As the golden morning sunlight pierced through distant mountains and mist, it shone on Ding Sheng, highlighting his muscular build and upright stance. His handsome face, with defined contours, appeared as though crafted by the finest sculptor, exuding both vigor and elegance.

“Phew…”

Ding Sheng exhaled deeply, feeling refreshed all over.

He hadn’t expected his own comprehension to be so extraordinary. Just a quick glance at Song Yue’s sword technique was enough for him to imitate it instantly, and after only three attempts, he had grasped the essence and spirit of this simple sword style.

Ding Sheng speculated that his strange transformation was not only due to his encounter in the cave on the cliff but also because of Song Yue’s low skill level, which made the sword technique easier to mimic. He figured that facing a true master in the future wouldn’t make copying and learning so easy.

Aside from that basic sword style, he was thrilled to have mastered another complete technique. This made him even more confident about the upcoming entrance test at Wenjian Sect in half a month.

Zhao Ming and his group were terrified.

They looked pale, realizing the gravity of the situation. With a glance between them, they ignored Song Yue lying on the ground and began to sneak away.

“Running away now? Too late!” Ding Sheng sneered coldly.

All the bullying and beatings his body had suffered before could now be avenged in full.

Zhao Ming, as if struck by lightning, froze where he stood. He slowly turned around, dropped to his knees, and with a crying face, pleaded in flattery, “Ding…Ding Sheng, Brother Ding…Master Ding…please…I was wrong…I’m not even human…please spare me!”

“You’re right. You’re not human,” Ding Sheng said, smacking him with a backhand slap.

Zhao Ming, unable or unwilling to dodge, felt like he’d been struck by a hammer, letting out a scream as he flew back like a post struck by a bolt, his other cheek turning red, his remaining teeth scattering, and blood splattering as he fell unconscious.

“Master Ding, please spare us…”

“Don’t! We won’t dare anymore, we’ll follow you from now on…you’re the boss…”

The remaining lackeys, sensing the situation, knelt on the ground, begging in tears.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Ding Sheng was unmoved. Without hesitation, he slapped each one, sending them flying out of the small courtyard.

“Where did you learn the [Cross Slash Sword] technique?” Song Yue asked, his eyes flashing with resentment and malice.

“None of your business.”

Ding Sheng replied curtly, slapping him down without caring about his identity. Song Yue, who had just gotten up, was knocked unconscious by Ding Sheng’s immense strength, enhanced through his cave ordeal and cliff climbing. Each slap felt like a hammer blow, leaving them unconscious.

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Ding Sheng then searched their bodies.

He found a few hundred taels of silver on Zhao Ming’s group, and on Song Yue, he discovered larger silver and gold notes, but he only took the loose silver and gold pieces, leaving the larger bills.

After tossing these unfortunate souls into a distant trash pile to keep the place clear, he returned to his thatched hut.

Though he had memories fused from another world, coming from a society of law, he wasn’t yet ready to kill in cold blood and was still adjusting to a world where fights could end in bloodshed. Perhaps in time, he would adapt.

The walls of his hut were broken, letting in the wind, and the ground was a mess.

Sighing, Ding Sheng took some time to clean and repair the place. Until the entrance test for Wenjian Sect, he would need to stay here.

Due to his cave encounter, Ding Sheng’s body had undergone profound changes. Thus, he hadn’t rushed to use the six [Dragon Heart Mystical Herbs] but kept them for future use, when they might serve a greater purpose.

Once everything was set, it was about time for his daily duty of cleaning the mountain gate.

Ding Sheng left his courtyard and shut the door behind him, heading out.

At that moment, Zhao Ming and the others, having regained consciousness at the trash heap, had already slinked off silently, leaving a few spots of blood behind.

Ding Sheng smiled, knowing they were too scared to cause further trouble.

The morning sun rose higher, warming the land.

A new day had begun.

As always, Ding Sheng greeted the people he encountered with a friendly smile while leaving the slums behind.

He entered the grand, clean, and beautiful Wenjian Sect’s mountain gate. Ignoring the bustling crowds, he followed a trail down the mountain to the shore of [Sword Washing Pool].

[Sword Washing Pool] was a remarkably beautiful lake at the foot of Wenjian Sect’s mountain gate.

Legend has it that over a thousand years ago, the sect’s founding master washed his sword here, giving it its name.

Ding Sheng’s daily duty was to sweep the lawn around [Sword Washing Pool]. It was an easy task, taking only two or three hours to complete. After that, he could use his free time, earning a modest one tael of silver per month from Wenjian Sect to support his living expenses.

With good sunlight and a mild breeze today, Ding Sheng decided to jump into the lake and wash off the dirt from his body, leaving him refreshed before beginning his cleaning duties.

Thanks to his improved physique, he completed all tasks in less than an hour.

Then, Ding Sheng started his sword practice by the lake.

Practice is essential; it’s like rowing upstream. One must keep moving forward to avoid being left behind.

The basic sword technique and [Cross Slash Sword] were the only two techniques he currently mastered, as well as his strongest assets for passing Wenjian Sect’s entrance test, so he couldn’t afford to slack off.

Apart from sword techniques, internal energy cultivation was equally vital.

Based on the memories he’d acquired, he knew that in this world, warriors gain supernatural power by cultivating their meridians and acupoints.

Ding Sheng gazed at his reflection in the Sword Washing Pool, his eyes firm. Sunlight cast over his face, illuminating his determined features, like the finely sculpted face of a seasoned warrior. His cave encounter had not only granted him strength but also awakened an unyielding spirit within him. No longer just an unknown figure from the slums, he was forging his own path in the way of the sword.

Standing by the lakeside, he gazed into the water, his sharp eyes as piercing as a blade. For a warrior, the sword is the heart, and refining one’s sword technique is a way to strengthen one’s mind. Like the clear water of the Sword Washing Pool, which washes away impurities, his sword strikes were sharp and powerful, cutting through the air like sunlight through clouds.

Each morning’s training had become Ding Sheng’s habit, a means of pursuing self-improvement. The [Cross Slash Sword] was a simple yet deadly technique, perfectly matching his fighting style. Through each move, he could feel himself growing closer to his unique path in swordsmanship. Looking forward to the sect’s entrance test, he was filled with anticipation—not relying on any family backing, but on the path he was carving out himself.

As the sun rose higher, Ding Sheng finished his practice and exhaled with satisfaction. Martial training is like rowing against the current; any slacking will push you back. Today’s practice brought him great satisfaction. Only through daily perseverance and hard work could he merge these techniques and create his unique swordsmanship style.