Chapter Sixty-Two: Master Uncle! It's Me!

With a smooth, flowing set of movements, Shen Wan felt as though he had been born for this sort of thing in a past life—his natural talent was undeniable. Every corner of the cave’s inner chamber had been thoroughly searched. He glanced at the enormous bundle beside him, stuffed to the brim. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he ensured that, aside from the items too large to carry, everything that could fit had been crammed into the cloth sack.

“Whew, that should just about do it,” he muttered, giving a respectful bow toward the old man’s grave as a gesture of thanks. Then he hefted the sack onto his back, tightened the knotted corners of the cloth across his chest, and gave a little shake to make sure it was secure.

He couldn’t sling the Demonic Black Blade across his back anymore, so he gripped it in his hand. For some reason—perhaps the Heavenly Vein within him had awakened—he didn’t find the load heavy at all; it was entirely manageable.

With a snap of his fingers, Shen Wan was ready to make his escape, delighted with himself. As his gaze swept around, he caught sight of the lotus pedestal atop the pool.

“Oh, this thing must be a treasure, right?” It was radiant with colors, looking grand and magnificent. Shen Wan reached out and dragged the lotus pedestal from the pool. He tried lifting it—it wasn’t too heavy. After some thought, he slung the Demonic Black Blade at his waist, grabbed the lotus pedestal with both hands, and raised it above his head.

He tested his footing—no problem at all.

“Now, this is how it’s done! Come on, Dead Dog!” he called out.

This time, the cave was truly stripped bare: Shen Wan, with the huge cloth bundle on his back, the black blade at his waist, and the pedestal balanced atop his head, headed humming down the passage behind the pool.

Fortunately, the tunnel was spacious—seemingly formed by nature rather than by hand. The walls were rough, studded here and there with protruding stones. Shen Wan took care to avoid scraping his bundle on the jagged rocks.

He pressed onward. At first, the passage was pitch dark, but gradually, as it widened, a faint light began to seep in, reflected by occasional crystals jutting from the stone walls. The path ahead became visible, and Shen Wan quickened his pace.

The crystals became more frequent, the cave broader and brighter. As he gazed at the dazzling gems, Shen Wan wondered if he’d made a mistake—what if the loot he’d gathered was worth less than a single crystal here? That would be a real loss.

He was still mulling this over when a soft rustling noise suddenly sounded ahead.

Shen Wan halted, heart jolting, and pressed himself into the shadows against the wall, straining his ears for any sign of movement.

Footsteps.

Measured and rhythmic, not loud but steady.

“Someone’s there?”

Realizing it was a person and not some monster, Shen Wan relaxed a little. If it was a human and not too many of them, he should be able to handle himself, even as someone without spiritual cultivation.

Carefully, he set the lotus pedestal at his feet and readied the black blade in his grip.

The footsteps grew clearer; still, no one spoke. Shen Wan’s heart pounded in his chest. The sound drew nearer, and yet the steps remained soft—clearly, the other party was being cautious as well.

Wu Xi, tiptoeing, had followed the Black Ringed Serpent’s trail deep into the crystal vein. The passage narrowed, but the crystals, though they could block spiritual sense, were not so densely packed; he could still perceive some of his surroundings with his spiritual awareness.

Proceeding with care, he noticed the crystals dwindling—he was nearly out of the vein. Then he suddenly stopped.

Just ahead, at a bend in the passage, a black, square-edged object jutted out from the wall.

He focused his eyes. Though the distance wasn’t close, his vision was sharp enough to make it out.

A blade tip—a black greatsword’s blade tip...

“Someone’s there?” Wu Xi called out, spiritual energy surging through his body as a sword materialized in his hand with a flick of his wrist.

He sent out his spiritual sense, but it returned nothing—clearly, the person ahead was a master.

Meanwhile, Shen Wan shrank further into the shadows, his nerves taut, as the footsteps stopped. The sudden silence unnerved him—if the other party had gone quiet, it could only mean they had either left or discovered him.

Unable to tell which, he held his breath and listened intently to the sounds within the tunnel, heart racing, his faint breaths adding to his tension.

Wu Xi remained alert as well, watching the blade tip tremble slightly—a sign he’d been detected.

And yet... “Why does that blade tip look so familiar?” Wu Xi wondered, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

The standoff stretched on in silence—minutes ticking by. Eventually, it was Shen Wan who lost patience.

Steadfastness was not his strong suit; he could only hold back so long. With the current situation, even if a ghost appeared, he’d be bold enough to give it a slap or two.

At last, Shen Wan lowered his gaze, gripped the sword hilt with both hands, clenched his jaw, and leaped out of the darkness with a shout:

“This place belongs to me! Demons and monsters, come face your doom!”

With a roar, he swung the black blade in a wide arc toward the figure ahead.

Wu Xi’s eyebrows twitched. The moment Shen Wan’s foot hit the ground, Wu Xi moved as well—seizing the opportunity, he spun his sword in a dazzling flower and lunged forward, thrusting straight ahead.

“Moon Gazing—Sword Points to the Sun!”

A blaze of golden light flared from the sword tip, tracing a fiery arc through the air, hurtling toward Shen Wan.

Shen Wan glimpsed a bright flash, but his black blade was already swinging down.

A crisp clang rang out—he felt the impact through the blade, confirming he’d struck something. Seizing the momentum, he spun in place and brought the blade around for a second strike.

At the same time, when the two weapons met, Wu Xi felt his arm go numb as his sword was smashed against the tunnel wall, the golden flame dissipating instantly.

His heart sank—he was up against a formidable opponent. He reached out to cast a protective spell, but in the instant Shen Wan spun around, something about his movement...

“Martial Uncle...?”

As Shen Wan turned, Wu Xi saw his face clearly and was stunned. Hastily, he withdrew his sword and called out for him to stop.

But Shen Wan, lost in the momentum and unable to hear clearly over the rush of wind, didn’t catch the words. Besides, the force behind the great blade was too much for him to halt even if he tried.

The Demonic Black Blade was too long, and the space too cramped; the inertia from his spinning body sent the second strike crashing straight into the tunnel wall.

With a resounding clang, sparks showered from the stone.

Shen Wan’s arms went numb, his head buzzing from the shock. The blade flew from his hands.

But his body, still propelled by the weight of the bundle on his back, spun another half turn—and then his face slammed squarely into the tunnel wall.

Smack!

The sound was sharp and clear—he was sure his nose must have broken.

Wu Xi stood there, speechless, because the whole maneuver his martial uncle had just executed was... just too graceful.