Chapter 7｜The Tang Sword's First Test

The night was still.

So still that even the rustle of wind through dry grass sounded jarring.

Zhao Yun slept lightly.

He was always alert, especially lately. An indescribable sense of pressure hung over the mountains and villages.

Suddenly—

A faint footstep echoed outside the window.

Not a beast.

Too steady.

Zhao Yun's eyes snapped open in the darkness, his breath nearly catching. He didn't rise immediately, instead waiting for the footsteps to draw nearer—to pinpoint their direction.

The backyard.

He slowly sat up, his bare feet touching the floor without a sound.

The door latch lifted gently, night wind pouring in, carrying a hint of chill.

In the yard, a figure.

Two figures.

Zhao Yun's heart sank.

Visitors to the village at this hour were rarely well-intentioned.

He didn't call out to Li Xing.

For the first time, his instinct was clear—he would face them alone.

By the woodpile in the backyard, one shadow rummaged low.

The other stood in the shadows, seemingly keeping watch.

Zhao Yun retreated slowly, his toes lightly touching the ground.

Just as he prepared to return inside—

Snap.

A dry branch snapped.

The lookout whipped his head around.

“Who's there?!”

Zhao Yun knew hiding was impossible now.

He retreated into the house, his hand reaching under the bed.

There lay the knife Li Xing had placed there earlier that day.

A Tang sword.

The moment the hilt met his palm, Zhao Yun felt a weight settle there.

Not cold, but solid.

The System murmured softly in his mind—not a prompt, but a resonant hum.

The courtyard gate kicked open.

“Come out!”

The voice was rough and hoarse, reeking of alcohol.

Zhao Yun took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

In the moonlight, he saw them clearly.

Two unfamiliar men, clad in ill-fitting, worn cotton jackets, their eyes sharp and fierce.

“What do you want?” Zhao Yun's voice was steady, though not loud.

One of them sneered coldly: “The village's seen a lot of grain changing hands lately, huh? Hunting?”

Zhao Yun's heart sank.

Sure enough, they'd been watching.

The other man was already closing in, a short club clenched in his hand.

“Be smart. Hand over the goods.”

Zhao Yun didn't retreat.

He drew his blade slowly.

Clang.

The Tang sword's release from its scabbard was quiet yet piercingly clear.

Moonlight traced its edge, its chill cutting to the bone.

In that instant, the two men visibly froze.

“You—”

They hadn't expected a young man to dare draw a sword.

The next moment, the club swung.

Zhao Yun's body reacted almost instinctively.

His feet shifted sideways, his wrist thrust forward.

The Tang sword slashed horizontally.

Not a chop, but a slice.

“Rip—”

The sound of tearing fabric echoed.

The club snapped in two, its fragments tearing through the opponent's sleeve.

The man let out a cry of pain and staggered backward.

The other turned to flee.

Zhao Yun didn't pursue.

He merely stepped forward, the blade's tip angled toward the ground, his voice low:

“Go.”

Under the moonlight, his shadow stretched long behind him.

In that moment, he didn't even realize—

he stood like a true gatekeeper.

The two men scrambled away, rolling and crawling.

The courtyard fell silent once more.

Zhao Yun remained rooted to the spot, a faint tingling in his arm.

Not fear—just the force he’d unleashed in that strike.

The system’s voice finally crystallized:

“Close combat training complete.”

“Tang sword proficiency: Rapidly increasing.”

“Zhao Yun: Reaction speed, judgment, and close-quarters decision-making significantly enhanced.”

Lights flickered on inside the house.

Li Xing burst out, his gaze immediately locking onto the broken staff and glint of steel in the courtyard.

“Are you hurt?”

Zhao Yun shook his head, sheathing his blade.

“I'm fine.”

Li Yu stood in the doorway, her face pale but holding back tears.

Li Xing scanned the surroundings, his expression slowly hardening.

“It's begun.”

Zhao Yun nodded.

“Yes, I know.”

He looked down at his hands.

That strike earlier—he hadn't hesitated.

Not because of cruelty.

But because—

He knew what stood before him.

The light flickered back on inside.

Outside, the night had grown deeper than before.

In the darkness, the System delivered its final assessment:

“The Tang sword has recognized its master.”