Chapter 708: Wang Po's Breakthrough (Part 1)
This winter in the capital was much colder than in previous years. Though it was still early winter, the Luo River had already frozen over. Especially the river surface outside Tongqu Gate—the ice was thick enough to stand on.
Wang Po and Iron Tree were now standing on the frozen surface of the Luo River.
Between them was a gap more than ten zhang wide, where river water rippled, dark and deep, like an abyss.
The thunderclap that had echoed through the capital originated on Snow Street and ultimately landed here.
Iron Tree stood with his hands clasped behind his back, expressionless as he looked across, as if he had never struck at all.
Wang Po held his iron blade horizontally before him. His robes were torn in countless places, especially the hems, collar, and cuffs, as if they had been battered by fierce winds for decades.
Through those tears, traces of blood could faintly be seen.
Clearly, in just one exchange, he had already been wounded, and the injuries were far from light.
But Iron Tree's eyes showed no sign of relief, much less contempt or disdain. Instead, they grew even more solemn, even wary.
Wang Po's iron blade remained sheathed, held horizontally. Clear finger marks could be seen on the scabbard, and it had even bent noticeably.
He still hadn't drawn his blade.
A Sacred Domain expert had struck first, yet he still refused to draw.
This was deeply puzzling and shocking.
Even more shocking was that, despite his serious injuries, he was still alive.
...
...
Back then, facing Zhu Luo on Rain Street in Xunyang City, Wang Po had unhesitatingly unleashed his strongest blade technique, carving countless spatial cracks to barely hold Zhu Luo's moonlight at bay on the other side of the street.
Today, facing Iron Tree on Snow Street in the capital, his blade hadn't even left its sheath, yet he could withstand Iron Tree's attack.
Iron Tree and Zhu Luo were both among the Eight Winds and Rains. In terms of combat power alone, Iron Tree was even slightly above Zhu Luo.
This could only mean that in the short span of two years, Wang Po's blade had grown far stronger than it was in Xunyang City.
Iron Tree's face was expressionless, but his mood was subtle.
To withstand his powerful strike without drawing the blade and still remain standing—this man truly deserved to be called the strongest of the younger generation.
He didn't know how much progress Wang Po had made in these two years, only that he was far more powerful than the rumors suggested, even much stronger than he had been at Tanzhe Temple.
This rate of improvement was utterly incomprehensible.
He could no longer judge how far Wang Po was from that threshold.
It came back to the same point.
—Wang Po still hadn't drawn his blade.
"What blade is this?" Iron Tree suddenly asked.
Since Wang Po hadn't drawn, what was he asking about?
If anyone were watching from the banks of the Luo River, they would surely not understand this question.
Wang Po understood.
"Blade" was a single word, but it could mean many things.
The blade itself.
The blade's technique.
The blade's trajectory.
The blade's path.
He hadn't drawn the blade, but he had already used a technique.
That technique was the horizontal blade.
Wang Po's blade path, along with the profound mystery of the technique itself, was all contained within that single horizontal motion.
Thus, without drawing, he could withstand Iron Tree's attack.
Iron Tree had never seen such an exquisite blade technique.
What he was asking was the name and origin of this technique.
"I don't know."
Wang Po said, "He never told me."
...
...
From the Wei Mansion to the North Military Horse Division Alley was quite a distance, passing by the Luo River.
Wang Po and Chen Changsheng had walked this path earlier and paused by the Luo River to chat.
By the Luo River were cold willows, a dike, ice on the river, and stories.
When they first met in Xunyang City, they had said little. This time, reunited in the capital, they knew they would soon part again—perhaps forever—so they talked a great deal.
They spoke of Wang Zhice's time, discussed the present day of Naihe Bridge, and shared their own pasts.
Looking at the iron blade at his waist, Chen Changsheng recalled the tomb in the Zhou Garden, its owner, and the blade technique painted on the black coffin. An idea came to him.
That blade technique couldn't be passed down by word of mouth, so he could only share some of what he had gleaned from it with Wang Po.
Wang Po neither thanked him nor refused, but it was clear he wasn't very interested.
Even though he knew it was the strongest blade technique in history.
Because he had his own blade path, and his path was the complete opposite of Zhou Dufu's "One Cut, Two Parts."
Chen Changsheng then mentioned that he had studied swordsmanship under Su Li on the wasteland.
Many cultivators in the world were very interested in this, or rather, very jealous.
Wang Po wasn't jealous, because he didn't like Su Li. But it was Su Li's swordsmanship after all, so he was somewhat interested.
Especially when Chen Changsheng mentioned that the third sword he learned from Su Li was one that even Su Li himself hadn't mastered.
Wang Po told Chen Changsheng he wanted to learn that sword.
Chen Changsheng said, "Alright."
They stood under the cold willows by the Luo River and exchanged a few words.
Then, Wang Po learned that sword.
He was the third person in the world to master it.
And it only took him the time of a few sentences.
One could only wonder how Su Li would feel if he knew.
That sword was called the Fool's Sword.
To master it required a thousand hammers and a hundred refinements, endless monotonous and tedious repetition.
This sword didn't require talent, but a kind of almost foolish persistence.
That's why Su Li couldn't master it—he was too clever.
Logically, even with Wang Po's astonishing talent, he couldn't have learned it in such a short time.
Interestingly, Wang Po's method of practicing the blade was very similar to Chen Changsheng's method of practicing the sword—it was all about practice.
Over the past decades, he had swung his iron blade countless times.
Now, he only needed to treat the sword as a blade, and he could execute this sword technique, or rather, this blade technique.
Thus, even Iron Tree's terrifying hands couldn't break through his scabbard.
"You lost, because you were wrong."
Wang Po said to Iron Tree across from him, "You shouldn't have stopped me from drawing my blade."
Iron Tree was silent for a moment, then said, "Explain."
Wang Po said, "When a blade hides its edge in the sheath, it has a thousand variations and infinite possibilities. Though not at its strongest, it is hardest to break."
Iron Tree said, "Was I supposed to foolishly wait for you to draw?"
Wang Po said, "You were afraid to see the truth of this blade, so the truth will likely go against your wishes."
Iron Tree's expression was cold. His hands clasped behind his back, countless gleams of cold light and sharp edges seeped from between his fingers, silently shredding the wind and snow.
This scene reflected his mood at the moment. Wang Po had hit the mark about his thoughts—would that mean he could also predict the outcome?
His gaze fell on Wang Po's iron blade, and he said mockingly, "Then you can show me the truth, if you still can."
Wang Po's blade was the truth.
Ever since he left Huaiyuan, the whole world had been eagerly awaiting it.
But now the iron blade was badly bent—how could he possibly draw it from the sheath?
As his words fell, Iron Tree appeared before Wang Po, his hands crashing down through the air.
A fierce wind howled over the Luo River, snowflakes nearly blinding the eyes. Faintly visible among them were ten finger shadows, shaking the snow and rising through the air, like a giant tree spreading its branches, or a colossal flower blooming.
Countless extremely harsh, metallic auras descended upon Wang Po with the spreading branches and opening petals.
Iron Tree Blossoms.
This was a Sacred Domain technique, a power from beyond the stars.
No matter how well that blade could defend, it couldn't cover the entire starry sky.
If Wang Po didn't draw his blade now, he would surely die.
So Wang Po finally drew his blade.
The blade was still in its sheath, but the intent had already risen.
An extremely sharp, yet remarkably simple and honest blade intent shot up into the sky.
The wind and snow suddenly intensified, and countless cracks appeared on the frozen surface of the Luo River.
Sensing this blade intent, Iron Tree's expression turned severe, and murderous intent blazed in his eyes.
Only he could see that Wang Po was trying to use this blade to break through to the next realm!