Chapter 33: Sword Body

"Is this the legendary Sword Body?"

Zhou Jingpeng was already a master swordsman. The moment that surge of sword energy appeared, he sensed something was amiss with Meng Changsheng. That small frame concealed a terrifying sword intent. Moreover, Meng Changsheng's internal energy had already successfully transformed into sword energy. Compared to internal energy, sword energy possessed greater offensive power and was more attuned to sword techniques and moves.

Every swordsman pursues one thing: refining their internal energy into sword energy. The process can take months or even decades. Meng Changsheng had only just broken through to Martial Master, clearly not at the stage to transform his internal energy. Almost simultaneously, a special ability came to mind.

Zhou Jingpeng recalled from ancient texts that some people are born with a Sword Body. Upon reaching Martial Master level, their internal energy automatically converts to sword energy. The Sword Body also grants automatic protection and other miraculous effects.

"Meng Changsheng is actually a Sword Body?" He found it incredible. He had refrained from taking disciples for years because he did not want his sword techniques to become mediocre. So, in more than a decade, aside from Xiao Yang, he had never accepted another student.

"Master, are you satisfied with this gift from your disciple?" Xiao Yang chuckled.

"Satisfied, very satisfied." Zhou Jingpeng's eyes burned with fervor as he stared at Meng Changsheng, speaking instinctively. But he quickly regained his composure.

"Satisfied, my foot! You brat, you’ve really offended that brute this time." The thought of Meng Haotian nearly losing control several times due to anger made Zhou Jingpeng’s head ache.

Meng Haotian, being a martial artist who relied on his fists, had a fierce fighting style, earning him the nickname "the brute."

"Master, do you really think Second Uncle doesn’t know Meng Changsheng has a Sword Body?" Hearing this, Zhou Jingpeng smiled helplessly.

"You know nothing. The Sword Body is so unique that outsiders rarely notice it. That brute knows nothing."

"Master, if it were someone else, Second Uncle might not care, but this boy is his own son," Xiao Yang said with a sly smile.

Zhou Jingpeng paused. It made sense—when it comes to one’s own child, nothing matters more. Take Zhou Yan, for example. To temper the girl’s body, he had spent two whole years gathering herbs in the Thousand Mountain Range, doing nothing else, just to concoct a cleansing elixir.

"You do have a point," Zhou Jingpeng nodded, realizing he had been too single-minded. One knows their own child best.

Almost at once, a look of wild joy appeared on Zhou Jingpeng’s face.

"Haha! So you mean that brute wanted to send his son here all along, but was too embarrassed to ask?"

Xiao Yang nodded.

He truly believed so. When he first met Meng Changsheng, he sensed something odd about the boy. After scanning him, he discovered he was one in a million—a Sword Body. Immediately, he conceived the plan of luring Meng Changsheng to Spirit Sword Peak. He had braced himself for a beating, but to his surprise, Meng Haotian, the so-called brute, only argued verbally and never laid a hand on him. This convinced Xiao Yang he was right, so he went all in.

"Hahaha! Wonderful! Since this boy is a Sword Body, I’ll take him in," Zhou Jingpeng was overjoyed. Years of longing finally fulfilled—he almost wanted to hug Xiao Yang and shower him with kisses. This disciple truly understood his master’s heart.

"So that's it?" Zhou Yan could hardly believe it. She found herself increasingly unable to see through Xiao Yang, as if a veil of mystery had descended upon him.

Seeing Zhou Jingpeng in such a good mood, Xiao Yang seized the opportunity to mention his plans.

"Master, tomorrow I want to take junior sister to North Desert City."

Since they couldn’t reach North Desert City before nightfall, he planned to set out early the next morning.

"What are you going there for?" Zhou Jingpeng did not immediately agree, but asked with suspicion.

"Senior brother opened a shop there," Zhou Yan boasted excitedly.

However, Zhou Jingpeng’s expression changed.

"Absurd! That’s not a place for you to open a shop!" North Desert City was the strongest city within three thousand miles, filled with tangled interests and dangers. One misstep could cost your life.

Seeing Zhou Jingpeng angry, Zhou Yan stuck out her tongue and dared not retort.

"Master, we may not open a shop. If it doesn’t work, I’ll just sell it," Xiao Yang said tactfully, aware of his master’s concerns.

"You’d best sell the shop. The waters of North Desert City run deep," Zhou Jingpeng said, then fell silent. He knew his disciple well—once Xiao Yang set his mind on something, he was as stubborn as a mule, impossible to sway.

"Go and come back early. Be careful," he said, picking up Meng Changsheng and heading to his own room.

"Master, I understand! We’ll be extremely cautious."

"Wake up!" Xiao Yang kicked Chicken Tyrant.

But Chicken Tyrant merely wriggled his backside and found another spot to sleep.

"Aren’t you supposed to be a rooster? Can’t you show some professional integrity?" Xiao Yang grabbed him by the neck.

Almost simultaneously, Chicken Tyrant woke up, eyes full of confusion. Seeing this, Xiao Yang was exasperated. This chicken was toxic. He had assumed, as a big rooster, Chicken Tyrant would crow at dawn, so he could sleep soundly. But when he woke, the sun was high and Chicken Tyrant was still sleeping.

"Cluck cluck!" Chicken Tyrant clucked in bewilderment.

Xiao Yang rolled his eyes and ignored him. Who would have thought a rooster wouldn’t crow? Useless.

"Come with me," he said, tossing Chicken Tyrant to the ground, then went to call Zhou Yan.

But just as he reached the door, he heard movement from the kitchen. Turning, he saw a young girl in an apron, carrying two plates and smiling at him.

"Senior brother, you’re awake. I made fried dough sticks and porridge."

He was stunned. He’d always cooked; both she and the one inside only ever ate. This was truly unusual. But he didn’t think much of it—having food was always better, especially when he didn’t have to cook.

He went to the living room, hauled out a table, and took the plates from Zhou Yan. Then he went to ladle porridge, while Zhou Yan called the others.

"Father, breakfast is ready!"

Almost at the same time, Zhou Jingpeng opened his door and came out. It seemed he had been awake, just waiting for Zhou Yan to call him.

"Mm," he nodded, then found a seat.

At that moment, another person emerged from the side room, his face bearing a distinct handprint—none other than Meng Changsheng. Having been knocked out by Xiao Yang the previous day, he hadn’t eaten all day. Now his stomach growled loudly, and even Chicken Tyrant looked delicious to him.