Chapter 6: The Night of the Winter Solstice

Zhang Heng’s saber technique bore a simple name: The Three Fatal Strikes.

True to its name, the core of the entire technique consisted of three moves—cleave, thrust, and sweep. The tasks Zhang Heng assigned to Ning Xiu were equally straightforward: each day, he was to practice a thousand cleaves, a thousand thrusts, and a thousand sweeping strikes.

Each swing, combined with raising the saber, took perhaps one to three seconds. A thousand repetitions, timewise, was not excessive. Yet to land every single blow on exactly the same spot was a far greater challenge—especially as one's strength began to wane. The thrusts were the same; at first, Ning Xiu had thought them simple, but once he set to practicing, he found his blade frequently missing the mark painted on the wall before him.

By comparison, the sweeping strike was easier, though far more tedious.

Thus, during the days that followed, before dawn had broken, Ning Xiu would arrive at Zhang Heng’s courtyard to begin his practice, and only after night had fully fallen would he drag his exhausted body home.

Beyond mere admiration, Zhang Heng had grown deeply curious about this young master. He had spent several years in Shouchun County and knew well the Ning family’s status; for a young lord like Ning Xiu, a life of ease and comfort was guaranteed, with no need to struggle through such arduous martial training.

In the Great Qian Dynasty, save for a handful of grandmasters, martial artists held little prestige. The civil service exams offered far greater prospects, and even merchants enjoyed more respect. The only plausible explanation was the recent surge in banditry around Shouchun, prompting Ning Xiu to learn martial arts for self-preservation. Yet the single-minded fervor he displayed seemed almost excessive.

The entire Ning household shared this uncertainty, but Ning Xiu’s obsession with martial arts, while baffling, had actually lowered the vigilance of the main and secondary branches toward him—a martial man, after all, would never inherit the grand family estate.

Only the old master, Lord Ning, watched silently, voicing neither support nor objection.

Every day, Ning Xiu watched as the “Martial Deity” system steadily increased his saber technique proficiency, and his heart brimmed with satisfaction.

Ding!

Congratulations, host: Basic Saber Technique proficiency has reached 100% (Mastery).

System notice: Host has met the prerequisites to learn the Blood Saber Technique. Learn now?

“Yes,” Ning Xiu intoned silently.

Immediately, an ethereal figure appeared in his mind, demonstrating the Blood Saber Technique. At the same time, a flood of key insights unraveled before his inner vision.

He found himself absorbing the technique with surprising ease, the process utterly free of confusion or stumbling blocks.

System notice: Congratulations, host, you have mastered the Blood Saber Technique. Proficiency: 10%. System evaluation: Novice Insight.

“At last... success.” Ning Xiu sheathed his saber and murmured softly.

To his surprise, the Blood Saber Technique began at 10% proficiency, and the evaluation leaped directly to Novice Insight instead of mere beginner’s luck. Ning Xiu surmised this was thanks to his thorough grounding in the basic saber method—and he was right; heaven rewards the diligent.

He had begun training just after the first snow; if memory served, it was the day of the Minor Snow festival. Now, it was already the Winter Solstice.

It wasn’t until Xiaocui came running into the courtyard to call him for dinner that Ning Xiu returned to his senses.

By custom, the Winter Solstice banquet required the attendance of all Ning clan members unless they had special cause. The main family gathered in the grand hall, distant relatives in the side halls, and even the servants enjoyed their own feasts in their quarters.

After bidding Zhang Heng farewell, Ning Xiu changed into clean attire and headed for the main hall. On arriving, he sensed something was amiss—the atmosphere was unusually tense, every face solemn, even his usually mischievous little cousin quiet in their third aunt’s arms.

He glanced back at Xiaocui, whose face was equally pale with fright.

“Father, what did Magistrate Sun say? These bandits are running rampant—will the authorities truly do nothing? The Wu family may be small, but if disaster can befall them, what’s to stop it from reaching us in time?” Ning Zhiyuan, Ning Xiu’s uncle, spoke in a low, grave voice.

Half an hour earlier, the family of Old Wu, who ran an inn in the west of town, had been attacked by mountain bandits. Everyone in the household—save for Wu’s thirteen-year-old daughter, whose whereabouts were unknown—had been killed.

Ning Xiu vaguely recalled the incident, though the passage of time had blurred the details. If he had remembered more precisely, perhaps the tragedy could have been averted.

What should have been a joyous reunion dinner was instead a somber affair. As they left, worry clouded every face. Following Ning Mingfeng’s orders, all family members were strictly forbidden from going out after dark, and the household martial artists increased their patrols.

Returning to his room, Ning Xiu sat in silence for a time, then, saber at his side, quietly climbed over the wall.

Once outside the estate, he hurried toward the western edge of town.

In front of the Wu residence, constables came and went, while a dozen corpses lay in the snow nearby—undoubtedly, the entire Wu family.

The crimson blood had stained the snow around them.

Perhaps due to the Winter Solstice, the county’s patrols had been less vigilant that night, allowing this calamity to unfold.

After a brief glance, Ning Xiu slipped out of town.

If memory served, these bandits haunted the pine forests of the southwestern Songfeng Ridge. Having plundered the Wu family’s wealth and abducted a young girl, their progress would not be swift.

Ning Xiu had no intention of marching into Songfeng Ridge to throw his life away—he merely sought a chance on the road to test his saber. After so many days of training, it was time to see the fruits of his labor.

At the Wu residence, he had examined the bodies in secret and found the wounds haphazard, bearing the clear marks of desperate struggle. If it took so many to subdue ordinary folk, these bandits were surely not highly skilled.

For Ning Xiu at his current level, they were the perfect whetstone.

The night was dark and the wind howled across the desolate wilds. Alone, Ning Xiu raced down the mountain road, cold wind whipping the trees into a whispering chorus that lent the night a deeper, more ominous chill.

The ink-black heavens loomed like a beast poised to devour the unwary. Truth be told, Ning Xiu’s heart had pounded with dread at first, but recalling the night of blood and slaughter from his past life, he quickly regained his composure.

For one who had already glimpsed hell, what was a little darkness before his eyes now?

“At last, I’ve caught up.”

Seeing the glow of firelight ahead and hearing the low murmur of voices, Ning Xiu’s gaze grew steely. He drew his saber from his belt and whispered to himself.

And strode forward into the night.