The Outer Pavilion of the Inverse Blade Sect was located in a place called Bladesunder Valley.
At the center of the valley floor stood countless grayish-black boulders—the bladesunder stones. Their hard surfaces were covered with crisscrossing marks, the traces of cultivation left by generations of Outer Pavilion disciples.
James was amazed. He could actually perceive the sword technique trajectories hidden within those marks. In other words, every disciple who had trained here before had become material for those who came after—a library of sword forms carved into stone. Among them, several boulders were specially marked and roped off.
James approached one and read the inscription.
*Left by Ashford Sword Lord, Lucas Ashford.*
"This is actually the sword trace Uncle Lucas left behind!"
Beyond that, James discovered other prominently marked stones.
One belonged to the Edgeless Sword Saint, Leonard Frost—the current Pavilion Master of the Inverse Blade Sect. His stone had been smashed into powder, leaving only fragments surrounded by reverent disciples. With his great sword, Leonard Frost broke ten thousand techniques and suppressed all heroes under heaven.
Another bore the name of the Cloudcutter, Alaric Storm. His sword was like clouds and mist—beautiful and deadly. He was the second-in-command of the Inverse Blade Sect and a top expert ranked high on the Earth Ranking.
There were even traces left by seniors of the sect who had long since passed away.
Just an Outer Pavilion, operating on this scale. James couldn't help but marvel at the depth of the Inverse Blade Sect's foundation as one of the Five Supreme Blades. His anticipation grew—what would the Inner Pavilion be like?
"Then let's start with Uncle Lucas's spot."
James found the sword mark Lucas had left behind. As he studied it, he almost seemed to see a younger Lucas standing before him—fierce and brilliant. James gripped his sword and attempted to use the Crescent Swan technique he'd been learning, trying to break through the illusory stance.
He moved toward the sword mark—
And suddenly, an illusion erupted before his eyes.
A flash of green light. His body flew backward several steps. His wrist went numb, and the sword fell from his grip, clattering against the stone floor.
James stared at the boulder, breathing hard.
To be honest, he hadn't even seen how he'd been defeated.
*This is Uncle Lucas's strength? Even when he was in the Outer Pavilion, he was already this terrifying!*
James had to accept reality. In the following days, while he cultivated to improve his realm, he also honed his sword techniques against the other stones—but he never touched Lucas's boulder again.
---
As the sun and moon alternated and the seasons changed, five years passed.
James was fourteen years old.
During those five years, his mirror had shown no movement. Aside from occasionally being taken out to admire his handsome reflection, it served no purpose.
However, James's cultivation had reached the sixth stage of the Mortal Realm. All the sword techniques he'd learned had achieved Minor Achievement. He could be considered a top expert among the Outer Pavilion disciples.
James rarely interacted with his peers. He didn't know which fellow disciple had started the rumor, but at some point, people began saying he'd entered the Inverse Blade Sect through the back door.
These young disciples were easily incited and spoke harsh words whenever they saw him. James didn't bother to explain. Children with underdeveloped reasoning wouldn't think things through—they would only assume they were right.
With over a thousand disciples in the Outer Pavilion, it was inevitable that cliques would form, creating a small society within the sect. Once such a society took shape, anyone who remained independent was seen as an anomaly. A target.
Sometimes, James didn't want trouble. But trouble had a way of finding him regardless.
---
James arrived at Bladesunder Valley that morning. Unlike usual, he didn't immediately find a stone to begin practicing—because his path was blocked.
A group of five young men stood in his way.
Their leader was tall with the pampered air of a young master. The four behind him followed like lackeys, their postures subservient.
"Are you James Everett?"
The speaker was a scrawny youth, chest puffed out and head held high, looking very much like a fox borrowing a tiger's majesty. His voice was stern. "Do you know who stands before you?"
He gestured dramatically toward the tall young man.
"This is Young Master Preston Cole of the Cole Family."
The leader—Preston—casually snapped open a folding fan and waved it with practiced arrogance.
James regarded them for a moment.
"Oh."
He'd heard about the cliques in the Outer Pavilion. Children forming factions, playing at power. He'd always kept a low profile and avoided their petty games, so he hadn't been noticed until now.
This Preston Cole must have joined the Outer Pavilion recently. The Cole Clan was a great family with several Master-level experts, ranking ninth among the one hundred and eight Master-level powers in the empire. As a young master of such a family, Preston naturally refused to be subordinate to anyone—so he'd formed his own faction.
Most of the thousand-plus disciples in the Outer Pavilion belonged to some group or another. People like James who kept to themselves were rare. Naturally, that made him a target.
But James had no interest in these children's games. He didn't lack cultivation resources—every month, Uncle Lucas sent someone with a fresh batch. He even had surplus after his training.
"James Everett," the scrawny youth continued, "Young Master Preston is from the Cole Clan of Shu Region. As long as you follow Young Master Preston, I guarantee you'll be living well from now on."
"What if I'm not willing?"
The scrawny youth's expression darkened. "If you're not willing, then you're refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit. Reject Young Master Preston, and don't even think about coming to Bladesunder Valley to train anymore."
James laughed.
The sound made the scrawny youth flush with anger. "What are you laughing at?"
James's gaze turned playful. One hand drifted to his back, where a sword wrapped in white bandages hung across his shoulders. In a single smooth motion, he drew it and pointed the blade at Preston and his lackeys.
"Fine then. I've studied sword techniques for years but never had a real battle." His lips curved. "It's not a bad idea to use you for practice."
He felt a flicker of excitement. Bullying children was somewhat unethical, perhaps—but he was only fourteen in this life. A fair duel, really.
Seeing James draw his sword, Preston's expression turned cold.
"Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit." He snapped his fan shut. "Beat him. As long as you don't kill him, I want him beaten to within an inch of his life."
He glanced at his followers.
"Whoever hits him hardest today will be rewarded with five Essence Pills."
Ordinary Outer Pavilion disciples only received two Essence Pills per month. Preston offered five with a casual wave—he truly lived up to his family's wealth.
The commotion drew the attention of other disciples training in the valley.
"Is that the Third Young Master of the Cole Family? I don't know who offended him, but they're in for trouble."
"The Cole Clan has five Masters on the surface alone, ranking ninth among the hundred and eight powers. With that kind of background, only Young Master Liu can compete with him here."
"To dare draw a sword against Young Master Preston—that kid's a real hothead. Even the Outer Pavilion Elders are friendly with the Cole Clan. I'm afraid this beating is inevitable."
"That hothead looks familiar, but I can't place his name. Probably some low-profile disciple who stumbled into trouble he couldn't avoid."
Everyone was pessimistic about James's chances.
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**End of Chapter 9**