"Lin Zhao!"
Long Dongjun narrowed his eyes, looking at Lin Zhao, then at the twelve peaks in the distance, and chuckled, "It's still early for breakfast. Why don't you take this time to challenge the Twelve Peaks and see how many you can reach, my eighth-realm Sword Cultivator?"
"Ah?"
Lin Zhao was surprised. "Can Sword Cultivators also reach the peaks?"
"I can't speak for others, but you have a chance. After all, you once had the foundation of an eighth-realm martial artist, and one with a War God's Courage."
"Alright."
Lin Zhao happily agreed. "Then I'll give it a try."
"You may."
...
Mid-mountain, many young disciples of Iron Peak Mountain appeared, both male and female. They all watched with smiles as the young sword cultivator, carrying a bamboo basket, ascended the mountain. After all, he was a guest personally invited by the Sect Master. They were curious to see if this guest truly possessed extraordinary abilities or was just here for a lark.
Lin Zhao ascended the first of Iron Peak's Twelve Peaks, climbing the mountain path step by step.
The higher he went, the heavier the martial pressure on his shoulders became. But he did not falter, continuing his climb. As he drew nearer to the summit, the fiery energy within him grew more intense, puzzling him. It seemed a power deep within his body had been slumbering, and had begun to gradually awaken since arriving at Iron Peak Mountain.
Could it be, that in this lifetime, he had another chance to become a martial artist?
He gave a self-deprecating smile. How could that be? It was too far-fetched.
However, as he climbed, and the Heavenly Dao's pressure continuously fell upon his shoulders, the skill icons for Ascending Dragon Slash and Spirit Breaker remained enveloped in golden radiance, humming and buzzing. It was as if the foundation of these two skills was helping him bear the martial pressure of the Twelve Peaks. His frame was somewhat slender as he struggled upwards on the mountain path.
Finally, after nearly half an hour, Lin Zhao successfully reached the summit of the first peak. Instantly, gale-force winds swept across the mountaintop. As Lin Zhao opened his mind to receive it, a wisp of golden fist intent permeated his brow, sinking directly into the depths of his spiritual void, where it remained hidden.
Indeed, there was a bestowal of fist intent. Whether he could use it was another matter.
"Hoo..."
He took a deep breath. Upon reaching the summit, the martial pressure on the first peak vanished abruptly. He sheathed his sword and descended, beginning his ascent of the second peak. The Iron Peak disciples, however, looked on with a measure of respect. This young guest was truly extraordinary. Every year, numerous martial artists from across the land sought the opportunity to climb Iron Peak. Many could reach the first peak, but those were merely martial artists of the Middle Five Realms, hardly surprising. But this young man in white was a sword cultivator!
For a sword cultivator to reach the summit of the Twelve Peaks was already worthy of admiration.
The second peak.
Lin Zhao, still carrying his two swords and bamboo basket, ascended step by step. As he stepped onto the first stone stair, he felt the martial pressure far exceeding that of the first peak. It was no wonder that even a peak martial artist like Long Dongjun had only conquered ten peaks. However, Lin Zhao was not impatient. After a few breaths, he continued his ascent.
His climbing speed was not fast, but not slow either. It seemed as if every step was calculated in terms of breath and strength. The disciples watching from below grew anxious, but none dared to speak. Even the Sect Master, along with a host of elders and protectors, watched silently, none daring to utter a disrespectful word. Even those disciples who did not have high hopes for the young sword cultivator did not dare to mock him.
Beside Long Dongjun stood four Iron Peak elders, who were his junior fellow disciples, all martial artists of the Heavenly Origin Realm. Coupled with a few honored guests and protectors, Iron Peak Mountain actually had ten martial artists of the Upper Five Realms. Such a foundation was beyond the comparison of ordinary sects. Perhaps, aside from the distant Mount Changming, no sect in the South could contend with Iron Peak Mountain.
The elders wore solemn expressions as they watched the young sword cultivator ascend. None spoke much, as their Sect Master Senior Brother had already transmitted a message to them: the young sword cultivator, while appearing ordinary, was in fact Lin Baiyi of Snow Domain Heavenly Pool. Therefore, all the young martial artists’ eyes held respect. Never mind that he had already reached one peak; even if he had not reached any, his radiance would still be immense. Some individuals' reputations in the world did not depend on their cultivation or realm.
Not long after, Lin Zhao's body began to sway, his face turning pale. But he frowned, feeling he could still persevere. Thus, he continued to move towards the summit step by step. Finally, as Lin Zhao reached the summit of the second peak, his complexion was extremely grim. Under the martial pressure, a trickle of blood even seeped from the corner of his mouth.
"Shhh~~~"
Another wisp of golden fist intent permeated his brow. This was his second stroke of good fortune at Iron Peak Mountain. It was a pity he was not a martial artist himself, otherwise it would have been truly enviable.
He gracefully sheathed his sword and descended.
The eyes of the Iron Peak disciples were filled with admiration. They could not help but be impressed, for he was not a martial artist at all. A sword cultivator reaching two peaks and enduring such immense Heavenly Dao pressure was already a monstrous existence. It was known that among Iron Peak's inner disciples, many martial artists of the Middle Five Realms could not reach the second peak, yet Lin Zhao had achieved it. And the previous generation, the elders, protectors, and honored guests in the Sea Crushing Realm could only reach 3-4 peaks. The Heavenly Origin Realm elders, most of them, reached 6-8 peaks. Their sect's strongest, Sect Master Long Dongjun, had only reached ten peaks.
When contrasted, the value of this young sword cultivator, Lin Zhao, reaching two peaks became evident.
...
"Hoo!"
Lin Zhao cupped his fists towards Long Dongjun and the group of Iron Peak's key figures. He then glanced at the summit of the third peak.
"Try again?" Long Dongjun asked with a smile.
"Yes, let's try."
Lin Zhao nodded with a smile. After a few seconds, his condition fully restored, he ascended again. This time, as he stepped onto the first stone stair, his entire body swayed, and he almost couldn't take the second step. The martial pressure of the third peak was far beyond comparison to the previous two. Lin Zhao frowned and continued upwards. In reality, he already knew that reaching the summit of the third peak was hopeless. He simply wanted to know his own limits.
Finally, as Lin Zhao arduously reached the mountainside, his face was pale, blood flowed from his nose and mouth, and he felt his body was about to split open. This was his limit.
"That's enough."
He turned around and descended step by step. The descent was much easier, and he felt more at ease. If he couldn't reach it, he couldn't reach it; there was nothing to admit.
"How was it?"
Long Dongjun asked with a smile.
"Truly formidable."
Lin Zhao wiped the blood from his lips and sweat from his forehead, saying, "The Twelve Peaks of Martial Arts are indeed not something a sword cultivator can challenge."
"Mm."
Long Dongjun glanced at the sky and said with a smile, "The sky is about to brighten. Shall we go for breakfast?"
"Let's go!"
...
Iron Peak Mountain, the Hall of Discussion, a grand hall filled with ancient charm, likely many years old. Moss grew on the stone lions at the entrance. Long Dongjun emerged carrying a food tray and placed it on the stone steps outside the hall. The food selection was not extensive, but the portions were generous: a roasted chicken, a braised pig's trotter, and half a suckling pig. In addition, there was a stack of steamed buns and a large bowl of meat soup.
"This is all there is."
Long Dongjun sat down and chuckled, "Don't be picky. The food at Iron Peak Mountain is at this level. We have many rough men, and few can cook. The food at Iron Peak Mountain is solely for sustenance and energy to practice martial arts; nothing else is particularly pursued."
"Indeed very rough..."
Lin Zhao smiled slightly, tore off a chicken leg, and grabbed a steamed bun, starting to eat heartily. His mouth was greasy. Although the taste was mediocre, he found it quite enjoyable. Perhaps it was related to his past as a martial artist. He knew what it was like to be hungry. Back then, he no longer pursued elaborate dishes or flavors. How refined could the life of a martial artist be?
"After breakfast, the disciples will be practicing their morning punches on the large stone plaza. Would you like to watch?" Long Dongjun asked with a smile.
"Yes, I'd love to!"
Lin Zhao smiled. "I haven't seen the other six forms of the Farmer's Three Punches yet. Can I watch? Would it be considered stealing techniques?"
"Why would it?"
Long Dongjun chuckled heartily. "Firstly, you are a sword cultivator, not even a martial artist for now. Even if you watch, you might not fully comprehend the fist intent and principles. Secondly, your uncle actually began teaching you the Nirvana Fist back then, though it was only three forms. Since you are half a member of Iron Peak Mountain, what if I teach you the entire set of the Nirvana Fist?"
"You're abandoning sect restrictions?" Lin Zhao asked with a wry smile.
Long Dongjun picked up a steamed bun and said frankly, "If there weren't people like you, the Northern Four Tribes would have already marched south. Could Furong Prefecture and Iron Peak Mountain remain secluded? I think not. Therefore, although Iron Peak Mountain has its sect restrictions, but... if it allows the martial arts of the world to become stronger, even to the point of suppressing the sword dao, I would be very pleased to see it."
He grinned. "When you descend the mountain, I will give you a personally transcribed copy of the Nirvana Fist scripture, all nine forms. If you can truly step into the martial path in the future, it will be as if you are spreading the branches and leaves of Iron Peak Mountain outside. A good deed."
Lin Zhao nodded and smiled. Long Dongjun's magnanimity was indeed quite remarkable.
...
Early morning.
Lin Zhao and Long Dongjun sat side by side on a rock, watching a group of Iron Peak disciples practicing their punches on a vast stone plaza under the supervision of two Heavenly Origin Realm elders. For a time, the entire stone plaza was filled with dense fist intent, and wisps of fist aura exploded in the wind. The spirit of Iron Peak Mountain was quite impressive.
"Sect Master Long."
Lin Zhao looked into the distance and asked, "Has Iron Peak Mountain ever had a precedent of sending disciples down the mountain to join the army? These martial artists are too suitable for battlefield combat."
"No."
Long Dongjun shook his head. "Although the Great Shang Dynasty has sent many officials and dignitaries to persuade us, I have not agreed. The kings and lords of Furong Prefecture, Huang Prefecture, and Yu Prefecture only wish for peace and have no intention of fighting demons to the north. Even if the disciples of Iron Peak Mountain join the ranks, they merely become pawns in their hands, which is meaningless."
"I understand."
Lin Zhao nodded and said, "I will descend the mountain this afternoon and prepare to continue my journey."
"Alright."
...
Afternoon.
Long Dongjun handed Lin Zhao a complete copy of the "Nirvana Fist Scripture." He then accompanied him down the mountain, to the Wash Sword River, where a small boat would take Lin Zhao a stretch of the way.
Not long after they set off, Lin Zhao, sitting at the bow of the boat, suddenly felt a "buzzing" sound from his spiritual void. A powerful sword dao aura erupted ahead. Someone was coming. He looked up and saw a woman riding a flying sword, parting the green river water. The entire Qingfu River seemed to be submitting, its waves calming, not daring to stir.
This woman was a twelfth-realm Sword Immortal.
"Long Dongjun!"
The female Sword Immortal cleaved the river with her sword, causing the small boat carrying Lin Zhao and Long Dongjun to appear as if it were cascading off a cliff. Her eyes held killing intent as she declared, "Xie Yiying of Lingyan Sword Sect from Wangxin Lake seeks to compete with you!"
...
Lin Zhao, suspended in mid-air, frowned. Who was this elder sister? Furong Prefecture truly was a land of exceptional talent and spiritual energy. Lively!