Sword Roaring in the Sky - Chapter 6

6. Mastering Lightness Skill

Sword Roars Through the Heavens

Miao Youxiu burst out laughing. “The Miao family owns dozens of estates across Great Lang and mountain strongholds besides. This paltry sum?” He waved dismissively. “Keep it—you risked your neck for it.”

Sun Yanwan gaped. “Shifu, we’re rich rich?”

“Strength begets wealth,” Miao Youxiu yawned. “Why fuss over coins?”

This casual opulence shattered Sun Yanwan’s wuxia-novel expectations. He quietly counted the feichao: 586 notes, each worth 20 guàn—over 10,000 guàn total. A literal ‘fortune of ten thousand strings’!

(Note: 1 guàn ≈ 500-600 RMB in modern terms. The boy now carried 5-6 million RMB equivalent.)

Dazed, he dumped the coin pouches—mostly loose silver and coppers, except the bearded man’s stash of five silver ingots and extra feichao. Repacking only the essentials, Sun Yanwan’s hands trembled. “No more poverty in this life!”

Then his stomach growled.

A flatbread smacked into his face. Miao Youxiu smirked. “Money can’t buy food in the wilderness. Remember that, disciple.”

Chastened, Sun Yanwan chewed obediently. Afterward, he drilled the Hunyuan Stances diligently—this world respected only strength.

Miao Youxiu watched, reconsidering. “I can’t formally take him as heir… but his talent and loyalty deserve more.”

An idea struck: “Zhang Yuanqiao of Songyang Sect split from his master recently—seeking disciples to found his own school. A worthy destination for this boy.”

——

At dawn, they trekked south. By noon, a town appeared—noodles, an inn, and Miao Youxiu sequestered to heal.

Alone, Sun Yanwan shopped shrewdly: dried rations, fabric, thread. Sewing a crude vest with hidden pockets, he distributed the feichao against his torso. “No more bulging包袱 (bundles) to tempt thieves.”

Over weeks, their routine solidified: travel, brief stops, Miao Youxiu’s occasional secretive errands. Between healing sessions, the master imparted the Hu Clan’s 72 Demon-Slaying Sword Forms—a tempestuous style demanding two months to master.

Sun Yanwan supplemented training with books on local customs during city stays.

Then, breakthrough.

During stance practice, qi surged through his leg meridians. Suddenly—lightness. His leaps gained effortless grace, unlocking the sword forms’ hidden fluidity. Completing the set flawlessly, he nearly wept. “This is real martial arts!”

Yet pragmatism prevailed.

“I’m still a small fish. Testing skills? Win—glory. Lose—death.”