Chapter 79: The Highest Mandate of Heaven

The Sword Saint instantly withdrew his gaze and looked deeply at Ji Huo, wanting to ask something, but before he could open his mouth, he already sensed a faint brewing of thunder above his head.

It was as if the moment he spoke, lightning would descend in the next instant.

For sorcerers who had mastered their arts, being struck by lightning was a daily occurrence—they’d lie down for ten days or half a month, then bounce back and continue their calculations. In the world of sorcerers, there was even a saying: a sorcerer who hasn’t been struck by lightning isn’t a true sorcerer.

The Sword Saint had always scoffed at this. To him, those bolts of lightning were nothing more than a joke—he could shatter dozens with a single swing of his sword.

But the lightning gathering on his brow now felt… formidable.

He kept his mouth shut. Thankfully, he was not one of those superstitious sorcerers, nor was he consumed by curiosity to the point of risking a year in bed just for a secret.

“Uncle, is something wrong?” Ji Huo asked curiously when the Sword Saint remained silent for a long time.

The Sword Saint cast him a complicated glance. Experiencing what it was like to be a sorcerer, even for a moment, was actually quite refreshing.

“You’re searching for a way to break through to Grandmaster?” the Sword Saint asked.

“Yes.” Ji Huo’s heart tightened, but he nodded.

The Sword Saint shook his head. “Your talent is extraordinary. I suspect you could master any martial art with remarkable speed. For an ordinary person, reaching perfection in a Heaven-level art like the Thunder Bear Fist—even a pig could become a Grandmaster.”

Ji Huo’s pupils contracted. Although the Sword Saint hadn’t discerned his system, the fact that he could deduce this much was terrifying in itself.

“However,” the Sword Saint paused, “this swiftness in cultivation backfires. Because you advance too quickly, you lack true insight into the Way. Breaking through to Grandmaster will be harder for you than for others.”

Ji Huo had already anticipated this. He still couldn’t figure out why, even though the system packaged all sorts of insights for him as if he’d practiced for decades, he still couldn’t reach a higher understanding.

“What is a Grandmaster?” Ji Huo asked.

“Unity of Heaven and Man,” the Sword Saint replied slowly.

Such an abstruse statement was just as cryptic as the cultivation manuals of Ji Huo’s previous life. Was he supposed to bury himself in the earth? Ji Huo secretly grumbled.

“Spend more time observing mountains, rivers, and wandering about. Perhaps it will help you,” the Sword Saint said, shaking his head. “I have little else to teach you. Each person’s understanding of the Way is unique. If you were walking the Path of the Sword, I could still offer guidance. But… you seem not to have found your own path yet.”

Ji Huo was silent for two seconds, then cupped his fists. “Thank you for your guidance, Uncle.”

“By the way,” the Sword Saint suddenly asked, “Am I the only one who knows your true cultivation? Does Ji Xiaoxiong know?”

“Huh?” Ji Huo blinked. “My father doesn’t know.”

A satisfied smile appeared on the Sword Saint’s face at this answer.

He patted himself down, but as usual, found nothing of value on his person.

“Do you have a jade pendant?” he asked.

Ji Huo took out a rather fine jade pendant from his chest and handed it over.

“At least fifty taels of silver… how extravagant,” the Sword Saint muttered under his breath, then gripped the jade pendant in his right hand.

In that instant, dark clouds tumbled, and the sky changed color.

Ji Huo felt as though, in that moment, the Sword Saint had merged with the world itself. Standing before him was no longer a man, but a sword that seemed to pierce the heavens.

If that sword were to swing, there would be nothing in this world it could not cleave.

No, all things under heaven and earth would join in its strike.

The next second, all sensations vanished. The Sword Saint returned to his ordinary appearance.

He casually tossed the jade pendant back and said, “Within this is my strongest sword strike. Crush it and it will be unleashed. This strike is of the Grandmaster level, able to commune with the heavens and earth.”

Ji Huo was overjoyed. This Grandmaster-level strike was clearly far more powerful than the one Hou Baixi had used on him before.

He suddenly recalled something else. “Uncle, can all Grandmasters see my cultivation and martial arts?”

“No,” the Sword Saint shook his head. “Only I can, because I have grasped the Heavenly Way and forged the Sword of Destiny. I can discern some of the world’s workings, pierce illusions, and see the truth. Others… you need not worry, not even a Grandmaster-level sorcerer can see through you. And even if they could, it wouldn’t matter.”

Ji Huo didn’t understand the last part, but felt reassured by his words.

After Ji Huo left, grinning from ear to ear, the Sword Saint could barely contain his excitement. He cast his fine fishing rod into the river and watched the float.

As he watched, his eyes grew deep and his thoughts drifted away from fishing. Even when the float suddenly darkened, he remained unaware.

“To know Heaven is easy, to defy Heaven is hard, only…”

He murmured softly, with a hint of struggle and confusion in his eyes. Then, a sudden flash of clarity lit his gaze, his lips moved as if enlightened, and he sighed:

“Destiny reigns supreme!”

From afar, Ji Huo heard the commotion and turned to look, only to see the sky rumble as if thunder was surging.

The clouds flickered for just a moment before dispersing without a trace, as if they had never appeared.

“Could it really be my father cursing the Sword Saint again? Why does it seem like the feng shui by the river is bad, always thundering?”

Ji Huo shook his head, thinking that while the Sword Saint was a bit stingy, he hardly deserved to be struck by lightning.

That afternoon, the people of Divine Sword Manor kept hearing peals of thunder and bolts of lightning striking the back mountain.

It was as if a great demon was undergoing a heavenly tribulation.

Whenever someone tried to investigate, the Sword Saint stopped them with a voice transmission.

The thunder and lightning lasted all afternoon.

Later that day, near dinnertime, the Sword Saint finally strolled down from the back mountain.

“Uh, Uncle, are you alright?” Ji Huo asked, his eye twitching uncontrollably at the Sword Saint’s appearance.

“Hahaha! I’m fine! Very well!” The Sword Saint was in high spirits, though his hair was a tangled mess and his face was as black as charcoal. When he spoke, a puff of black smoke escaped from his mouth.

When he grinned, even his teeth were stained black.

“Brother, are you sure you’re alright?” Bai Rou was also startled.

“Really, I’m fine. Just playing around with the heavens,” the Sword Saint chuckled, pulling out a basket brimming with fat, plump fish from behind him. The only thing was, every fish seemed somewhat lifeless.

“These fish…?” Bai Rou looked at him strangely. She knew her brother’s fishing skills—it was perfectly normal for him to fish for seven days and nights without a single catch.

“I caught them all!” The Sword Saint announced proudly, handing the basket to Hou Baixi, and with a grand gesture, declared, “Baixi, have the kitchen cook all of these! Today, I’m treating the whole manor to fish!”

Hou Baixi was so excited, a few of the disciples behind him nearly burst into tears.

“Right away, Master!” Hou Baixi picked up the basket and ran to the kitchen.

“Wait!” the Sword Saint called out.

But Hou Baixi turned back with a grin, “Master, everyone will know you caught these! The whole manor, I promise!”

Only then did the Sword Saint nod with satisfaction.

Ji Huo: “…”

Earlier that afternoon, the Sword Saint had been struck by lightning right after uttering those words.

Thankfully, no one was around to hear him, and the lightning was only a symbolic warning—not particularly strong.

Just as the Sword Saint was grumbling, he suddenly noticed a fish, belly-up and stunned by the electricity, floating on the river.

He looked at the fishing rod in his hand—crafted from refined iron, with its tip dipped in the water—and fell into deep thought…

That was more or less how it happened.