Panlong's Worton

Chapter 22 Trials

Three months after leaving Fenlai City, Linley and Walton set foot in the Monster Mountain Range.

The mountains were hot and humid in summer, with towering ancient trees blocking out the sun. Underfoot was a thick layer of humus, soft and spongy, exuding the scent of earth and decaying plants. The chirping of insects came from all directions, occasionally interspersed with the low growls of distant monsters.

The brothers walked slowly. Walton led the way, occasionally swinging "Slaughter" to cut down vines and bushes blocking their path. Linley followed behind, holding "Mountain Suppressor" in his left hand, ready to strike at any moment.

"Brother, which way do we go?" Walton stopped at a fork in the road and wiped his sweat.

Linley looked up at the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the tree canopy: "Go deeper. The magical beasts on the outer perimeter are too weak; you can't train anything there."

Walton nodded and chose the more treacherous path on the left. The path was indeed difficult, almost clinging to the mountainside, with a deep ravine of rocks more than ten meters below. But such paths were safe—monsters mostly roamed flat terrain, and these dangerous trails were less common.

After walking for more than an hour, the sound of water came from ahead.

It was a mountain stream, about three zhang wide, with a rapid current and crystal-clear water. On the opposite bank was an open area with some low shrubs, and beyond that was a dense forest.

"Shall we camp here tonight?" Walton asked.

Lin Lei surveyed his surroundings: with the mountain wall behind him and a mountain stream in front serving as a natural barrier, the view on both sides was unobstructed, making it difficult to be ambushed.

"OK."

The two divided the tasks. Walton went to chop wood—not real firewood, but several thick, dead logs, which he dragged back, sharpened into stakes with his sword, and planted around the camp to make a makeshift warning circle. Linley went hunting and returned fifteen minutes later with two plump hares.

As darkness fell, a campfire was lit. Rabbit meat was roasted over the fire, its fat dripping and sizzling, releasing a fragrant aroma.

Beibei squatted by the fire, staring longingly at the rabbit meat, making gurgling sounds in her throat.

"What's the rush?" Linley tore off a hind leg and threw it to it. Bebe caught it, darted to a nearby tree, devoured it in a few bites, and then jumped back to continue watching.

Walton poked at the fire with a twig: "Brother, what do you think of the Vatican's situation now?"

"It's severely weakened, but its foundation remains." Linley turned the rabbit meat over. "Emperor Lin only took half the territory, not exterminating them completely. The Holy See will definitely retreat to its stronghold to lick its wounds, and then plan a counterattack once it recovers."

"Then we need to hurry," Walton said. "Once they calm down, they'll definitely investigate Clyde's death. Even though it was chaotic, there might be clues left behind..."

"So we have to get stronger." Linley tore off a piece of meat, blowing on it because it was so hot, "so strong that the Vatican won't dare to touch us easily."

Walton paused for a moment, then asked, "Brother, how strong do you think it needs to be?"

Linley looked at the campfire, the firelight dancing in his eyes: "At least the Holy Realm. One Holy Realm isn't enough, then two. Two isn't enough, then three. The Baruch family's five thousand years of heritage cannot end in our generation."

The words were spoken calmly, but Wharton sensed the weight in them.

Their plan was to train in the Monster Mountain Range.

But deep within the mountains, where life-or-death battles rage, lies the best whetstone.

The first real battle took place on the seventh day.

That afternoon, the two brothers were walking through a pine forest when Walton suddenly stopped, holding his greatsword horizontally in front of him.

There's something there.

Linley sensed it too. The chirping of insects around him had disappeared at some point, and there was a faint, fishy smell in the air. He reached for the throwing knife at his waist with his right hand.

Deep in the pine forest, two red lights appeared.

It was an Ironback Gray Wolf, an eighth-level magical beast, nearly two meters tall at the shoulder, its gray fur standing on end, its mouth wide open, saliva dripping from between its fangs. It stared at the two brothers, pawing at the ground with its front paws, and letting out a low growl from its throat.

"I'll do it," Walton said.

Lin Lei nodded, took a half step back, and held the throwing knife between his fingers—not because he didn't trust his brother, but because he was wary of other magical beasts that might be around.

Walton stepped forward, his greatsword trailing behind him. He walked slowly, each step firm, his gaze fixed on the wolf's eyes.

The wolf moved. It pounced like a gray lightning bolt, its speed leaving afterimages in the pine forest. Its gaping maw snapped open, aiming straight for Walton's throat.

Walton didn't dodge.

The heavy sword was swung upwards from below, the whistling sound of the blade drowning out the howl of the wolf. This strike was devoid of any fancy moves; it was simply the most direct and straightforward application of power—a turn of the waist, a thrust of the shoulder, an extension of the arm, and the sword strike.

clang--!

The blade struck the wolf's forehead. The hardest part of the Ironback Wolf is its skull; ordinary swords and blades wouldn't even leave a mark. But Walton's sword cleaved its skull.

It wasn't a severing, it was a split. The sword's edge sank three inches into the skull, the sound of cracking bones as crisp as a tree branch breaking. The wolf's pounce came to an abrupt halt, its massive body slamming to the ground like a stone, twitching twice, and then remaining still.

Wharton drew his sword, flicked off the blood and brains, and looked at Linley: "Are you alright?"

"You had enough strength, but your technique was rough." Linley walked over, squatted down to examine the wolf carcass, and said, "You used seven-tenths of your strength to break through the skull with that last strike. If you had held back three-tenths and used the tip of the sword to pierce the eye socket or slash the side of the neck, three-tenths of your strength would have been enough. You could have saved that strength to deal with any unexpected situations."

Wharton thought for a moment and nodded: "That makes sense."

He squatted down next to Lin Lei, watching his brother skillfully skin the wolf and extract its magic core. An eighth-level magic core was worth several thousand gold coins, and the wolf pelt could also be sold for some money if it was intact, but they were in the mountains now and couldn't take it with them. They could only dig out the magic core and cut off a few pieces of meat for rations.

"Brother, when you said 'unexpected situation' earlier—did you mean this?"

Walton suddenly looked up and gazed into the depths of the pine forest.

Lin Lei sensed it too. Not just one, but many. The stench was overwhelming, and in the shadows of the pine forest, pairs of red lights appeared.

Wolf pack.

The Ironbacked Wolf is a pack of magical beasts; the one we just saw was a sentinel.

"Withdraw?" Walton gripped his sword tightly.

"We can't retreat." Linley stood up, all twelve throwing knives clutched in his hand. "We're surrounded. At least thirty of them."

Before the words were even finished, the first wave of attacks arrived.

Five wolves pounced simultaneously from different directions, their coordinated attacks sealing off all escape routes. Lin Lei moved—not to dodge, but to meet the attack head-on. He took a half-step to the left, his left hand unleashing a "Slaughter" slash at the leftmost wolf, while his right hand launched three throwing knives to target the eyes of the other three wolves. At the same time, he leaned back, barely avoiding the fifth wolf's attack.

A flash of light, and blood splattered.

Two wolves were killed, one went blind and howled and rolled around, while the other two missed their target and immediately turned around after landing, preparing to attack again.

But Walton had already arrived.

The heavy sword swept across like a swung iron pillar, smashing both wolves away. The sound of bones breaking was clearly audible as the wolves crashed into a pine tree and slid down softly.

More wolves pounced.

The battle broke out completely.

Lin Lei weaved through the wolf pack, his knife and throwing knives working in perfect harmony. He slashed at those close by and shot at those at a distance, each strike bringing down or severely injuring a wolf. His movements were strange, seemingly casual, yet always finding gaps between the wolves' claws and fangs, like a leaf in the wind, never touching him.

Walton's fighting style was completely different. He stood still, wielding his greatsword, turning a three-meter radius into a death zone. Any wolf that dared to enter would have its bones crushed and its internal organs smashed by the heavy blade. His movements were not fast, but each strike carried a mountain-like oppressive force, the wind from his sword causing pine needles to fall in a rustling sound.

Beibei wasn't idle either. The black shadow darted among the wolves, specializing in attacking their lower bodies—severing tendons, tearing open bellies, and ripping out bloody entrails. It was too small and too fast for the wolves to catch.

The battle lasted for about fifteen minutes.

When the final howl ceased, forty-seven wolf carcasses lay in the pine forest. Blood soaked through the humus, and the air reeked of blood.

Clean up the battlefield. Forty-seven level-seven magic cores were a considerable fortune. Linley stored the magic cores in his spatial ring, and buried the rest on the spot.

As night fell, the two brothers found a cave to spend the night in. The entrance was mostly blocked with huge rocks, leaving only a crack for ventilation.

A campfire burned in the cave, roasting wolf meat. The meat was tough and had a strong gamey smell, but when you're hungry, anything tastes good.

"Bro," Walton said, gnawing on a piece of meat, "your footwork today... was quite interesting."

"I figured it out myself," Linley said. "It combines the wind magic 'Acceleration' with the warrior's power generation techniques; it's a bit of a trick."

"Teach me?"

Lin Lei glanced at his younger brother: "Your path is different from mine. You rely on overwhelming power, and your agile footwork actually hinders your advantage. You should practice 'immovable as a mountain,' so that no matter how your opponent attacks, I can defeat them with a single sword strike."

Wharton thought for a moment: "That makes sense."

"However," Linley tore off a piece of meat, "you can practice 'stances'."

"Momentum?"

"Hmm." Lin Lei chewed on his meat and said slowly, "I watched you draw your sword today. You had enough power, but something was missing. Your sword was inanimate, but you were alive. The sword followed you, and you followed the sword, but that's not enough. You need to make the sword and you become one, to let every strike carry your will, your killing intent, your determination—that's 'momentum'."

Wharton pondered this. Momentum was the foundation for breaking through to the Saint Realm, but his mindset after transmigrating had been limiting him.

Lin Lei continued, "Making it look light is a skill, it's using a heavy sword with the speed of a light sword. But 'momentum' is a state of mind, it's making the opponent fearful before they even make a move. Like those wolves today, if you have 'momentum' on your sword when they pounce, half of them might back down halfway through the attack."

"How do I practice?"

"I don't know," Linley said frankly. "I've only just scratched the surface. Grandpa Delin once said that 'momentum' is something you learn through understanding, not practice. It's easiest to understand in life-or-death battles."

Wharton nodded and asked no more questions.

That night, he leaned against the cave wall, eyes closed, replaying the day's battle in his mind over and over again. Every sword strike he made, every step his brother took, every wolf attack...

Swords are inanimate, but people are alive.

Man and sword become one.

potential.

The days passed by.

The brothers ventured deeper into the mountains, encountering increasingly powerful monsters. One level-nine "Armored Rhinoceros" had hide so thick that even a single strike from it left only a white mark; it was only killed by Linley shooting a throwing knife into its brain through its eye. Another level-nine "Azure-Eyed Thunder Eagle" could fly and unleash lightning magic; the brothers were chased for miles before finally being killed by a trap.

Fight, and fight again.

Three months later, Walton's eyes shone brighter. His sword strikes were still as heavy and direct as ever, but they gradually changed—sometimes, when he unleashed a slash, the surrounding fallen leaves would move without wind, drifting in the direction of the sword's momentum. Sometimes, when he stood still, low-level magical beasts would detour around him.

Lin Lei saw it all but said nothing.

Six months later, the two brothers encountered their first Saint-level magical beast—the "Crimson Flame Python".

It was in a volcanic area, the ground covered with black basalt, the air scorching hot, so hot that breathing burned one's throat. A giant python, over thirty meters long, was coiled beside a lava pool, its scales as red as fire, and it had a single horn on its head. When it opened its mouth, it spewed not venom, but flames.

"This thing..." Walton swallowed hard. "It's going to be tough."

"You lead the attack, I'll cover you," Lin Lei said. "It's afraid of water, there's an underground river nearby, let's lure it there."

The plan is simple, but its execution is a nightmare.

Lin Lei went first, throwing all twelve knives at the giant python's eyes. The python kept its eyes closed, and the knives grazed its eyelids, sending sparks flying, but failed to penetrate its defenses. Enraged, however, it opened its mouth and spewed a pillar of fire.

Linley retreated swiftly, the pillar of fire chasing after him, melting the rocks in its path. Walton attacked from the side, his greatsword striking the python, sparks flying, leaving only shallow cuts.

"Too thick-skinned!" Walton exclaimed.

"Cut off the seven-inch spot!" Lin Lei rolled over to dodge the python's tail sweep, and with a flash of light, he cut a bloody gash on the python's belly—but it was very shallow, almost like a tickle to the giant python.

The battle reached a stalemate. The giant python possessed high attack and defense, and the two brothers couldn't break through its defenses, so they could only fight on the move. But human strength has its limits, while the magical beast's stamina is almost limitless.

After an hour, Lin Lei slowed down for a moment and was struck in the chest by the python's tail, flying backward and crashing into the rock wall, coughing up blood.

"Brother!" Walton's eyes reddened.

The giant python turned its head, its gaping maw snapping at Linley. Linley tried to dodge, but the impact had broken his ribs, making him slow to move.

Walton raised his greatsword.

This sword strike was unlike any other before. There was no roar, no outburst; it was simply a calm raising of the sword, a calm slash.

But as the sword fell, the air in the entire space froze. The churning of the lava pool slowed down, the rising sparks froze in mid-air, and even the giant python's lunging motion was momentarily delayed.

The sword's edge struck the python's head.

There was no loud noise, no sparks.

Like a hot knife through butter, the sword sliced ​​through the crimson scales, cleaved the skull, and penetrated the brain without resistance. The sword's momentum continued downwards, cleaving the thirty-meter-long python in two from head to tail.

The two halves of the python fell to either side, their blood and entrails splattering across the ground, staining the black basalt red.

Walton leaned on his sword, panting heavily. The last strike had drained him of all his strength; his arm was too weak to lift. But his eyes shone with an alarming light.

He sensed it.

That power that freezes space, slows down time, and makes all things submit—that is momentum.

Lin Lei walked over, clutching his chest. He looked at the giant python that had been split in two, then at his younger brother, and smiled: "Did it work?"

Walton grinned. "It looks like...it's done."

"What's your name?"

Walton thought for a moment and said, "Let's call the 'Mountain Suppressing' sword 'Mountain Power'."

Simple, direct, like his sword.

Lin Lei nodded: "Good name."

The two brothers rested by the lava pool for seven days. Linley had three broken ribs and needed time to heal. Walton, on the other hand, practiced his sword against the rocks every day to solidify his feel for it.

The power cannot be used every time. Out of ten sword strikes, perhaps only one can bring out that kind of artistic conception. But once you've done it the first time, you can do it a second time, and a third time.

Seven days later, they continued their journey.

Three years is neither a long nor a short time.

The two brothers traveled an unknown distance through the mountains, slaying countless magical beasts. Walton's "Mountain Stance" became increasingly refined, progressing from one out of ten sword strikes to one out of five, until finally every casual strike carried an oppressive weight like a mountain.

Lin Lei made even greater progress. His advantage of mastering both magic and martial arts was fully demonstrated, with his magic breaking through to level eight and his warrior level also reaching the level eight threshold. Even more remarkable was that he comprehended his own "momentum"—not the heaviness of mountains, but the agility of the wind and the ruthlessness of a blade. He named it "Blood-Drifting Momentum," meaning "blood flows from the blade, leaving no trace of the person who passes by."

In the autumn of the third year, they encountered the black-striped clouded leopard.

It was in a misty valley, the bottom of which was filled with exotic flowers and rare herbs, and the air was filled with a faint, sweet fragrance. Blackie—the name the brothers later gave it—was dozing on a blue stone. It was a size larger than an ordinary clouded leopard, and its body was jet black except for a few silver-gray stripes on its back, like flowing clouds.

Lin Lei knew at first glance that this magical beast was no ordinary creature.

Dual elemental, darkness and wind, peak level nine, just a step away from the Saintly Realm. More importantly, its eyes gleam with intelligence—not the instinct of a beast, but a wisdom approaching that of a human.

"Want it?" Walton understood from his brother's eyes.

"Yeah." Linley didn't deny it. "Bebe needs a companion, and I need a mount."

"Let's go then."

The battle went surprisingly smoothly.

It wasn't that Blackie was weak; it was that it never intended to fight to the death. Linley and Blackie exchanged thirty blows, the flashing blades moving so fast they were almost invisible. Finally, Linley used "Blood Drifting Force," the tip of his blade touching Blackie's brow, but not piercing it.

"Do you submit or not?" Lin Lei asked.

Hei Lu stared at him for a long time, then let out a low growl and lay down.

The master-servant contract went smoothly. Linley used his mental power to draw the magic circle, and Heiru voluntarily accepted. The moment the contract was established, a vague consciousness appeared in Linley's mind—the consciousness of Heiru.

After subduing Hei Lu, the two brothers did not leave the mountain range immediately. They stayed for another three months, helping Hei Lu consolidate his peak ninth-level realm, and also taking the opportunity to plunder the rare medicinal herbs in the valley—the spiritual energy here was rich, and countless treasures rarely seen outside grew here.

In the third winter, when the first snow fell, the two brothers decided to leave the mountains.

"Head north, to the O'Brien Empire," Linley said. "It's a warlike place, suitable for us. And it's far from the Holy Alliance, where the Vatican's reach is limited."