Though the manual itself was ranked as low-tier Earth grade, the complexity and elegance of its content far surpassed what that grade suggested.
He read through the introductory phase.
The Evil-Repelling Sword Manual—a condensed adaptation of the Sunflower Manual—contained pages of deeply refined sword philosophy, footwork intricacies, and unorthodox internal chanics.
It drew the reader in. Forced them to trace the logic of its lines, to match theory with bated breath.
But the technique was subtle, dangerous, and deeply layered.
Murong Fu’s expression grew solemn.
He had trained since childhood in the Murong family’s secret martial legacy—the Star-Shifting Technique—and had studied a wide range of styles across sects and regions.
His eye for authenticity was sharp. His sense for depth was keener than most.
He read a single page, then another, then paused.
"Is this even possible...?"
Within the sword forms, he could sense the presence of sothing more than technique—an embedded internal skill!
The skill did not simply focus on being a complent to the sword; it transford the Sword art.
He tried to trace its mysteries using his Star-Shifting Technique, attempting to reverse the logic and decipher the hidden patterns within.
But even that legendary technique, designed to reflect and deflect others’ power, struggled to trace this sword style’s inner thread.
The truth struck him harder than he expected.
This was no ordinary scroll.
The Murong family’s Star-Shifting Technique was known across the land to the veterans—a supre Earth-grade martial art, praised for its ability to turn an enemy’s strength against them.
Similar in essence to the fad Heaven and Earth Reversal thod, it beca exponentially more powerful depending on the user’s internal energy reserves.
But therein lay the weakness.
The Murong family had no supre internal cultivation thod that could handle the complexity of this legacy martial art.
They relied solely on borrowed power—on mirrored strength.
Without a foundational skill to nourish their root, the Star-Shifting Technique could never reach its full potential.
Now, holding this sword manual, Murong Fu saw the gap laid bare before him.
A manual that might contain the very key his family had been missing.
"Master... is it a Mystic internal skill?"
Bao Butong shifted his feet to stand behind him, peering over MurongFu’s shoulder, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
Feng Bo’e joined him a mont later, equally intrigued.
For martial artists, encountering new techniques, especially rare or forbidden ones, was like watching shooting stars. Curiosity was unavoidable.
Drawn in by Murong Fu’s reaction and the faint aura of mystery radiating from the opened manual, they leaned over the table to get a closer look.
The mont their eyes landed on the diagrams, they felt ’it’.
A strange energy rose from deep within them.
It was an elusive type of energy, fluid and potent.
The sword forms drawn within were not static.
They hinted at movent, transitions, and flows of qi, like tides concealed within brush strokes.
A practitioner only needed to look... and their body would begin to respond.
Without realizing it, Bao Butong raised his arms and imitated one of the depicted forms.
Feng Bo’e did the sa, their movents awkward but instinctual, as if their limbs had minds of their own.
Within seconds, heat surged from their lower abdon—an abrupt, rising flood of corrupted yang energy.
The energy was like corrupt and scorching poison.
It shot upward like wildfire, overwhelming their bodies.
Their faces flushed deep red. Their breath quickened. Sweat began to bead on their foreheads.
Murong Fu’s brows drew together the mont he sensed the shift.
He turned around to look at them.
’What!? No! Not good!’
He imdiately turned his focus away from the scroll and focused on his n.
Both Bao Butong and Feng Bo’e now stood trembling, eyes bloodshot, chest heaving.
Their skin glead with sweat as they gritted their teeth, enduring sothing they couldn’t understand.
"Wake up!"
Murong Fu moved fast, his fingers striking swiftly at key acupoints—one on the shoulder, one at the base of the neck, and one on the lower back.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Argh!"
Both n cried out in surprise and collapsed to the ground. Their bodies shook violently, gasping for air, drenched in sweat as if they had been dragged from a fever dream.
Feng Bo’e doubled over, gagging.
"Strange!!" Bao Butong muttered between heavy breaths. "This martial art... it’s strange!"
He appeared pale, disoriented, and slightly terrified.
"I’ve trained for years... my mind is steady. But just reading a few lines—just mimicking the stance—and I... I lost control of my body?"
Feng Bo’e sat on the ground, his limbs trembling. He looked up with glazed eyes.
What the hell was that? They were warriors who had reached the Acquired peak.
Just like Riven!
Riven, who was watching this spectacle, was inwardly amused. His eyes sparkled with interest for a mont, and he concealed it afterwards.
’So, that’s what happens if you practice this thing with your dick still attached huh?’
He thought.
It’s clear that this was well thought out. They were basically his test subjects, a way for him to conclude if this martial art could be used.
After all, he had removed the castration Chapter.
"Master," Feng Bo’e croaked, "could this be a demonic sect technique?"
Murong Fu’s gaze darkened at this idiot.
He shook his head. "No... the structure, the cultivation path—it’s Orthodox Daoist in nature.
Internal and external alignnt, breath control through the dantian, and ridian guidance. These are orthodox foundations. Not demonic."
He turned his eyes back toward the young prince across the table.
"Your Highness... may I ask—where did you acquire this sword manual?"
Riven’s expression shifted just slightly. He appeared to hesitate, lips pressing into a thoughtful line.
Then, with a asured breath, he spoke.
"To be honest... last month, I fell into a lake. Nearly drowned. It was Solwing who pulled to safety."
He paused, allowing the mont to hang in the air.
"In the crane’s nest... I found the Evil-Repelling Sword Manual."
He looked down at the scroll, tilted his head absentmindedly, and spoke with an innocent tone.
"Since I have no martial background, I didn’t know whether it was valuable or dangerous. So, after contemplation... I sought Lord Murong’s guidance."
Murong Fu fell silent.
His mind turned back to the white crane—the golden-crowned beast that had nearly carved his n in half.
A creature of legend. Perhaps a spiritual guardian that could last generations.
And in its nest... this manual.
His jaw tightened.
’What kind of monstrous fortune was this? Goddammit!!’
For years, he had lived in seclusion at Swallow Nest Manor, hoping for even a trace of such luck.
And this youth—barely out of adolescence—had stumbled upon it by chance?
Still, he kept his composure.
"Your highness," Murong Fu said at last, "you’ve seen the effect this manual has had on my n."
Riven glanced to the side with a judgntal look.
Bao Butong and Feng Bo’e had gotten to their feet, but both stood off to the side with their heads bowed low, utterly humiliated.
Their bodies still trembled. Sha clung to them like sweat.
Murong Fu continued, his voice solemn.
"This is no ordinary scroll. Its cultivation path is extrely profound—and extrely dangerous. Improper use may cause deviation. Possibly even... madness."
He sighed, then lowered his gaze slightly.
"My abilities are limited. I cannot see through the entirety of this manual, without assuredness, I do not dare attempt to teach Your Highness sothing I cannot control."
The hidden aning was not lost to Riven.
By ’Without assurdness’, Murong Fu ant that if he could study the scroll, he’d be able to advise Riven.
Once Murong Fu said his piece, the pavilion fell into a strange silence.
Negotiation strategy: Deliberate silence. When at a crossroads, shut up. Don’t speak, wait until the right mont with a strategy.
After a while-
Riven’s fingers brushed over the edge of the scroll. But would Riven be swept in the pace?
Negotiation Strategy: Introduce Controlled Chaos. Allow your opponents to disrupt the montum. Once this is achieved, you will gain a certain degree of control.
"Even Lord Murong finds it difficult to comprehend?" he said softly. "Then perhaps this is better destroyed... than left to harm others."
Without waiting for a reply, he reached for the scroll and gently began to roll it inward.
Then, with an almost absent-minded air, he raised it with both hands, as if preparing to tear the parchnt in half.
Murong Fu’s eyelids twitched.
His composure wavered.
The words left his mouth before he could think.
"Your Highness—please wait!"
’Heh... Gotcha!’
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