Hengshan Sect's Strongest Sword Cultivator

"West of Hengzhou's Tanshui, where lively lotus seeds and burly green mandarin fish leap. Fishermen in boats cast wide their nets, encircling the lake to capture hundreds of scales."

Dressed in dark hemp trousers and coarse straw sandals, a lean man stood at the bow of a wooden boat, chanting the words of a teahouse storyteller from Hengyang. He used it as a fishing call while hauling the net and shouting into the boat:

"Rong, do you think the fish we catch and sell will be enough to light up the Qunyu Courtyard's red lanterns in Hengyang and find us some girls to enjoy a night with?"

A teenager's snickering laughter came from inside the cabin.

"Let's haul in some big turtles to nourish ourselves first. What use is the Qunyu Courtyard for a weakling who hides from his own wife?"

"Fish are cheap these days, being able to have a full stomach is good enough."

The thud of footsteps on the deck resounded as Zhao Rong quickly emerged from the cabin.

Don't be fooled by his age; at fourteen, he was already 1.7 meters tall, with healthy wheat-colored skin, a face sharp as a knife, and dark, spirited eyes. It's just that the stubble around his mouth was still tender, juvenile charm not yet faded.

The lean man laughed, undisturbed.

Zhao Rong hastened forward, and the man busily handed over the net he was holding to him.

"Heave-ho!"

With a strong pull, he hauled up a net full of fish of various sizes from the glossy green waters.

As splashing sounds resounded, Zhao Rong's face was splattered with water; it turned out that a large black-green fish was struggling in the net, thrashing its tail and splashing water, the fishy odor assaulting the senses.

"What a lively lotus seed fish!"

The man loudly exclaimed in delight, "Rong, put some muscle into it!"

His voice was loud enough to draw over Zhao, an older man on the other side of the boat. After a careful look, he cursed with a chuckle:

"Damn, thought it was a big one, but it's just a young mandarin fish."

Zhao Rong's hand clenching the net suddenly exerted force, hauling a nearly twenty-pound green fish along with other fish, shrimp, and crabs in the net onto the boat; the fish's mouth still clamping onto a dark, greasy river snail.

The scrawny man, Zhao Musheng, showed a look of admiration, thinking to himself that Rong had impressive strength.

Two women came over to the boat to sort out the catch.

As the sunset spread cold smoke, the lake breeze rolled up strings of fragmented afterglow. Zhao Rong looked up to see red light filling half the sky, radiance shining, reflecting in his hair and eyebrows.

He turned to Zhao, the elderly man who had just come over:

"Grandpa, we should leave the lake quickly. There's been gang warfare nearby, and quite a few boat bandits lately."

"Indeed!"

Zhao, the grandfather and leader of the wooden boat, knew the lives and property of the dozen people aboard were no joking matter.

His silver-white beard trembled as he cursed:

"Those beasts of Hai Sha Gang, Zhang San's boat was surely pillaged by them a few days ago. Over a dozen people never returned."

"What Jianghu heroes they claim to be, only bullying the common folk. Why don't they dare pick a fight with those masters from the Hengshan Sect?"

He spat angrily again and banged the gong with his hand, hurrying people to speed up so they could return to Hengyang before nightfall.

"Rong'er, your injury hasn't healed; go rest inside the cabin, and don't catch the evil wind."

Zhao's expression softened somewhat as he waved his hand, directing him to the small cabin within the ship, before going off to instruct others.

The wooden cabin walls were faded, revealing cracks and mottled water stains. The floorboards were loose and some sank in, emanating a fishy smell.

In one corner of the cabin were heaped various broken fishing gear, a few bundles of rope, some worn-out canvas, damaged nets hanging on the walls, and remnants of fish scales.

There was a small room cordoned off alone, with a window facing south.

Zhao Rong stooped down to open the wooden door, which had many gaps.

With a creak, he entered what was a rare, private space.

A single oil lamp, a wooden window, a narrow bed, a long table piled with clutter, the only eye-catching piece of furnishing was likely the three-foot longsword hanging beside the bed.

Zhao Rong seemed quite accustomed to the noisy clamor outside the cabin.

Because a life like today's had been repeated for two and a half years.

He was originally a history major in college, and after graduation, he worked at RT-Mart cutting fish until a freak electric shock sent him traveling through time.

In Hengyang City, the most talked-about topic was the "Five Peaks Sword Sects."

A year ago, Zhao Rong happened by chance to see the Sect Leader of the Hengshan Sect, Mr. Mo Da, renowned for the "Xiaoxiang Night Rain."

Only then did he figure out he had landed in the world of "Jin's tale of being unrivaled in an age of bravado."

He remembered quite a bit of the plot from the story, but where exactly he was in the timeline was unclear.

Zhao Rong didn't have the energy to delve deeper. Being in the real world, he couldn't discern the whole picture, not even the outline. The foremost problem facing him now—survival.

What had he seen in those two and a half years?

Bandits were rampant; martial artists from the righteous and evil paths fought unbridled without intervention. The government rarely acted, and speaking of recent events, in Hengyang, boat bandits intercepting merchant ships was sadly quite common.

Men killed, women were kidnapped; they specialized in robbery and looting.

Half a month earlier, at twilight, while returning from the Iron Fist Martial Arts School in Hengyang, he stepped in to save a young girl from a bandit's clutches in a narrow alley.

The bandit was quite skilled, with brutal moves. Despite using a sneaky lime powder attack, Zhao Rong was still wounded.

The bandit might have had backing; after a fight and a sneak attack, Zhao Rong managed to kill him and quickly took a roundabout way home. Even when his grandfather, who he depended on, asked about it, he only said he had accidentally injured himself during martial arts practice at the school.

"Whew~~"

At this thought, he couldn't help but exhale deeply.

He loosened the cloth around his body, revealing a palm imprint on his chest.

When he was struck, he only felt a burning pain within, spitting out a mouthful of fresh blood, with no idea what palm technique the other had used.

He raised his hand to touch the jade pendant hanging around his neck, a faint glimmer of light appearing in his eyes.

This was something he brought with him when he traveled through time, which he initially thought might be a sort of "golden finger," but after researching, he discovered that other than providing a cool sensation, it served no other purpose.

But it was on the night of healing from the palm strike, specifically the pendant's streams of coolness, that subdued the fiery energy within the palm technique, making his internal energy flow smoothly and as a result, he recovered this quickly.

"I still don't know what other functions it might have."

After fiddling with it for a while, Zhao Rong felt somewhat disappointed. Having tasted the benefits, he researched it again but found nothing new.

"I have learned most of the boxing techniques taught by Bao Datong; however, it seems that even if I were to master them completely, I'd only be able to exchange blows with ordinary Jianghu people. If I encountered an opponent with a serious skillset, I'd surely suffer."

"Iron Fist Invincible... Bao Datong."

Reflecting on this nickname the martial arts school owner used in the Jianghu, Zhao Rong felt entirely speechless and extremely heartbroken.

The guy took the thirty taels of silver that he had painstakingly earned from selling fish and laboring—enough for an ordinary three-person household to live on for three years.

In the end, it wasn't even as useful as "a packet of lime."

In his memory, a burly man with a face full of whiskers slammed into his chest with a sound that thundered through the air:

"Don't worry, I, Bao Datong, am known as Iron Fist Invincible in the Jianghu. Who doesn't recognize it? Who isn't aware? With three-tenths of my skill, I'll ensure you dominate around Yangcheng for three hundred li!"

"..."

Dammit, this damn swindler!

Zhao Rong's expression soured.

Speaking of the most reliable power in Hengyang, it was naturally the Hengshan Sect.

The Hengshan Sect was almost on a par with the Huashan Sect among the Five Peaks Sword Sects, though lesser than the other three. Not a single second-generation disciple had made any significant name for themselves, whereas next door at the Huashan Sect, there was Linghu Chong.

But after all, it was one of the Five Peaks, with an immensely high threshold.

Without a trustworthy person's recommendation, one simply couldn't step through the sect's gate.

Zhao Rong, no longer concerned about reputation, had wanted half a year ago to apprentice under the "Golden-Eyed Crow" Lu Lianrong in order to first dabble in Hengshan Swordsmanship and systematically learn internal and external techniques, but he couldn't even get through the doorstep of this good-for-nothing.

Bao Datong, seeing that he had learned most of his boxing, revealed a method to join the Hengshan Sect.

Zhao Rong's eyelids twitched.

"Who knows if this damned swindler is deceiving people again."

He pinched the pendant.

In a flash, his mind settled.

Cultivating martial arts was not a joke; carelessness could lead to injury, and if one succumbed to deviance, it could even be life-threatening.

Once a history major who was fond of ancient texts, he cultivated a deep appreciation for them.

After traveling through time, his memory had become exceptionally good.

He tried many haphazard things, such as "Let the strong breeze sway the mountain crest, let the bright moon shine over the great river," and "The Way of Heaven is to take from the excess and replenish the deficient," among other mantras.

But he couldn't practice them!

With painstaking effort, he finally found a scripture that had some effect. Although Zhao Rong completely lacked knowledge in cultivation, through slow exploration, he gained enormous benefit.

Two and a half years ago, this body was frail, and the original owner had died from a minor cold.

...

"Profit of the body is the foundation of sages, this is just one aspect. Therefore, Yin and Yang are held by man..."

Zhao Rong recalled the combined edition of the "Muscle-Tendon Change Scripture" and the "Sinew-Cleansing Scripture" purchased on Taobao, his mind conjuring up the classics of nurturing life and Chan meditation that have been passed down for a thousand years.

He wondered if it was the same as the one at Shaolin Temple.

He somewhat understood the route of cultivation and the points of meridians, but he dared not tamper carelessly.

However, he managed to follow the strange and mystical postures of Chan meditation that coincidentally conformed to the principles of Yin and Yang.

Zhao Rong sat cross-legged on the bed, his hands resting on his knees, staring straight ahead, gently closing his eyes, relaxing his arms, then slowly raised them to be parallel with his shoulders, palms facing the sky.

Then he raised his arms above his head, palms facing each other, fingertips pointing to the sky, before moving them behind his head, assuming—The Ming Tian Drum posture.

This is the first technique of the Sinew-Cleansing Scripture.

A warmth began to blossom at the crown of his head, his nerves becoming increasingly sensitive, his eardrums lightly vibrating, clearly hearing the voices of the fishermen at the stern of the boat.

The chaos didn't disturb Zhao Rong.

After performing the first technique, The Ming Tian Drum, three times and feeling his limit had been reached, he moved to the second technique, which was...

[The Immortal's Touch].

...

In the midst of rather profound postures, Zhao Rong cultivated Chan meditation with trepidation, as if walking on thin ice.

After an indeterminate amount of time, a sudden clamor of shouting and yelling erupted from outside the cabin!

...