"Mute Grandpa!"
Quinn Shepherd rushed over, flung his arms wide, and hugged the coarse-clothed old man with all his strength, trying to lift him up. But the old man was as heavy as a mountain—Quinn couldn't move him at all.
Quinn was so excited he burst out laughing, straining with all his might to pick him up, but still couldn't budge him.
Mute Grandpa let out two guttural sounds, put down the wooden chest, and only then did Quinn manage to lift him up, spinning him around twice before setting him down. Mute Grandpa landed on his backside, got up, dusted off his pants, and gestured: 'You're too naughty.'
"Mute Grandpa, how did you leave the village too? Why are you here?"
Quinn was both shocked and delighted, asking in a rush, "You were amazing just now—are all those Sword Pills in your chest your own work? Did anyone else come out with you?"
"Ah ah, ah ah ah!"
Mute Grandpa spoke as he gestured, furrowing his brows to show boredom, slapping his palm to his cheek to mime sleeping, then holding up two fingers to indicate walking.
His hands flew as he signed, his facial expressions changing so fast Quinn could barely keep up. Quinn hurriedly said, "Mute Grandpa, slow down—I can't follow! What about Grandpa Blindeye? Why didn't he come with you?"
Mute Grandpa looked smug, gestured that he'd snuck out of the village on his own without telling anyone.
Quinn blinked and grinned, saying, "You don't know—I ran into Butcher, Grandpa Blindeye, and Granny Sue. They've all left the village already."
Mute Grandpa was surprised, made a couple of guttural sounds, then lifted the wooden chest and handed it toward Quinn, hinting for him to carry it. Quinn snorted, refusing: "Mute Grandpa, don't try to trick me again! That chest of yours is ridiculously heavy, stuffed with thousands of Sword Pills, right? Your Sword Pills are heavy, the chest is even heavier. If I carried it, my shoulders would dislocate and I'd be flattened! I fell for that once before—never again."
Mute Grandpa gave a silent, mischievous grin and flashed Quinn a thumbs-up.
Quinn and the Imperial Preceptor immediately saw strange patterns appear on the armor's surface—intricate sigil arrays, all designed for defense.
Suddenly, Mute Grandpa raised his eyebrows and glanced past Quinn. Quinn turned around quickly and saw a middle-aged man approaching. The Imperial Preceptor of the Everpeace Empire walked quietly toward them and stopped a dozen or so yards away.
"A figure from the previous era?" he murmured softly.
Mute Grandpa grinned and gestured twice. The Imperial Preceptor frowned, unable to understand.
Quinn explained, "Preceptor, Mute Grandpa means he's not really a figure from the previous era—he's still young at heart."
The Imperial Preceptor frowned again, still unable to follow Mute Grandpa's signs, and having Quinn translate beside him left him feeling vaguely uncomfortable.
"Dao-brother, your skills are extraordinary, but what you cultivate isn't sword technique."
The Imperial Preceptor sighed, "I've conversed with several figures from the previous era and thought I'd seen every kind of divine art and dao technique, but I never expected to witness something so utterly unique. Dao-brother, would you let me see your true divine ability?"
Quinn was stunned. He'd just seen Mute Grandpa unleash countless Sword Pills, which soared into the air and transformed into an endless storm of flying swords—so fierce that even the Nethervault Demon King had to defend himself, yet was still wounded by the blades.
Quinn had always assumed all of Mute Grandpa's skills lay in sword techniques, but now the Imperial Preceptor was claiming he hadn't truly cultivated sword arts at all. Could it be that Mute Grandpa's real ability was something even greater than what he'd shown?
Back in the village, Mute Grandpa had only ever taught him the ways of forging and smithing. Quinn often carried a massive iron hammer, and his hammer techniques were all passed down from Mute Grandpa.
Could it be that Mute Grandpa actually cultivates hammer arts?
Mute Grandpa just grinned, tightened the portable forge on his back, and set down the wooden chest. He looked exactly like a wandering blacksmith—someone who would stop at any village to rest and forge tools for the locals.
His chest looked like it should be filled with smithing odds and ends—not Sword Pills, but hammers, anvils, sieves, and iron ladles.
He opened the wooden chest, made a couple of guttural sounds and gestures, and the Imperial Preceptor's face froze as he glanced at Quinn.
Quinn said, "Mute Grandpa means his craft is almost lost. If you want to see, he's willing—but he hopes you'll help him find a successor."
The Imperial Preceptor straightened up in respect. "Dao-brother, you would actually entrust your life's supreme technique to another? Your generosity far surpasses the sect masters and patriarchs of the great orthodox schools. If fate allows, I will certainly keep an eye out for you."
Mute Grandpa opened the wooden chest to reveal countless Sword Pills, each no larger than a fingertip.
The Imperial Preceptor looked puzzled. Mute Grandpa smiled faintly, stretched out his palm, and the Sword Pills suddenly stopped being little silver pellets—they liquefied, turning into something like water, yet more like light itself transformed into liquid.
A whole chest of Sword Pills became a chest of luminous liquid. The liquid light rose from the chest, climbed over Mute Grandpa's body, and flowed all over him, forming a suit of silver armor.
Quinn and the Imperial Preceptor immediately saw strange patterns appear on the armor's surface—bizarre rune arrays, all designed for defense.
Then the liquid light flowed off Mute Grandpa, and in midair, it became a giant bell, over ten yards tall, with walls so thin you could almost see right through them.
The giant bell rotated slowly, its surface covered in ancient script, images of fantastic beasts, and the patterns of celestial stars.
Whoosh—
The bell dissolved into flowing light, which formed a silver dragon that circled around them, swirling and dancing, its body covered in dragon patterns.
Suddenly, the silver dragon soared into the air and transformed into a longsword. The sword shot skyward, unleashing a mysterious sword technique, then abruptly gathered its light, and a massive shield descended from above.
Before the shield could touch the ground, it morphed into a silver parasol, spinning gently as it floated downward.
Mute Grandpa's chest of Sword Pills could transform endlessly, becoming any kind of weapon or artifact with different powers!
The treasures in his chest could even take on the forms of divine abilities themselves!
Quinn had never before seen Mute Grandpa reveal his true skills, never witnessed such a miraculous mastery!
Mute Grandpa had never taught him this ability, and Quinn had never even seen him use it back in the village.
The Imperial Preceptor watched in awe as the liquid light flowed together, transforming into a silver boat. Mute Grandpa tossed the chest aboard, leapt onto the boat, flashed Quinn a silent grin, waved, and vanished with the boat as it sped away through the sky.
Quinn opened his mouth, wanting to call out to him, but after a moment's thought, he let his elder go without a word.
After a while, the Imperial Preceptor slowly exhaled a heavy breath and praised, "Such skill, truly remarkable. There are still wonders in this world I've never seen. That Dao-brother is extraordinary. Doctor Quinn, do you know him?"
Quinn replied, "He's my elder back home."
The Imperial Preceptor was taken aback, not understanding: "Is he a master of the Heavenly Demon Cult? Besides the Grand Rector, your cult has such experts—no wonder it's the number one demonic sect."
Quinn shook his head, "You guessed wrong, Preceptor. I was born in the Great Ruins—my home is there."
The Imperial Preceptor was stunned, peering deeply at Quinn, and said meaningfully, "So Doctor Quinn comes from a noble lineage, with profound family learning."
Quinn was dazed for a moment, then nodded awkwardly.
The Imperial Preceptor asked blandly, "Then, who summoned the demon god?"
"I don't know either."
Quinn answered solemnly, "I only just arrived amid the chaos—I nearly lost my life, truly innocent."
The Imperial Preceptor nodded slightly, "Leonard Goodwin sent you to lead a squad of scholars for training. As far as I know, your destination was Lizhou. This is Heaven-Wave City; across the river is Wuding Commandery, two hundred li from Lizhou. Why did you come here, Doctor Quinn?"
"Um..."
Quinn pulled Lina the Spirit Fox out of his pack and looked at the little white fox. Lina lifted a paw, gnawed her finger, her eyes darting around. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she chirped, "We floated here down the river! We ran into trouble in Lizhou—the Redcrest Mountain Sect remnants summoned a demon god, so we escaped by boat. Is that good enough, young master?"
The Imperial Preceptor's expression didn't change. "Say whatever you want. This chaos in Heaven-Wave City cost countless lives among the defenders. The person who summoned the demon god has done a great deed. I plan to recommend him to the emperor for promotion. Such merit should at least raise him to a fourth-rank official."
Quinn opened his mouth, but Lina the Spirit Fox quickly blurted out, "It was our young master! He summoned that Nethervault Demon King!"
The Imperial Preceptor ignored her and continued, "Though there is merit, the casualties among the city's people are immense—the guilt is heavy. Deaths are inevitable in war, but to wipe out an entire city is too much. Even if I want to recommend this person for reward, the court's censors will object, accusing him of mass murder and coercing the emperor. When peace returns, this person will surely be punished—maybe not executed with his whole family, but at the very least stripped of rank and exiled."
Lina the Spirit Fox quickly shut her mouth, feeling that whatever she said would be wrong.
The Imperial Preceptor smiled slightly. "That's why I intend to suppress this merit and say we don't know who did it. No credit, no blame. What do you think of this solution, Doctor Quinn?"
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. "Preceptor, that's a wise decision."
Behind them, the Everpeace army had already slaughtered the Skyfiends in Heaven-Wave City. Several generals approached.
The Imperial Preceptor turned away, saying coolly, "The censors kill with words, not blades. Even if you survive their tongues, you'll be left with a mess."
Quinn asked, "You've felt this yourself, Preceptor?"
The Imperial Preceptor nodded. "I've killed countless censors for the sake of reform, but no matter how many I kill, there are always more. They have no real ability, don't accomplish anything, but always find fault and only know how to curse you. Do you know what would happen if my reforms failed?"
Quinn shook his head.
My name would be reviled for generations.
The Imperial Preceptor said blandly, "Even if I succeed, the censors will curse me for hundreds or thousands of years. There was once a Dao-brother who could comfort my heart..."
His face darkened. "But he's gone, and I miss him dearly."