Chapter Seven: So Unfamiliar

“Well now, not bad! Pretty quick, aren’t you?”

At the sound of Liu Pan’s teasing, Jackal’s face immediately changed. And as that voice rang out, a figure suddenly appeared right in front of Jackal. The next instant, Jackal felt a tremendous force strike his waist and abdomen, and his entire body flew out of control, knocking over two spectators before crashing heavily to the ground.

“How is this possible?”

Jackal could not believe what had just happened. He never thought of himself as invincible, but he had never imagined he would be defeated so easily—so easily, in fact, that he hadn’t even managed to touch his opponent.

It was a complete and utter rout.

Recalling the scene that had just occurred, Jackal found it even harder to accept. It seemed as though his opponent had anticipated his every move.

“It was a fluke! It had to be a fluke!” Jackal roared inwardly, struggling to his feet and charging at Liu Pan once more.

“Coming again?”

Seeing Jackal rushing at him yet again, Liu Pan raised an eyebrow, but remained calm and unhurried. He grabbed the Wild Desolation Blade, which was stuck in the ground nearby, and with a flick of his wrist, planted it three feet to his left front.

At the same time, Liu Pan stepped swiftly to the left, crossing two paces, then lashed out with a kick.

Thud!

A muffled crash rang out. Another figure flew backwards, again knocking over two bystanders before slamming to the ground.

Clearly, the one sent flying was not Liu Pan.

As for why Liu Pan could defeat Jackal so effortlessly, the main reason was actually “cheating.”

In the original novel, Liu Pan had written a scene of Liu Kuang fighting Jackal. In that battle, during the new disciples’ entrance trial, Liu Kuang had noticed at the last moment that Jackal had a combat habit: whenever faced with the same situation, he would react the same way. Exploiting this, Liu Kuang achieved victory.

In essence, Liu Kuang only fought Jackal because, after falling into the Cold Abyss, he was seriously injured and spent days recuperating before receiving Yan’s guidance in cultivation. Had he received a month of training from Yan before joining the Baiyang Sect, his cultivation would have reached Martial Apprentice rank, and the struggle with Jackal would never have happened.

For Liu Pan, he already knew beforehand about Jackal’s combat habits, and he could “steal” the experience from Liu Kuang’s battle. That was why he could defeat Jackal with such ease.

Shaking his head, Liu Pan said nothing more. He pulled the Wild Desolation Blade from the ground and returned directly to his room.

He did not intend to tell Jackal the reason for his victory. Jackal, after all, was “thick-headed.” He would certainly replay the scene in his mind again and again, trying to figure out why he lost.

The entire fight between Liu Pan and Jackal had lasted less than the time it took for a cup of tea, but it had left all the onlookers stunned.

Due to the entrance assessments, almost everyone knew Liu Pan’s level, and Jackal’s had also been revealed. Both were Ninth Level Martial Artists!

Yet who could have imagined that a fight between two cultivators of equal rank would end so swiftly and decisively?

At this moment, in the minds of the watching disciples, Liu Pan’s depth became suddenly unfathomable.

And as for the great blade on Liu Pan’s back, curiosity only grew. Throughout the entire fight, not once had the cloth-wrapped blade been unsheathed. Jackal had been defeated without ever seeing the weapon itself.

Who wouldn’t be curious about such a man and his blade?

Liu Pan, of course, paid no mind to others’ curiosity. Having disposed of Jackal so easily, he figured no other fool would try to take his room in the near future.

Closing the door behind him, Liu Pan found a spot to sit down. He unwrapped the cloth from the Wild Desolation Blade, sat in silence for a long moment, then pressed it to his brow.

Once again, he entered that crimson space.

Yan sat cross-legged in the middle of a lake of magma, while Liu Pan stood at its edge.

There was nothing different from entering this space at other times; nothing here had changed. And yet, unlike before, both men were silent, their gazes meeting, neither willing to break the quiet.

In the month since Liu Pan had come to the Celestial Peak Continent, he had changed a great deal—from indifference at the beginning to the present silence.

The more he experienced this world, the more withdrawn he became. He missed home.

The Celestial Peak Continent was a fine place, but it had no family, no friends, none of the people buried deep in his heart. For a short time, he could endure it, but for long? Who could suppress such longing forever?

Moreover, this was a world where martial strength reigned supreme. There was no concept of equality, no strong laws to restrain anyone. Compared to Earth, it was utterly alien. Even if he tried to convince himself this was merely a “foreign land,” he could not find comfort in the thought.

Though this world sprang from Liu Pan’s own pen, living inside it felt utterly unfamiliar.

Home. Earth. Liu Pan ached for both.

With time, perhaps because he spent every day with Yan, the spirit inside the Wild Desolation Blade, Yan had quietly become a kind of anchor for Liu Pan—a spiritual support, something to cling to in this world.

Though Yan was but a blade spirit, Liu Pan found himself treating him as a friend.

Friends walk together through life; those days are gone.

But now, Liu Pan had to send away the first friend he had made in this world.

So he stayed silent.

For Yan, after a month together, he had come to understand Liu Pan’s temperament. He realized that, despite Liu Pan’s frank and sometimes blunt way of speaking, he was truly a good person—a man worthy of trust.

Over time, Yan found it astonishing how much he trusted Liu Pan. From the very beginning, Liu Pan hadn’t done anything extraordinary; he had simply talked with Yan, asked about cultivation, and conversed. And yet, somehow, trust was born under such unlikely circumstances.

Yan knew this trust was blind, but he couldn’t suppress it.

Even more baffling, as a sentient artifact, he had not formally recognized Liu Pan as his master, but still felt the urge to follow him. The contradiction troubled him.

“If only this man possessed the Kuang Yan bloodline,” Yan thought more than once.

The silence stretched on. At last, Liu Pan broke it.

“I’ve entered Baiyang Sect now. If nothing unexpected happens, you’ll meet your future master tomorrow,” Liu Pan said with a faint smile.

He was reluctant to let Yan go, but a promise was a promise.

Besides, he could not have Yan recognize him as master, nor could he use his bloodline to repair the Wild Desolation Blade. If he tried to keep the blade by force, Yan’s only fate would be to dissipate completely from this world.

He could not selfishly keep Yan by his side just because of his own emotional needs—especially since Yan had become his friend.

In the end, the Wild Desolation Blade had never belonged to him.

The night passed quickly.

Liu Pan did not sleep. At dawn, when the first rays of sunlight fell, he opened his door and stepped outside.

Perhaps it was the thrill of finally becoming an outer disciple of Baiyang Sect, but many had been too excited to sleep the previous night. So, early in the morning, the whole Thirteenth Peak was bustling.

The noise and chatter all around, the groups of new disciples laughing and talking, suddenly made Liu Pan feel a wave of inexplicable irritation.

Ever since leaving the forest to enter the crowded Baiyang Town, Liu Pan had felt it—the sense that this world was so strange, and that he did not belong.

In the end, he was not of this world.

He took a deep breath, pushing down his irritation.

Turning, Liu Pan was momentarily surprised. At the corner of his house stood a young man in a fur vest, staring at him intently.

It was Jackal, the very one Liu Pan had kicked flying twice the previous day.

Liu Pan frowned slightly and paid him little heed. After a moment’s thought, he started walking down the mountain.

Jackal, seeing that Liu Pan ignored him, looked conflicted; after a brief hesitation, he followed Liu Pan down the mountain.

The Baiyang Sect had twenty-three peaks in all, of which thirteen were numbered. Peaks One through Five housed the inner disciples; Peaks Six through Thirteen were for the outer disciples.

Liu Kuang, if nothing had gone wrong, must also have been sent here by the Liu family. But with eight different outer sect peaks, Liu Pan had no interest in searching each one. So instead, he went straight to the place where nearly every Baiyang Sect disciple would eventually appear—the sect’s dining hall.

The dining hall was on Grandleaf Peak, one of the unnumbered mountains. Thanks to the descriptions in the novel, Liu Pan knew exactly where it was and needed no directions.

There were two dining halls on Grandleaf Peak: one at the summit for inner disciples, and one halfway up the mountain, open to all members of the sect.

Because it was still early and many new disciples didn’t yet know the location of the dining hall, the mountain was not yet crowded—perhaps a hundred people were there, most of them senior disciples from previous years.

Liu Pan swept his gaze around but saw that the person he was looking for had not yet arrived. Unconcerned, he ordered a meal at the window and sat quietly to eat.

His arrival did not go unnoticed, especially with the Wild Desolation Blade still slung across his back.

Soon, whispers began to spread. Liu Pan noticed more than a few unfriendly eyes turning his way.