Rebirth of the Revered Sword Sovereign

Chapter 4

As Cang Wuyin walked, his thoughts turned to the current Wandering Sages’ Sect Leader and the Sage Successor. Before long, he arrived at the Guest Reception Hall.

Perhaps because the children of prestigious families had come, they had been given a separate annex. The sharp sounds of metal striking metal could already be heard from the courtyard.

“They’re certainly full of vigor. It hasn’t been long since they arrived, yet they’re already sparring.”

“People who do nothing but eat and train, of course that’s natural. Camaraderie is important, but raising one’s own name and the honor of one’s family is important too. If one has strength, it’s not impossible to enter the Five Great Families.”

“The Peng Family of Hebei, the Hwangbo Family, and the Murong Family did come and go often.”

Luo Wuhen, following half a step behind Cang Wuyin as though accompanying his senior uncle, nodded.

Unlike the Nine Great Sects, whose positions had remained firmly established, the Five Great Families could change depending on the prosperity of each era. Many families had spent generations building their strength in hopes of becoming one of them.

Some martial experts even referred to them as the Ten Great Families rather than the Five Great Families.

“Have you arrived, junior brother?”

As Cang Wuyin entered the front courtyard, where several young martial artists were still sparring, Zhaoling turned toward him with a gentle smile.

Zhaoling, the future Abbot of Shaolin and Cang Wuyin’s fellow disciple under the same master, looked at him with the warmth one might show toward a much younger brother.

“Yes, Senior Brother.”

“Luo Wuhen came with you as well.”

“Yes!”

Luo Wuhen immediately smiled under Zhaoling’s kind gaze.

The smile did not last long.

His attention soon moved toward the middle-aged beggar standing beside Zhaoling.

“Nice to meet you. I am Zhao Wuheng of the Wandering Sages’ Sect.”

“It is an honor to meet the the Sage Successor.”

“Haha. Even if you call me the Sage Successor, I’m nothing special. I’m just the same beggar, so please treat me comfortably.”

Cang Wuyin’s greeting had been polite, but there was also a clear distance in it. Zhao Wuheng noticed and responded with an awkward laugh.

Zhaoling noticed it too, but did not say anything.

He understood Cang Wuyin’s attitude because he felt much the same way himself.

Part of him even wished that Cang Wuyin had not come.

‘Hmm?’

Perhaps because he had studied under the same school, Zhao Wuheng found it amusing that both Cang Wuyin and Zhaoling were showing the same discomfort despite keeping their expressions composed.

The thought soon passed, and Zhao Wuheng turned his attention fully toward Cang Wuyin.

‘He doesn’t feel that special, more than I expected?’

There was only one reason Zhao Wuheng had come to Shaolin.

He wanted to see the genius whom the Abbot of Shaolin had praised so highly.

When he heard that many promising juniors were visiting Shaolin, he had taken the opportunity to come along.

Yet the higher his expectations had been, the greater his disappointment now seemed.

‘His bones and tendons are certainly outstanding, but the aura he gives off, his gaze, they’re lacking.’

As the Sage Successor of the Wandering Sages’ Sect, Zhao Wuheng had encountered countless martial artists, talented juniors, and masters from the previous generation. Some had possessed enough strength to leave a lasting impression on him.

Cang Wuyin did not give him that feeling.

He was certainly talented, but that seemed to be all.

‘About on par with the Four Dragons, or maybe slightly better. But a difference like this can be overturned anytime.’

Zhao Wuheng tilted his head.

There was no question that Cang Wuyin possessed exceptional talent. However, based on what he could see, he was not someone who seemed worthy of the praise the Abbot had given him.

And yet, this was also the successor of the Three Dharma Swords, a martial art said to be passed only to those with the proper qualifications.

‘Were my expectations too high? Or did the Abbot see something that I failed to see?’

Zhao Wuheng narrowed his eyes.

He was confident in his own ability to judge people, but he would never claim that his discernment surpassed that of his master or the Abbot of Shaolin.

So he decided not to draw a conclusion yet.

‘……Wait.’

A strange feeling suddenly came over him.

Cang Wuyin was observing the sparring juniors, yet something about the way he looked at them made Zhao Wuheng uncomfortable.

‘He’s seeing too clearly, isn’t he?’

Only then did Zhao Wuheng realize that he might have judged Cang Wuyin too quickly.

His age was close to Zhaoling’s, the great disciple of Shaolin and future Abbot. Naturally, there was a considerable age difference between him and Cang Wuyin.

But age alone did not determine how much a martial artist could perceive.

A martial artist’s realm could never be judged simply by the number of years they had lived.

‘Could it be that he’s deliberately only showing this much?’

Zhao Wuheng’s pupils trembled slightly.

He immediately dismissed the thought.

Perhaps he was simply imagining things because of the Abbot’s praise.

Swish.

At that moment, Cang Wuyin turned his gaze toward him.

Their eyes met at an almost impossibly precise moment.

A faint smile appeared on Cang Wuyin’s lips.

Flinch!

Zhao Wuheng felt a chill run through him.

For that brief instant, he had the unsettling impression that Cang Wuyin could see straight through him.

Then it was over.

Cang Wuyin simply turned his head away, leaving Zhao Wuheng with an uncomfortable feeling he could not explain.

‘If he really was only showing this much on purpose…….’

Zhao Wuheng swallowed.

Perhaps he was mistaken, but his instincts were telling him that what he had just felt was not an illusion.

‘Just like before.’

Seeing Zhao Wuheng’s complicated expression, Cang Wuyin quietly chuckled.

The man was clearly trying to hide what he was thinking. He probably believed his expression was under control, but Cang Wuyin could read it easily.

‘He’s still not fully matured yet.’

Although Zhao Wuheng was already middle-aged, he was still far less experienced than the man Cang Wuyin remembered from ten years later.

Cang Wuyin himself had the body of a twenty-year-old, but his mind carried more than thirty years of experience.

That difference created a strange sense of discomfort.

His mind was perfectly fine. It was his body that still needed time to catch up with everything his mind already knew.

“W, wow……!”

A deep voice filled with admiration suddenly came from beside him.

Luo Wuhen had completely forgotten his manners as a Shaolin disciple. His mouth hung open as he stared toward a particular spot in the courtyard.

He looked so captivated that he probably would not have noticed if a bug flew directly into his mouth.

“Ahem!”

Zhaoling cleared his throat.

“Gasp! I, I’m sorry.”

“I understand, but I would like you not to forget that you are a disciple of Shaolin.”

“I’m sorry!”

At Zhaoling’s gentle reprimand, Luo Wuhen immediately bowed his head.

His face was red, and even the top of his freshly shaved head had turned bright crimson.

For someone his age, he was terrible at hiding his embarrassment.

“Hehehe, aren’t monks people too? And it’s a time when one’s blood runs hot. Besides, the women over there are hardly ordinary beauties.”

Zhao Wuheng laughed heartily at Luo Wuhen’s reaction.

To him, there was nothing strange about the boy’s behavior.

If anything, the strange one was Cang Wuyin.