I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 5
Changkong Zhuoyu held Li Xinglun’s dagger, shaved a tree branch into the shape of a longsword, and twirled it through the air in a flourish — looking rather dashing.
Seeing Li Xinglun staring at him speechlessly, Changkong Zhuoyu explained, “The trees in this gorge have been nourished by divine power for thousands of years. Don’t be fooled by their ordinary appearance — they can withstand divine power better than the finest magic treasures of the cultivation world.”
“What are you planning to do with that wooden sword?” Li Xinglun asked.
He was worried about Changkong Zhuoyu, afraid he’d really foolishly try to absorb the divine power. Once someone cultivated divine power, they could never survive in the cultivation world again.
“If you really know how to cultivate divine power, just teach me,” Li Xinglun finally said. He hadn’t meant to say this — he was a man bent on revenge, how could he sacrifice himself for another? But for some reason, the moment he saw Changkong Zhuoyu’s silly face, he felt that if someone had to do it, better himself than him. After all, he was smarter and might figure out a way out.
“No need,” Changkong Zhuoyu replied. Holding the wooden sword, his demeanor suddenly grew grim. “The moment I held this sword just now, a technique surfaced in my mind — repay in kind, as they say.”
Then he swung the longsword in the air, very slowly. Every movement was clearly visible, simple strikes: chop, thrust, lift, sweep, intercept, hook, point — repeating these basic moves again and again.
There were many sword masters in the cultivation world, but true sword cultivators were rare. To most, the sword was just a weapon; to a sword cultivator, it was the path itself. Li Xinglun also used a sword, and the moves Changkong Zhuoyu kept repeating were familiar — basic sword stances, not even full techniques. All sword techniques were built from these stances combined with body movement. Now, though, Changkong Zhuoyu looked just like a beginner, clumsy, making frequent mistakes, his posture far from correct.
But Li Xinglun didn’t correct him, because he could see that each time Changkong Zhuoyu repeated the stances, the mistakes lessened, the movements grew smoother. It seemed he was slowly recalling how to wield a sword. With each cycle, he became faster.
Changkong Zhuoyu needed no teacher, no correction. Just by going through it once, he could figure out his errors — something no novice could do.
By the tenth time, his posture was perfect. What he was using by then were no longer basic stances, but dazzling sword techniques.
Li Xinglun had never seen such exquisite swordplay, nor such a Changkong Zhuoyu.
All this time he’d known him, Changkong Zhuoyu appeared outwardly elegant and ethereal, but was actually silly and clueless, often doing things that left Li Xinglun at a loss. But now, he radiated a chilling, murderous air with a scent of blood. The bloody murderous energy swirling around him wasn’t an illusion — it seemed he truly had countless lives on his hands.
Li Xinglun’s feelings grew complicated. Changkong Zhuoyu had always claimed to be some great figure with many subordinates, but Li Xinglun never took it seriously. Even if someone lost their memory, their nature wouldn’t change much. Such a daft, naïve man surely was just a reclusive cultivator before — powerful perhaps, but pure-hearted, never having killed, always looking mournful and compassionate.
But now, this Changkong Zhuoyu overturned everything Li Xinglun thought he knew. Even without his true essence, his presence alone revealed he was no ordinary man.
By the tenth time, Changkong Zhuoyu’s sword was already too fast for Li Xinglun to follow. By the eleventh, the wooden sword became a blur, leaving only traces in the air. By the twelfth, wherever the sword wind touched, grass and trees were shredded to powder.
By the thirteenth, an invisible pressure filled the air, gathering around the wooden sword.
That plain wooden sword now seemed to be surrounded by swirling currents — but there was no spiritual energy of heaven and earth here, only the divine power left from the great battle of gods eons ago. Could it be that the sword was stirring the divine power?
By the fourteenth, Changkong Zhuoyu’s sword slowed again, but his moves became strange — clearly visible yet somehow indistinct. When one tried to imitate them, they’d already forgotten what he’d just done.
By the fifteenth, wherever his sword shadow passed, everything was enveloped in that swirling energy, and a barrier formed around him. Li Xinglun was pushed away and couldn’t approach him at all.
By the sixteenth, a whirlwind rose from the gorge floor, the opposing currents swept up by Changkong Zhuoyu’s sword. The divine power’s pressure grew more and more terrifying, as though it realized what this audacious mortal was attempting and began gathering strength to oppose him. The creatures that had grown here nourished by the divine power were fine, able to protect themselves. But Li Xinglun, with only Foundation Building-level spiritual power, was already being forced against the cliff face, crushed almost to death, barely able to breathe, awaiting the next moment of death.
By the seventeenth, Changkong Zhuoyu soared into the air — not with lightfootwork, not by leaping, but borne aloft by the divine power itself. He flipped and flew to Li Xinglun’s side, pulling Li Xinglun into his own barrier of divine power.
Li Xinglun finally managed to breathe. After a moment, he realized with shock that his feet had left the ground. Together with Changkong Zhuoyu’s barrier, they rose toward the sky.
The sword shadows brushed past Li Xinglun again and again as Changkong Zhuoyu began his eighteenth sword dance.
Still the opening move — a simple downward chop — yet this stroke now carried the power to split mountains and rivers.
This time Changkong Zhuoyu brought Li Xinglun to the cliff wall and struck hard, the whole sword embedding deeply into the rock, impossible to pull out. The little barrier of divine power around them vanished, and they plummeted to the gorge floor. Li Xinglun was fine, not badly hurt, but Changkong Zhuoyu, having suffered backlash from the divine power, was already unconscious when he landed.
Li Xinglun saw him fall with his eyes tightly shut, yet the divine backlash still surged toward the man. Without thinking, Li Xinglun planted a foot on the cliff, sprang toward Changkong Zhuoyu, and caught him, trying to shield Changkong Zhuoyu with his own body.
But just as the divine power was about to engulf them, Changkong Zhuoyu’s eyes suddenly snapped open. He pushed Li Xinglun behind him, formed a sword with his palm, and slashed down hard in the same chopping motion.
Sword energy streaked from his palm, cleaving the oncoming divine power in two, forcing it aside and gouging the cliff wall.
Li Xinglun, shoved aside, landed quickly. As he hit the ground, he bounced up, arms outstretched, catching the drifting Changkong Zhuoyu. He spun to absorb the impact and ended up standing in the devastated gorge, still holding Changkong Zhuoyu in his arms.
“Are you alright?” Li Xinglun quickly grabbed his wrist to check his pulse, but in his panic couldn’t find it and could only ask anxiously.
Changkong Zhuoyu blinked, his long lashes casting fans of shadow across Li Xinglun’s heart.
“I’m fine,” Changkong Zhuoyu said breezily. “It wasn’t me taking the divine power.”
It was the wooden sword, still lodged in the cliff, which now finally cracked apart under the strain.
Splinters fell as the divine power barrier calmed down again.
“Miscalculation,” Changkong Zhuoyu said calmly as he jumped out of Li Xinglun’s arms. “I’d planned to split the barrier when we reached its upper limits — even just a crack would let some spiritual energy of heaven and earth in. We could use that gap to escape the Soul-Breaking Gorge.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Li Xinglun frowned slightly. That display of power just now had truly made him see hope of escaping, only to be dashed back into the gorge — anyone would feel a bit disappointed.
“Because,” Changkong Zhuoyu said matter-of-factly, “someone like me can’t leave the gorge so quietly. I should split the mountain in two with a single stroke, shatter the barrier in one go, and soar to the top. And just then, a fierce battle would be raging above — my loyal subordinates, being bullied in my absence. And at that dramatic moment, my sudden appearance would prompt a faithful subordinate to cry out my true name. And with that one phrase, I’d regain all my memories, point my sword to the heavens, cut down my enemies one by one, driving them off, and lead you out amid their tears of reunion.”
Li Xinglun: “…”
That tone of absolute certainty left him speechless.
“Ah,” Changkong Zhuoyu sighed deeply. “What a pity. I suppose I still don’t have the strength to cleave the heavens with one sword.”
“Not suppose — you really don’t,” Li Xinglun said flatly. “Just one question: did you really like listening to storytellers when you were alive? That whole scene you described sounds like something straight out of a teahouse story.”
“Eh? Could it be I was actually a hidden master posing as a storyteller in the city?”
Li Xinglun: “...If you still have the strength, let’s try again — but this time, don’t aim to move mountains and rivers. Just pry open a little crack in the barrier, and we’ll slip through.”
“No problem! You just wait to call me Master!” Changkong Zhuoyu ran off excitedly to break off another branch and whittle it into a sword.
Li Xinglun touched his chest. That dagger he kept hidden there… had been stolen by Changkong Zhuoyu yet again!
When did he take it this time?!
~ Chapter End ~
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