Before Wu Tong lay a martial treasure coveted by all men of the jianghu: the Wolong Blade Manual. At this moment, so near his grasp, he could not help but feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon him. Am I truly worthy? he thought. Again and again Heaven had sent him aid from elders and heroes, yet the burden grew heavier with each gift.
The Wolong Blade style was renowned for its ferocity. The late sect master, Li Wenzhong, had always warned that unless one's virtue was high, one would surely stray into the demonic path. Even his own first disciple, the famed Loyal Blade Guest Guo Yuan, was only entrusted with six of the twelve forms.
On the table rested a blade—the very Wolong Saber wielded by Li Wenzhong himself. Beneath its scabbard was a sealed letter. Wu Tong opened it and read:
"I possess a treasured blade named Wolong. It has ever been my companion, through wind and battle, life and death. Now I bestow it upon you. May you cut down demons, aid the world, and match your virtue to this blade—so that its fame be not disgraced."
Wu Tong's spirit shook. With a sharp hiss, he drew the blade. Blue light flared like a rainbow. Etched upon the steel were eight bold characters:"When the Wolong Blade appears, no demon may stand."
Its edge was steady, its aura sharp, the force of a true divine weapon.
He turned to the manual. Twelve techniques were written: Two-faced Three Blades, Flight of the Wild Geese, Clouds Rising to Rain, Soaring to the Heavens, Feint to Capture, and more. But there was only one saber. Zhao Rou unsheathed her sword, and together they practiced, following the diagrams.
The saber style was pure force, unyielding and fierce. Zhao Rou's Thirteen Blades of Lingxiao emphasized speed and lightness—the two weapons could not be more different. A saber was heavy and broad, its force deep and overwhelming; a sword was swift, fluid, like the wind. At first, both found the clash of styles awkward, and only through doubled effort did they grasp the subtleties.
They practiced all day and into the night, gaining but a glimpse of the art. The next morning, refreshed, they resumed, striving to engrave each move into heart and hand.
On the third dawn, as the rooster crowed and sunlight pierced the forest, they prepared to depart. Wu Tong took the Wolong Saber, Zhao Rou the manual. Bowing thrice in reverence, they mounted and rode forth. A poem was inscribed:
Riding westward in the wind, the youth's spirit shines.Once more the Wolong Blade returns to the rivers and lakes.Its power breeds demons' envy,Yet with it he shall strike down the wicked, a true hero.
Just as the sage Qian Kunzi had foretold: Li Wenzhong had long awaited such a man—virtuous, righteous, willing to sacrifice for others. Now in death, he entrusted saber and manual alike to this youth, that he might achieve great deeds for the realm. Wu Tong, humbled by such fortune, knew in his heart he could only repay it by holding firm to loyalty and righteousness, advancing without fear.
But as they left the manor, the Wolong Saber suddenly hummed—a resonant warning. Wu Tong stiffened. "Rou-sister, some evil is near."
Outside, a crowd of martial men barred their way. A harsh voice rang out:
"The Wolong Blade Manual shakes the world! Leave the book, and you may live!"
After the Black Dragon Sect's defeat, bitterness had spread through the jianghu. Rumors flew that the manual was now in Wu Tong's hands. Greedy eyes gathered to lie in wait. Truly, as the saying went: 'The innocent man bears no guilt—yet to carry jade is a crime.'
The speaker stepped forward. He was Xie Feng, a butcher of men, infamous across the land. He slew old and young alike, mind consumed by bloodlust. All called him the Bloodthirsty Mad Blade—a demon in human form, a scourge of the people.
Wu Tong's gaze hardened. "Your tone is arrogant. I have yet to ask your name."
The man grinned cruelly. "Boy, my name is feared across the world. I am the Bloodthirsty Mad Blade, Xie Feng."
Wu Tong nodded grimly. The tales were true—this was the very butcher who murdered without blinking. "So you come to seize the manual? Have you not considered you might become a ghost beneath my blade?"
Xie Feng snarled. "Whelp, what skill have you? Do you think defeating a few Black Dragon lackeys makes you invincible?"
Wu Tong stepped down from his horse, cold smile upon his lips. "Enough talk. If it is life and death you seek, I shall accompany you."
His righteous aura pressed outward; even the gathered mob drew back a step.
All eyes turned to Xie Feng. He advanced, eyes like a hawk's, long saber trembling with killing force. He sneered. "Ignorant boy. When others hear my name, they beg for mercy. Leave the manual now, or die in vain!"
Wu Tong's mind turned. If he did not strike awe here and now, trouble would haunt him forever. He raised his voice so all could hear:
"Heroes of the jianghu, listen well! I sought peace, but this demon forces his hand. If I yield, the Wolong Blade will lose its honor. So let this saber itself bear witness to justice!"
The Wolong Saber flared, light flashing across every face. Murmurs of awe rippled through the crowd.
Xie Feng's eyes glinted with murder. "Justice? I'll show you what justice is!"
With a roar, his saber swept down, force like a collapsing mountain, aimed at Wu Tong's head.
Wu Tong's face did not change. With a hiss he drew the Wolong Saber, cold light blazing like a rainbow. Steady he stood, voice ringing across heaven and earth:
"When the Way prevails, a man dies for the Way.When the Way is lost, a man dies for the world!"
The words resounded like thunder, stirring the hearts of all who heard.