23: Chapter 23 Diligent Cultivation, Increased Strength

The sky was just beginning to brighten, the stone slabs in the courtyard still damp with the night's dew.

Chen Xuan, dressed in a coarse short jacket, stood in the open space of the backyard. He exhaled a puff of white breath and rolled his shoulders and neck.

He had just settled into his horse stance when Leng Shuang leaped down from under the eaves, holding two wooden swords in her hands.

"No fancy tricks today," she said, tossing one over. "Start with the basics: chop, sweep, and thrust. Three hundred repetitions of each."

Chen Xuan caught the wooden sword and grinned. "You were on night watch, sis. Must be tired. Your temper seems even chillier this morning."

Leng Shuang ignored him, turning and walking to the edge of the training ground. She stood with her arms crossed. The morning light fell on her face, her features cool and clear, as if coated with a thin layer of frost.

Chen Xuan said no more and lowered his head to practice. The sword cut through the air, smooth at first, but by the third set, his movements had grown stiff.

Sweat trickled from his forehead into his eyes, stinging and making him squint. He shook his head and continued swinging the sword.

"One hundred eighty... one hundred eighty-one..." he counted silently in his mind. His arms grew heavier and heavier, until he was barely holding on by sheer willpower.

Leng Shuang watched his back, her brow slightly furrowed.

Only when he finally stopped, nearly collapsing to the ground, did she walk over and hand him a dry cloth.

"Your physical stamina is decent, but your Meridians can't keep up," she said. "Last night, I sensed your True Qi running wild during your meditation. Keep training like this, and it won't be a Breakthrough—it'll be the end of you."

"Then what should I do?" Chen Xuan asked, wiping his sweat.

"Slow down," she replied, her tone still cold. "Your body isn't made of iron. Take it step by step."

At that moment, Zhao Hongling emerged from the house, yawning, holding a bowl of steaming porridge. "Have something to eat. Old Zhang said you need to nourish your body, or your legs will give out halfway through a fight. That'd be embarrassing."

"Am I that weak?" Chen Xuan took the bowl, took a sip, and immediately stuck out his tongue from the heat.

"Right now, you're like a paper lantern—bright on the outside, but one poke and you'll tear."

She stood with her hands on her hips. "Don't think I don't know you secretly trained until the third watch that night at the teahouse. You could barely walk straight the next day!"

Chen Xuan gave an embarrassed chuckle but didn't argue.

After noon, Dugu Xue walked into the courtyard carrying an old booklet and placed it on the stone table. "These are the records I compiled from past Husband Selection Ceremony matches.

The fastest match ended in seven moves; the longest lasted half a shichen.

Opponents have varied styles—some are swift as the wind, others steady as a mountain, and some use poison or hidden weapons. You need to learn how to handle them all."

Chen Xuan flipped through a few pages and nodded. "Understood. I can't just practice one fighting style."

"I'll spar with you," Dugu Xue said, drawing her sword. "We'll start by simulating a fast attacker."

In less than ten exchanges, Chen Xuan was forced to retreat repeatedly. The tip of her sword grazed past the tip of his nose, bringing a chill breeze.

"Too fast," he gasped. "I can't keep up with the rhythm."

"Then practice your reaction," she sheathed her sword. "Every morning, close your eyes and listen to the wind. Judge the direction of attacks by sound."

As evening approached, Liu Ruyan entered the courtyard carrying a pot of tea. Its fragrance was light and clean, with a hint of sweetness.

"Calming tea. To help you sleep soundly tonight."

She poured a cup and handed it to Chen Xuan. "If you keep shouting 'I'm not afraid' in your dreams, you'll wake us all up again."

Chen Xuan took the tea and grinned. "Did I really say that?"

"You did," the four women answered in unison.

He scratched his head, looking embarrassed.

Over the next few days, Cultivation settled into a fixed routine: basic training at dawn, instruction from Dugu Xue on handling different fighting styles in the morning, repeated sword drills against wooden posts in the afternoon, and calming tea with seated meditation at night.

Every night, Leng Shuang would patrol the roof, ensuring his breathing was steady before leaving.

On the fifth morning, as Chen Xuan stood with eyes closed, concentrating in the center of the training ground, he suddenly felt a surge of heat rise from his Dantian, flowing slowly along his Meridians.

His heart stirred—this was the energy returned by the System!

He didn't open his eyes, letting the power wash through his channels.

A moment later, several previously blocked Acupoints were cleared. The flow of True Qi throughout his body became much smoother, and he advanced into the fifth-grade Realm in one go.

When he opened his eyes, his entire being seemed refreshed and vibrant.

"What's wrong?" Zhao Hongling leaned in. "Your face is as red as a monkey's butt."

"Nothing," he grinned. "Just Broke Through to fifth grade. Feel incredibly strong."

"Stop bragging," she scoffed. "You still have to chop that wooden post five hundred times later."

"No problem," he picked up the wooden sword. "Let's start now."

He trained for three shichen straight. The wooden post was covered in dense slash marks, yet Chen Xuan's movements grew steadier. Each strike was clean and precise, showing no sign of fatigue.

Leng Shuang watched from a distance, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

By this time before, he would have been drenched in sweat and breathing erratically. Today, it was like he was a different person.

"He's improving quickly," Liu Ruyan said softly.

"It's not just his Realm."

Dugu Xue watched Chen Xuan's grip on the sword. "The way his True Qi circulates has changed. It's more condensed and efficient now."

"Have you noticed something?" Zhao Hongling suddenly lowered her voice. "Every time he finishes training, a faint golden light flickers around him for a split second, then disappears."

The three fell silent for a moment.

"Don't dwell on it," Leng Shuang said coolly. "As long as he can survive the Ceremony, that's all that matters."

On the seventh night, the moonlight was clear and bright. The five gathered in the backyard for a final group training session.

"This time, I'll be the target," Chen Xuan said, standing in the center and gripping his wooden sword. "The four of you take turns attacking, simulating different opponents. Let's see if I can hold my ground."

"Are you sure?" Dugu Xue asked.

"Of course," he smiled. "I can't beat you all anyway. Might as well learn as much as I can."

Leng Shuang struck first. Without moving her feet, she flicked her sword, and a chilling cold instantly filled the training ground.

Chen Xuan felt the air grow heavy, his movements slowing for an instant. He hastily sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike.

Immediately after, Dugu Xue's sword flashed like lightning, thrusting three times in succession, forcing him to retreat again.

Before he could steady himself, Liu Ruyan had already flashed to his side, the silk ribbon in her sleeve fluttering lightly to disrupt his vision.

He instinctively raised his sword to block, but didn't anticipate Zhao Honglung pouncing from behind, slamming a palm toward his shoulder.

*Thud!*

A dull sound echoed. Chen Xuan staggered a few steps and fell to one knee.

"Not good enough!" Zhao Hongling said triumphantly. "You're down after just a few moves?"

"Just the first round," he wiped his sweat and stood up. "Again."

When the second round began, he had learned his lesson.

He no longer focused solely on defense. Instead, he used his opponents' force against them, circling the perimeter of the training ground to avoid being surrounded.

Leng Shuang's cold aura restricted his movements, so he used rapid motion to counteract it.

Dugu Xue's attacks were fierce, so he shifted to a defensive stance, waiting for an opening.

Liu Ruyan's footwork was elusive, so he simply closed his eyes and relied on listening to the wind to pinpoint her position. Zhao Hongling's strength was overwhelming, so he closed in for close-quarters combat, using her momentum to deflect her force.

Ten exchanges, thirty, fifty...

The group grew increasingly astonished.

Not only did he not fall, he gradually adapted to the rhythm. On the eighty-seventh exchange, he even seized an opportunity, lightly tapping Zhao Hongling's chest with the tip of his wooden sword.

"I won by half a move," he said, panting.

"Fine, you're good," Zhao Hongling rubbed the spot he'd tapped, but the corner of her mouth turned up.

When the final round ended, all five were sweating. Chen Xuan sat cross-legged on the ground, meditating briefly before opening his eyes. His gaze was clear and resolute.

"In seven days, I can win."

Zhao Hongling walked over and tossed a towel onto his head. "If you lose, I won't speak to you for three days."

"Wouldn't you die from holding it in?" he laughed, standing up.

Leng Shuang approached. For once, she didn't offer a cold remark, merely giving a slight nod. "You're tougher than I thought."

Dugu Xue sheathed her sword. "Your reaction speed has improved. At least you can handle the first few rounds of matches."

Liu Ruyan brought over warm water and handed it to him. "Have some water. Don't push yourself too hard."

Chen Xuan took the water skin, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp. Water droplets trailed down his chin, glimmering faintly in the moonlight.

The courtyard was quiet, only the rustle of wind through leaves. The five stood together, none in a hurry to return indoors.

He knew they had been waiting for this moment.

And he was finally ready.

Before the sun rose, he picked up the wooden sword again and stood alone in the training ground, repeating the most basic chopping motions over and over.

The sword's edge cut through the morning mist, steady and powerful.