Chapter 25 - A Show-stopping Entrance

Chapter 25: A Show-stopping Entrance

Out from the crowd stepped a frail and diminutive youth, his small frame seeming even slighter against his sallow complexion. In his hand, he clutched a short black stick, and his unremarkable features did nothing to suggest he was someone of extraordinary abilities.

It was he who had just spoken.

“Young hero, have you also studied the mystical arts? May I ask your name, your sect, and lineage? And what treasure is it that you wield?”

The elderly village chief scrutinised the youth with a doubtful expression. Internally, he couldn’t help but compare:

the venerable ascendant from before had been broad-shouldered and brawny, able to shatter a wall with a single swing of his spiked mace. By contrast, this boy looks malnourished, more like a scrawny little monkey than someone capable of any great feats.

Hearing the chief’s inquiry, the youth hesitated, nervously gripping the black stick in his hand. In a voice that betrayed his timidity, he replied, “My name is Zhang Fanchén. I am a third-generation disciple of the Zhuxian Sect. My master is the head of the Bamboo Peak. As for my treasure… my treasure…”

[Zhang Fanchén can be interpreted as “Ordinary Celestial Body” or “Humble Morning Star,” suggesting a name with a balance between humility and aspirations toward greatness or cosmic significance.]

His voice faltered as he mentioned his treasure, his face clouded with unease. Clearly apprehensive about being mocked, he tightly clutched the black stick, summoning all his courage before whispering, barely audible, “My treasure is… a fire-poker.”

“A fire-poker?!”

The village chief nearly fainted upon hearing this. Never in his many years had he encountered anyone who dared claim such a mundane object as their mystical weapon. It was beyond absurd.

“Zhang Fanchén!”

“Fire-poker!”

Amid the crowd, Xiao Yu’s eyes suddenly gleamed with recognition. He had not expected, in the small and remote Blackrock Town, to encounter Zhang Fanchén, who was training on a secular journey.

The weapon in Zhang Fanchén’s hands was not merely a fire-poker but a demonic artefact forged in blood—the Soul-Capturing Rod with its Bloodthirsty Pearl.

Xiao Yu cast his spiritual vision—a technique unique to Tianyong City—over Zhang Fanchén, only to find the latter’s cultivation underwhelming. Zhang was barely at the Foundation Establishment stage, likely only just capable of flying on a sword.

Zhang’s slow progress wasn’t due to a lack of talent. Rather, it stemmed from his simultaneous cultivation of Daoist and Buddhist techniques, whose conflicting principles hindered his advancement.

Yet this current mediocrity was but a fleeting state. In time, Zhang Fanchén would become an unparalleled force. In later parts of his story, he would master the powers of the Daoist, Buddhist, and Demonic schools, becoming the only individual capable of wielding the legendary Zhuxian Sword with perfection—unstoppable, unmatched!

“Junior Brother Zhang, are you truly a disciple of the Zhuxian Sect?”

Amid the villagers’ ridicule, Vajra regarded the frail youth with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

The Zhuxian Sect—one of the Four Great Immortal Sects—stood alongside Tianyong City, Shushan Sect, and Changliu Mountain as the paragons of the righteous path.

“Yes,” Zhang Fanchén confirmed with a faint nod, his spirits dampened by his embarrassment over the fire-poker.

“Luck seems to favour me today!” Vajra burst into hearty laughter, his delight evident as though he had stumbled upon a rare treasure. “Imagine my fellow disciples’ envy when they hear of this!”

What was there to envy?

Zhang Fanchén was perplexed by Vajra’s elation. After all, he considered himself rather unremarkable. Compared to his peers in the Zhuxian Sect, there were many far more accomplished, such as Lu Xue’er from the Little Bamboo Peak, whose icy demeanour and unparalleled swordsmanship rendered her an unattainable figure.

[Lu Xue’er can be interpreted as “Snow Child of the Land” or simply “Little Snow,”]

“Chief, I am Xiao Yu, senior disciple of Tianyong City. I happened to pass through while on my training journey and am willing to help exterminate the monsters troubling your town,” Xiao Yu announced with a dignified air.

“What a fine young hero!”

The village chief looked at Xiao Yu with wide-eyed admiration. The image of an immortal often conjured thoughts of men gliding through the air on flying swords, their serene demeanour untouched by worldly concerns. Few had actually seen such a figure, but at this moment, the chief was certain: this was what an immortal should look like!

The townsfolk shared his sentiments, especially the young women among them, whose gazes toward Xiao Yu burned with fervent admiration. Their hearts raced wildly.

“A disciple of Tianyong City!”

Vajra could scarcely believe his ears. Turning toward Xiao Yu, he beheld a figure as radiant as sunlight—his bearing noble, a sword strapped to his back. The sight left Vajra in awe.

“Such elegance, such beauty!”

Zhang Fanchén stood frozen, slack-jawed as he stared at Xiao Yu. Never had he encountered someone so dashing, so transcendent. Standing before Xiao Yu, he felt a twinge of inferiority.

“Immortal Master, will you truly assist us in slaying the monsters? This is wonderful news!”

The chief felt realised fortune had finally smiled upon their troubled town.

“Yes,” Xiao Yu replied with a slight nod. “As Tianyong City’s senior disciple, it is my duty to uphold righteousness and protect the innocent. Furthermore, this aligns perfectly with my training objectives.”

“That’s marvellous!”

The chief’s elation was echoed by the townsfolk, their faces lighting up with newfound hope and reverence.