### Chapter 34: Three Sword Manuals
Inside the room, over two hundred jade slips floated in neat rows, each containing a sword technique. Lin Yi examined them one by one, scanning the brief descriptions etched into their surfaces—names, power levels, number of forms. Choosing the right one required patience, insight, and a touch of luck.
Two hours slipped by. From the hundreds, he narrowed it down to four slips, their descriptions stirring something in him. He hesitated, weighing each carefully, then reluctantly set one aside. Clutching three, he focused his divine sense, shattering the fragile restrictions on each to read their contents.
These restrictions were mere formalities; breaking them counted as using one of his three allotted chances to select techniques. By the time he finished with the third slip, his quota was exhausted.
He felt no regret.
Cultivation wasn't about shrinking from limits—it was about shattering them. True cultivators carved paths through obstacles, chasing immortality. Dianxuan Sect's "three chances" rule was a hurdle, but one easily outgrown: core disciples earned an extra chance, and true disciples gained access to most of the Treasure Pavilion. Limits existed to be surpassed.
With his quota spent, he could no longer break the restrictions on other slips—a clever safeguard to enforce the rule. Lin Yi committed the three sword manuals to memory, then returned the jade slips to their places. The restrictions flickered back to life as they settled into position.
He exhaled, left the room, and took the teleportation array back to the first floor. Outside, he handed the jade token to the dozing elder, who waved it away without opening his eyes.
Once Lin Yi was gone, the elder's eyes snapped open, a glint of interest in his gaze. "It's been years since a disciple used all three chances at once. Even I only dared use two back then. This boy… he's intriguing." He mused, "A five-spirit root, not yet twenty, at Level 4. Diligence, and luck—rare in one so young."
He closed his eyes again, his voice fading: "Five-spirit root… Level 4… three manuals…"
Lin Yi returned to his quarters to find Pan Yu meditating nearby, ready to attend to him. He slipped inside, shutting the door to focus on the three sword manuals.
The first, *Nine Breaks of the Heavens*, lived up to its name—nine forms, each raw and explosive, demanding massive spiritual energy. At his current Level 4, Lin Yi could barely manage two uses of the first form. Maybe Level 5 would let him handle the second, but even that seemed a stretch.
The second, *Return to Concealment*, was a study in deception—three core forms, each branching into thousands of variations. It thrived on trickery, blurring real and fake strikes. But it required悟性; those lacking it would never master its subtleties. Rumor said it could even mimic reality… but only for Nascent Soul late-stage cultivators. In a sect ruled by Core Formation elders, it was all but forgotten—a "useless" technique.
The third, *Life and Death Scripture*, was incomplete. Only two forms survived, both from the "Life" section, focusing on endurance and sustained power. Against Level 10 or below, it was passable. Against Foundation Establishment? Useless. Another "worthless" pick.
Yet Lin Yi had chosen them deliberately.
*Nine Breaks* offered brute force—vital for life-or-death battles. *Return to Concealment*, though slow to master, held promise for his long-term goal: immortality. If he reached Nascent Soul, its true power might unlock. As for *Life and Death*? Its "endless vitality" vibe resonated with him, a foundation for future growth.
He'd burned all three chances, but he saw beyond the rules. Power would earn him more chances—core disciple, true disciple, access to greater techniques. Limits were illusions for those bold enough to reach higher.
Lin Yi settled cross-legged, focusing on *Nine Breaks*. The incantations flowed into his mind, each movement etched into his muscles. To his surprise, he grasped them quickly—faster than he'd ever learned anything. *Is this from the Five Elements Tempering?* he wondered. It was the only explanation.
By nightfall, he'd memorized all nine forms, though executing them was another matter. His spiritual energy drained rapidly just practicing the first.
A knock pulled him from his focus. Pan Yu stood in the doorway, a tray in hand. "Senior Brother, dinner," he said, bowing.
Lin Yi glanced at the boy—skinny, eyes tired but sharp, his robes patched. He reminded Lin Yi of himself six years ago: scrubbing floors, fetching water, sneaking meditations between chores.
"Stay," Lin Yi said as Pan Yu turned to leave.
The boy froze. "Senior Brother?"
"Sit. Eat with me," Lin Yi said, pushing a bowl toward him.
Pan Yu paled. "I— I can't. Elders would punish—"
"Elders aren't here. I'm ordering you," Lin Yi said, tone firm but kind.
Hesitantly, Pan Yu sat, picking at the rice. "Thank you, Senior Brother. But… why?"
Lin Yi smiled. "I was you once. Three years fetching water, scrubbing pots. Felt like I'd never advance." He paused. "You work hard. That deserves respect."
Pan Yu's eyes widened. No one had ever spoken to him like this.
"Finish," Lin Yi said. "Then I'll teach you a trick."
After dinner, Lin Yi took Pan Yu to the courtyard. "Your meditations—you're forcing energy too hard. Let it flow, like water around rocks," he said, demonstrating a smoother breathing technique. "Try."
Pan Yu followed, his spiritual energy stirring more gently. "It… it feels easier," he gasped.
"Stick with it. You'll hit Level 1 soon," Lin Yi said.
Pan Yu bowed deeply, tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Senior Brother. I—"
"Save it. Prove me right," Lin Yi said, waving him off.
Back in his room, Lin Yi resumed practice. *Nine Breaks* left him sweating, spiritual energy depleted. *Return to Concealment* frustrated him—its variations slipped through his grasp like smoke. *Life and Death* felt weak, but he persisted, sensing hidden depth.
Outside, Pan Yu meditated, his breathing steady. The night breeze carried the rustle of leaves, and somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled midnight.
Lin Yi stared at his hands. Three manuals, all deemed "useless" by the sect. But he saw their potential—raw power, deception, endurance. Together, they formed a balance.
*The tournament*, he thought. *Xiao Liang won't know what hit him.*
He closed his eyes, replaying *Nine Breaks* in his mind. Tomorrow, he'd tackle *Return to Concealment*. For now, exhaustion pulled at him.
As he drifted to sleep, a thought lingered: *They laugh at these manuals. Let them. Soon, they'll laugh no more.*
The next morning, Pan Yu arrived with breakfast—still nervous, but with a new light in his eyes. "Senior Brother, I practiced your technique. It works!" he said excitedly.
"Good," Lin Yi said, smiling.
After eating, he headed to the training grounds, sword in hand. Disciples stared as he practiced *Return to Concealment*—awkward at first, his strikes clumsy, more real than fake.
"Look at him! Wasting time on that junk manual," one outer disciple snickered.
"Mu Rongfeng's *Thunderclap* would crush him," another said.
Lin Yi ignored them. By noon, his movements grew fluid, a feint here, a real strike there, leaving onlookers confused.
A voice打断 him: "Impressive. For a waste of three chances."
Lin Yi turned. Mu Rongfeng stood nearby, arms crossed, a sneer on his face. "Heard you blew all three picks. Desperate, are we?"
Lin Yi shrugged. "Better than clinging to one technique."
Mu's face darkened. "Tournament's in two days. I'll see you there."
He stalked off. Lin Yi watched him go, then returned to practice.
Two days later, the tournament began. Lin Yi sailed through the first round, *Nine Breaks* shattering his opponent's shield in one strike. The crowd fell silent.
In the second round, he used *Return to Concealment*—feints, shadows, a final strike that left his foe on the ground, unharmed but defeated.
By the semifinals, whispers spread: *He's not just lucky.*
Lin Yi faced Mu Rongfeng in the final. The crowd roared as Mu unleashed *Thunderclap*, his sword crackling with lightning.
Lin Yi didn't dodge. He used *Return to Concealment*, his form blurring—was that a strike? A feint? Mu hesitated.
In that instant, Lin Yi struck with *Nine Breaks*, channeling all his spiritual energy. The clash shook the ring. When the dust cleared, Mu's sword lay broken at his feet.
"I yield," he muttered, humiliation burning in his eyes.
Lin Yi raised his sword. The crowd cheered, shocked.
An elder's voice boomed: "Lin Yi, outer disciple champion! Choose your challenge."
Lin Yi scanned the core disciples' platform, locking eyes with Xiao Liang.
"Xiao Liang," he said. "I challenge you."
Xiao Liang laughed, standing. "A Level 4? This'll be quick."
Lin Yi smiled. *We'll see.*
Three manuals. Three chances burned. But today, they'd start proving their worth.