Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 16: The Rash Man

Apprenticeship?

Yun Que stood frozen in place, utterly bewildered.

The woman opposite him had an impressive figure. Her willow-leaf brows were sharp as blades, her bearing valiant and spirited. She exuded both an approachable warmth and a commanding charm that made one wish to kneel at her feet.

Most striking of all was her sword, which radiated an intangible aura even in the darkness.

What a powerful sword!

Yun Que weighed it in his mind. That heavy blade was no inferior to the Serpent Sword of the Apothecary, perhaps even stronger.

The woman stood shoulder to shoulder with Yun Que and called out toward the heavy sword with a clear, ringing voice:

"Master, in your exalted presence, I, your disciple, will accept an apprentice on your behalf today—Yun Que, as the last disciple of the Northern Court. From this day forth, we shall share honor and disgrace alike, and face fire and water for the Northern Court!"

Not only did the woman bow herself, but she also pressed Yun Que’s head down with her hand, forcing him to bow as well.

And so, without knowing how, Yun Que became the last disciple of the Northern Court.

The tall woman straightened up and laughed heartily. "The ceremony is complete! Well, little junior brother, from today on, I am your senior sister. If anyone bullies you, just invoke my name—Xue Ziyi!"

As she spoke, Xue Ziyi lightly touched the pouch at her waist and drew out a sharp longsword.

"This sword is named Stormbound. I have worn it for years and defeated many foes with it. Though it is only of mid-grade quality, the power it can unleash rivals that of high-grade magic weapons."

"Within this sword lies a true bolt of lightning. Should you ever call upon it, its might will be astonishing."

"But remember this: once the lightning is released, the Stormbound Sword will be destroyed for good."

Xue Ziyi carefully put away the heavy sword on the street and continued, "Stormbound is my gift to you, a token of our first meeting. If you can one day become the foremost swordsman of the Northern Court, you may have the chance to inherit our master’s sword, Dustfrost!"

Yun Que could sense her sincerity and nodded. "Thank you, senior sister. I will do my best."

"Excellent! We’ll meet at the Sword Palace!"

With a stomp, Xue Ziyi shot into the air as a streak of sword-light, vanishing in an instant amid the ringing of sword-qi.

Yun Que opened his mouth, helpless and bemused.

He had just joined the Northern Court, yet he didn’t even know who his master was. Wasn’t this ceremony a bit, well, perfunctory?

Soon, the sound of a sword resounded once more.

Xue Ziyi’s figure reappeared amidst sword-light.

"I forgot to mention—our master’s name is Yin Tianxiao! Don’t forget, whatever you do!"

With that, she again vanished into the night as a streak of sword-light.

Yun Que’s lips twitched.

This senior sister seemed rather unreliable.

"Sword Flight Technique—when will I ever learn such exquisite swordsmanship?" he murmured.

Zhou Yuanliang withdrew his envious gaze and said sympathetically, "Marquis Yun, you’d better look after yourself."

"Is there something wrong with the Northern Court?" Yun Que asked, puzzled.

"No, nothing—except that it’s too weak," Zhou Yuanliang explained. "The Sword Palace has four courts—East, South, West, and North. The first three are full of talented disciples, but the Northern Court? Just a handful of people. So few that it’s almost irrelevant in the Sword Palace."

"Then why didn’t you try to stop it earlier?"

"If I’d dared, your senior sister would’ve chopped me down right then and there. Do you know what Xue Ziyi’s nickname is in the Sword Palace?"

Zhou Yuanliang glanced around to make sure she was long gone before lowering his voice, "They call her ‘the Reckless One’!"

This fiery, impetuous acceptance of a disciple on behalf of her master was certainly reckless.

Yet Yun Que didn’t dislike her at all; on the contrary, he felt a rare warmth from his senior sister.

He had not known the comfort of family for a long, long time.

They found a tavern open all night and ordered good food and drink to fill their bellies.

During the meal, Yun Que learned from Zhou Yuanliang that Ma Yong and Niu Bucai—the two Swordmasters in charge of the Sword Testing Pavilion at Yanmen Town—were both from the Northern Court.

At last, Yun Que’s confusion was resolved.

No wonder Xue Ziyi had hurried here in the middle of the night to accept him as a disciple—she must have heard about his feat of toppling the Sword Testing Pavilion.

"What about the elders of the Northern Court?" Yun Que asked, setting down his cup.

Since Xue Ziyi had acted on behalf of their master, it suggested their master was unable to appear, or there was some other hidden reason.

"Ever since your master went into closed-door life-and-death meditation a few years ago, the Northern Court’s fortunes have plummeted. Many disciples have defected to the other three courts, leaving the Northern Court in the sorry state it’s in today," Zhou Yuanliang said as he poured himself another drink. "In terms of strength, your master was once second to none among the four elders, but now... perhaps only bones are left. Life-and-death meditation is a path with little hope of survival."

Life-and-death meditation—the meaning was clear enough. It had to be perilous beyond measure.

Yin Tianxiao had been in seclusion for years with no word. Rumors in the Sword Palace said the Northern Court’s elder had long since perished.

"Where is he in seclusion? Hasn’t anyone checked on him?" Yun Que asked.

"He’s in seclusion within the Northern Court, of course. It’s not that no one wants to check, but no one dares. In the cultivation world, once someone enters life-and-death meditation, no one may disturb them—not even their own descendants—unless the cultivator emerges on their own."

Zhou Yuanliang’s tone grew grave. "Such meditation is a matter of life and death. If interrupted, the cultivator might perish on the spot. From what I know, those who attempt life-and-death meditation rarely succeed. If they fail, their place of seclusion becomes their coffin—saves the trouble, really."

The path of cultivation was never smooth. No one who set foot upon it could foresee the cause of their own demise.

Zhou Yuanliang drank deeply and soon began to snore.

"The Northern Court..."

Yun Que gazed at the whitening horizon, his brows slowly knitting.

The man with the noon-horse token had once said, so long as that old thing from the Northern Court lived, there would be no peace for them.

"If he cannot emerge, he cannot die..."

Yun Que silently repeated those words to himself.

Could it be that the old thing that man spoke of was none other than Yin Tianxiao, elder of the Northern Court?

Was his master still alive?

If so, Yin Tianxiao must surely possess secrets relating to the Twelve Zodiac tokens.

As for experts like the Apothecary, Yun Que had no intention of getting involved with them for now.

He was just a first-level Qi Refining cultivator. Even with his unique sword-veins, he wouldn’t stand a chance against a Core Formation expert.

Unless he could unleash the power of the Wangchuan Sword River and let his uncle out—or if someone tried to possess his body.

The latter was highly unlikely.

Few would risk a possession, as it was too dangerous and could easily end in the destruction of both soul and body.

As for the former, Yun Que clearly didn’t have the strength yet.

With his sword-veins, he could easily defeat cultivators of the same Qi Refining level, but facing those at Foundation Establishment was already difficult—let alone Core Formation.

Although he couldn’t yet draw on the power of the Wangchuan Sword River, Yun Que had gradually mastered a new ability on his way to the imperial capital.

He could absorb sword souls.

He was able to extract a sword spirit from the Wangchuan Sword River and infuse it into a sword, thereby greatly enhancing its power.

It was as though he forcibly added a sword soul to a blade.

There were countless sword spirits in the Wangchuan Sword River, some strong, some weak. With his current abilities, Yun Que could only extract the weakest ones.

Yet even the weakest sword spirit was formidable when unleashed outside.

After all, magical weapons never possessed sword souls, and even spiritual treasures rarely produced such entities. But Yun Que could freely infuse any sword with a spirit he had seized.

He would have to test just how much stronger a sword would become once it housed a sword soul...

Lost in thought, Yun Que left the tavern alone.

Stalls selling breakfast had begun to line the streets, smoke curling into the air. On the roadside, a dense grove of pear trees flourished, their fragrance wafting on the morning breeze.

He turned a corner into an alley, and suddenly, a figure appeared behind him—it was Old He.

"Buy a house on this street. Stay there for now, and make sure to disguise yourself when you go out."

"No need to go to such trouble. I can just find a small inn anywhere."

"We’re not short on money. In a new place, the first thing we need is a home."

"A home..." Old He said bitterly yet reluctantly, "Young master, this remnant soul of mine won’t last much longer. Sooner or later, I’ll fade away."

"Which is why you must take good care of yourself at home. If you need anything, send the servants out to buy it. And remember, I forbid you to leave without saying goodbye," Yun Que said solemnly. "When the time comes to go to Han Shui City, I’ll need you to guide the way."

"Understood! I’ll delay dying as long as I can," Old He grinned, baring his teeth.

In that moment, he seemed once again the fierce and valiant centurion of ghosts he once was.