Chapter Seven: Ascending the Snowy Mountain

In the early morning of the next day, sunlight streamed into the hollow of the tree. Zhou Yu opened his eyes and looked outside. The campfire had already burned out, and the old man was sitting beside it, closely inspecting something in his hands.

As Zhou Yu got up and approached, he saw that the old man was holding a pearl. The pearl was crystal-clear and snowy white, with wisps of mist swirling on its surface.

“This is the demon core of the fox spirit,” the old man said. With a flick of sword energy from his hand, he split the demon core into two halves. He handed one half to Zhou Yu. “Take this half. We’re going up Snow Mountain.”

Zhou Yu accepted it and placed it directly in his mouth. As he held it, a wave of icy coldness flowed into his abdomen. He shivered, feeling the chill fill his entire body, but in a moment, the cold vanished, replaced by a comforting warmth.

“Once you’ve taken the snow fox’s demon core, you’ll be able to withstand the bitter cold. Let’s take the remaining tiger meat with us—there’s little to eat atop the mountain,” the old man said, rising to his feet. Using a stick, he skewered the half-skinned, gutted tiger, and with a deft motion, hoisted it onto his shoulder. “You take the iron sword. We’re heading up.”

Zhou Yu walked over, lifted the iron sword, and slung it onto his shoulder, following the old man up the mountain.

“Master, why must you climb the mountain?” he asked.

“Haven’t I told you? I’m going up to practice my swordsmanship,” replied the old man, his empty right sleeve fluttering in the morning breeze.

Back then, no one had revealed their hand—how was Zhou Yu to know if he spoke the truth? He pondered this, then asked, “Master, what happened to your right arm?”

The old man stopped in his tracks, a flash of hatred in his eyes. “For twenty years, I roamed the world with few rivals, and no lasting enemies—for anyone who bore me a grudge was cut down. But there was one—she was no human, but the Demon Empress White Bone Weeps. It was she who severed my arm. I must kill her. Do you understand?”

Zhou Yu nodded. “If I can help you, I surely will.” This was no lie. Though the old man had used him at first, without him, Zhou Yu would already have been devoured by the demon tiger.

“But, Master, if you seek vengeance, why pass ten years of your cultivation to me? Wouldn’t that make revenge even harder?” Zhou Yu asked.

The old man didn’t answer at once, but turned and continued up the mountain. After a while, he said, “Because I... I fear I’ll never have my revenge. Forty years’ mastery in my right arm is gone. Even if I train my left to match what my right once was, I’m still far from White Bone Weeps. So I wish to take on a disciple—to let you avenge me.”

Suddenly Zhou Yu felt the burden on his shoulders grow heavier. To receive such kindness, one ought to repay a thousandfold—especially since the old man had saved his life.

“Master, I will do my utmost!” Zhou Yu resolved after a moment’s thought.

“You don’t want to ask why White Bone Weeps took my arm? Or what kind of being she is?” The old man turned to look at Zhou Yu.

Meeting his gaze, Zhou Yu replied firmly, “To be honest, I still can’t accept that I’ve crossed into another world—or that I’m the reincarnation of the Asura King. But all my life, I’ve been one to repay kindness and seek justice. You saved me, and I can foresee you’ll help me greatly again. Your cause is my cause, your enemy my enemy. In any world, any space, strength is the only true law. That much, I understood before I ever crossed over. With power, it doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong, or who the other is—strength decides all.”

A woman’s departing figure echoed in Zhou Yu’s heart. It was always for lack of strength that he’d lost what he cherished.

The old man nodded. “You’ve grasped the highest law of survival. You’re right. No matter right or wrong—if you’re strong, you’re right. To become a true powerhouse, you must pursue strength with single-minded fervor. Only then can you do as you wish, kill whom you wish.”

Zhou Yu hefted the great sword and swung it a few times through the air. “Given the way things stand, whatever my true identity, I must become stronger. I must survive. And if possible, I must go back and show her what true strength really means.”

The old man laughed. “It seems, after all, it is the sting of a woman that truly makes a man strong.”

Zhou Yu chuckled as well. “Perhaps I’ve let go, but I still feel some unwillingness. Enough of that, Master—when will you teach me the Iron Sword Sect’s techniques?”

They walked on as the old man replied, “We mustn’t delay. We’ll travel by day, and I’ll teach you at night. What do you think?”

Zhou Yu quickened his pace. “That’s perfect. By the way, how long will it take to reach the summit?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never climbed Mount Maze. For the past ten years, I’ve been in seclusion halfway up, restoring my sword energy to its former level—but my left hand is still untrained, so I’ve yet to recover my full strength. That’s why I’m going up, to practice,” the old man said, quickening his stride. “Your training begins now, with the climb. Let’s see how your body holds up.”

Zhou Yu realized the old man was speeding up, so he held his breath and followed closely behind.

A smile played on the old man’s lips. Truly a fine candidate—though physically frail for now, his character and aptitude are exceptional.

Zhou Yu had lived over twenty years in an age of information explosion, struggling up from the very bottom of society. Though still young, he was already seasoned, any youthful restlessness long since worn away. Had he not crossed over, he would have succeeded, step by step.

That evening, after finishing the tiger meat, Zhou Yu began chopping trees under the old man’s guidance. The old man corrected his posture, the coordination of his strength, and other details.

“Cultivation is arduous. For now, your main task is to strengthen your body, so chopping trees is good for you,” the old man said, sipping wine by the campfire.

With a shout, Zhou Yu swung the great sword hard and felled a tree as thick as a man’s waist. Under the old man’s guidance, he could now chop down such trees with a single blow.

“Master, tell me about this world,” Zhou Yu said, panting but not slowing his movements, putting all his strength into felling another giant tree.

So the old man began describing in detail the world’s factions and legendary powerhouses.

From his words, Zhou Yu learned that the two most powerful sects in the world were the Spirit Realm and the Sword Sovereign Sect, along with four legendary holy beasts of immense strength. At the pinnacle stood two men: Ling Youzi, lord of the Spirit Realm, and Liu Wuji, master of the Sword Sovereign Sect. In the last twenty years, Liu Wuji had risen rapidly, his strength now said to surpass even the thousand-year-old demon empress White Bone Weeps. He was the one most likely to surpass Ling Youzi and become the world’s foremost figure—indeed, he may already have done so.

Yet these two great powers had always been on friendly terms. One dwelled east of Mount Maze, the other to the west, both using the mountain as a barrier to halt the advance of the demon race into the human world.

Over twenty years ago, Liu Wuji had even studied in the Spirit Realm, apprenticed to Ling Youzi. The two strongest men in the world—master and disciple.

As Zhou Yu, drenched in sweat, chopped trees halfway up the eastern slope of Mount Maze, two figures were descending on the western slope.

“Uncle Fu, if we leave the mountain without permission, Father will surely punish us,” said a youth of striking beauty, his sword slung over his back, excitement and trepidation mingling in his eyes.

“Young Master, this is the Sect Master’s fortieth birthday. Though you’ve yet to break through with the Frost Sword Technique, I’m sure he’d be glad to see you,” the old man replied respectfully, also carrying a sword.

“I’m useless. Father is unrivaled in the world, yet my swordplay hasn’t improved in five years. I still can’t fuse the icy true energy Mother left me,” sorrow clouded the youth’s eyes.

At the foot of the mountain, beneath the deepening night, a pillar of fire suddenly shot into the sky. The explosion lit up the darkness, only to be swallowed again in a heartbeat.

The youth and the old man looked in that direction. The youth cried out, “Father!”

That was the Sword Sovereign Sect.