Chapter 14: Seizing the Jade from Another Mountain

In the late autumn of October that same year, at Yongji Pass, a line of forty-five crossbowmen stood fifty paces away aiming, while another forty-five held back in reserve. This was a two-stage volley training.

The exercise was divided into cross shooting and close-range direct shooting. The direct shooting was straightforward, much like a musket system: the crossbowmen would look toward the target direction, use their sighting scale, and pull the trigger. The wooden targets, each about a person’s height, would record the arrow hits, and the one with the most hits on the arrowhead was deemed the best.

Cross shooting, however, was different. Each crossbowman could not see the target directly; they fired based on the direction of a signal arrow. According to combat drills, the cross shooting’s target was the enemy’s front rank during a charge, aiming to create a rain of arrows centered on the signal arrow. The smaller the coverage area and the denser the arrow rain, the better the suppression of the enemy’s front rank.

During drills, as the signal arrow was released, cavalry would ride over to check the arrows marked by each crossbowman. Scores were then assigned based on the distance from the signal arrow—the closer, the higher the score. If all ten groups scored highly, there would be a feast with wine and meat that night, plus a bonus pay raise. But if all scored poorly, though their meals wouldn’t be cut, they would be branded with a bamboo tag around their necks reading “Arrow Gift from Xx,” a mark of shame within the ranks.

Military honor was upheld through merit, and the assessment standards set by General Xuan Chong for combat readiness were respected by the soldiers. Yet, with these standards came both praise and mockery among the troops.

...Scene shifts to the shooting range...

Wu Fei stood at the end of the range where the arrows were shot toward him.

As the signal arrow descended from afar, Wu Fei reached out and caught the shaft. The shaft slid through his hand, the intense frictional heat passing through the leather of his palm, and the force of the arrowhead tugged his arm backward involuntarily.

Wu Fei gave a slight nod in acknowledgment of the bowmanship behind the signal arrow.

Soon, a buzzing sound came from the distance. Hearing this, the crossbowmen lifted their weapons and, relying on their training instincts, fired in the direction of the whistling arrows.

This was not an act of mutiny. Firstly, Wu Fei was masked and had suddenly appeared on the range, standing a hundred and fifty paces away, making it impossible for the soldiers to identify him. Secondly, they had been forewarned that generals’ bodyguards armored in plate would be on the range today to test bow strength, so all arrowheads were wrapped in cotton.

As for Wu Fei himself, watching the swarm of arrows speeding toward him, he felt a flicker of unease but quickly drew his sword and summoned his fierce aura.

Before him, as the aura surged, ripples spread like waves. The incoming arrows were deflected off their trajectory by this shimmering “wave.”

Still, the impact of the arrow rain was not to be underestimated. Wu Fei stepped back two paces and glanced around. Shafts were embedded all around him, but the central area where he stood was empty, outlined by the surrounding arrows.

Then the second wave came. Wu Fei’s face changed dramatically. The reason was simple: this second arrow rain was fiercer than the first—and unlike the first, it carried the deadly aura as well.

...On the opposite side of the range...

The veteran soldier in charge of releasing signal arrows, upon seeing the first volley, didn’t even bend his waist. He casually waved his hand, sending all the arrowheads aside. Stunned at first, he then vented his frustration on the troops.

With a fierce tone, he scolded, “Have you all gone hungry? That punk over there’s holding your arrows in his hand and waving to me!”

As the old soldier’s aura flared, the soldiers lowered their heads, knowing they had lost face. Thus, the second volley was clearly different.

Since Wu Fei was a superior officer, his demeanor was always controlled, so the soldiers rarely sensed his aura. In fact, the presence of Wu Fei caused most soldiers to restrain their own aura. Only a few, like Zhao Xianzhong, could still be detected by Wu Fei, but even then, Zhao remained disciplined.

Likewise, if Wu Fei were under Wu Hanluan’s command and bound by military orders, his aura would be constrained.

In short, aura in the army existed broadly, but those holding military posts under strict order were shielded from its effects. Once someone stepped outside their assigned role, the aura became palpable immediately.

Earlier, the army’s accompanying mages all had to wear “Aura-Avoidance Talismans” to cast spells. Wu Fei had thought these were akin to military badges worn by officers, but later learned that without the talisman, cultivators could not use magic within the army.

...Wu Fei was no different. Once off duty, he was like a small boat on the sea...

As Wu Fei fled the second arrow rain in disarray, the soldier commanding the signal arrows laughed heartily. Within his authority, giving the bodyguards a hard time was something these rough soldiers could boast about at night.

But after a short incense stick’s time, when Long Ma arrived from the side of the range carrying the “bodyguard,” the soldier’s pride vanished instantly upon seeing the bodyguard remove his mask. He hurriedly knelt down.

Wu Fei held the signal arrow and asked, “Did you shoot this?”

Soldier Commander: “I did, sir.”

Stammering, the soldier was met with Wu Fei’s words: “Good shot. Reward!”

Wu Fei then tossed him a gold leaf before departing.

After Wu Fei left, the soldier bit into the gold leaf, beaming. Seeing the eager soldiers around him, he shouted, “Anyone who scores above seven rings today comes with me for drinks!”

...A stance of upright integrity...

The reason Wu Fei came here was because soldiers often gossiped freely during training. His presence at the range was not a secret. With the soldier commander and other bodyguards drinking and boasting, word would spread that it was not a bodyguard shooting but the general himself.

If Wu Fei had left without acknowledging it, the soldier commander would have worried about incurring the general’s displeasure, causing anxiety during training.

The purpose of the signal arrows was to ensure soldiers, upon hearing orders, acted without hesitation. The shooter of the signal arrow should not be plagued by doubts.

Thus, Wu Fei’s gesture of handing over the gold leaf was simply to show approval: the soldier did well and deserved the reward, no need to fret over punishment.

...Wu Fei was not yet fifteen years old and could not wield fearsome authority; he could only balance reward and punishment...

Back in camp, Wu Fei carefully contemplated his recent experience of channeling aura for defense and enduring the piercing arrow rain.

During the first volley, when fast arrows approached, there was a sensation of repulsion, like two magnets with the same poles pushing each other away. This did not eliminate the impact; Wu Fei’s feet slid backward half a meter on the sandy ground. If it had been a cavalry charge, even with this repelling aura, he would have been knocked back.

Aura was finite, like explosive reactive armor; once used, it could not be replenished quickly.

In the second volley, Wu Fei’s defenses broke; bruises appeared on his body, forcing him to retreat in panic. Had the arrows not been wrapped in cotton, they would have pierced flesh; if dipped in golden juice, the wounds would require weeks of healing.

...Lacking full charge capability did not mean giving up...

Wu Fei opened the secret manual written in tadpole script from the Third Aunt. After system translation and removing much useless content, the practical parts suggested a title best translated as “Agile Parrying.”

The use of aura was common in various martial lineages. Wu Hanluan knew how to apply it; Wu Fei believed Wu Hanluan hadn’t taught him because he lacked aura at the time.

The generals of the Dayao army merged their blood energy with aura, concentrating it in their marrow. When released, the aura burst forth like a signal fire.

The Third Aunt’s method, however, did not rely on blood energy. Instead, it used materials to tattoo “charge patterns” on the body, opening a new world.

This allowed the creation of aura patterns on armor and weapons aligned with human biomechanics, bypassing the step of condensing aura in the marrow.

In the tadpole script, the patterns on armor and weapons resembling marrow aura veins were called “Celestial Patterns.” The ultimate power of these “Celestial Patterns” was termed “Supreme Celestial Power,” described with divine and wondrous adjectives.

Of course, after realizing the essence, Xuan Chong recalled much of the Third Aunt’s text was like public knowledge articles and shook his head, muttering: “Foreign monks chant well because fools are many, but I am not one of them.”

The system quipped untimely, “Who knows,” its floating orb spinning rapidly.

Xuan Chong twitched his mouth and said, “Wait until I ask you to translate. This isn’t your place.”

Summarizing the Third Aunt’s volume while continuing his thoughts, Xuan Chong recalled encountering many fake foreigners in his past life who solemnly recited foreign scriptures. Their trick was to elevate a portion of foreign knowledge as unique and superior, discouraging local verification. Unable to verify, their external knowledge became “advanced,” making local traditions appear outdated. This divided the ability to validate, allowing them to insert their own agendas into the classics.

Xuan Chong now suspected the Third Aunt had the same purpose. What she gave wasn’t useless, but when he compared the system’s translation with the original, he found she never provided a reference to the traditional Dayao aura system.

Instead, she led readers step by step into a narrow, isolated dead end with no way to verify through other systems, where the deeper one delved, the more mysterious and lonely one felt, losing all sense of direction.

...According to Laozi and Zhuangzi’s teachings: The Way is found even in excrement. The laws of all things are equal; there is no high or low, noble or base. All knowledge systems can be mutually verified.

Objectively, knowledge does not have higher or lower forms.

The notions of “mystery” and “common sense” exist only subjectively as “prior knowledge” and “later knowledge.”

...A good student’s trait is to infer many things from one example...

Six hours later, after thoroughly reading the “Agile Parrying” section of the manual, Xuan Chong restrained himself from immediately putting it into practice. He wrote down a related plan on bamboo slips by his window and penned a letter to Wu Hanluan.

Several days later, Wu Hanluan sent a black lacquered box. Opening it revealed nothing inside, but as Xuan Chong raised his hand, aura corroded the lacquer, which peeled away, revealing wrinkled text on the inner surface.

Xuan Chong began copying the blood energy and aura channeling techniques for marrow cultivation. After six days and a total of five hours of calm study, he still did not adopt this system.

He was cautious; faster, stronger, better meant nothing if it caused trouble. His future path was a direct charge using a four-wheeled chariot like Zhuge Liang’s, not a head-to-head clash like Lü Bu.

Following Wu Hanluan’s method of aura channeling, Xuan Chong outlined the mode of aura circulation within muscle and bone, then compared it with the “Agile Parrying” patterns tattooed on armor, which could replace the aura functions of muscles, blood, and bones during movement.

In essence, one method activated aura from within the body’s marrow and blood, the other from armor as the source. Though different at first, they shared a convergence.

When surveying the divergent paths, Xuan Chong chose to use only the convergent part.

The system did not provide a complete bodily “system.” As the saying goes, “Embrace the system to defeat the enemy.” Only with system verification could one integrate and apply techniques. Without verification, conservative and right-leaning Xuan Chong remained cautious about new methods, wary of the risks inherent in unproven exceptions.

...Five days later...

Wu Fei arrived at the forge to personally smith, inscribing aura channeling patterns on his armor. Indeed, he felt safer relying on this “external object” first. The method of storing aura externally was based on the entry-level approach gleaned from Wu Hanluan’s channeling method—“using local stone to carve another’s jade.”

As fine iron powder was sprinkled into the fire, the forge’s flames changed, and heat waves rolled inside. Yet drenched in sweat, with only a cloth tucked into his trousers, Wu Fei paid no mind.

As he meticulously refined the aura patterns, hundreds of yards away, the Third Aunt opened her blue eyes through her forehead and gazed blankly.

Yet this was not love. The dark blue light rippled across space, “disturbing and transforming.”

In the forge, as Wu Fei crafted weapons, inspiration struck—memories from reading the original tadpole script. However, he did not integrate these inspirations immediately.

His motto: “Plans are plans. Record them for next time; never change orders on a whim.”

The armor slowly took shape, and beside it, a matching iron sword—or rather, a long, double-edged blade resembling a sword but designed to have a pole attached—called a spear.

The aura patterns in the armor seamlessly connected to the spear’s shaft, converging at its tip to form a sharp edge.

Wu Fei’s plan was executed without deviation.

Yet hundreds of yards away, in the mage’s quarters within the army,

Closing her blue eyes, the Third Aunt sighed, “So difficult to enlighten? Such a stubborn soul!”

Then, speaking across the void to the north, she said gently, “He can only settle his heart once others have their own methods. So you must help persuade him as well.”

After this message, her spiritual eyes reopened, having received a reply.