Zhao with his wild frontier tassels, and the Wu Saber shining sharp as winter ice.
Silver saddle shines on a white horse, swift as a shooting star.
Ten steps to slay a man, a thousand miles without pausing.
Once the deed is done, he brushes off his robe and vanishes, hiding both body and fame.
The Swordsman's Saga—immortal lines by Leo White. Even if you bombed Chinese class in high school (like the author here), you probably know these verses. Here, in the Mystic Isle's chain of stone caverns, the crew finds the poem carved on the walls. Each cavern has a verse, paired with a painting. Twenty-four caverns, from 'Zhao with his wild frontier tassels' to 'White-haired and deep in the mysterious classics,' all engraved in sequence.
"Legend says Leo White, the Immortal Poet, once set foot on this island. Never thought I'd see his poetry here," Grace Kwok marvels at the wall, then wonders, "But why carve his verses in a place like this?"
Picture this: you stumble into a once-in-500-years golden opportunity, and Leo White does nothing but scribble poetry in a stone cave. One verse per cave—so avant-garde it hurts. It just feels weird, no matter how you slice it.
"Obviously, these verses hide a secret martial arts technique," Gabriel Yang, pale but sharp-eyed, explains to his little sister. "Look—every stroke carved with sword energy. If this really is Leo White’s work, he’s not just the Poet Immortal, he’s the Sword Immortal too. Twenty-four caverns, twenty-four martial arts essentials."
Howard Hopeless and Duke Simon Duan aren’t in Gabriel’s league. They stare at the wall carvings, mystified. But the way the poetry and art flow—there’s something uncanny about it. These images are practically secret codes, like those used by elite clans. It’s a level you can feel, but can’t put into words.
Every stroke encodes martial moves and inner power. If your skills aren’t up to snuff, you’ll be lost if you read it literally. Take Howard and Simon—they sense something special, some hidden secret, but cracking it? That’s another story.
But with so many of the top martial artists gathered here, these wall carvings aren’t much of a challenge for them.
Nobody really knows what the big secret of Mystic Isle is, or where it’s hidden. Maybe it’s tucked away in the Swordsman's Saga itself—so everyone starts studying the carvings like mad. The lightness skill experts are drawn to 'Silver saddle on a white horse.' Those with powerful inner strength ponder 'A will as pure as rainbow silk.' Out of everyone, Joan cracks the code fastest. She breezes through each cavern in under two minutes, barely glancing before she’s got the gist.
She keeps moving, hands sketching out moves in the air—sometimes swordplay, sometimes saber tricks, all mashed up in wild combinations. By the time she finishes the verse 'White-haired and deep in the mysterious classics,' she stops, lets out a long, powerful breath that kicks up dust, her aura growing even stronger.
"Looks like you’ve gained a lot," Jill Young gives Joan a once-over. "Don’t tell me you’ve had a breakthrough?"
"No way. At my level, even a tiny bit of progress is tough," Joan shakes her head, but there’s excitement in her voice. "Still, the Swordsman's Saga is broad, bold, and all-encompassing—moves flow together like magic. It’s not a fully formed martial arts manual, and starting from scratch is nearly impossible. You need deep inner strength to master it fast. But for me, it’s a huge help. If these are really Leo White’s carvings, he must’ve been as strong as me back then."
She moves her hands through the air—one second it’s swordplay, the next saber work, but it all ends up as palm techniques. She’s using her signature Tianshan Plum Blossom Hand to absorb and fuse all the Swordsman's Saga moves. Joan’s aura shakes the room; clearly, she’s leveled up. In just half an hour, even the top masters walk away with major gains—Mystic Isle lives up to its reputation.
"Since we’ve cracked the code, let’s get moving."
"Aren’t you gonna practice a bit? Running through the whole Swordsman's Saga is supposed to be super beneficial."
"I’ve already memorized the whole thing—I’ll train later. Besides, my inner strength isn’t deep enough yet; this isn’t something you can master in a day." Jill Young looks out at the coastline. "We arrived early, but we’re not the only ones. The island’s not tiny, but it’s still just an island. Once the crowd shows up, things’ll get messy. I bet there’s another secret here. Let’s keep going."
Reluctantly leaving the Swordsman's Saga cavern behind, the crew pushes onward. They follow the lay of the land, not in a straight line, but the journey is packed with surprises—rare flowers and exotic fruits everywhere. The deeper they go into the island’s heart, the stranger the plants get. And besides the Swordsman's Saga, there are tons of martial arts carvings.
These martial arts styles are nothing like the ones back in the Central Plains—totally fresh and original, like those wild web novels from the early 2000s. It’s a riot of styles, totally different from today’s formulaic writing. Some are rough, but all are fascinating. For masters who’ve nearly reached the end of the road, this kind of novelty is pure inspiration.
They feast their eyes the whole way—there’s just so much to see.
"These martial arts feel half-baked—more like bursts of inspiration than polished masterpieces," Gabriel Yang says, a little regretful. "It’s all wisdom from the past. If we had time, we should really sit down and study. You can always learn something from others, right?"
Of course, not everything along the way is pleasant. Hidden here and there are bones—human bones, preserved perfectly thanks to the lack of beasts and bugs on the island. Some are at least five hundred years old, but they haven’t decayed at all. They’re almost eerily intact.
(To be continued...)
Howard Hopeless takes a quick look and instantly sees these people were killed—stabbed through the chest, skulls smashed, ambushed. Looks like the last few times Mystic Isle appeared, there were some brutal fights. Some bones show no wounds but are odd colors—obviously poisoned.
"Watch out!" Gabriel Yang grabs Grace Kwok and pulls her back, eyeing an unassuming flower at her feet. "That’s a northern poison flower—super nasty. The leaves and petals are covered in tiny barbs; even a gentle touch can prick you. It won’t kill you, but you’ll be numb and miserable for three days, totally out of commission."
Grace jumps back, spooked. She’d been careful not to touch anything, but this was worse than she thought. If she’d come alone, she’d have been in big trouble.
Jill Young crouches down, picks up a bone, and frowns. "These bones don’t look a thousand years old. Still fresh, still packed with energy." With her Dragon-Elephant Extraction technique, she could even draw life force from them.
After five hundred years, even the Monkey King would be covered in moss. These aren’t immortal bones—how are they still here?
So the only explanation is: there’s some kind of power on this island. It can make all kinds of plants grow, and keep five-hundred-year-old bones from rotting. Maybe it really can change your fate.
But where exactly is this power?
Just then, Jill Young, Joan, and Master Yideng all look up, alert. Sounds of clashing blades, shouting, and chaos drift over on the wind.
"Other folks have landed—and they’re already fighting. But they’re still far off, so no worries for now. Let’s keep moving toward the island’s heart." Jill glances at the sky, where the swirling clouds hang right above the center. It’s a cliché, but if there’s a big secret, the heart of the island is the place to look.
No time to linger—Jill Young has to skim the martial arts carvings as she goes, planning to study them later. She grabs rare flowers and tasty-looking fruits along the way. With her Eggshell Glove, she’s not worried about getting pricked.
Lydia Drake pulls Grace Kwok along, Master Yideng helps Gabriel Yang, and the crew takes off, lightness skills blazing. They scale a mountain shaped like a giant screen, shielding the island’s heart. There’s a cliff, a waterfall, and they speed down the jagged rocks beside it.
At the bottom is a dense forest, shaded by the cliffs. Following the river, weaving through flowers and trees, they spot more carvings along the way. The quality varies, not as masterful as the Swordsman's Saga, but much denser—every few steps, there’s another one, and the writing keeps getting weirder.
The carvings are like ancient totems, left by humanity’s ancestors on the wild plains. Even if you can’t read them, one thing’s clear—they’re close to their goal.
Following the river through the woods, the path suddenly opens up. The river feeds into a massive lake, crystal clear but impossibly deep. On the far side, a big river curves away into the sea. The lake’s inflow and outflow don’t match, but the water level never drops—a real mystery.
But no one’s bothered by the weirdness—everyone’s staring at one thing: a tree by the lake, the kind you see once and instantly know it’s not ordinary.