Chapter 64 — One Staff Stirs Rivers and Mountains
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
The spring river had slowly warmed. More than ten days had passed since Shen Mu and Sang'e last broke open the ice dam, and now green willows cast shade along the banks, birds sang and flowers bloomed with fragrance—the ice tide was gone.
At the river's heart, Shen Mu halted abruptly in mid-run, yet his body did not sink; instead he stood upon the water's surface, ripples bursting forth from beneath his feet one after another, spreading outward in all directions, a fine sight to behold. He was using his Xuanwu vital essence to command the water's flow, so that he need not run to stand upon the surface, as steady as on flat ground. The art of controlling water with Xuanwu vital essence—he had already grasped its knack and wielded it with ease.
Shh—the sound of a sharp sword cleaving the air. At the river's center Shen Mu pointed two fingers to direct his sword; the Chubao sword flicked upward, swept level, chopped down.
His body moved and the sword moved with it, every motion he performed the simplest of techniques.
In recent days he had been learning from the village head the most basic skills of wielding a sword.
Beyond the thrust, he had also mastered the chop, the upward flick, the hang, the cloud, the point, the burst, the intercept, the scissor, and the sweep, among other sword techniques. But the village head had taught him no sword form at all—only made him practice the simplest motions over and over, day after day. And by the riverbank, the blind old man stood motionless on his staff, like a statue.
After Shen Mu had parted from Sang'e at the canyon and returned to the village, he had told the villagers of releasing Sang'e and mentioned Little Leiyin Temple; Old Master Huo and the others had then forbidden him to leave the village, and even if he went out, a villager had to accompany him. On the river's surface the wind grew louder and louder. Each time Shen Mu struck out with his sword it stirred up a gust and a wave.
The most basic sword motions the village head had taught him erupted with terrifying power in his hands! As he practiced again and again, the wind and waves on the river grew ever greater and more urgent.
With a single thrust of his sword, the river's surface split open for more than a dozen zhang, reaching a depth of over a zhang; the great fish and river beasts below dared not approach.
Shen Mu directed his sword in an upward flick, and the river water shot skyward, scattering down as a torrential spray. Then he directed it in an upward sweep, and the water transformed into a water dragon that shot out at a slant. Though it was the simplest qi-guided flying sword, its power in his hands was frighteningly strong. He had practiced these most basic motions for over two years and knew them by heart, yet the village head still would not teach him the complete techniques.
Suddenly the blind old man's ears twitched, and he called out loudly, "Shen-er, stop. A boat is coming. " Shen Mu sheathed his sword, sliding the Chubao sword into the sword bag on his back, and looked up.
A tower ship was drifting down from upstream. His heart skipped—this was the very ship that had been charting the geography of the Yong River. The tower ship was returning from upstream; it must have already charted the entire waterway of the Yong River.
He shifted his steps, moving out of the channel the tower ship would pass through. The tower ship sped downstream with the current and soon arrived before him.
A voice of admiration came from the ship: "Standing motionless on the river—fine skill, deep vital essence.
" Shen Mu looked toward the voice and saw General Shen standing at the bow, accompanied by a youth with a somewhat babyish plumpness, holding a folding fan and gazing at him. "Dragon Palace black ice!
" Shen Mu's heart turned cold.