Liu Yao: The Revitalization of Fuyao Sect

Chapter 8

Translated by Nanming

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Yan Zhengming polished his wooden sword with a silk handkerchief deliberately, while watching his junior brothers practicing swordplay.

Junior brothers' swordplay was literally a joke to him. Except that Li Yun's was presentable, the other two were basically having fun with the wooden swords, just like big apes playing two rods. But their master was still correcting their gestures of holding a sword.

One moment he said to this one, "Wooden swords don't hurt, but real swords and sabers do. To deal with weapons, you can't be too careful — Cheng Qian, don't push your finger against the blade. The nerves of your fingers are linked with your heart, can't you really feel that pain?"

Next he turned to another. "There is a saber weighing three hundred Jin [1] in East Sea, which you hold with both hands. But this is a sword, Xiao-Yuan. I suppose you are not practicing swordplay, but rather forging iron."

And sometimes he would have to roll up his sleeves and run about to stop Li Yun's making trouble. "Knock it off! Hey, mind your sword! You're poking your eye."

... To say "unbearable to the eye" was to praise these brats.

Young master Yan looked around and laid his eyes on Cheng Qian, taking a few more looks at the kid.

He was well aware that he was a man-about-town, still he deemed it appropriate as he didn't perform any inhuman acts, and his behaviors hindered nobody. So he felt no qualms of conscience and never repented. He even intensified in accordance with timing and mood.

In addition, young master Yan also acknowledged he was somewhat shallow — he had a clear estimation of himself that he was hugely short of both acquirements and moral qualities. Such being the case, he wasn't in a position to demand them from others. Consequently, the only way he had left to differentiate his likes from dislikes was to judge by appearance.

According to this standard, people of Han Yuan's kind were unpardonably evil in his eyes.

"Judging by appearance" was Yan Zhengming's iron-forged principle. However, he had made exceptions for two: one was his master, the other was Li Yun.

Even though his master looked as though he was replete with vices, young master Yan was willing to excuse that. After all, he had been cultivating with him for eight years; he was, as it were, spoiled by his master, and was emotionally close to him.

As for Li Yun... however sightly he was, Yan Zhengming was absolutely irreconcilable with him — that guy was a bloody nuisance!

In the case of Cheng Qian, Yan Zhengming was, in actual fact, fairly fond of him. Otherwise he wouldn't have given him candies upon meeting him — something seldom happened as the cycas blossoms — the pity was that his third junior brother didn't appreciate his kindness.

While junior brothers were running around making a racket, Yan Zhengming just stood there absently, idly carrying his wooden sword. He was mulling over the standstill of his sword skills.

It was eight years since Yan Zhengming began learning swordsmanship from his master. But he barely made it to the third form.

Although the opening move his master performed was like Five-Animal Exercises (aerobics) aimed for the middle-aged and elderly, there was no absurdity in the sword art itself.

Unlike the nescient little beggar Han Yuan, before Yan Zhengming was initiated into Fuyao Sect, his parents had employed the best professional to teach him swordsmanship. Even if he wasn't skillful, he wasn't blind either.