Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

Hui flitted around the stages, making full use of his free time from his quickly-finished match to watch the rest of the matches. He kept half an eye on Xin Mobing the whole time, mindful of the man in case he decided to enforce a bit of extrajudicial justice. Xin Mobing, on the other hand, backed off into a corner and began to practice his fist techniques, completely ignoring Hui.

Tucking his hands behind him, Hui pulled up to one of the fights and watched on, nodding occasionally to himself to keep up the appearance of an expert. He snuck a look at the referee’s face, though as ever, the man sported a stern, blank expression. Still, something about his body language told him that the referee liked the fight.

So what is it? The most important thing is to understand what the judge wants to see, and make sure he sees as much of it as possible… anyways, as much as this small cultivator can provide, while still preserving my small life and advancing through the rounds.

Hui watched the fight below, humming to himself as he did so. A cultivator wielding a chain-sickle darted around a sword cultivator. The two occasionally traded blows, but for the most part, the chain-sickle wielder kept the sword cultivator at a distance, dealing the occasional glancing blow. The sword cultivator threw sword beams, but barely had enough time to stand still to launch them before the sickle curved around and struck at his shoulder. He darted away. His sword beams shot in a straight line until they struck the tournament floor’s barrier, where they dissipated. The sickle-wielder, however, was nowhere near his beams. As he chased the chain-sickle wielder, the sword cultivator began to slow down, his attacks just a hair slower.

Hmm, I see. The sickle has an advantage in maneuverability and mid-range attacks, and he’s able to keep the sword cultivator at a distance and wear him down. Usually, the sword cultivator’s beams would make up for his long-range weakness, but because of the flexible nature of the chain-sickle and its curving attacks, the chain-sickle-wielder can easily escape from the straight-line beams.

Wait, wait, no. I’m not here to actually appraise the fight. I’m here to figure out what the judge likes about it!

Hui raised a hand to his chin, furrowing his brows. Though… maybe that’s precisely it. This fight is a clear demonstration of two opponents’ skills. They fight openly and display all their powers with their exchange. One clearly has the upper hand, but that could change at any moment. If I think of it that way… no wonder he warned me. My fight must have been extremely disappointing.

But what am I supposed to do about it? Show off my skills? I have no skills! I barely know a close-combat movement technique, and all I have is my sect’s basic sword art… a sword art so basic that it’s probably safe to use in front of the judge, because it doesn’t have anything particularly tying it back to Starbound Sect! I don’t have any other weapons techniques, and even if I reach into the depths of my first life, at most, I can be counted as having been on the receiving end of the “kick a vagrant to his death” technique, but that’s about it!

What to do, what to do…?

Hui flexed his fingers, drawing out the puppeteering art again. Black threads wavered in the air. I haven’t used this in a while, but if I used it to manipulate my opponent…?

No, no. It’s a dark art directly stolen from a demonic sect. Using it as a hidden technique is one thing, but using it as the main method of defeat…? The referee will notice it, and then I’ll have bigger problems than passing the trial… namely, my little life will be in danger! Besides, that doesn’t really solve the problem, either. Then I’m simply going from me not knowing how to fight, to both me and my opponent being unable to fight properly. I don’t think the judge would enjoy a fight like that very much. Two idiots staggering around the stage… yeah, it won’t work.

He twisted his lips, dismissing the puppeteering art. Okay, what else? What if I comprehend a sword art right here, right now?

Ha! I’m not Ying Lin. The blessed protagonist isn’t me, but her! She might be able to pull that off, but not this small cultivator.

Hmm… a sword talisman technique, maybe?

No way! Turning a sword technique into a talisman? The talisman would have to control my body, my qi flow, essentially puppeteer me, and plus, it would have to be able to adapt to what the opponent does, and—

Hui stopped. Wait. Can I do this?

What if I create a series of talismans, each one imbued with a single portion of a sword art? I can use the puppeteering technique as the basis, and puppeteer myself through the sword technique. By breaking the sword technique into small portions and using each one as a separate talisman, I can apply the talismans to myself and act out each small portion as a reaction to my opponent. Like method-based programming!

It's not perfect, but it’s the only way I can think of to give the judge a good showing. Hmm… then all I need now is a sword technique to break into talismans.

Hui flew away from the fight and hovered over beside Chen Wuya. “Senior… would you consider imparting your sword technique to me?”

“Heh? Why should I do that? You couldn’t learn it even if I wanted to teach you,” Chen Wuya said, clicking his tongue.

“Senior, I was thinking of turning it into a talisman technique,” Hui explained.

Chen Wuya looked at him. He blinked. “Huh?”

“I… it’s hard to explain, but… let me give it a try!” Hui said, nodding.

“You know my sword art is considered one of the greatest sword arts in this continent? A sword art that can shake the heavens and rattle the earth? A sword art men have killed for and women have lusted after? And you want me to… give it to you, so you can turn it into a talisman technique?” Chen Wuya asked skeptically.

Hui nodded. “It’s dying out, isn’t it? It’s better to have more inheritors than fewer, no?”

Chen Wuya turned to the battle below. Hui followed his gaze, to where Jing Ruchen sparred with another sword cultivator. As they watched, the other cultivator forced Jing Ruchen back. Jing Ruchen backstepped, throwing himself back from his ankles.

The crow sighed deeply. “Fine. But only because it hurts to see that man mangle my technique so badly.” He turned to Hui, and his eyes flashed. “If you also mangle my sword art…” He flexed his foot. His talons flashed in the light.

“Senior, have faith,” Hui said earnestly. Oh, I’m absolutely going to mangle your sword art. It’s just… that I believe in my ability to withstand your punishment! If I was to claim to be the second-most-experienced at dealing with higher cultivator’s punishments… there’d probably be at least nine people who could disagree with me, but I’d still be in the top ten!

Chen Wuya sighed. “I wish I knew Fen Long’s sword style. I’d very happily impart that to you to let you mangle it… if only to see his face when he saw it! Still… I can’t give you everything in the limited time we have. You aren’t that disciple of yours.”

“No,” Hui agreed.

“I’ll give you the first four movements of the technique. The first one is pure footwork, and you have some mastery of that already. The others are the fundamental sword strokes… nothing fancy, but well, you can’t handle fancy anyways,” Chen Wuya said dismissively.

“True,” Hui said, nodding. ‘Fancy,’ ‘sword,’ and ‘me’ are a set of words that never mix!

Chen Wuya fluttered his wings and hopped onto Hui’s head. “Prepare yourself.”

Hui set his beating stick horizontal and sat cross-legged atop it, hovering in midair. “I’m ready.”

Scratching his claws, Chen Wuya made Hui’s hair comfortable for himself and sat down on Hui’s head, tucking his legs into his belly feathers. He closed his eyes. Underneath him, Hui closed his eyes as well.

Images passed through his eyes. In his vision, a tall man with a noble face and long red robes stood there, a sword held at the ready. Long black hair flowed on the wind, as lush as ink. Brilliant red eyes blazed into Hui’s.

“Hmm-hmm, my first body was very attractive,” Chen Wuya said.

Hui turned. A young man with hair as ragged as a crow’s wing and dirty robes stood beside him, arms crossed. Ah! It looks like the older version of the boy I saw in the vision. So this is Chen Wuya between his child form and the adult form that’s locked in the secret realm in Starbound Sect.

Wait. First body? Now that you mention it, he doesn’t look much like the current Chen Wuya, even his adult form. Hui frowned at the man in front of them. Hmm, I guess the eyes look the same… but he’s a lot taller. His limbs are longer, and he’s generally more… er, put together? His hair alone—

Chen Wuya punched his arm. “Pay attention.”

“Sorry, Senior!” Hui yelped. He turned and watched the man, rather than appraising the differences between the two figures.

A second later, he frowned at himself. Since when have Seniors been able to enter their own inheritance spaces to personally bully me while they pass down techniques?

“I’ve always been able to do this. There’s just no need. I can bully you equally well as a crow,” Chen Wuya explained. He glanced at Hui. “Generally speaking, it’s difficult to enter another cultivator’s mind without physical contact. And naturally, the Senior needs to be present and alive if they want to appear in your mental space. Although… you’re somewhat special.”

Hui tilted his head. “Special how?”

Chen Wuya gestured around his head. “It’s like your head is a hole. A big, open hole. It’s easy to enter and read, but it’s also easy to fall into, and hard to escape from. But it means that if someone is scanning everyone’s thoughts…” He pushed his fingers out. “Usually thoughts look like this. But yours are like this.” He turned his fingers in, miming a fall. “So it’s easy to overlook your thoughts, too. And mental pressure techniques don’t do much to you.” He pointed his fingers out and patted them with his other hand. “See? Usually the pressure smacks your fingers, your thoughts. But with you…” He put his fingers inward again and patted his hand against the back of his other hand. “It hits the hole and does nothing.”

“Huh,” Hui said, frowning. That would explain why Gui Delun and the others haven’t picked me out for my thoughts in the trials. And it explains the mental pressure staircase. It sounds like I basically short-circuited it.

Though mental pressure is clearly different from cultivation pressure! This small cultivator has no particular defense against cultivation pressure, after all.

“Mmm. I did help you out against that Gui Delun, child with no faith,” Chen Wuya grumbled under his breath. He nodded ahead of him. “Now shut up and pay attention.”

Hui bowed and turned back around, in time for a sword to jab toward his face. Startled, he stumbled back.

The older Chen Wuya towered over him, his eyes gazing into the distance. He withdrew his sword and moved on to the next form, slicing through the air.

Chen Wuya the younger kicked Hui in the rear. “Straighten up! Legs solid, back straight! Hold your hands out, keep your sword up!”

“Sword?” Hui asked.

A weight settled into his hands. Hui glanced down and found himself holding a sword. He blinked, startled.

“I didn’t just come in here for fun. I know you. You won’t learn a thing the ordinary way. I came in here to make sure you learned the technique,” the little Chen Wuya said. He grinned widely, cracking his knuckles. “I told you to prepare yourself…”

I’m not prepared! I wasn’t prepared! Hui cried internally, forcing himself not to tremble.

“Higher! Keep that sword up! Wrists strong! Are you even watching that handsome older version of me?” Chen Wuya snapped.

“Yes, Senior!” Hui said, repressing his urge to cry aloud as he fixed his posture to Chen Wuya’s standards. Dammit! Why me? Why did I allow the other clones to force me into this? Let me give up on sword techniques in peace!