Chapter 116: A Baby’s Cry at Midnight

The next afternoon, while teaching Fang Yue sword techniques, Qiu Shiyan shared some news.

“I asked around. Those martial artists from other provinces are after the Martial Saint’s secret manual.”

Thanks to some connections in Longchong Prefecture, Qiu Shiyan quickly gathered information.

Fang Yue was taken aback. Luckily, at Balin County, the mysterious Drunken Li had hinted at this rumor, but it seemed it was already widely known.

Considering the long journey from other provinces to Yunzhou, the rumor had been circulating for quite some time elsewhere.

“The Martial Saint’s secret manual? How is that possible?” Fang Yue asked in disbelief.

The Martial Saint was a realm of enlightenment, not something achieved by simply following steps in cultivation. It required a martial artist at the peak of the innate realm to comprehend it independently. Those who understood would become Martial Saints; those who didn’t would remain stuck at the innate stage forever.

Moreover, each person’s comprehension was unique and difficult to express in words, making it impossible to pass down orally.

Naturally, a secret manual for the Martial Saint couldn’t exist.

Fang Yue doubted whether this was just a rumor, especially given how far it had spread. So many martial artists from various provinces had come to Yunzhou—it all seemed rather conspiratorial.

Qiu Shiyan said, “I also think it’s unlikely. I’ve never heard of such a thing as a Martial Saint’s secret manual. But this time, the rumor is very detailed, claiming it’s in the hands of a descendant of the Martial Saint.”

Fang Yue was stunned. The versions of the rumor varied. The Drunken Li had told him that the secret manual was stolen from the Martial Saint’s tomb by a grave robber.

Fang Yue pondered deeply. Even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance of the manual’s existence, they couldn’t afford to ignore it.

Fang Yue himself was in a better position; once he reached the peak of the innate realm, he could attempt to comprehend it by himself and possibly become a Martial Saint.

Even if he failed, possessing the strength of the peak innate realm would allow him to pursue the path of sorcery.

Cultivators who reached the Nascent Core stage had strength equivalent to Martial Saints.

Fang Yue had a merit system enabling him to cultivate both martial and magical arts simultaneously without worrying about time, but most martial artists weren’t so fortunate.

Sorcery required exceptional talent, far more demanding than martial arts.

Ordinary people, as long as they weren’t old, weak, or sick, could at least start martial training.

But without sufficient talent, one couldn’t even begin sorcery.

Martial arts sects often had numerous disciples, bustling with activity.

Temples and monasteries, however, had only a few disciples with actual cultivation.

Many martial artists spent most of their lives training, and regardless of talent, wouldn’t switch to sorcery.

Therefore, whether true or false, the rumor about the Martial Saint’s secret manual wouldn’t be ignored by many.

“Looks like Yunzhou is about to enter a tumultuous period,” Fang Yue sighed.

...

Days passed, and half a month slipped by.

Fang Yue spent every day in the martial arts hall training, accompanied by two beautiful senior female disciples, living a somewhat varied yet peaceful life.

During this time, he systematically studied to fill gaps in his martial knowledge.

Occasionally, when he went out, he noticed more and more unfamiliar faces and martial artists speaking with foreign accents on the streets.

Fang Yue had invited several martial artists from other provinces for drinks, gathering a great deal of information.

They were indeed all after the Martial Saint’s secret manual.

Fang Yue doubted that these martial artists, mostly at the acquired realm, could do much even if they obtained the manual.

Setting aside whether they could keep it, their priority was to break into the innate realm.

Of course, among the outsiders, there must be some innate masters, but they were few and scattered across Yunzhou, so Fang Yue hadn’t encountered them.

...

With the influx of outsiders, the security situation in the prefectural city became increasingly severe.

Martial artists were passionate and easily provoked.

Frequent quarrels escalated into brawls, causing chaos.

Especially with the so-called “Martial Saint’s secret manual” nowhere to be found and no clue to its whereabouts, only rumors spread.

As time passed without results, the outsiders’ moods worsened—they were like powder kegs ready to explode at the slightest spark.

Some even turned to thievery once they ran out of money.

The authorities had to deploy more personnel for round-the-clock patrols, arresting troublemakers and opportunists.

However, these lawbreaking outsiders were not easy to deal with; the officials often faced reversals during arrests.

After losing some men, the patrol squads on the streets included several grim-faced cultivators.

Whenever a martial artist caused trouble or resisted, they instantly suppressed them, even executing on the spot.

With such severe measures, the outsiders in Longchong Prefecture’s city finally calmed down considerably.

However, while the authorities could strongly suppress outsiders in the city, other counties and towns had fewer forces, and chaos reigned.

...

As the sun set in the west.

After dinner, Fang Yue saw Bai Taoru accompanying Qiu Rubai for a walk in the courtyard.

“Senior Qiu,” Fang Yue greeted respectfully.

Since joining the Fengyang Martial Hall, Qiu Rubai was nominally Fang Yue’s master.

However, Fang Yue had never formally sworn discipleship, so he addressed him as “senior.”

Qiu Rubai did not respond; his gaze was vacant as he aimlessly strolled.

His temples were streaked with gray, looking worn beyond his middle age.

Fang Yue understood his state and paid no mind, greeting Bai Taoru before returning to his room.

...

Late at night, Fang Yue was awakened by a strange, piercing infant’s cry.

“What’s that sound?” His expression turned serious as he rose from bed.

He had just fallen asleep after studying some martial classics and pondering the “Dragon Turtle Concealment Technique.”

The shrill crying was unnatural and grating, unlike any normal infant.

Moreover, there was no infant in the martial hall.

Unsure if he had misheard, Fang Yue focused intently on the sounds outside.

The cold wind howled, but with his keen hearing, he clearly caught the cries again—sharp, nauseating, and irritating to the core.

From the sound, there was more than one infant.

“What kind of ghostly thing is this?”

Fang Yue’s heart tightened; this was clearly wrong. His first thought was demons or spirits.

“Illuminate,” he murmured, and a brass mirror appeared before him.

Those disturbing infant cries were likely caused by ghosts or monsters, and he needed to locate and assess their strength to respond accordingly.

As long as they were targeting Fengyang Martial Hall, Fang Yue, as a member, was bound by karmic ties to them and could use the Illumination technique to detect them.

“Invoke,” he commanded.

Though the room was dark, the mirror’s surface displayed a clear image.

A short, stout man appeared inside the hall. Floating around him were three pitch-black infants, exuding a sinister and eerie aura.

Behind the man were several armed martial artists, but none dared approach him closely.

They seemed to be speaking, but the mirror showed only images, no sound.

“Are they enemies of Fengyang Martial Hall or here for some other purpose?” Fang Yue wondered.

This group was aggressive and clearly hostile.

Though the short man was strange, he seemed unaware of Fang Yue’s spying, indicating his power was at most on par with Fang Yue’s.

Fang Yue put away the brass mirror, took the treasured sword from his bedside, and quietly opened the door, preparing to sneak toward their location.

But after a moment’s thought, uncertain if this was the only group attacking, he decided first to visit Qiu Shiyan and Bai Taoru’s rooms to warn them, lest they be caught unprepared in their sleep.