Chapter 40: Gifting Blades
Chu Yang tried to leap out of bed with a sudden burst of energy, but the abrupt movement pulled at his flank. He collapsed back against the mattress with a sharp “Ouch!” Yet his enthusiasm remained completely undamped as he yelled toward the outer room, “Su Mubai! Su Mubai! Help me up! Is Brother Jiang practicing downstairs again? Let’s go watch!”
Su Mubai let out a helpless sigh and hurried into the bedroom. Supporting Chu Yang’s back, his hands carefully avoided the bandage around his waist. “Take it easy, take it easy. Don’t go tearing that newly formed skin open again.”
Chu Yang nodded and leaned his weight against Su Mubai’s arm, practically hanging off him. The two of them shuffled step by step out to the second-floor corridor railing, leaning over the iron bar to peer down with wide, curious eyes.
Down in the dusty open space of the first floor, Jiang Jue was currently correcting Lin Xiao’s grip. The beat-up steel pipe in Lin Xiao’s hands looked, in Chu Yang’s humble opinion, thoroughly pitiful.
Chu Yang’s eyes rolled thoughtfully. He suddenly remembered that his spatial storage still held several decent weapons he and Jiang Jue had scavenged earlier.
With a flick of his mind, a classic straight-bladed Tang dao materialized in his grip, its polished edge gleaming with a sharp, icy luster.
Weighing the weapon in his hand, Chu Yang called out over the railing, “Old Lin! Catch! Use this instead—that rusty scrap pipe looks way too pathetic!”
With a casual toss, he sent the sheathed weapon sailing down toward the ground floor.
Lin Xiao looked up at the shout, his eyes brightening as he caught the hilt with a steady hand. With a crisp shing, he drew the steel from its scabbard. The snow-white blade caught the daylight, casting an intimidating, frosty reflection across his face.
Running an appreciative thumb along the spine of the blade, Lin Xiao looked up and grinned at Chu Yang. “Holy crap! You’re really something else, Third Brother! To think you were hoarding such a fine piece of steel! Thanks a ton!”
“No need to be polite! Brother Jiang and I picked it up together, so good gear should naturally go to my brothers!” Chu Yang raised his chin proudly. Then, glancing at Su Mubai beside him, his gaze turned thoughtful and his tone softened. “Little Bai, you need something for self-defense too. Hmm… let me see…”
He searched through his storage space once more and produced a blade that was noticeably shorter and lighter than a standard dao, handing it over to Su Mubai. “This one’s for you. It’s light and balanced, perfect for your build. Keep it on you and get used to the weight—it might save your life in a pinch.”
Su Mubai looked down at the weapon placed in his hands. The scabbard was plain and unadorned, but the hilt felt cool and surprisingly solid in his palm. A brief wave of fluster washed over him, but beneath Chu Yang’s encouraging smile and Lin Xiao’s expectant gaze from below, he accepted it, murmuring softly, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it!” Chu Yang waved a dismissive hand, his attention already snapping back to the ground floor.
Jiang Jue was demonstrating a downward cleave. His long straight blade whistled through the air with a clean, sharp whoosh, each motion crisp, efficient, and lethal. Chu Yang couldn’t resist slapping the railing with excitement. “Incredible! Brother Jiang, you’re a beast! That move looked ridiculously cool!”
Lin Xiao quickly tried to mimic the strike, but the moment he swung his arms, Chu Yang’s loud heckling drifted down from above: “Old Lin, you’re putting zero power into that! It looks like you’re tickling him—put some muscle into it!”
Leaning over the railing, Chu Yang watched the lesson with boiling enthusiasm, his stream of praise and armchair coaching never pausing for a second—completely forgetting that he was barely more than a novice himself.
Seeing how Lin Xiao’s form steadily sharpened under Jiang Jue’s guidance, Chu Yang felt a restless itch in his fingers. He couldn’t resist raising his own hand to trace the motions through the empty air.
Yet the moment he threw an overly ambitious slash, the wound at his waist flared with a sharp warning: “Hiss…” He gasped, his face scrunching in sudden pain as he quickly pulled his arm back, looking sheepish. “Fine, fine. I guess I’ll just behave and watch Brother Jiang show off.”
When he looked down again, Jiang Jue and Lin Xiao had begun to spar.
Jiang Jue’s swordplay was fast and merciless, every thrust and parry zeroing in on vital openings, denying Lin Xiao any opportunity to mount a counterattack. The blur of silver steel was so relentless that Lin Xiao was forced backward step after step, struggling just to keep his guard up.
Chu Yang watched with wide, rapt eyes, unable to stop himself from cheering: “Damn! Brother Jiang is way too fierce! Come on, Old Lin, at least try to throw a counter! This isn’t sparring—it’s a total one-sided beatdown! Brother Jiang, you’re unbelievable!”
Down below, hearing Chu Yang’s loud voice ringing through the rafters—filled with unabashed admiration—Jiang Jue’s strikes seemed to turn even sharper. The whistling of his blade grew shriller with every swing.
Lin Xiao’s forearms went completely numb from the constant shocks. The webbing between his thumb and forefinger burned with a dull ache, and he nearly lost his grip on the hilt.
He couldn’t help grumbling bitterly in his head: Brother Jiang is way out of line! He knows damn well Chu Yang is cheering from the balcony, so he’s deliberately laying into me—he’s just using me as a training dummy to show off for the kid!
That afternoon, pale sunlight managed to break through the overcast sky, bringing a welcome touch of warmth to the ruined yard.
Having practiced with his new blade for several days, Lin Xiao felt his technique had noticeably improved. Still, every time he crossed blades with Jiang Jue, he ended up thoroughly bruised and battered. Since Chu Yang was still resting to recover from his wound, Lin Xiao turned his attention to Su Mubai, who was quietly sorting through supplies nearby.
“Little Bai, come over here for a minute. Let’s spar a round,” Lin Xiao called out.
Su Mubai looked up, hesitation clear in his eyes as he waved his hands gently. “Maybe not? My power is strictly for healing—I’m really not good with weapons.”
“That won’t do!” Lin Xiao pressed the hilt into his hands, his expression turning serious. “You have to learn. In this world, there is no such thing as absolute safety. There will always be moments when the rest of us get separated or can’t reach you in time. What happens if you get cornered alone? Even as a healer, you need basic survival skills—even if it’s just knowing how to parry a strike or buy yourself five seconds to run! You can’t just stand there waiting for someone to rescue you every single time, right?”
Su Mubai tightened his grip on the weapon, looking noticeably uncomfortable. “I’m not refusing to learn… I’m just afraid I’ll do a terrible job…”
“That’s exactly why you practice!” Lin Xiao led him toward the center of the open floor without taking no for an answer, though his tone softened with reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ll pull my strikes. Just treat it as a light warm-up. Look at Chu Yang—his wound hasn’t even finished closing, and he spends all day scheming how to ambush people with his spatial blades!”
Chu Yang, who was resting on a crate nearby and suddenly caught in the crossfire, protested loudly: “Hey! Old Lin, what are you talking about? That’s called creative battlefield tactics! How is that an ambush? That’s pure tactical intelligence, got it?!”
Lin Xiao didn’t bother arguing back. Tilting his chin toward Su Mubai, he said, “Come on. Try to block my swing.”
Su Mubai drew a deep breath, setting both hands firmly around the hilt. Though his posture was slightly awkward, his footing remained steady, and he dropped his initial timidity.
Lin Xiao swung his blade forward in a slow, controlled arc. Even at that gentle pace, Su Mubai’s body instinctively tensed as he raised his steel to meet the strike.
Clang!
With a crisp ring of metal, Su Mubai was jarred back two steps. His arms vibrated from the impact, but his fingers held firm around the hilt. Though his face paled slightly, he quickly regained his balance.
Lin Xiao nodded in approval. “Not bad. Don’t be nervous. Keep your eyes on my edge, stay focused, and don’t panic.”
Watching from the sidelines, Chu Yang was bursting with impatience. He slapped his thigh and yelled encouragement: “Little Bai, that’s not enough fire! Put some spirit into it! Just pretend Old Lin ran off with your future wife!”
Su Mubai couldn’t help but crack a smile at the ridiculous tease. The nervous tension in his posture melted away, and he gave a firm nod, tightening his grip on the hilt once more.
Jiang Jue finished his own training set, smoothly sheathed his long blade, and strolled over to stand beside Chu Yang, silently observing the match. Though he offered no verbal critique, his gaze lingered on Su Mubai’s slightly stiff footwork, his dark brow furrowing into a faint, thoughtful frown.
