Chapter Thirty-Four: Hidden Dragon in the Pavilion

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Within the Heaven Sword Pavilion, all was silent. Only the occasional chirping of insects drifted in through the window, making the place seem all the more secluded and tranquil. After three years, Xiao Chen had long grown accustomed to a life spent among books and dust. By day, he was merely an obscure servant tasked with sweeping the floors; when night fell, however, the entire Scripture Repository became his private world of swordsmanship.

At that moment, he sat cross-legged before a row of shelves on the third floor, his eyes closed and his breathing long and steady. He was not circulating any technique, yet an almost imperceptible aura seemed to flow around him. It was not spiritual energy, but something purer—a kind of “intent.”

Within his perception, the shelves beside him, the floor beneath him, and even the motes of dust drifting through the air all seemed to possess life, each containing a “sword nature” that could be stirred. This was the essence of the Myriad Things Sword Art: bound by nothing, constrained by no form. Wherever the heart directed itself, all things could become a sword.

Yet just as he immersed himself in that wondrous state, an almost imperceptible killing intent, foreign to this place, pierced the stillness of the night like a cold needle.

Xiao Chen’s eyelashes trembled faintly, but he did not open his eyes.

They had come.

He had long anticipated this. After crippling Lin Feng’s junior fellow disciple in the martial arena and revealing strength far beyond that of an ordinary servant, he was bound to arouse the fear of certain people—especially the faction of elders secretly allied with the Little Blood Butcher, who wished nothing more than to see this “survivor of the fallen dynasty” disappear completely.

They would never allow an uncontrollable “variable” to continue existing.

“Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!”

Three black figures, ghostlike and soundless, vaulted through three different windows. Their movements were strange, their landings noiseless; clearly, they had undergone the most rigorous training as death warriors. Forming a triangular arrangement, they gripped short blades coated in deadly poison and closed in on Xiao Chen, seated cross-legged before them. Their movements were crisp and efficient, without the slightest excess.

Their killing intent was fierce, and every avenue of escape had already been sealed.

Xiao Chen’s mind was utterly clear. He was just about to draw upon the “sword intent” within the nearby shelves when an aura even more ancient and profound than his own quietly spread up from below.

Xiao Chen knew that aura exceedingly well. It was as though the Scripture Repository itself had taken form—laden with the sediment of time, weighty and serene, yet containing an unquestionable majesty.

It was the hunchbacked old man.

The three death warriors had clearly sensed something amiss as well, for their movements faltered slightly. At the stairwell, the hunchbacked old man who ordinarily did nothing but sweep the floors was slowly making his way upward, leaning on the broom he had polished until it gleamed.

His steps were light, yet each footfall upon the wooden stairs rang out with a muffled thud, thud, like a knock against the human heart.

“Within the Scripture Repository, loud disturbances are forbidden, and so is… fighting.”

The old man’s voice was as hoarse and muddied as ever, yet it possessed a strange penetrating force.

“Courting death!”

A murderous glint flashed in the eyes of the death warrior leading the group. One of his companions shot forward like an arrow released from its bow, the short blade in his hand tracing a vicious arc straight toward the old man’s throat. In his eyes, this was nothing more than a decrepit old servant who could be dispatched with a casual strike.

Yet in the face of this killing blow, not the slightest ripple disturbed the old man’s clouded eyes. He did not even look at the attacker. He merely extended the broom in his hand seemingly at random, then gave it a light sweep.

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The motion was no different from the way he swept dust from the floor every day.

But with that utterly ordinary sweep, the situation suddenly changed!

Hummm—!

The entire Scripture Repository seemed to awaken.

The air instantly grew as viscous as quicksilver. An invisible yet boundless force, vast enough to inspire despair, pressed in from every direction.

The death warrior rushing toward the old man came to an abrupt halt in midair. The ferocious grin on his face froze, and his eyes filled with utmost terror. He felt as though an invisible mountain had descended upon him. He could not move even a finger; even breathing had become unbearably difficult.

The other two death warriors, who had been about to pounce on Xiao Chen, were likewise imprisoned where they stood, frozen in their lunging postures like two bizarre statues.

A broom for a sword, drawing upon the might of heaven and earth!

Xiao Chen abruptly opened his eyes, shock filling his pupils. He could clearly sense that the old man’s sweep had invoked neither ordinary spiritual energy nor sword aura. Instead, it had drawn upon the accumulated fragrance of books, the human presence, and the unique “domain” that had settled within the Scripture Repository over the course of a century.

The old man was not using his own power to fight.

He had made the Scripture Repository itself his weapon!

What a terrifying realm!

The old man slowly walked before the three immobilized death warriors and tapped each of them once on the forehead with the handle of his broom.

Their eyes instantly became vacant. Their vitality vanished, and they toppled stiffly to the ground. Not a single wound marred their bodies.

When all was done, the old man turned around, his clouded gaze settling upon Xiao Chen.

Xiao Chen immediately rose and bowed deeply.

“This junior, Xiao Chen, thanks Senior for saving my life.”

“Saving you?” The old man gave a hoarse chuckle and shook his head. “This old man saved the peace and quiet of the Scripture Repository.”

He walked to the window and gazed into the night. Beneath the moonlight, his hunched back appeared even lonelier.

“Youngster, you are rather interesting. Three years ago, you dragged a broken body here with a heart turned to ashes. I thought that within ten years, you would sink completely. I never expected you to break through the gate of death, open a new path, and comprehend the rudiments of this ‘Selfless Sword Dao.’”

Xiao Chen’s heart shook violently.

He had never mentioned his Myriad Things Sword Art to anyone, yet the old man had seen straight through to its core with a single sentence.

“Senior… who are you?”

The old man did not answer directly. Instead, he asked, “Do you know why the Heaven Sword Sect is called the Heaven Sword Sect?”

Xiao Chen paused before replying, “According to legend, the founding patriarch stood atop Heaven Sword Peak, contemplated the sea of clouds, attained enlightenment, and split a mountain with a single sword strike. Thus, the sect was named the Heaven Sword Sect.”

“Yes, and no.”

The old man slowly turned around. A complex, unfathomable expression appeared upon his wrinkled face.

“Back then, there were two men. One gazed upon the heavens and comprehended the sword of the ‘Immortal Flying Beyond the Heavens’; he became the ‘Heaven Sword.’ The other remained within the mountains and comprehended the sword of ‘Returning the Hidden Edge to Its Sheath’; he became the ‘Hidden Sword.’

“The Heaven Sword governed slaughter and established the sect’s might. The Hidden Sword governed protection and established the sect’s foundation. But the world admired only the sharp brilliance of the Heaven Sword. As the years passed, it gradually forgot the sword hidden within its sheath.”

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As he spoke, his hunched back began, little by little, to straighten beneath the moonlight.

Though his frame remained thin and gaunt, the sharpness that had lain dormant for a hundred years emerged like an unparalleled divine sword slowly leaving its sheath, causing the entire world to pale before it.

“This old man… was the one who bore the Hidden Sword back then.”

Xiao Chen stood rooted to the spot as though struck by lightning.

One of the founding patriarchs of the Heaven Sword Sect, said in legend to have long since passed into meditation! The Hidden Sword Patriarch, as renowned as the Heaven Sword Patriarch yet shrouded in mystery!

He had not died. Instead, he had taken on the form of an ordinary man and spent a century sweeping the floors of the Scripture Repository!

“Several centuries ago, something went wrong while I was practicing the sword. My killing intent grew too strong, and demons arose within my heart. I nearly fell into the demonic path.” The Hidden Sword Patriarch’s voice regained a trace of clarity. “With no other choice, I sealed away my cultivation, took on the form of a mortal, and came to this sea of books to sweep the floors and sweep my heart, seeking a single thing—to see through it all. That one sweep lasted a hundred years.”

He looked toward Xiao Chen, a trace of approval in his eyes.

“Your Myriad Things Sword Art takes all things as swords and follows the path of ‘selflessness.’ It has already reached an exceedingly lofty level of intent. But too much is as bad as too little. After ‘selflessness,’ your edge reveals itself too completely, leaving little room for retreat. Look at this broom of mine.”

He raised the broom.

“It can sweep away dust; that is its ‘use.’ Yet ordinarily, it rests quietly in the corner; that is its ‘concealment.’ It can sweep the floor, and it can sweep away men; that is its ‘release.’ But once the sweep is complete, dust returns to dust and earth returns to earth, and all things settle back into stillness; that is its ‘withdrawal.’”

The patriarch taught no specific technique. Instead, he transformed his century-long understanding of “concealment” and “withdrawal” into a calm, peaceful intent and slowly guided it into Xiao Chen’s brow.

“Your sword is too sharp, and too lonely as well. Learn to conceal it. Learn to draw it back. Only when you can make existence and nonexistence give rise to each other, and release and restraint flow freely, will your sword path have truly reached perfection.”

Xiao Chen closed his eyes and carefully contemplated the vast yet restrained realm within his mind.

Within the originally empty world of his “selfless” sword heart, he felt as though a sheath capable of containing all things had been born.

His sword intent no longer spread recklessly outward. Instead, it began to gather inward, becoming denser, more solid, and more harmonious.

From “selflessness” toward the higher realm where existence and nonexistence gave rise to one another, he had taken a crucial first step.

After a long while, Xiao Chen opened his eyes once more and performed the grand disciple’s bow before the Hidden Sword Patriarch.

“Disciple Xiao Chen thanks Patriarch for your guidance!”

This time, he had addressed him as “Patriarch.”

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