If people assumed Ming Huayu was the only eccentric to teach his disciples disciplines he didn’t master, they’d be wrong because Hero Shenzhou wasn’t much less unorthodox. When Hero Shenzhou brought the young fisherman back to Mount Daluo and locked him in the confinement room for punishing disciples, nobody had the faintest idea what he was thinking.
Nobody could ever tell what was on Hero Shenzhou’s mind. They were always worried about Mount Daluo’s future as he was a hundred years old, yet he didn’t have a proper disciple he could call his successor. Of course some people inquired. Problem was, finding someone on the mountain who could understand the things he said was one tall order.
What got on the nerves of everyone was the attitude of the brat who’d likely never ventured more than a few kilometres outside his village. Whenever he opened his mouth, he’d use profanity, saying things such as, “The hell you looking at?” or “Call the old fart over. I’m going to slap his head the other way.” Mount Daluo’s members suffered defeat after defeat when they attempted to fire back. Thus, the boy became an unwanted plague.
Following five days of free reign, the boy showed up in Hero Shenzhou’s study to yell, “Old Fart, I just found out you’re a legend in the martial arts community and Mount Daluo’s patriarch, yet you’re picking on poor little me! Do you have any shame?!”
No matter how you slice it, a kid not even ten years old shouldn’t be able to escape be able to escape confinement, figure out where they were and who their “abductor” was.
Hero Shenzhou didn’t even look up or say a word. Instead, he threw a big key over, then went back to sleep. Ming Huayu’s biggest pet peeve was Hero Shenzhou’s refusal to do something a man could understand – ironic, since he was arguably more eccentric.
It didn’t take Ming Huayu long to find out the key was for the main door of Mount Daluo’s library. For the next ten years, besides the maids who delivered food, nobody saw him again. Upon resurfacing, he defeated dozens of top branch disciples using direct disciples’ skills. The last time someone not part of the sect managed to get in was decades ago. Had Hero Shenzhou not been around to quell his riot, Mount Daluo’s reputation would’ve been forfeited to his record.
Learning Mount Daluo’s disciplines reserved for direct disciples – and mastering them to an advanced degree – would incur the capital punishment. Howbeit, when the disciples fettered him to an iron cross and prepared to cripple him, Hero Shenzhou declared, “Henceforward, Stirring Dreams Rainy Peak shall be his. Let him train there.”
If their patriarch wasn’t the greatest fighter in the world, as well as a legend with many accomplishments to his name, the disciples would’ve called him out for being senile. After all, only direct disciples were allowed to be on Stirring Dreams Rainy Peak; Ming Huayu was only a step away from being announced Hero Shenzhou’s successor.
Hero Shenzhou wrinkled his nose as though the disciples should’ve known better and stroked his beard. “Didn’t I mention he’s my private disciple?”
Later on, everyone was glad Mount Daluo had a successor. That said, they say Mount Daluo’s current patriarch forcibly “learnt” Daluo Five Divine Styles Manual.
Ming Huayu didn’t have any basics or a coach when he started training. He was different to prodigies who were born with an instinct for martial arts, who then leveraged that to forge themselves into adepts. He was the sort of man who lived at extremes. When it came to martial arts, everything just clicked for him. He’d pick up on intricate techniques or internal energy training methods in one go. For him, they were just supposed to make sense. If he were to watch a duel, his brain would account for their attitude, their mind, the time, the weather, the terrain and whatnot, providing him with almost infinite information to leverage.
Although Ming Huayu’s six disciples all proved themselves to be extraordinary in their own ways, none of them resembled him. There was only one person who truly understood his style.
“Overarching Heaven!” Feng Xue exclaimed. “Wouldn’t Mount Daluo be plunged into chaos if you left the mountain with it?”
Ming Suwen dimpled. “If it is plunged into chaos, then so be it. Last time I checked, Mount Daluo has never followed the norms of so-called orthodox sects. Actually, has Mount Daluo not always been an embodiment of chaos?”
The only person to understand Ming Huayu’s style also thought so similarly to him that Feng Xue felt he was chatting with his friend.
As Ming Suwen took aim at Wazi’s throat, her qi transformed her sword into a white firefly. The qi along her sword gradually expanded as though she was commandeering thousands of swords, compelling Wazi to don its lightning armour. She continued to accumulate more and more energy, deciding that her first attack would also be her last.
Though Ming Suwen learnt her swordplay from Hero Shenzhou, the depth of his knowledge meant that it was highly probable for the student to inject their own personality into it. For instance, Ming Huayu would execute it with devastating power. Sima Huai would execute it in an unpredictable fashion. Hong Jiu would execute it with overwhelming violence and power. Ming Feizhen would literally recreate it into something else. Lian Zhuiyue would be the only one to execute it in a way that was analogous to Hero Shenzhou’s version.
Ming Suwen followed Ming Huayu’s style. To stress again, Ming Huayu lived life at extremes, and he didn’t follow norms. The same applied for his swordplay. When Ming Huayu fought, he went for the finish right away.
One swing. One golden flash. One trail of jiao blood.
