"Exhilarating!" Xia Baizhu shouted, raising his staff and leaping forward, his body suddenly soaring high: "Mountain-Cleaving Staff!"

Down came the staff from overhead, trailing sparks and shadows, unstoppable as a falling boulder!

Bang! The Fire-Tilling Staff clashed against the Frost-Pearl Spear, sparks flying; the crimson iron seemed to blaze, burning with even greater luster.

Lin Feng felt his wrist go numb and quickly channeled his spiritual energy to resist, but in that moment he lost the initiative, and Xia Baizhu pressed his advantage with another blow.

"Amazing—who would have thought this seemingly frail strategist would possess such strength? I underestimated him," Lin Feng thought, flipping back several yards, spear held horizontal, his mind racing. "I can't use lethal force or spiritual power to suppress him—this iron staff truly is difficult to face."

At this moment, Xia Baizhu was at his most fierce, unleashing all his strength. The iron staff spun so tightly that not a breath could pass, his movements a whirlwind as the weapon crashed toward Lin Feng.

"I'll have to risk it! Losing here would disgrace my sect!" Lin Feng suddenly recalled the strange halberd technique Mu Hong had used the previous day. His eyes lit up as he spun his spear in a wide circle, the shaft revolving at dizzying speed, nearly slipping from his grip, the tip flashing star-like again and again, so quickly that even he couldn't tell which was real.

Buzz! The immense force of the Fire-Tilling Staff was sucked into the silvery circle of light, held fast, unable to break free! The Frost-Pearl Spear kept spinning, dissolving Xia Baizhu's attacks. In just a few heartbeats, all that crushing force faded into the flickering shadows.

Xia Baizhu was shocked, searching desperately for a counter when Lin Feng shouted, "Release!"

With a sudden twist, Lin Feng sent a surge of power outward; Xia Baizhu could not hold on, and the staff was flung dozens of yards away.

"What fine spear technique!" the crowd applauded in unison.

Lin Feng stepped back, grounding himself, steadying the spear as the tip darted forward like a serpent from its lair—another move, "The Flood Dragon Draws Water," aimed at the unarmed Xia Baizhu.

Of course he would not strike to kill, but the ferocity of the attack startled several onlookers into exclamations.

In that instant, Xia Baizhu's form flickered—once, then again—leaving a trail of afterimages. In a blink, he was ten yards away, reaching for the Fire-Tilling Staff.

"Stepping Through Rain to Pluck the Stars!" someone in the crowd called out the technique their master had just used.

"Haha! Young Master Lin, your spearwork is exceptional. I concede. How about we try our skills at unarmed combat next?" Xia Baizhu leapt up, slapping the staff into the ground, where it stood upright. His palm still flickered with a few embers, which quickly vanished.

"I fear I must disappoint you, Master; I have never studied unarmed arts," Lin Feng admitted. Save for the Overlord's Force, he truly had no notable skills in this area.

"Ah, that's right! I was thoughtless—I'd forgotten you are a cultivator, skilled in Daoist arts and immortal techniques. My fists and feet are not worth mentioning by comparison," Xia Baizhu said, pulling the staff from the ground and walking over.

"Master, you're too modest. Your staff technique is both swift and powerful—may I ask where you learned it?" Lin Feng inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Xia Baizhu tossed the weapon to a pair of servants and gestured. "This way, please. There are some cultivation matters I'd like to discuss."

"Of course, Master," Lin Feng replied, understanding his intent. The two of them walked along a shaded path, disappearing behind a line of ornamental rocks.

When they had left the garden, Xia Baizhu led Lin Feng to his study. After a servant brought tea, he finally spoke. "Young Master Lin, my 'Coiling Net Staff Technique' was taught to me directly by Prince Rongqing. According to the prince, this art originated from the Great Compassion Monastery. By chance, I inherited an iron staff, and when the prince heard, he bestowed this technique upon me. I've been practicing it for over ten years but have yet to grasp its essence. To lose to you is truly humbling!"

The Great Compassion Monastery was a famed temple in Mengliang, home to many warrior monks and renowned for both its prosperity and virtuous abbot, Master Renci, whose reputation in the cultivation world was unmatched. It was the only one of the Six Grand Monasteries to remain firmly rooted in the secular world. That the Coiling Net Staff Technique had leaked out was most likely due to the mixed company among its disciples.

"There's no need to be discouraged, Master. I myself only learned that move by chance from Mu Hong; otherwise, I would surely have lost to your staff. The martial arts of the world are as countless as the stars—each has its strengths and weaknesses. Besides, you are not a Daoist cultivator, and to reach this level is already impressive." Lin Feng offered these words kindly, for both martial and spiritual practice require a steady heart. If one's state of mind is unsettled, all future progress will be hindered.

"Alas, I've followed the prince for many years in hopes of one day saving the people from disaster, never forgetting either civil or martial duty. Yet all these years, I've failed to glimpse the true path of cultivation—not able to serve the country by rooting out corruption, nor to slay foes on the battlefield. I am left with nothing but a heart full of hot blood and no way to put it to use." Xia Baizhu sighed deeply, displaying his frustration.

Lin Feng frowned slightly. "Master, you have already made great contributions to Mengliang and to Prince Rongqing. Why are you so despondent?"

A fleeting, unreadable look passed through Xia Baizhu's eyes. He replied, "It is said that all of Grand Preceptor Qin Mi's followers are cultivators of great power. Even with the prince's abilities, he has been forced to keep a low profile these past years, lest disaster befall him. We advisers search everywhere for talent, but are often politely refused. If only we had a few experts like you, Young Master Lin, to stand guard—how could we have been forced to endure so long? Or, if only we could obtain a secret cultivation manual..."

Here, Xia Baizhu deliberately slowed his speech and observed Lin Feng's expression with caution.

Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat. So at last, Xia Baizhu revealed his true intent. Cultivation secrets were the most strictly guarded of all, forbidden by every sect to be taught outside their ranks. Foundational methods like the Immortal Longevity Art were never to be shared with outsiders—every disciple, upon joining, had sworn a solemn oath before the ancestral image never to reveal a single word, even if expelled.

This was common knowledge in the world of cultivation; Xia Baizhu could not possibly be ignorant of it.