Tang Dynasty.

Changan, the Imperial City.

The autumn rain fell all night in Changan.

This historical city appeared more poetic with the veil of mist and rain over it.

The ringing of the ancient bell outside Changan was like a magnificent ink wash painting on rice paper.

The night deepened.

The autumn rain fell silently.

A flight sword attached with a letter sliced across the quiet night sky, ripping through the veils of mist and entering the rainy city.

In one of the courtyards of the Jiang Manor...

Zhao Wuji's eyes burned brightly in the night. He reached out and grabbed the flying blade.

"My Lady, it's from Luojiang City, most likely about Fang Lang."

Zhao Wuji glanced briefly at the letter before turning to bow before one of the living quarters. He reported his findings.

Within the impenetrable courtyard walls, the vermilion wooden shutters with carvings opened suddenly and the fragrant scent of sandalwood permeated the air.

"Oh? Luojiang City's final examination to shortlist candidates for the Spirit Pagoda has ended. It seems like the results are out."

A clear voice replied casually from the quarters.

Jiang Linglong walked out from the room barefooted in a gorgeous flowy dress. She stepped on the woolen rug laid in her path and stared at the misty city with twinkling eyes.

Her face was not veiled, exposing her beautiful features to the open air. She was stunning, so much so that the autumn night was beguiled by her charms.

Zhao Wuji passed the letter to Jiang Linglong.

She opened the letter and started reading. She chuckled, showcasing the charming dimples on both sides of her cheeks like pear blossoms in the spring rain.

"May I one day surmount the highest of peaks, where I could gather a sight of all mountains there laid"

Jiang Linglong recited gently, her silvery voice echoed in the quiet courtyard.

After a long pause, she kept the letter and tucked away a loose strand of hair, smiling.

"Lang'zi's serious this time. The sword is drawn."

A white cloak draped over her shoulders. She stood in the sandalwood-scented quarters and stared into the distance with a grin.

It was as if she could see a young lad standing beyond the rainy city with his sword pointed at Changan.

Sparks flew from the flaming stove. The boiling kettle made a piercing whistle as steam escaped the open holes.

Fang Lang was slightly alarmed but he did not back off.

He was just trying to buy a sword. What was with the solemn atmosphere?

The young blacksmith paused the work on hand and glanced at Fang Lang. Tiny droplets of sweat covered his bronze-colored skin. He put down the hammer and walked towards the boiling kettle. He poured water into a porcelain cup filled with tea leaves.

Then, the young man handed the cup to the old man on the rocking chair.

The entire exchange was silent.

The old man took the cup and rubbed the lid against the brim as he stared at Fang Lang with cloudy eyes.

After taking a sip of the tea, he spoke slowly, "Wen Ting told you to come here?"

The atmosphere was filled with a dense spiritual sense.

The hanging swords on the wall started levitating with their sword tips aimed at his sword.

Fang Lang smiled innocently and said, "That's right."

The elder raised his hand and waved lightly as if there was a guqin in the air and his strum released deep and tranquil sounds.

The blades started surrounding Fang Lang's neck like a chain.

"Wen Ting promised me he would never tell another soul of my whereabouts He broke his promise," the old man said gently.

"I'll kill you first, and that big mouth will be next."

Fang Lang took a deep breath and said, "Wen Ting is my mentor. I'm a student from Luojiang Academy"

The old man raised his brow.

He tapped his wrinkly fingers in the air.

Instantly, all the hovering swords charged at Fang Lang. One of the blades was pressing right beneath his jaw.

"Old Cui's academy? You're related to that bastard?" The old man said coldly.

Fang Lang almost cried. 'Old man, do you have a grudge against the whole world? Just tell me who's not your enemy so we can move on.'

Even though he was panicking inside, Fang Lang had a brilliant smile on his face. He stared at the old man and said, "Sir, I just want to buy a good sword."

"What's your name?" The old man took another sip of tea and chewed on the leaves.

"Fang Lang. Fang like a square, Lang like a wave."

Hmm?

Right after Fang Lang's introduction, the topless young blacksmith's eyes fluttered. "You're Fang Lang? The Fang Lang that killed Lin Yun?"

Fang Lang was stunned. 'Am I famous now?'

An honest grin spread across the young man's face. "There's plenty of rumors about you in Changan. The Changan Academy and the Imperial Academy have their eyes on you. They warned if you dare set foot into Changan, they'll break your legs."

Fang Lang's eyes twitched.

The young man scratched his crew-cut hair and laughed. "There is only one Lady Linglong in the entire Tang Dynasty. She's everyone's dream. A girl like her was willing to delay her journey back to Changan by four hours, risking her life through eighteen assassination attempts. They all said how could you?"

The smile on Fang Lang's face faded slowly, slightly startled at the revelation.

Then, he was speechless.

He recalled the starry-eyed girl, another reason for him to visit Changan.

When Fang Lang was in deep thought, the old man scoffed, "You're the Fang Lang who drew the Blooming Lotus Sword?"

The old man knocked his fingers once more and all the blades returned to their original position as if nothing had happened. The store quieted down, leaving only the crackling sounds of the flames.

Swish!

The Blooming Lotus Sword released itself from the sheath and sword box across Fang Lang's back and darted towards the old man. It stopped three inches before him.

The old man's hand was trembling, resisting the urge to touch.

"Blooming Lotus Sword, such a modest sword intent. It truly impresses me that Xuanyuan Taihua could cultivate such a powerful sword given the fact that she's a woman," the old man exclaimed.

The next moment, he waved his hand and the Blooming Lotus Sword returned to its sheath.

"Wen Ting took a calculated risk by asking you to come here. I'll grant you the chance to buy a sword for a glimpse of the Blooming Lotus Sword," the old man said.

The tension in the store dissipated, along with the intense pressure Fang Lang had been experiencing since he entered.

Before Fang Lang could relax, his body was pulled toward the old man. The old man raised his hand and grabbed Fang Lang's palm. He grazed the open palm and felt the rough calluses on it.

"Hmm. You're so young, yet your calluses from sword training are so thick. Seems like you've been through a lot, young man."

There was a rare glimpse of admiration on his face after he surmised Fang Lang's intense sword training.

"My forte is two-handed sword fighting. With the Blooming Lotus Sword, I still lack a left-handed sword. That's why I'm here," Fang Lang explained.

The old man raised his eyebrow. "There are only a handful of people in the Tang Dynasty who train with two swords. You're quite ambitious. However, since you have the Blooming Lotus Sword on your right, the other sword should not be too weak. At the very least, it shouldn't be suppressed by the Blooming Lotus's sword intent. Otherwise your dual sword technique will be out of balance," the old man said casually.

Then, he sat up from his rocking chair. He raised his hand and presented a fist.

Shing!

The clear sound of the sword roared from deep within the store.

A raging sword intent surged from every corner of the store.

Suddenly, a sword as dark as ink darted out like a ferocious black dragon!

Ding!

The old man touched the hovering black sword with the tip of his fingers and it settled down.

"This is Obsidian, forged from an opposing scale of a monstrous black dragon that was slaughtered when the Tang Dynasty attacked the Southern Sea Demon Palace. The Blooming Lotus Sword is quite mellow in character while the Obsidian Sword is viscous. They complement each other very well, like Yin and Yang," the old man said as he polished the black sword.

Fang Lang's eyes were fixated on the black sword.

"Kid, if you want to buy a sword, this is it. The price is up to you to decide. However, I have one test for you," said the old man.

Fang Lang answered in a serious tone, "Do tell."

"Back when Wen Ting came to me to buy his sword, he managed to withstand five hits from me. Even though he was severely injured, he still passed the test. I'm not interested in repeating that seeing how weak you are. What about this"

The old man reached out his wrinkly fingers and pointed at the well-built young blacksmith. "That's my disciple. He's also preparing for the Imperial Examination. He's currently a student in Changan Academy, an eighth-grade martial arts master and the runner-up in this year's Grand Martial Arts Championship. He'll suppress his strength at the ninth-grade martial arts disciple while you duel. If you're still standing after I finish my tea, you'll pass the test. If you can't, you can beat it. You're not worthy of the Obsidian Sword, and the Blooming Lotus Sword. Are you up for the challenge?"

Fang Lang felt a gush of warm blood rising from the bottom of his belly.

He looked up and stared at the innocent-looking young man who was scratching the back of his head and smiling.

Runner-up of the Grand Martial Arts Championship?

A genius?

A fifteen-year-old eighth-grade martial arts master?

Yo, that's refreshing!

"I I'd love to meet a genius," Fang Lang's eyes lit up and laughed.

"Pfft!" The old man scoffed. He tightened his grip on the Obsidian Sword. The rocking chair started moving to one corner of the store on its own accord.

There was space for Fang Lang and the young blacksmith to duel.

"Brother, I'm always excited to meet new people. May I know your name?" Fang Lang asked with a smile.

However, the young man remained silent and continued to scratch the back of his head.

Suddenly, the young man drew a black falchion and sliced through the air!

Fang Lang's eyes narrowed and he pulled out the Blooming Lotus Sword!

The blades collided, creating sparks when they met!

An intense bolt of energy was channeled from the young man's falchion to Fang Lang's hand.

The young man's eyes were burning while he increased his pressure on Fang Lang. Fang Lang tried to resist his force by grounding himself but he was being forced backward.

One kept pushing forward while the other kept backing up.

Bang!

Fang Lang's back slammed onto the wooden door of the store. The young man charged the falchion with vital energy that transformed into a force that ripped through the wooden door behind Fang Lang. The wood chips scattered around instantly like a blooming black bramble.