Chapter 26 — One Arm Raising the Heavens, Strength Mightier Still

oon as he stopped observing fire, it became ordinary primordial energy again. And observing fire while refining qi into a thread at the same time was still rather difficult for him. The Village Head and the others saw the problem and knit their brows: Shen Mu could only bring out the fire attribute while observing fire, and the water attribute while observing water — this was extremely disadvantageous in battle! In battle, would an enemy give you the leisure to observe fire or water? They had thought Shen Mu's possession of both water and fire attributes in his Tyrant Body primordial energy a most remarkable thing; now they were no longer so sure. "Ah, ah!" The Mute gestured, smiling with simple, honest warmth. The Hard-of-Hearing Elder understood and laughed: "The Mute is right. Mu'er has only just now stumbled on the trick. Practice makes perfect — if he keeps at it, he is sure to master it!" Primordial energy with both water and fire attributes amounted, in effect, to having awakened the Black Tortoise spirit body and the Vermilion Bird spirit body at once: when Shen Mu observed fire, his qi was Vermilion Bird primordial energy, and when he observed water, it was Black Tortoise primordial energy. In the village, Shen Mu manipulated the arm-thick primordial thread to practice the Butcher's Saber Art. The cleaver flew up and down, and every so often it came close to splitting him in two. Whenever danger threatened, the Blind Elder, standing by, would knock the cleaver aside with his bamboo staff, to keep him from slaughtering himself in earnest. Refining qi into a thread and driving flying swords with qi had to be cultivated step by step, using the primordial thread to command a treasured sword, flying the sword to kill the enemy; it was also a perilous business, and only after long and bitter practice could one wield it with perfect ease. The Butcher's Saber Art belonged to the martial-technique tradition. Although the Butcher had absorbed certain merits of the divine-power tradition and could release his saber from his hand to guide it, the martial-technique tradition was, after all, vastly different from the divine-power tradition in its forms, and using the Butcher's Saber Art to train in driving a flying sword with qi was extremely dangerous. The Butcher's forms truly were too lunatic, too perilous — that he cut even himself when the madness took hold was no empty saying. The Eight Arts of the Thunder Peal that Old Master Ma had taught Shen Mu, on the other hand, were purely of the martial-technique tradition and contained no method for driving a flying sword with qi. The Dark Demon Transmutation Art that Granny Zhu had taught him belonged to sorcery. The Lame Elder's legwork, the Blind Elder's staff technique, the Hard-of-Hearing Elder's calligraphy and painting, the Alchemist's pill-making, and the Mute's smithing craft could obviously not be used to train in driving a flying sword with qi either. So, to cultivate qi-driven flying swords, Shen Mu could train only with the deadly forms of the Butcher's Saber Art. At the village entrance, the Village Head was lazily sunning himself. The Alchemist stood at his side; he looked back at Shen Mu, who was training for dear life in driving a flying sword with qi, and said abruptly: "The Blind Elder passed his Holy Eye to Mu'er. The Butcher has taught him his saber art. There are the Lame Elder's legwork and the Hard-of-Hearing Elder's skill with the brush... And what about you, Village Head?" The Village Head turned to look at him. The Alchemist's tone was pressing: "Each of us has his own specialty, but none of us is deeply versed in driving a flying sword with qi. Your knowledge exceeds any of ours, and your abilities outstrip every one of ours. Why will you not teach him? In all the world, whose sword art can rival yours in driving a flying sword with qi?" The Village Head grew somber. He looked down at the hands and feet that were no longer there, and said quietly, "I would teach him, but Mu'er cannot bear the weight. Even when I still had all my limbs I could not bear it — otherwise I would not have had to hide myself in the Ruins... Do you know how my hands and feet were lost?" The Alchemist shook his head. "They were struck off by a sword." The Village Head raised his head and said woodenly, "My hands and feet were severed by a sword. Whoever inherits my art must take up my burden. I could not bear it, and as he is now, he could bear it even less."