Ze Tian Ji (Way of Choices)

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

This year, the winter in the capital was much colder than it had been in the past. It was still early winter, but the surface of the Luo River had already frozen. It was even worse in the river beyond the canal gates, where the ice was so thick that people could stand on it.

At this time, Wang Po and Tie Shu were standing on the icy surface of the Luo River.

Between the two was a hole ten-some zhang in radius. The waters of the river rippled within, pitch-black like an abyss.

The clap of thunder that had resounded through the capital had risen from the snowy street and ultimately descended into this hole.

Tie Shu, his hands held behind him, expressionlessly gazed across this hole, acting as if he had not struck earlier.

Wang Po held his blade horizontally in front of him. Many holes were ripped in his clothes, especially his robe. His collar and sleeves looked as if they had been blown about in some mighty gale for several decades.

Bloodstains could faintly be seen within those tears on his clothes.

It was obvious that after this single exchange, he had been injured, and his injuries were not light.

But there was no sign of relaxation in Tie Shu's eyes, let alone any disdain or contempt. On the contrary, they became graver and much more vigilant.

Wang Po's blade was held horizontally in front of him, but it still had not been unsheathed. Several clear finger marks could be seen on the sheath, and it was clearly beginning to bend.

He still did not unsheathe the blade.

An expert of the Divine Domain had taken the initiative to strike, yet he still did not unsheathe the blade.

This was a most confusing and shocking matter.

Even more shocking was that although he had suffered significant injuries, he was still alive.

.……

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In Xunyang City, when he was facing Zhu Luo in the rainy street, he had not hesitated to use his strongest blade techniques to cleave countless cracks in space and just barely keep Zhu Luo's moonlight on the other end of the street.

But today in the capital's snowy street, against Tie Shu, he did not even unsheathe his blade, but was able to firmly receive Tie Shu's strike.

Tie Shu, like Zhu Luo, was one of the Eight Storms, and in terms of fighting power, he was even slightly superior to Zhu Luo.

This meant that in the short span of two years, Wang Po's blade had grown much stronger than it had been in Xunyang City.

Tie Shu was expressionless, but his mind was slightly astonished.

Without using his blade, Wang Po had been able to firmly receive Tie Shu's powerful strike and could even still stand. His opponent truly was the supreme expert of the younger generation.

He did not know exactly how much progress Wang Po had made in these past two years, only that he was much stronger than had been rumored, even stronger than what he had perceived at Tanzhe Temple.

This advancement speed was truly too outrageous.

He now found it impossible to judge just how far Wang Po was from that threshold.

And there was still that other consideration:

Wang Po still had not unsheathed his blade.

"What sort of blade is this?" Tie Shu suddenly asked.

Since Wang Po had not unsheathed his blade, what was Tie Shu asking about?

If there had been spectators on the banks of the Luo River, they would certainly be unable to understand this question.

Wang Po understood.

'Blade' was just one word, but it could have many meanings:

The blade itself.

The technique used by the blade.

The trajectory of the blade.

The path of the blade.

He had not unsheathed his blade, but he had already used his technique.

His technique was to hold his blade horizontally in front of him.

Wang Po's Dao of the blade and the wonder of this technique completely rested in holding it horizontally.

Only this way could he block Tie Shu's attack without unsheathing his blade.

Tie Shu had never seen such an exquisite blade technique before.

What he asked was the name and origin of this technique.

"I don't know," Wang Po answered.

"He didn't tell me."

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.……

……

The distance between the Wei Estate and the alley of the Northern Military Department was somewhat far and required crossing the Luo River.

When Wang Po and Chen Changsheng were coming, they had stopped by the banks of the Luo River to chat.

The banks of the Luo River had winter willows and dikes, while the surface of the river had ice and stories.

In their first meeting at Xunyang City, they did not speak very much. This time, in their reunion within the capital, they knew that they would soon part, perhaps forever, so they chatted about many things.

They chatted about Wang Zhice's deeds in the past, about the present state of the Bridge of Helplessness, and also about each other's pasts.

When he saw the metal blade at Wang Po's waist, Chen Changsheng recalled that mausoleum within the Garden of Zhou as well as that mausoleum's owner. He also thought of the blade style inscribed upon the black coffin and came up with an idea.

He could not orally pass down this blade style, only describe to Wang Po the things he had comprehended from it.

Wang Po did not thank him, nor did he refuse. It was evident, however, that he was not very interested.

Even though he knew that it was the strongest blade style ever developed.

He had his own path of the blade, and his path traveled in a completely different direction from Zhou Dufu's blade.

Chen Changsheng then said that he had learned the sword from Su Li in the wilderness.

Many cultivators of the world were very interested in this matter, or perhaps jealous.

Wang Po was not jealous, as he did not like Su Li. However, it was still Su Li's sword, so he was somewhat interested.

His interest was especially piqued when Chen Changsheng mentioned that the third sword he had learned from Su Li was actually one that not even Su Li had been able to learn.

He said to Chen Changsheng that he wanted to learn this sword.

Chen Changsheng agreed.

Standing under the willows on the banks of the Luo River, they spoke a few sentences.

Then, Wang Po learned this sword.

In this world, he was the third person to learn this sword.

And he had only needed the time spanning a few sentences to learn it.

If Su Li were to learn of this matter, what would he feel?

This sword was called the Stupid Sword.

Learning this sword required thorough tempering, required constant and monotonous repetition.

This sword did not require talent, but an almost idiotic persistence.

So Su Li was not able to learn this sword, as he was too smart.

Logically speaking, no matter how astonishing Wang Po's talent was, it should have been impossible for him to learn it in such a short amount of time.

Interestingly, the method through which Wang Po practiced his blade was similar to the way in which Chen Changsheng practiced his sword, just practice.

In these past decades, he had already waved his blade far too many times.

Now, he just needed to treat the sword as a blade to be able to use this sword, this blade.

Thus, Tie Shu's two terrifying hands were unable to break through the blade sheath.

"You lost because you were wrong."

Wang Po looked at Tie Shu and said, "You should not have tried to stop me from unsheathing the blade."

After a moment of silence, Tie Shu asked, "Why?"

Wang Po explained, "Only when a blade is still sheathed can it go through thousands of changes, can it possess limitless possibilities. Although the blade is not at its strongest at that time, it is also at its most unbreakable."

Tie Shu asked, "Then I have to foolishly wait for you to pull out your blade?"

Wang Po replied, "The more you don't dare to see the true appearance of this blade, the more often the true appearance will be worse than what you desired."

Tie Shu's expression was apathetic, but his hands clenched behind him. Cold light and sharpness began to flow from between his fingers, silently slicing apart the wind and snow.

This sight was a symbol of his current mood. Wang Po had spoken correctly about his intentions, so did that mean that he had predicted the correct conclusion?

Tie Shu fixed his eyes upon Wang Po's blade as he taunted, "Then you can show its true appearance to me—if you can still do it, that is."

Wang Po's blade was the truth.

From the moment he left Scholartree Manor, the entire world had raised its head in anticipation.

But now this blade had been bent, so how could he pull it from its sheath?

As the words fell, Tie Shu had already reached Wang Po, his two hands tearing through the air.

A fierce gale rose over the Luo River, snow blurring and obscuring all. Amongst the gale, ten fingers could barely be seen, shaking the snow and tearing through the sky as they rose. They were the spreading branches of an enormous tree, a massive flower beginning to bloom.

Countless extremely tough and metallic strands of Qi descended upon Wang Po as the branches spread, as the petals bloomed.

The iron tree bloomed.

This was a Daoist technique of the Divine Domain, a power from above the starry sky.

The blade could defend all it wished, but it would still be unable to obscure all of the starry sky.

If Wang Po still did not unsheathe his blade, he would die without question.

So Wang Po finally unsheathed his blade.

While the blade was still in the sheath, its intent was already rising.

An incredibly swift and forceful, yet also very plain and simple, blade Dao soared to the heavens.

The snowstorm instantly intensified and countless cracks appeared on the iced-over surface of the Luo River.

When he sensed this blade intent, Tie Shu's expression instantly became apprehensive and a killing intent exploded from his eyes.

Only he could see that Wang Po was actually trying to use this blade to break through!