The First Secret Art Is Deadly

Yun Zhaowei clutched that ridiculous secret manual, tossing and turning on the hard wooden bed all night.

She wasn't not tired; she simply dared not close her eyes. Every time she did, those bold, aggressive characters would flash in her mind:

[When you have something to do, let the master do it; when you have nothing to do, do the master.]

The second half was automatically blurred with a thick layer of mental mosaic, but the first half shone like a lifeline in the dark, tantalizing her.

"I'm crazy, I must be crazy." Hugging the thin blanket, she stared at the faint moonlight filtering through the window paper and muttered, "That's Venerable Qingheng. The number one swordsman of the Three Realms, cold enough to frost over. Bothering him is like jumping into a alchemy furnace willingly."

But then she thought of Steward Wang's gloomy face and her father back home, who wanted to marry her off as a replacement wife—they terrified her more than any furnace.

Death either way; might as well die with dignity and maybe make the sect's headlines.

Yun Zhaowei abruptly sat up, splashed cold water on her face, and felt an eerily excited energy. She dug out the notebook she used for recording outer sect chores, bent over her desk, and began making "final plans."

"First, the places Venerable Qingheng usually appears..."

She had delivered spirit wood at the foot of Lingxiao Peak for half a year, so she was somewhat familiar with the terrain. But the main peak was heavily guarded, and the front gate was absolutely inaccessible. She had heard that the Venerable had a habit of sitting alone on the Sword Lecture Platform at the back mountain in the early morning, listening to the wind.

That place was a sheer cliff; only cranes could reach it.

"Except for cranes, there's someone like me who doesn't value her life." Yun Zhaowei gritted her teeth and drew a twisted route on the paper.

It was a crack in the mountain she had accidentally discovered while gathering firewood—extremely narrow and perilous, but it bypassed all the sentries straight to the back mountain.

The next day, before dawn, Yun Zhaowei changed into her neatest disciple robe.

She tucked "Introduction to Qi Guidance" into her bosom and concealed the beast-hide manual close to her body. Before leaving, she looked at herself in the bronze mirror. The girl in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes, but her eyes moved quickly, radiating a resigned cleverness.

"Alright." She made a face at the mirror. "Yun Zhaowei, may you be reborn into a better life next time."

The mountain morning was thick with fog, dense enough to wring water out.

Yun Zhaowei moved like an agile mountain goat across the steep rock walls. The crack was slipperier than she remembered; her palms were scraped raw by rough stones. Several times her foot slipped, half her body dangling over the abyss, breaking her out in a cold sweat.

By the time she finally climbed onto a boulder behind the Sword Lecture Platform, she was as disheveled as a mud monkey crawling out of a pit.

Her bun was askew, her sleeve torn, and her shoes covered in moss.

Crouching behind the rock, she panted heavily, her heart pounding like a drum.

Just then, all the noise seemed to vanish instantly.

An extremely cold, piercing, yet pure sword intent quietly spread out, like the first thaw of ice and snow.

Yun Zhaowei held her breath and poked half her head out.

On the Sword Lecture Platform, the sea of clouds churned.

A man in a moon-white robe stood with his back to her. His figure was straight, like a peerless cold sword sheathed. His long hair was tied with a simple jade hairpin, faintly fluttering in the morning breeze.

Even just his back was enough to make one feel an unattainable distance.

This was the pillar of the Taichu Immortal Sect, Venerable Qingheng.

The courage Yun Zhaowei had borrowed on the mountain path scattered in an instant when she saw the real person.

Run.

Before being discovered, roll back the way she came—maybe she could live a couple more days.

Instinctively, she shrank back, but her foot accidentally stepped on a dry twig.

"Crack."

The sound was not loud, but in the silent Sword Lecture Platform, it was like a thunderclap.

The white figure slightly turned its head.

Yun Zhaowei froze, her scalp tingling. She felt an invisible pressure lock onto her, making even her fingertips immobile.

"Who?"

The cold voice fell, devoid of any warmth.

No more hiding.

Taking a deep breath, steeling herself, Yun Zhaowei walked out from behind the rock, clutching her book.

She didn't dare lift her head. Keeping her head low, she trotted to about ten steps away from him and knelt down with a thud.

"Disciple Yun Zhaowei pays respects to Venerable Qingheng!"

She shouted as loudly as she could, her voice trembling at the end.

Qingheng finally turned around slowly.

Yun Zhaowei looked at her toes, feeling his gaze on her. It was light yet heavy, like a cold ruler measuring her bones inch by inch.

"An outer disciple?"

"Y... yes," Yun Zhaowei stammered. "Disciple is the outer sect's... um... number one waste."

She went all out. Since the whole sect knew, there was no point in hiding it.

Qingheng seemed taken aback by her self-description.

An awkward silence filled the air.

"What is it?" he said curtly.

Yun Zhaowei took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she held up the "Introduction to Qi Guidance" from her bosom, raising it above her head.

"Disciple is dull, begging the Venerable to point out... even a narrow path."

Her voice grew softer, nearly inaudible at the end. "Disciple has ranked last in the annual exams for three consecutive years and will be expelled from the mountain in three days. Disciple... doesn't want to leave. I beg the Venerable for guidance."

The Sword Lecture Platform was terrifyingly quiet.

Yun Zhaowei waited for a long time without hearing a response. Just as she thought he would blow her away with a sword aura, a faint sigh came from above.

"You've taken the wrong path."

Yun Zhaowei's heart sank.

Sure enough, the Venerable also thought she was hopeless.

"I mean," Qingheng's voice remained cold but became more substantial, "the path of your cultivation is wrong."

Yun Zhaowei suddenly looked up and met a pair of deep, ink-black eyes.

There was no mockery or pity in those eyes, only an almost absolute rationality.

"Is there still a way for someone like me?" she blurted out, with a hope she hadn't realized.

Qingheng didn't answer directly.

He took two steps forward, his white robe brushing through the clouds, and stopped in front of her. A faint cold fragrance, like pine needles after snow, enveloped Yun Zhaowei.

"Hold out your hand," he said calmly.

Dazedly, Yun Zhaowei extended her right hand.

Qingheng reached out with his slender fingers and gently placed them on her wrist pulse.

At that moment, Yun Zhaowei felt an extremely pure, warm yet unshakable force swiftly travel through her entire body from her wrist. Wherever the force passed, her originally stagnant meridians felt as smoothed as if ironed.

Her eyes widened.

Is this the power of a top-tier expert?

Qingheng's brow slightly furrowed, as if he had found something puzzling.

He took his pulse for much longer than Yun Zhaowei expected. So long that she could count the number of his eyelashes.

So beautiful.

Not only his hands, but his face was also incredible.

What was the second half of the manual?

Yun Zhaowei quickly shook her head to rid herself of those rebellious thoughts.

After a moment, Qingheng withdrew his hand.

"Your meridians are naturally narrow and have residual seal marks." He looked at her with a probing gaze. "The usual 'circulating qi through the major cycle' is tantamount to self-destruction for you. Forcibly drawing qi will only dissipate spiritual power into your flesh and blood, making it hard to gather in your elixir field."

"Ah?" Yun Zhaowei was dumbfounded. "Then... what should I do?"

Qingheng formed a sword gesture with his fingers and traced a few golden trajectories in the air.

"Abandon the major cycle, take the Celestial Pivot, bypass the Spiritual Platform. From now on, qi rises from Yongquan, enters not the Dantian, but directly rushes to Baihui."

He spoke slowly, as if deliberately accommodating her comprehension.

Although Yun Zhaowei was poor at cultivation, she was smart. She almost instantly understood this unconventional path.

"Try again," Qingheng commanded.

Yun Zhaowei immediately closed her eyes and concentrated on her breath.

This time, following the strange path Qingheng had drawn, she carefully guided that faint wisp of spiritual power.

A miraculous thing happened.

The spiritual power that had previously scraped her meridians like sandpaper now became incredibly smooth after taking this new route! That wisp of spiritual power seemed to find a home, darting cheerfully into the depths of her Spiritual Platform.

"It's glowing!" Yun Zhaowei exclaimed. She felt an unprecedented clarity in her Spiritual Platform.

Opening her eyes, she was so excited she almost jumped up: "Venerable! I drew qi! I really drew it!"

Her joyful face bloomed on her pretty small face, radiating a lively energy that seemed glaringly out of place on this silent, cold Sword Lecture Platform.

Qingheng looked at her, a faint, almost imperceptible ripple flashing through his eyes—one he himself didn't notice.

"Hmm."

He responded lightly and returned to his usual aloof demeanor.

Just as Yun Zhaowei was about to seize the moment and squeeze out some more dialogue, steady and rigid footsteps suddenly sounded from behind.

"Uncle."

Yun Zhaowei shuddered and turned to look.

Pei Du, clad in black robes of the Law Enforcement Hall, was walking up the stone steps. His brows were tightly knit, and the moment he saw Yun Zhaowei, his face darkened as if it could drip water.

"Yun Zhaowei?" Pei Du's voice was sharp as a knife. "An outer disciple trespassing in Lingxiao Peak without reason shall be expelled according to the rules."

With that, he stepped forward to seize her.

Yun Zhaowei flinched and shrank behind Qingheng.

"I summoned her."

Qingheng dropped the words without emphasis.

Pei Du froze completely. He stopped mid-step, his outstretched hand hanging in the air, staring at his uncle, who never meddled in mundane affairs, with a look as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Uncle... what did you say?"

"What, you have an objection?" Qingheng glanced sideways at him.

Pei Du instantly lowered his head: "I dare not."

But the shock in his eyes was unmistakable. He had served Qingheng for a hundred years and never seen his uncle tell such a blatant lie for an outer disciple, and a waste at that.

Qingheng ignored Pei Du's inner turmoil. He turned, took out a jade token from his sleeve—smooth and glossy, carved with Lingxiao flower patterns—and casually tossed it.

Yun Zhaowei scrambled to catch it.

"Take it. Use the main gate from now on."

With that, without another glance, he turned and vanished into the rolling sea of clouds as a moon-white afterimage.

Leaving behind a dumbfounded Pei Du and a wildly ecstatic Yun Zhaowei clutching the jade token, practically dancing for joy.

Yun Zhaowei looked down at the heavy Lingxiao token in her hand.

When you have something to do, let the master do it.

The first secret art.

It was indeed... deadly effective!