Ever since returning to Sanctum Martial Academy from the Blood River Battlefield, Lance Xuanyuan had become utterly dejected.
After being repeatedly turned away when trying to see Lynette Ji, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol day after day.
His room was littered with bottles, the air thick with a foul stench, and sprawled among the mess was a young man in dirty clothes and a scruffy beard.
Sunlight streamed through the window, shining onto the face of the man lying on the floor.
Perhaps stirred by the sunlight, he slowly opened his eyes. They were cloudy, and the corners were crusted with sleep.
"Ugh..."
Lance Xuanyuan pushed himself up with both hands and slowly sat up, his head pounding. He rubbed his temples, suddenly remembering something, and began looking around.
He grabbed a bottle nearby, tipped his head back, and tried to drink from it, but it was empty—not a single drop left.
"That's right!"
He suddenly remembered that yesterday he'd bought plenty of liquor and put it into his storage ring.
But after searching the storage ring, he couldn't find a single bottle.
"Did I finish it all? Damn it!"
Cursing under his breath, he staggered out of the bottle-strewn room.
He couldn't help but recall what Lynette Ji's maid, Greenie, had said: "Young Master Xuanyuan, you'd best not come again. My lady won't see you!"
Thinking of this, his chest tightened and his face twisted with anger.
"Why? Why won't she see me? Why do I chase her so desperately, yet she treats some early Grandmaster kid like he's special?"
At that moment, the figure of Ian Song flashed through his mind.
"Bang!"
Lance Xuanyuan smashed his fist into the wall, then gave a self-mocking laugh. "Lance Xuanyuan, oh Lance Xuanyuan, you can't even beat an early Grandmaster—you really are a loser, a total loser! Wine, I need more wine!"
Stumbling and staggering, Lance Xuanyuan left his courtyard, then staggered out of the academy and into the city.
"Sigh!"
Outside, an elderly figure let out a gentle sigh, full of helplessness and disappointment.
In the next instant, the old man’s figure flickered and vanished.
A cold wind blew in, waking Lance Xuanyuan, who was slumped over a window-side table in the tavern.
After arriving at the tavern, he’d drunk himself senseless and promptly passed out.
"Brother Xuanyuan, you’re awake."
Across the table sat a young man in purple, his face wearing a warm, friendly smile.
His mind sluggish from too much drinking, Lance Xuanyuan took a moment to recognize him—it was Easton Yan.
"So it’s you. What, came to drink with me?"
"Brother Xuanyuan, why have you let yourself get like this?" Easton Yan sighed, his expression tinged with regret.
Without warning, Lance Xuanyuan snapped, roaring at Easton Yan: "If you’re not here to drink, then get lost! I’m not interested in chatting with you!"
Easton Yan wasn’t the least bit angry. Instead, he said with concern, "Brother Xuanyuan, why do this to yourself?"
"Scram!"
Lance Xuanyuan stared coldly at him.
"Sigh!"
Easton Yan let out a deep sigh. "If you lose a woman, just win her back. Brother Xuanyuan, why torture yourself like this? In the end, you’re the one who suffers, while she’s the one who’s happy. Besides, Lynette Ji hasn’t actually fallen into his arms yet—you still have a chance..."
Next, Easton Yan launched into a long-winded persuasion, trying to talk Lance Xuanyuan out of his funk. The other’s agitation seemed to quiet down.
Seeing this, Easton Yan spoke even more energetically.
After a while, he looked at Lance Xuanyuan and asked, "Brother Xuanyuan, what do you think of what I’ve said?"
"Not much. Get lost!"
Lance Xuanyuan waved impatiently, then barked at the waiter nearby, "Waiter, bring more wine!"
Easton Yan’s expression froze, a trace of anger flashing through his mind: "Lance Xuanyuan, I despise you. You’re just a coward!"
Lance Xuanyuan let out a mocking laugh, his eyes full of sarcasm as he looked at Easton Yan. "Don’t think I don’t see through your schemes. You want me to help you deal with Leon Huang? Ha, keep dreaming!"
Though Lance Xuanyuan sometimes seemed a bit childish to Ian Song, he wasn’t stupid. Easton Yan looked like he was trying to encourage him, but was actually trying to provoke him into going after Ian Song.
He hated Ian Song, but he was not his match.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so helpless, drowning his sorrows in alcohol every day.
Brother Xuanyuan, I meant well. Since you think I have ulterior motives, just pretend what I said was all for nothing. Farewell!
Easton Yan stood up angrily, making as if to leave.
Lance Xuanyuan didn’t try to stop him, and his eyes even held a hint of mockery.
Damn it!
Easton Yan stood there for a few seconds, muttered a curse under his breath, then strode away.
Watching Easton Yan leave in a fury, a sharp smile flickered at the corner of Lance Xuanyuan’s mouth. "They really think I’m an idiot—now even cats and dogs want to use me!"
Back in his own courtyard, Easton Yan finally couldn’t hold back his rage. He smashed his favorite set of teacups to bits.
"Damn Lance Xuanyuan! Damn Leon Huang! You two just wait!"
Meanwhile—
Ian Song was sitting in his courtyard, pondering the sword-dao notebook given to him by the Venerable Dragon Sword.
With his cultivation now a whole realm higher, reading the notebook again brought him new insights.
After sword intent comes Sword Heart.
Even before receiving the Venerable Dragon Sword’s notes, Ian Song had already stepped into the Sword Heart realm.
But after reading the notebook, he realized his grasp of Sword Heart was only skin-deep. What he’d comprehended was just a false Sword Heart.
To truly forge a real Sword Heart, you have to understand: why do you practice the sword at all?
So whenever he had a free moment, Ian Song would ponder this question.
At first, he thought he practiced swordsmanship just to become strong.
But after going to the Blood River Battlefield and witnessing the Devils’ cruelty, after swinging his sword at them, he felt he practiced to kill enemies.
But then, just yesterday, after cutting off Gavin Yan’s hands to avenge Winnie Shentu and the others, he gained another insight—protection.
Strength? Killing? Protection?
All of them, or maybe none of them.
Setting the sword-dao notebook aside, Ian Song drifted into memories. He’d been just a regular student, then picked up a ring and gained a system.
With the system’s help, he grew powerful, won honor, drew the attention of beautiful girls, and even found a sense of family.
But without the system, would he have just drifted through life, lost and aimless?
Or if the system left him one day, would he go back to being ordinary again?
For a while, panic crept into his heart.
Without the system, could I still be this strong?
Ian Song fell into deep thought.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three hours.
Ian Song’s frown grew deeper and deeper.
Finally, after two more hours, a voice exploded in his heart: "No! Even without the system, I’ll keep moving forward, no matter what!"
As he shouted this in his heart, Ian Song suddenly felt his mind clear. In that moment, he grasped his own Sword Heart—perseverance!