Chapter 14: Only for You

Liang Xi and Zhuang Yunzhen began their recuperation at the Yaksha Sect. To be honest, this Cloud River truly was a land of fortune for the two brothers. They loved Cloud River; here, they seemed to be able to sense an incomparably powerful force. “Senior brother, after my battle with Mu Chenyuan, I feel I’ve come to some insights. Why don’t we, as brothers, put them to the test?” The sword energy within Liang Xi was now even more profound, and as he unleashed a sweeping arc of sword qi, there was a chilling, sinister coldness to it. Liang Xi now understood: he truly favored the cold aura of the moon, merging it seamlessly with his sword energy.

“Junior brother, your sword carries a biting chill—an impressive feat. To have created such a technique after only a night’s contemplation is remarkable. It appears, among the four chapters of the Cloud Soaring Chart, the energy of the cold moon is truly your forte. This suits your temperament perfectly.”

“Indeed, senior brother. Now, use your Sun and Moon Radiance Palm to spar with me. I believe you too will gain new insights after this exchange.” Zhuang Yunzhen responded with the Proud Frost Ice Dance. The first move of Sun and Moon Radiance was truly a sight to behold, sending snowflakes swirling with every motion. The two sparred by the riverbank, their movements elegant and fluid. The sword arc in Liang Xi’s hand now held a touch of grace.

Though the sword arc was formidable, it was, after all, his senior brother’s specialty—Zhuang Yunzhen’s style was forceful and direct, while Liang Xi excelled at the second move, Sheathing Sword for Merit, overwhelming his opponent with speed. Now, Liang Xi wielded sword with his hands and legs, unbound by weapons, moving freely and smoothly. The persistent cold was indeed vexing. Zhuang Yunzhen dared not meet it head-on, and could only circle and counter, for both of them practiced the Swift Bird Method. Thus, the match remained a draw.

Zhuang Yunzhen continuously pushed his Golden Body Defense to the limit—without it, he truly couldn’t withstand his junior’s cold energy. It seemed, after so many battles, his junior had finally found his own path. Their master used to say that Liang Xi was always playful and hadn’t found his way to temper himself—if he encountered a powerful foe, what then?

“Master, you must see it now—junior brother truly has mastered his own strength. The Proud Frost Ice Dance contains a set of footwork, and only by combining it with the palm technique can its power be fully realized. Otherwise, why call it a dance? The key qualities are grace and ethereal beauty. It’s hard to imagine how Zhuang Yunzhen, so tall and robust, could embody such qualities, yet he truly does.”

The chilling energies of the Proud Frost Ice Dance and the cold moon met with a clash, both feeling waves of cold. “Father, look, their footwork is so beautiful! Even though they’re both using a single technique against each other, it feels like there are countless variations,” Gu Zhenzhen exclaimed. Her favorite pastime was watching the two brothers practice by the river.

Liang Xi was handsome, Zhuang Yunzhen spirited and heroic. Their practice laid a thin layer of ice at the river’s edge, contrasting sharply with the mist in the distance—a breathtaking scene. “These two have much in common. For instance, the Proud Frost Ice Dance and the cold moon energy—both are cold auras, yet vastly different. The former is a yang-cold, seemingly gentle but truly forceful; the latter is yin-cold, attacking the opponent’s meridians directly.

Yang-cold destroys meridians in an instant; yin-cold, like steel needles in bone, is excruciating. Fortunately, Liang Xi is innately kind and not evil, so this power is used for righteous purposes. If he were wicked, it would be truly dangerous—imagine, steel needles in bone, leaving no escape.”

Their bout finished. “Senior brother, every time we practice, I gain so much. Today was the first time I saw the footwork in Proud Frost Ice Dance—graceful to the extreme. I wonder, if we combined its footwork with the Swift Bird Method, what would it feel like?” Liang Xi was not only diligent, but always able to give his brother thoughtful suggestions.

Zhuang Yunzhen’s eyes shone with excitement. “You’re the clever one. I never thought of it, but those qualities suit you perfectly. Since it’s your idea, you should do it. If you succeed, it’s as good as my success!”

Indeed, Zhuang Yunzhen’s mind was not as quick as Liang Xi’s, but as a leader, he was second to none. “Liang Xi, you’re much smarter than me. I’m happy to leave this to you. If we can strengthen our movement skills, we’ll have more ways to escape powerful foes. Didn’t Master say, ‘If you can’t win, run’? There’s no shame in surviving. I suspect he said that just for us.”

“Don’t worry, senior brother. If nothing else, I’m the best at these interesting things. The essence of the Swift Bird Method is speed and lightness—very similar to the Proud Frost Ice Dance. The key to movement is speed and lightness. When you use the Swift Bird Method, you gain unpredictability and foresight. If we combine the two, the most important thing is enhancing the illusion—illusion is deception,” Liang Xi mused.

He’d only formed an outline, but it was progress. Now, who to spar with? Clearly, the most qualified and skilled in Yaksha Sect was Elder Gu Chuan. “Elder Gu, I’m thinking of creating a new movement technique. After some thought, you’re the best candidate to help!”

Gu Chuan’s face lit up. “Young Liang Xi, to have such insights in so short a time—if I can help, it would be my honor.”

Liang Xi demonstrated the Swift Bird Method, and Gu Chuan was amazed. “I’ve heard Yun Haolan of Yunzhou was a martial genius, but I didn’t expect him to create something so light and graceful. Do you know what I felt watching your Swift Bird Method? It’s as if, stepping on a falling leaf, you could leap a great distance. A leaf is already light, but with this method, the body is even lighter.”

“This is already a top tier movement technique. Are you still not satisfied?” Gu Chuan smiled. Talking with Liang Xi was always stimulating—his mind always brimmed with fresh ideas. “Movement is all about lightness—reach the pinnacle of that and you have the best technique.”

“It’s excellent, but I’m not clever enough to improve it much—I just want to make it better. With it, my brother and I are much faster, but if we face someone whose speed and power are far beyond ours, what then? Say we can leap ten or a hundred meters, but the opponent can go a thousand or more—how do we escape then?”

Gu Chuan nodded. “Good point—so, do you have any ideas?”

Liang Xi brightened. “I think movement should not only be fast and light, but also deceptive—in other words, it should fool the enemy. I want to emphasize illusion, so that even when experts think they have caught us, it turns out they’ve grasped nothing but water.”

How novel—since ancient times, martial artists have focused only on speed in movement techniques. This idea of illusion was a counterattack. “Very good, young Liang Xi, your idea is excellent. I understand now—if you want to achieve illusion, it must be built on speed. From today, I’ll do nothing else but help you hone this technique. What should we call it? Such a marvelous skill deserves a name.”

“I’ve already thought of one—let’s call it Swift Bird Phantom Dance.” The name was settled early; as for the training method, it was simple—Liang Xi and Gu Chuan would chase each other, and if Gu Chuan touched Liang Xi, the latter lost. Mostly, it was Gu Chuan chasing Liang Xi, to see if, at high speed, a true afterimage could be created. On the first day, Liang Xi lost miserably. He hadn’t realized Gu Chuan’s skill was so profound!

“Don’t lose heart—it’s only the beginning. I can sense that if the Swift Bird Phantom Dance is truly mastered, it will be formidable. Also, I have a further suggestion—if, while creating afterimages, you can also add force, it’ll be even better. For every additional afterimage, add another surge of inner energy. In theory, this could go on endlessly.

“But human strength is finite—let’s see how many afterimages you can manage. Isn’t that a good idea?”

“Elder, your suggestion is excellent. The afterimage can deceive, but if it also increases force, that’s even better. That’s why you’re the elder—you think of things I never could. Let’s continue; this time, I won’t let you catch me!”

“Good! Young people should have such spirit—for only with this can you create even stronger techniques. Your mind is always agile. I only mentioned it, and you understood. I’ve never had a disciple like you—you and your brother are only here to recuperate, but if you could join my Yaksha Sect, it would be wonderful. But I know that’s impossible.”

“Elder, from the moment we met, we’ve been friends. As friends, we can accomplish much more. If we were master and disciple, it might feel constraining!”

“Hahaha, you’re right. I underestimated you. To be friends with someone like you is my greatest fortune. I truly want to see what heights you and your brother will reach. Honestly, spending time with you has made me feel like I’ve returned to my youthful days of training—something I haven’t felt in years. If I can help you, that’s what makes me happiest!”

“Elder Gu Chuan, you’ve already helped us greatly. I must thank you sincerely.” Liang Xi meant it—from rescuing the brothers from the Cloud Soaring Wonderland, this was a tremendous favor. Liang Xi was straightforward in gratitude and resentment—when others showed him kindness, he remembered it, and when he had the strength, he would repay it. To live without repaying kindness is to be less than human.

“Elder Gu Chuan, since you’ve helped me so much, I truly want to repay you, but I don’t know how. Perhaps I could share the Swift Bird Phantom Dance with your disciples.”

Yet, thinking further, he was only fifteen and “teaching” was inappropriate. So he corrected himself: “Rather than teach, let’s learn from each other. After ten years of training, this is all I have to offer. I hope the brothers and you won’t mind.”

Liang Xi was always generous to friends—he never refused what he could do. The Cloud Soaring Chart was too powerful for everyone, but this movement technique was suitable for all. Gu Chuan never expected Liang Xi would share his newly created technique with outsiders—such magnanimity was rare. Yet Gu Chuan was also straightforward. To refuse would be impolite. “In that case, I thank you on behalf of my disciples.”

The Yaksha Sect was powerful in Cloud River, but not all disciples were strong. Learning this technique would benefit them greatly. Zhuang Yunzhen, meanwhile, continued refining the Sun and Moon Radiance Palm. Finally, he had time to study it in depth. For a palm technique to reach full power, it must combine with the corresponding mental and footwork methods.

This was especially true for Sun and Moon Radiance, which had eight moves, each with its own mental and footwork method. Previously, to defeat Mu Chenyuan, he’d relied on the Sword Qi Unification, which, though effective, was not orthodox. Over time, it would cause problems.

Take the first Proud Frost Ice Dance: “Ice Dance” is the footwork, “Proud Frost” the mental method. Only their fusion makes the true technique. Zhuang Yunzhen knew the importance of taking it slow. If he could master the Proud Frost method, that would be excellent. The key issue was balancing the eight inner energies, plus the Sword Qi Unification, for a total of nine.

In this time, his junior had made great progress—strengthening the Proud Frost Ice Dance, and even sharing the Swift Bird Phantom Dance with the Yaksha Sect. It was only right to show gratitude for the kindness they had received.

Liang Xi’s movement grew ever faster. In just three days, Gu Chuan could no longer even grasp his robe—only an afterimage. “Young Liang Xi, you’ve already succeeded. Now, even with my skill, I nearly fell for your illusion.”

“Your master is truly remarkable. Qi Ying must have devoted all his heart to you two. Creating an afterimage in three days—what will you achieve in the future? It’s exciting.”

“Master, this technique is amazing! We’ve only grasped a little, but already we’re different from yesterday. You always wanted us to learn a higher skill. Now, that wish is fulfilled—why are you still not happy?”

“No, I am happy. I’m just thinking—how can we keep Liang Xi and Zhuang Yunzhen here? They’re only in their teens, yet so accomplished. If they stayed, the Yaksha Sect would flourish. Tianzhi Yun is excellent, but we want to be the top in Yunzhou.

“It seemed impossible, but now they’re here, I want to keep them. But I know I can’t. They have higher pursuits in martial arts. Staying would benefit us, but not them.

“Master, let it be. Isn’t that what you always taught us? I believe that if we’re ever in danger, Liang Xi and his brother won’t ignore us. He said we’re friends. Only by going to Xuanzhou will they improve further.”

“You’re right. Yaksha Sect’s future depends on you. Now, focus on perfecting the Swift Bird Phantom Dance.”

The seasons turned; a year passed. Liang Xi and Zhuang Yunzhen had planned only a half-month’s recuperation at Yaksha Sect, thinking their internal injuries would heal completely. Yet Master Yan Shiyu’s Furious Wave Fist was so domineering, even with their recovery, it took a full year. But the year was not wasted. Liang Xi, who had practiced the Cloud Soaring Chart since age five, had now mastered the first three chapters—Bright Day, Cold Moon, Falling Star—over eleven years. The fourth, Celestial Domain, remained elusive.

Still, he was content—such profound inner power, and three chapters already mastered, was fortune enough. The last would have to wait for fate. The Swift Bird Phantom Dance was now fully mastered—he and his brother could each produce five afterimages. The technique was not only movement, but with each afterimage, it could exert a mental influence on the opponent.

The five afterimages were: Water Moon, Traceless, Startled Soul, Furious Strike, and finally Grand Dream. The first two were movement-based, the latter two offensive; the fifth, Grand Dream, overwhelmed the mind, as if many illusions shattered the opponent’s spirit.

Zhuang Yunzhen loved this technique. “Junior, you’re amazing! I never thought you could create a movement skill that incorporates attack. No one ever thought of this before.

“For a year I’ve been in seclusion. Can you guess what insights I’ve gained?” The brothers, though under the same roof, trained separately and solved problems independently.

“Senior, you know I’m not as perceptive as you. You seem even more imposing than before—is it some new understanding of Sun and Moon Radiance Palm?”

“Hahaha, only you understand me this well! Yes—it has eight moves, each with its own mental and footwork method. This is crucial—any mistake would be disastrous. The first four moves are soft, the last three hard, and the final is likely a fusion of all seven, though that’s still distant. Using the moves sequentially is fine, but using two or more mental methods at once risks your life. I tell you this so you know—unless desperate, I won’t attempt it.”

Liang Xi was shocked—he hadn’t realized the Sun and Moon Radiance Palm was so restricted. Each move had a unique mental method; using two at once meant two different inner energies would clash—a terrifying prospect. “Senior, do you think the guardian at Myriad Sword Divine Palace who taught you this palm didn’t know? If he did, and still taught you, then his intentions were truly malicious.”

Zhuang Yunzhen’s eyes brightened. “Junior, don’t you think it’s a good thing? When he created the palm, he must have realized its nature, but his own talent was limited. I suspect he could use only the first three moves. As for why he couldn’t leave the palace, it makes sense—he must have injured his meridians practicing, and only the palace’s profound energy could suppress the damage.

“He taught me not out of malice nor kindness—he wanted to see what would happen if someone else learned it. But without the Sun and Moon Radiance Palm, we couldn’t have faced Yan Shiyu and Mu Chenyuan.”

“Enough of that. This past year, you’ve been close to that girl Gu Zhenzhen—I can see she likes you. We should have left long ago, but she kept asking us to stay, and you, soft-hearted, agreed. What, have you fallen for her? If so, as your brother, I’d be happy for you.” He teased openly.

“Senior, you know me—I want to see Xuanzhou. I have no strength yet; to like someone now would be a disaster for them. Miss Gu may not mind hardship, but as a man, how could I ask that? I’ve told her clearly; she may not accept it now, but in time she’ll see that staying at Yaksha Sect is best for her.”

“Good, I’m glad you think so. We’ve been here a year, and have improved. It’s time to set out for Xuanzhou. Who knows how much stronger Yan Shiyu has become? We cannot delay, or how will we face him?”

“Father, I’ve never felt so sad. I knew the day of parting would come, but I always hoped it would come later, much later. Sometimes I even wished Liang Xi would never leave. I know it’s just a fantasy, impossible. I’m so selfish.” Gu Zhenzhen wept in her father’s arms.

It was her first time loving someone—Liang Xi, who had helped Yaksha Sect become the top school in Tianzhi Yun. In the past, her father and brother endured oppression from the Thunder Gang; the disciples resented it, but could only endure. When Liang Xi resolved all their troubles, how could she not fall deeply for him?

After a year together, everyone in the sect praised Liang Xi—he had even shared the Swift Bird Phantom Dance, something few would do.

Gu Chuan understood his daughter’s feelings. He’d tried everything, but Yaksha Sect owed Liang Xi so much; to force him to stay would be ungrateful—and if word spread, how would the world see them?

“Daughter, if you truly wish to be with him, you must become stronger. But remember, love is about fate—if Liang Xi comes to care for you, you can be together; if not, you must promise not to be obsessed. Obsession in love is the hardest to let go. For now, cherish the days you have with him—these will be your most precious memories.”

The next day, Liang Xi and Zhuang Yunzhen came to the main hall. “You’ve come to say farewell, haven’t you?”

“Yes, senior, this past year we thank you for your care. Without you, our wounds would never have healed so quickly. We will never forget your kindness,” Zhuang Yunzhen said.

“Don’t mention it. If anyone should thank someone, it’s me. Our sect has improved greatly thanks to the Swift Bird Phantom Dance. Are you heading to Xuanzhou? I have some friends there and could write you an introduction—it would help.”

“Thank you, but we’ve decided to rely on our own strength and earn recognition. Don’t be sad—we will meet again.”

Gu Chuan was pleased. “Good, Yunzhou men should have such backbone. Liang Xi, I have a favor—please say a proper goodbye to Zhenzhen. She truly cares for you, and only you can cheer her up.”

Liang Xi didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” He went to the back courtyard. Gu Zhenzhen stood with her back to him; her slender figure was unforgettable. “I knew this day would come. Don’t say anything—I understand. Walk with me.” She turned, her eyes sorrowful but filled with deep affection. Liang Xi was not unfeeling; such moving eyes would stay with him forever.

They walked in silence, as if words were unnecessary. “I wish this road had no end—then we could keep walking together.”

Liang Xi could only listen quietly.

“Is there really nothing you want to say to me? You talk so much with my fellow disciples, but now you’re at a loss for words?”

Liang Xi replied softly, “I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.” He truly didn’t know what to say.

“No, you’re not afraid of that—you’re just afraid of hurting me. Liking you has always been my own business. I want to know—what kind of girl would you like? I’ll keep this feeling always; it will drive me to improve. Though I like you, right now I want to become stronger, to help my father. When I was young, my brother and father protected me—now I want to protect them. I may be weak, but I’ll do what I can.”

Though she was devoted, Gu Zhenzhen knew what mattered. “Liang Xi, when you return, will we see each other again?”

“Of course. We’re friends. I’m lively and restless; you’re different—you prefer quiet. There are countless men in the world—I am nothing special. If I responded to your feelings now, it would only hurt you. You know, carrying the Cloud Soaring Chart, my brother and I are always in danger. Being with me would put you at risk.”

“No need to walk me further. A thousand miles together must end in parting. If fate allows, we will meet again.” Liang Xi and Zhuang Yunzhen finally departed. The words Gu Zhenzhen never spoke were these: though there are countless men in the world, in my heart, there is only you. Tears blurred her vision—she wanted to call Liang Xi back, but in the end, she did not.