Lu Sheng’s eyes lit up at the news.
He had long struggled to find complete, powerful martial arts manuals. Since quality was hard to come by, perhaps quantity could be a substitute. After all, with the modifier, he could absorb techniques at a terrifying speed—sometimes mastering a skill after just a few attempts.
If he could learn multiple arts quickly, wouldn’t that help him reach his goal even faster?
In this world, demons and ghosts might appear at any moment. If he didn’t seize the chance to grow stronger now, what would he do when a real crisis came?
The thought made his eyes shine with renewed determination.
He finally understood what Uncle Zhao was hinting at.
There were still many veteran martial artists living quietly in Jiulian City. Take Zhang Xun, for example—the former chief constable of the prefecture’s office. Though now aged and frail, his Heart-Rending Palm technique remained sharp and formidable.
Now in his twilight years, Zhang Xun lived alone, without children or disciples to inherit his legacy. His life was modest, his income barely covering his expenses, and he often leaned on old friends like Uncle Zhao for support.
If Lu Sheng could use his connections and financial means to build a relationship, it might not be hard to earn the right to learn the Heart-Rending Palm.
Bear in mind—in his youth, Zhang Xun was hailed as the number one martial artist in Jiulian City. Over time, of course, others caught up. He was already 86 years old—much older than Uncle Zhao—and his movements had grown stiff with age.
By the time Uncle Zhao and the others made names for themselves, Zhang Xun had already retired.
And Zhang Xun wasn’t the only one.
There were many such former masters scattered throughout Jiulian City, quietly guarding forgotten martial arts treasures.
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Lu Sheng’s mind began to stir. If he could learn from these old masters, even refining third-rate martial arts to a high level could make him formidable.
“What do you think? Young Master, if you're interested, I can reach out to a few old friends whose circumstances are suitable,” Uncle Zhao offered.
It was clear that Uncle Zhao wasn’t just thinking of Lu Sheng. Perhaps he also wanted to look after his aging comrades—old martial artists who had once been brilliant but were now fading into obscurity, their skills at risk of vanishing with them.
Lu Sheng considered this carefully.
“Uncle Zhao, you make a good point. But… which masters do you have in mind?”
“Don’t worry about quantity—too much on the plate makes for a hard meal,” Uncle Zhao replied with a knowing smile. “The Heart-Shattering Palm and the Eighty-Four Swallow Chasing Wind Blade—those two I can guarantee.”
“The descendants of these two friends of mine were killed by enemies years ago. They've been alone ever since, living hard lives. They’ve long wanted to pass on their skills, but…”
Uncle Zhao sighed, a trace of sorrow in his eyes.
“Scholars thrive in poverty, but martial artists need wealth. Without proper nourishment and support, even the most diligent practice will shorten a man’s life. That’s why they hesitate. They don’t want to teach a disciple only to doom them to ruin.”
He looked at Lu Sheng with sincerity.
“But you, Brother Sheng, have natural talent and extraordinary potential. Sure, we might not be able to get you the top-tier martial arts from the great sects—but if you master even these two techniques, they’ll become exceptional arts in your hands.”
“It’ll meet your needs, and at the same time, give my old friends some peace of mind. A win-win for everyone.”
Lu Sheng’s expression turned solemn as the man laid out all his plans.
“Since Uncle Zhao is vouching for them, these two seniors will be my masters. The mansion will provide each of them with twenty taels of silver per month as a teaching fee.”
Uncle Zhao couldn’t help but smile.
“Brother Sheng is truly kind-hearted...”
In truth, most martial arts masters charged less than ten taels to pass on their skills. Lu Sheng offering double that to each was not just generous—it was a gesture of respect. It gave Zhao Dahu considerable face among his circle. If word got out, he would be held in high esteem by many of his old friends.
“Brother Sheng, you keep practicing—I’ll go pass this news to a few friends.”
Now that the matter was settled, Uncle Zhao was eager to move. He had to deliver the news to Zhang Xun as soon as possible.
Zhang Xun had recently caught a cold. Though he had once been a robust and powerful man, years of neglecting his health had left him with countless hidden injuries. Now, his blood and qi were depleted, and he lacked the means to recover properly. The medicine for his last illness had cost him dearly.
If not for this, he might never have considered taking on a disciple. But times were hard.
“Uncle Zhao, please go ahead,” Lu Sheng said, raising his sword and bowing deeply.
After seeing Uncle Zhao off, Lu Sheng remained alone on the training ground.
He drew his long sword and began practicing a set of Black Tiger Saber Techniques Techniques, his movements sharp and focused beneath the fading light.
Tiger’s Wrath, Tiger’s Might, and Tiger’s Roar—though treated as three distinct techniques—were each composed of a complete set of sword forms, with over ten variations apiece.
While these three were categorized as independent moves, every major form contained layered and adaptable sub-techniques.
For example, Tiger’s Wrath alone included specific moves for frontal assaults, rear attacks, strikes from the left and right, counters against sneak attacks, long weapons, heavy arms… the variations were endless.
It wasn’t just a single technique—it was a complete system.
As Lu Sheng practiced his swordwork, a servant came running toward the edge of the training ground. The man stood quietly to the side, waiting for Lu Sheng to finish.
Lu Sheng frowned, quickly sheathed his blade and turned to face him.
“What is it?”
“My Lord, there is a carriage outside. A young lady who calls herself Miss Duanmu says she has an appointment with you. She’s here to visit.”
The servant spoke with careful respect.
“Duanmu… Duanmu Wan is here?”
Lu Sheng’s heart stirred.
He had been training in the Black Fiend Art ever since acquiring it, but progress was slow, and he had yet to grasp its core. Doubts had started to creep in—was the manual even authentic?
Duanmu Wan had claimed she could provide true internal cultivation methods, but he had no proof her words were real.
“Forget it… I’ll meet her first.”
He wasn’t some naive young master easily manipulated. No matter how cunning Duanmu Wan might be, shallow tricks wouldn’t work on him.
“Please invite her to the guest hall. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, sir.”
The servant left. Lu Sheng turned to the maid and said:
“Bring a basin of water.”
He washed away the sweat, changed into a clean white long gown, and made his way to the guest hall—his mind already preparing for what kind of game Duanmu Wan might be playing this time.
After crossing the training ground, a small garden, and a corridor, Lu Sheng arrived at the guest hall meant for receiving visitors.
The guest hall doors stood open, revealing a woman in a flowing purple dress seated on the right. Her face was charming, her skin as white as snow, and crescent-shaped pearl earrings adorned her ears. She carried herself with a dignified elegance.
It was Duanmu Wan—the same woman he had met last time.
Also present was Lu Sheng’s third brother, Lu Chenxin, who was openly flirting with her.
Lu Chenxin’s eyes were fixed lustfully on Duanmu Wan’s chest, drawn to the deep valley revealed by her white bra. He seemed unable to look away.
A light cough from Lu Sheng interrupted them.
Both immediately turned their heads.
“Big brother...”
Lu Chenxin blushed, hastily rising and looking embarrassed.
“Since you’re here... Big brother, Miss Duanmu came to see you...” he stammered.
“Third brother, go ask the kitchen to send some sour plum soup first. I’ll receive her here.”
Lu Sheng was sharp and composed. Having faced many situations before, he naturally took responsibility, earning the respect of his siblings. He was no frivolous young master like others his age.
He had two siblings: his second sister, Lu Qingqing, who was out training in martial arts and hadn’t returned yet, and his third brother, Lu Chenxin, who was still buried in the classics, hoping to pass the imperial exams one day.
As for Lu Sheng himself, he had already taken charge of part of the family business. His talents had convinced Lu Quan’an that he was the one to eventually inherit the family’s affairs.
Since Lu Sheng was destined to hold the family’s financial power, both his siblings and the entire clan would rely on him for their future livelihood.
In daily life, people treated Lu Sheng with a mix of fear and flattery.
“Brother Sheng, I just happened to bring a pot of sour plum soup. Here, take it first—it tastes best chilled.”
Fifth Mother, passing by outside the living room, stepped in holding the pot.
She was the fifth wife of the family head, Lu Quanan, though officially only a concubine, not a formal wife. Unlike the first three wives, Fifth Mother and her daughter—Lu Sheng’s cousin Lu Yingying—had to rely entirely on Lu Sheng’s goodwill after Old Master Lu Quanan passed away.
So even though she was Lu Sheng’s Fifth Mother in name, both she and Lu Yingying often flattered him.
After all, once Old Master Lu Quanan was gone, Lu Sheng had no obligation to support them without cause. To avoid being cast out, it was necessary to establish a good relationship early with Lu Sheng—the future head of the family.
“Fifth Mother, you’re too kind.” Lu Sheng quickly accepted the sour plum soup and set it down. “I’ll handle things here. You should go back.”
“Yes, yes, Brother Sheng. You should attend to your guests first.” Fifth Mother smiled and hurried away.
Before leaving, she cast a jealous glance at Duanmu Wan. Though only in her early thirties and well maintained, she knew she was no match for Duanmu Wan’s beauty and grace.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
Lu Chenxin seized the moment and quietly slipped away as well.
Soon, only Lu Sheng and Duanmu Wan remained in the guest hall.
“Does the young master still desire the secret manuals?” Duanmu Wan smiled softly, noticing they were alone.
Lu Sheng’s expression remained unchanged as he replied, “Miss Duanmu is truly remarkable. I hid my identity and appearance, yet you still found me.”
“Sir, you flatter me. In all of Jiulian City, there’s only one young man close to Zheng Xiangui of the Zheng family—and also wealthy. Recognizing him by height and build isn’t difficult.” Duanmu Wan’s smile deepened.
“That wouldn't be difficult for Miss Duanmu. Well, let’s not waste time. I don’t know what secret manuals you’ve brought this time, but I’ll say it now: I want only internal skills.” Lu Sheng spoke calmly, neither hurried nor hesitant. His composure didn’t falter despite his identity being known.
“Of course—all internal skills.” Duanmu Wan extended her slender hand and pulled out three booklets from her sleeve, gently placing them on the coffee table with space between each.
The three pale green booklets were stitched neatly, their covers boldly inscribed with: Resolute Pine Determination, Jade Crane Art, and Yin-Yang Guiding Force.
Lu Sheng glanced at them, his face unreadable.
“Miss Duanmu is generous, but how can I be sure these secret manuals are genuine?”
Duanmu Wan chuckled lightly.
“That’s simple. These three internal skills are very easy to start practicing—you’ll feel the energy after just one day. They are the kind that are easy to learn but difficult to master, making it easy to distinguish the real from the fake.”
She shifted her tone slightly.
“As for whether there are any errors or omissions, that depends on whether you trust Wan’er. Even if it’s an authentic manual, doubts will arise if you don’t believe me.”
“Miss Wan’er is wise.” Lu Sheng’s face brightened. If what she said was true—that these three manuals were easy to learn—then compared to the Black Fiend Art, these skills would suit him far better.
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