Chapter 138: THE CRIPPLE CAN RAISE A SWORD (1)

After finishing the warm bowl of spirit mushroom congee and honeyed jujubes prepared by Anyu, the lingering fatigue in Li Yan’s limbs had thoroughly vanished.

Every drop of the soup seemed to turn into pure vitality, seamlessly integrating with the newly forged iron marrow within his bones.

Li Yan walked into the inner chamber to change out of the medicinal linen. He slipped into a clean, refined outer robe of pale cyan spirit silk. Standing before the bronze mirror, he gathered his long, ink-black hair into a neat topknot and secured it with the aged spirit peach-wood hairpin.

The translucent pale-blue jade bead rested against the obsidian strands, quietly glowing with a tranquil, soothing luster.

Smoothing down his sleeves, Li Yan could feel the solid density hidden beneath his fair skin. Eight hundred catties of pure physical brute force rested quietly within his sinews, ready to erupt at a moment’s notice.

Straightening his posture, Li Yan bid farewell to his master and Senior Brother Anyu, then pushed open the heavy wooden gates of the courtyard.

The morning sun had barely climbed higher into the sky, its golden rays burning through the lingering mountain mist.

"Yanyan!"

A hurried, anxious shout rang out almost immediately.

From beneath the shade of an ancient spirit cypress tree by the stone steps, a tall figure practically lunged forward.

Gu Jun looked as though he had been pacing outside the gate for hours, his knuckles clenched white around the hilt of his broadsword. His brow was knitted so tightly it could crush an iron nail, and his dark eyes were burning with anxious, protective fury.

"You’re finally out! How do you feel? Does your body still ache? Are your meridians hurting?" Gu Jun hovered around him, his hands reaching out to check Li Yan’s shoulders, wanting to inspect him yet terrified of aggravating whatever injuries he thought Li Yan possessed.

Li Yan looked at the large, fretting youth and couldn’t help letting out a soft sigh.

"Do I look like someone about to collapse?"

Gu Jun paused, finally taking a proper look.

The youth standing before him had radiant, glowing skin that looked like flawless mutton-fat jade bathed in morning light. His phoenix eyes were clear and sharp, his breathing steady as a mountain, and his steps carried an unprecedented, grounded firmness.

There was not a trace of the sickly, feverish pallor from yesterday.

"You... you really look fine," Gu Jun breathed a massive sigh of relief, the suffocating boulder on his chest finally rolling away. "Good. Heavens be praised. Those bastards in the Outer Sect have been running their mouths since dawn, talking as if your foundation was completely ruined and you were bedridden for life! If Elder Fu’s boundary wasn’t blocking the gate, I would have dragged every single one of those gossiping dogs by their collars and beaten their teeth out!"

Before Li Yan could respond, the hurried patter of light footsteps sounded from the winding stone pathway.

A small, breathless figure emerged through the thinning mist, running so fast she nearly tripped over the hem of her plain gray outer-disciple skirt.

It was Baozi.

Her round cheeks were flushed bright red from the sprint, her forehead covered in fine beads of sweat. In her hands, she clutched a small wooden slate with a charcoal stylus tied to it.

The moment her large, doe-like eyes locked onto Li Yan standing tall and uninjured beneath the cypress tree, she froze in her tracks.

She did not wait to catch her breath. Dropping the slate into her sleeve, she quickly raised both hands, her fingers moving in rapid, frantic gestures—pointing at her own chest, spreading her palms, and mimicking the cracking of bone—her expression filled with frantic terror.

When words finally tore from her throat, they carried the slightly flat, strained cadence of someone who could not hear the sound of her own voice: "Brother... Li... body... hurt? Medicine... no good?"

Seeing her reddened eyes and the tears clinging to her eyelashes, the faint frost in Li Yan’s expression softened into quiet warmth.

Because she could not hear, she was far more sensitive to the shifting moods and sneers of the disciples around her. She must have seen the malicious jeers, the mocking gestures of disciples pointing toward Fu Hanzheng’s residence, and the vicious words scrawled on the public notice boards.

Li Yan stepped forward, crouching down slightly so his face was at eye level with hers. He looked directly into her eyes, enunciating each word slowly and clearly so she could easily read his lips:

"I am fine. Not hurt."

To emphasize, Li Yan raised his arm and lightly patted his own shoulder, shaking his head with a gentle smile.

Baozi watched the shape of his lips intently. As the meaning settled in, the overwhelming terror that had gripped her all morning collapsed into pure relief.

A loud, trembling sob escaped her throat. She wiped her nose with her rough sleeve, nodding her head vigorously like a chick pecking at grain.

She reached into the wide sleeve of her robe and withdrew a small, carefully wrapped cloth bundle. Unfolding the rough cotton with trembling fingers, she revealed an exquisite spirit sachet sewn from dark blue silk. The sachet was embroidered with delicate white plum blossoms and an ancient, protective warding script. The stitching was painstaking and neat, every thread pulled taut with obvious care.

Baozi held it out with both hands, gesturing toward her own heart and then toward Li Yan, her voice soft and halting: "For... Brother Li. Keep... safe."

Li Yan looked down at the sachet.

The silk was common, and the herbs inside were only ordinary mortal-tier medicinal plants, but the devotion and warmth woven into every stitch were unmistakable.

Li Yan took the sachet from her hands and tied it directly onto the right side of his sash, right beside his outer disciple jade token.

Facing her, Li Yan smiled warmly, his phoenix eyes curving into bright crescents as he mouthed: "It looks very nice. Thank you, Baozi."

Baozi watched his lips form the praise, and her small face lit up with pure, radiant joy, her round cheeks dimpling as she wiped away her remaining tears.

Gu Jun, seeing Li Yan in good spirits and unbothered by the external noise, grinned broadly and scratched his jaw.

"Since Yanyan is fine, where are you headed this morning? Elder Mo mentioned that all new disciples must attend their assigned foundational departments before midday."

"The Sword Techniques Department," Li Yan replied calmly, turning his gaze toward the western mountain trail. "The morning foundational lecture has just begun."

The Sword Techniques Department was located at the western foot of the Nine Peaks, centered around a vast, open plaza paved with thick, grayish-black granite.

By the time Li Yan, Gu Jun, and Baozi arrived, several dozen disciples had already gathered across the square. Most were newly admitted outer disciples, though a few senior outer disciples and passing inner sect youths were lingering along the perimeter, chatting casually in the morning sun.

The moment Li Yan stepped onto the plaza, the bustling chatter in the courtyard died down significantly.

Countless gazes snapped toward him, filled with intense curiosity, undisguised scrutiny, and gloating schadenfreude.

"Look, he actually showed up..."

"Is that Li Yan? He really doesn’t look like someone who nearly died, but look—there isn’t a single fluctuation of spiritual Qi around his body!"