Chapter Thirteen: The Red Mark Appears Again

"Yi, you’re awake!" As soon as Zhou Yi opened his eyes, Song Hai, who had been watching him intently, immediately noticed and eagerly rushed to his side, exclaiming loudly.

"Wha... what’s going on?" Zhou Yi was baffled by Song Hai’s words. He blinked in confusion, and the thoughts that had just started to form in his mind vanished in an instant. He stood there, stunned.

The moment the words left his mouth, Zhou Yi suddenly realized he had planned to surprise Song Hai himself. But seeing Song Hai's current excitement, a sense of foreboding crept into his heart.

With a sharp sound, Song Hai raised his hand toward the mountainside, and with a flick, a blade of energy shot forth, carving a shallow groove into the rock.

"I knew it!" Zhou Yi’s face was expressionless as he glanced at the small notch in the mountain, then turned to look at the overjoyed Song Hai. His gaze lingered on Song Hai’s hand for a moment, then, skipping over his friend’s excited expression, Zhou Yi turned and continued walking toward the mountain pass, resuming their journey.

"Eh?" Song Hai was momentarily taken aback by Zhou Yi’s reaction. He had been so excited to show off his new skill, eagerly anticipating Zhou Yi’s amazement, admiration, awe, envy—any positive reaction, really. Lost in his expectations, he was completely unprepared for Zhou Yi’s lack of response. There was no emotion at all—Zhou Yi looked as if nothing had happened.

The gulf between reality and expectation left Song Hai standing there, dumbfounded. After a long pause, he finally snapped out of it and dashed after Zhou Yi, shouting as he went.

"Hey, Yi! Yi, what’s wrong? What’s up?" Song Hai hurried after Zhou Yi in big strides, calling out loudly.

"Yi, I learned something new! Aren’t you surprised? Aren’t you curious?" Soon he caught up, but the narrow mountain path prevented him from overtaking Zhou Yi, so he could only follow behind, hopping and waving his hand, sending blade after blade of energy skimming past.

Each blade struck the mountainside with a sharp sound, knocking loose chunks of stone that bounced through the air before tumbling to the ground.

Zhou Yi walked ahead with a detached expression, utterly unbothered by the wind blades swirling around him, just as Song Hai was.

After mastering the nameless saber technique, Zhou Yi’s muscles had unconsciously adapted. "Adapted" wasn’t quite the right word—rather, mastering the technique had awakened an inexplicable rhythm within him, enveloping his entire body. As a result, when the blades of wind grazed him, they had the same effect as they did with Song Hai.

The buzzing of Song Hai’s voice in Zhou Yi’s ear was like the relentless drone of flies—constant and grating. Without changing his expression, Zhou Yi raised his hand, and a blade of energy shot out, producing the same sound as before.

In an instant, the incessant buzzing vanished. Zhou Yi felt a surge of satisfaction but didn’t let it show, maintaining his blank expression as if nothing had happened.

Privately pleased, Zhou Yi couldn’t help but marvel at the meaning of the word "genius"—never had he understood it as profoundly as now. He had spent so much time and effort, ever since entering the wind pass, trying to receive the same treatment from the wind blades as Song Hai. It had taken him countless attempts to uncover the secret within the wind and master the saber technique hidden inside.

Yet, before he had the chance to boast, he was shocked to find that someone else had mastered it effortlessly, without doing a thing. The disparity was humbling.

Sometimes, he wondered who the real transmigrator was between him and Song Hai—who truly possessed the golden finger of fate.

"Hey! Yi, you learned it too—what is this?" Song Hai was startled by Zhou Yi’s own display of saber energy but quickly recovered. Without thinking much of it, he bounced after Zhou Yi, peppering him with questions.

"You don’t know?" Zhou Yi, surprised, stopped and turned to Song Hai. "Then how did you learn this saber technique?"

"This is a saber technique?" Song Hai was equally astonished. "Is it really a saber technique?"

"So this is the legendary saber technique?"

"I actually learned a legendary saber technique?"

Song Hai was ecstatic. The moment he realized that the power he’d acquired was the saber technique he’d heard about all his life—something that existed only in legend—he was so excited he nearly lost himself.

Zhou Yi watched him with a gentle smile, not interrupting his friend’s joy. As much as he might tease, he fully understood Song Hai’s feelings.

Saber techniques were the domain of the elite—if not the very highest echelons, then certainly far beyond the reach of beggars like Song Hai. Such skills were only ever heard of in stories, never seen in reality.

In that sense, their status was akin to martial arts in the wuxia novels of Zhou Yi’s previous life on Earth—fabled skills, heard of since childhood, endlessly dreamed of but never witnessed.

As for Zhou Yi himself, his situation was worse; he hadn’t even dared to dream. The distance was simply too vast.

But now, however far-fetched it seemed, he possessed it. With this knowledge, even if Song Hai behaved a little wildly, Zhou Yi could understand.

It was a long while before Song Hai’s excitement finally ebbed, though he was still visibly thrilled—at least now he could be a bit more rational.

"I don’t know how it happened," Song Hai replied softly, cheeks flushed as he recalled Zhou Yi’s earlier question. "I woke up, and I just… could do it."

"Alright," Zhou Yi nodded. It was much as he had suspected; given Song Hai’s background, there was no other explanation but some inexplicable gift. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been clueless about what he had learned.

"Let’s go," Zhou Yi said softly, turning to continue.

"Okay," Song Hai replied, following close behind.

After a while, Zhou Yi suddenly stopped, his expression grave. He frowned deeply, his gaze fixed on the mountainside—a familiar red mark, a sign of danger.

Song Hai saw the mark as well and halted, his face equally serious, betraying his inner turmoil.

The first time they had encountered this red mark, neither Zhou Yi nor Song Hai had paid it much heed. The consequences of that oversight had been unforgettable. Song Hai had gotten off lightly, but for Zhou Yi, the lesson had been indelible.

Now, seeing the red mark again, both instantly grew cautious. The memory of that earlier mistake ensured they took it seriously.

"I thought the wind blades were the real secret of this mountain pass," Zhou Yi murmured thoughtfully, his voice heavy. "But to see this mark again... It seems the pass is far more complex than I imagined."

"Yi..." Song Hai wasn’t as burdened by deep thoughts as Zhou Yi, but he understood the meaning of the red mark. He looked at Zhou Yi, worry etched on his face.