Regret Meeting Too Late, The Phantom Sword Saint's Impending End

On the fourth floor of the Octagon Tower, Jack Young and Yan Taixu sat across from each other with a low table between them. The view here was wide open, just perfect for watching the martial arts contest down below. The red-clad woman was quietly brewing tea off to the side; with Yan Taixu present, she was uncharacteristically calm—none of that ferocity from earlier.

Through their conversation, Jack Young got the full picture of what had happened.

Turns out, the whole thing was honestly kind of ridiculous. When Jack and the Blade Attendant entered Linglong Temple, the Blade Attendant had sent word that the guests had arrived. The plan was for the red-clad woman to push Yan Taixu to the temple hall to wait, but she’d pulled a fast one and left Yan Taixu stuck in place, then went to the hall herself to give Jack a bit of a hard time.

At this point, the woman brewing tea couldn’t help but snort: “How was I supposed to know if he was the real deal or not? As the Sword Saint’s attendant, of course I had to test him first!”

And her method for trapping Yan Taixu was honestly mind-boggling. No fancy traps or mechanisms—just a single chopstick. A plain old chopstick placed in front of Yan Taixu’s wheelchair wheel kept him stuck for several minutes. While Jack and the red-clad woman were chatting and sparring, Yan Taixu was locked in a fierce battle with that chopstick, finally managing to roll over it and restore order to the scene.

Hearing this, Jack couldn’t help but laugh, but also fell silent for a moment. The Phantom Sword Saint, so renowned in the martial world, was now so frail that even a chopstick took all his strength to overcome. Fate really is unpredictable—equal parts tragic and absurd.

But Yan Taixu was all sunshine, not a hint of gloom about him. “Brother Jack, I really ought to thank you—you’ve done me a huge favor.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I was the one who asked Nina Cloud to make the Heavenly King Life-Saving Pill. That kind of life-saving elixir is nearly impossible to find—I honestly didn’t expect to get one, and was ready for the worst. But on the very first day, I got it from you, Brother Jack. So really, you saved my life.” Yan Taixu raised his teacup: “Brother Jack, I can’t drink, so I’ll have to toast you with tea instead.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Jack said, raising his own cup in return. “Honestly, it was just a stroke of luck. If not for that, I couldn’t have afforded anything from the Herb Boutique myself. We both got something out of it—no need to talk about favors.”

"Alright, let’s drop the subject." Yan Taixu drank his tea, then suddenly started coughing. It wasn’t a violent cough—just a slight furrow of his brow—but Jack could sense from his blood and energy that Yan Taixu was in real pain. The turmoil in his blood couldn’t be faked, but Yan Taixu barely showed it, clearly used to suffering. The red-clad Sword Attendant immediately got nervous, placed her hands on his shoulders, and sent waves of innate energy into his body. Jack’s eyes flashed; he pressed two fingers to Yan Taixu’s wrist to check, then tapped his chest twice.

"Cough, cough... Eh? Jack, are you secretly some kind of miracle doctor?" Yan Taixu looked at Jack in surprise. "Usually, every time I have one of these coughing fits, Hong’er has to burn through a ton of her energy to help me. But you just fixed me up with a couple of taps—talk about a lucky star!"

Even the red-clad woman couldn’t hide her shock. She’d just been channeling her energy to heal Yan Taixu and knew his condition inside out. Every coughing fit took serious effort to suppress, but Jack had stopped it with barely a wave of his hand.

"Yan, I’m not a doctor, and what you’ve got isn’t really an illness, so I just happened to be able to help," Jack said, now looking more serious. "To be honest, Yan, this cough of yours can only be eased, never cured."

Nobody likes hearing a diagnosis like that. The red-clad woman looked ready to snap, but Yan Taixu just took it in stride, giving a carefree smile and nodding: "Jack, you’ve got a sharp eye. My problem isn’t really a disease, it’s just... my time’s almost up."

Jack couldn’t argue. "Time’s almost up"—most people wouldn’t get what that means. Yan Taixu wasn’t sick, had top-level martial artists looking after him, and wasn’t even that old. How could his time be almost up? But Jack knew exactly how bad Yan Taixu’s body was; his energy was just way too weak.

Jack had seen all kinds of bodies—strong, weak, and everything in between—but Yan Taixu was easily the most unusual. His body was so frail, it was like he was a very old man about to pass away. Even his meridians were fragile; if not, any illness would’ve been cured by all that innate energy, so why would he still have these symptoms?

Honestly, the fact that Yan Taixu was still alive meant his Blade Attendant and Sword Attendant must’ve been burning through their own life force to keep him going.

They didn’t dwell on the heavy stuff. Jack and Yan Taixu watched the matches below and chatted at their own pace. Unlike the weighty presence of Ouyezi, Yan Taixu was clearly a master in spirit, but had this inexplicable warmth that made him easy to be around. It was hard to dislike him. The usual arrogance of martial arts legends was nowhere to be found. Life hadn’t been kind to him, but there was nothing dark in those eyes.

Talking martial arts and philosophy with him, Jack soon felt like he’d found a kindred spirit. Their martial arts philosophies were surprisingly similar—both believed in "no moves surpassing moves." As they chatted about everything under the sun, Jack realized Yan Taixu’s insights into technique were way ahead of the mainstream, several levels above. High-level, deep, and full of imagination.

No doubt about it, he was a martial arts fanatic. The more he talked with Jack, the more excited and invested he became. Soon they were using the matches below as fuel for their own verbal sparring, predicting who’d win, how many moves it’d take, and breaking down every fight with endless enthusiasm.

(This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, please click next page to continue reading!)

Since coming to this world, it was Jack’s first time meeting someone whose martial philosophy truly moved and inspired him—someone who even gave him new insights.

At first, the red-clad woman tried to join in the martial arts discussion, adding her own thoughts. But soon enough, she found she just couldn’t keep up with their pace, so she stayed quiet and listened instead.

“Jack, you’ve got a pretty unique take on technique,” Yan Taixu gestured at the ring below. “See that guy testing his sword down there? He’s using the Eastping Sword Technique. It’s the signature style of the Eastping Sword Sect, famous for its speed and sharpness. What do you think?”

Jack multitasked, breaking down the Eastping Sword Technique into basic info for storage while replying to Yan Taixu: “The diagonal thrust move is precise, but the rest doesn’t stand out.” As he spoke, he mentally cleared out all the junk info, keeping only the diagonal thrust.

“Sharp eye, Jack. The diagonal thrust is the highlight of Eastping Sword Technique,” Yan Taixu nodded, then commented on the swordsman’s opponent. Jack listened and felt inspired. He was an expert in external forms and physical power, but when it came to controlling internal energy, Yan Taixu was way ahead. Both had their strengths, and the exchange left them both feeling they’d gained a lot.

As their conversation deepened, Jack’s mind filled with new info, ideas, and inspiration. Yan Taixu’s mastery of technique was almost superhuman—it felt like stepping into a treasure trove of knowledge. Before they knew it, the sun had risen and set, a whole day passing by in talk. Even though Jack hadn’t trained at all, his skills kept improving—faster, steadier, and purer than hard practice.

“Jack, in this martial world, you can split things big-picture into Innate and Non-Innate realms, or break it down into even more layers.” Yan Taixu analyzed the martial arts scene: “Among Non-Innate folks, there are three main tiers. Under twenty years’ cultivation is the first—most people fall here, about eighty percent of martial artists. Their world is more about survival. Twenty to forty years is the second tier—the backbone of the martial world, with eighty percent of the influential figures. They fight for a better life. Over forty years is the third tier—these are the experts, fighting for glory.”

“Experts, huh.” The red-clad woman snorted, clearly unimpressed by the word.

“Innate and Non-Innate are worlds apart—like heaven and earth, really. In the ordinary martial world, those folks are experts.” Yan Taixu took another sip of tea. “But above Innate, things get really interesting. There are nine levels of Innate, just like the Bright Moon Divine Skill has nine stages—the two systems match up one-to-one.”

“Bright Moon Divine Skill…” Jack recalled the details and nodded. “Makes sense. I’ve met a few Innate experts and can sort of judge their strength, but how does the martial world actually rank them?”

“Among Innate practitioners, there are some clear dividing lines. The first three stages are one major realm, four to six is another, and seven to nine are each a step up. You can usually tell by their martial titles. The first three are often called ‘King.’”

“King?” Jack thought of Golden Blade King and Silverblade King—sure enough, they were called ‘King.’ He nodded in understanding. “What about the fourth to sixth stages?”

“Fourth to sixth stages are usually called ‘Heavenly King.’ In the Great Zhou Dynasty, there was a prime minister who was also a martial arts master—people called him ‘Fa Tianwang.’ The Way of Fa Tianwang is the way of the world. He ruled the country and the martial world, and his presence was tremendous—a true expert.” Yan Taixu continued, “Besides the titles, Heavenly Kings are fundamentally different from Kings.”

“What’s the difference?” Jack was hungry for Innate-level knowledge.

“Phenomena. Heavenly Kings have stronger hearts and higher spiritual cultivation, so they often manifest strange phenomena—real or illusory, but always a sign of their martial spirit. If the gap is wide enough, they can win without even fighting.”