Chapter Fifteen: The Mountain Blade Sect

Beyond the wind pass stood a towering mountain, at the foot of which wound a serpentine stone stairway. Twisting and turning like a snake, the steps ascended the mountainside, and from below, one’s gaze could follow only a short stretch before the path was lost behind the rocks.

At the end of the stone stairs lay a grand complex of palaces, connected by roads paved in bluestone. The palaces varied in size and height, scattered artfully across the mountainside, with dense groves of trees interspersed among them, gleaming like emeralds within the vast expanse.

Within the tallest and grandest of these palaces, thirteen figures sat cross-legged in meditation—six on the left, six on the right, and one in the center.

“Reporting to the Sect Master!”

As the thirteen meditated with closed eyes, a sudden voice came from outside the door. At the sound, the twelve seated on either side all opened their eyes almost in unison. In that instant, it was as if twelve bolts of lightning flashed through the hall, banishing its silence, while twelve mountain-like auras pressed down, their combined force landing squarely on the middle-aged man kneeling outside, his forehead pressed tightly to the floor.

Instantly, sweat beaded on the man’s brow, dripping to the ground, yet he dared not wipe it away. He mustered all his strength to keep his body from trembling, though his mind felt shrouded in darkness and his consciousness began to waver, teetering on the edge of collapse.

“What is it?” Just then, the man seated in the center spoke softly, his voice gentle and calm.

The moment the voice sounded, it was as though a bolt of lightning had split the darkness in the kneeling man’s mind, instantly dispelling the oppressive pressure as if it had never existed.

He exhaled in relief, feeling as though a mountain had been lifted from his chest.

“Sect Master, someone has broken through to the third section of the wind pass!”

Without daring to hesitate, the middle-aged man replied in a loud, clear voice.

“What?” Before the Sect Master could respond, the twelve on either side exclaimed in shock.

To reach the third section of the wind pass, one had to survive the second—where endless blades of wind howled. None knew better than they the perils of that trial. Even for themselves, attempting it with only a mortal’s strength would be a daunting, perhaps impossible feat, let alone reaching the third section.

Endless gravity coupled with the blade winds—none of them had tried it, but they could well imagine its severity.

“Are you certain that the one who made it to the third section is an ordinary person? Someone who has never practiced martial arts?” Suddenly, the last man on the right, dressed in black and appearing about thirty, asked with a frown.

“Zhao Hu, that’s a pointless question. If he wasn’t a mere mortal, who would attempt the wind pass? And if he had trained in martial arts, what would be the point, even if he succeeded?” retorted a man in green seated directly opposite him.

“Besides, for him to come and report, it must be a mortal. That much is beyond doubt!” he insisted.

“Is that so?” The group turned to the kneeling man.

Not daring even to lift his head, he replied quickly, “Yes, they are ordinary people. I have personally confirmed it. Judging by their appearance, they seem to be only about eleven or twelve years old.”

“Only eleven or twelve?” The assembly gasped, exchanging glances, deeply shaken.

“You said those who reached the third section—are there more than one?” This time it was the Sect Master who spoke, his face betraying shock for the first time, clearly moved. He could not remain seated; in a blink, his form became a blur and reappeared before the kneeling man, questioning urgently.

The others scarcely caught sight of his movement, marveling inwardly at yet another leap in the Sect Master’s martial prowess.

Then the full meaning of his words struck them: “They”? There was more than one who had reached the wind pass’s third section.

Ordinarily, even making it past the second section was a rarity—throughout the entire Koushan Blade Sect, there were fewer than five who had ever done so.

As for the third section—since the sect’s founding over two thousand years ago, only seven had ever succeeded.

Generation after generation, the sect had produced countless prodigies and monsters of talent, yet in over two millennia, only seven had managed, relying solely on a mortal’s body, to pass the third section.

On average, it took three centuries for one such genius to appear. And now, impossibly, there was not just one, but more than one at the same time!

How could this not leave them stunned, their hearts roiling after years of cultivation had rendered their emotions as still as dead water? Even the most tempered soul now surged like the restless sea.

Moreover, the last time anyone had passed the third section was over two hundred years ago. At present, the sect could not count a single such individual among its ranks.

“T—two!” Despite his best efforts, the kneeling man could not keep his voice from trembling before the Sect Master. “There are two of them!”

“Two!”

“Two, imagine it!”

“What a wondrous, unexpected delight!”

“This is too much, too sudden!”

“Let the surprises come even more fiercely!”

“Such fortune!”

“Let’s go, we must see for ourselves!” Unable to sit still, the assembly sprang to their feet. No one understood better than they what it meant to pass the third section of the wind pass. Excitement surged in their hearts as their figures blurred into a flurry of afterimages, all racing toward the wind pass.

…

Within the third section, Zhou Yi and Song Hai struggled onward, their faces etched with exhaustion, eyes narrowed, eyelids heavy with sweat as though weighed down by iron. They could barely keep their eyes open.

Zhou Yi dragged Song Hai along, stumbling over the uneven ground with every step, each one a monumental effort.

The crushing pressure bore down relentlessly on their nerves. Around them, the blade winds howled, swirling in the air before falling upon them like a flurry of snowflakes, making their arduous journey even more grueling.

Song Hai’s consciousness had long since faded; his eyes were tightly shut, his body stiff and puppet-like. If not for Zhou Yi’s hand guiding him, he would have collapsed long before, unable to take another step.