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“This is a simple sword technique taught to me by a Taoist priest I met in my younger days,” Zhao Dahu said. “In the martial arts world, it’s considered third-rate. But don’t underestimate it just because of that. Even a third-rate technique can have its strengths. Some of these so-called ‘lesser’ manuals are still worthy of being archived in the great sects’ libraries.”
He carefully handed the booklet to Lu Sheng. “Take it and read through it first. There are detailed illustrations of each posture. Try practicing on your own. If, after going through it, you truly want to learn it—come find me. But whether you decide to practice or not, make sure to return this book.”
“Okay!” Lu Sheng replied earnestly. He knew this must be Zhao Dahu’s most treasured technique. For him to hand it over so casually meant a great deal—but it didn’t mean the sword art could be mastered just by reading. Martial arts required precision. There were many subtle movements that couldn’t be fully captured in a manual.
“Thank you, Uncle Zhao!” Lu Sheng accepted the booklet wit h both hands.
Back in his room, he closed the door, lit a candlestick, and began studying the manual—The Black Tiger Saber Technique.
Despite its name, the technique consisted of only three moves. All three were purely offensive. There was no defense, no dodging—only attack.
The first move was Tiger's Wrath.
The second move was Tiger's Might.
The third move was Tiger's Roar.
Each move followed a different sword trajectory, generating varying effects through force and speed.
Lu Sheng quickly grasped the overall concept. Though the forms were simple, their power came from mastery. Execution depended on strength, speed, and the body’s internal coordination.
To that end, the manual also included a set of training methods—a Heart Method—guiding how to harmonize daily life, physical conditioning, and mental focus to unlock the full potential of the technique.
The so-called Heart Method was not about physical movement—it was a method to refine and adjust the spirit and the heart.
The external saber moves were for training the body, while the Heart Method focused inward, shaping the mind and soul. Only when both were cultivated together could one reach the level where spirit, energy, and intent merged into a single, unified force.
The Black Tiger Heart Method was divided into three stages—first level, second level, and third level. There were no grand names, just straightforward progression.
According to the manual, once the Heart Method had been cultivated and the external techniques practiced to proficiency, the Black Tiger Saber Technique would be considered complete.
Lu Sheng gently closed the booklet.
He sat silently at the table for a long time, methodically reviewing everything he had read. In his mind, he repeated each step, each challenge, and each movement of the Black Tiger Saber Technique. He committed it all to memory, over and over again.
Then, quietly, he recited in his heart:
“Deep Blue.”
Instantly, the familiar interface of the Deep Blue Skill Modifier appeared before him once more.
Within the glowing blue frame were rows of small grids. In the first row, first column, his current status was displayed:
Lu Sheng –
Martial Arts:
Black Tiger Saber Technique: Not yet started.
Only one martial art was listed—the Black Tiger Saber Technique he had just finished reading.
“Sure enough… it’s not an illusion!”
Lu Sheng’s body went rigid—not with fear, but with barely contained excitement.
This world was far too dangerous.
He had never wanted to get involved. His plan had been simple: lay low, survive quietly, and avoid trouble. But now, it felt as though he had been dropped into a den of snakes, each more venomous than the last. At any moment, one might strike. If he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t even be a named character—just another forgotten victim in someone else’s ghost story.
“But now, at least there’s a glimmer of hope… If this modifier really works…”
He forced himself to stay calm, suppressing the surge of excitement bubbling in his chest. Slowly, he began to recall the function of the cheat he had once written.
The Deep Blue Modifier had only one ability: it could modify the martial arts skills the player had already learned.
It couldn’t touch attributes like blood, strength, speed, or internal force. It didn’t deal with messy numbers or secondary stats.
What it could do—was change the realm of any martial art that had already been acquired. It could instantly elevate a skill to the level of mastery, or even perfection.
“I see that the only thing in the grid right now is the Black Tiger Saber Technique… so how do I begin modifying it?”
With that thought, Lu Sheng leaned in closer and began to carefully explore the interface.
Now, it was no longer just a game mechanic.
It might be the key to his survival.
He sat alone in his bedroom, fingers unconsciously flipping through the booklet, though his mind was entirely focused on the Deep Blue Modifier floating in his consciousness.
Lu Sheng carefully examined the interface, going over it again and again. Eventually, he noticed a tiny button at the bottom of the screen.
It was labeled: Start Modification.
“That’s it.”
With a thought, Lu Sheng imagined his finger pressing firmly down on the button.
In an instant, the entire Deep Blue interface flashed.
A strange sensation swept over him—he suddenly felt as though he had complete control over everything on the modifier. It was an odd, almost unreal feeling, but Lu Sheng didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he immediately focused his attention on the Black Tiger Saber Technique.
Its current status still displayed Not yet started. But the moment his mind locked onto it, the status changed—
Entry level.
Lu Sheng’s eyes lit up. Hope surged in his chest. He concentrated harder.
The display shifted again—
First level.
Then—
Second level.
And then—
Third level.
“It’s done!” Lu Sheng’s heart leapt. The modifier worked. It really worked.
He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when the status suddenly jumped once more—
Fourth level!!
The Black Tiger Saber Technique had actually advanced to a mysterious fourth level.
Boom!!
A deafening roar exploded in his mind. Pain slammed into him like a thunderclap. His body convulsed violently, as if struck by lightning. He collapsed forward onto the table, gasping for air, his chest heaving.
After a long moment, he managed to prop himself up, trembling.
There was something wet under his nose. A sharp, metallic tang filled his senses.
He touched it—dark red blood.
His vision blurred. Pain pulsed through every nerve. Even moving felt like a monumental task.
He raised his hand weakly. The skin on the back of his hand had gone pale. His eyes couldn’t stay open. Sleep tugged at him like a tide.
“This is… a sign of severe Qi and blood deficiency…” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t trained in medicine, but he knew enough to recognize the symptoms.
He had pushed his body too far, too fast.
Shakily, he sat up and gathered the booklet, placing it carefully to one side. Then, without even changing clothes, he dragged himself onto the bed and lay down.
“Qiao’er!” he called hoarsely.
“Master? What do you need?” came Xiao Qiao’s gentle voice from outside the door.
“Go… make me some red date and millet porridge. Add ginseng. The old one…” Lu Sheng said weakly.
That—was the privilege of being a wealthy young master.
For ordinary people, even common ginseng was a life-saving medicine, rarely touched unless absolutely necessary. But Lu Sheng could ask for aged ginseng just to replenish his Qi, without a second thought.
And right now, he needed every bit of strength he could get.
Xiao Qiao responded immediately and hurried off to the kitchen to prepare the porridge.
Lu Sheng lay flat on the bed, trying to steady his breathing. But even after a long rest, his vision remained dim, his limbs heavy and weak. His body felt like it had been completely drained.
And yet—there was something different.
He slowly raised his hand, and a wave of astonishment washed over him. From the center of his palm, a strange familiarity bloomed—like the practiced memory of years spent wielding a saber. It surged up his arm and into his mind.
The three moves of the Black Tiger Saber Technique, along with its three levels of depth—he somehow knew them all. He couldn’t even tell when it happened.
Not only the moves themselves, but the deeper meanings hidden within each one—their variations, applications, and layered techniques—all of it had become clear.
Even how the Heart Method coordinated with the saber techniques—the breathing rhythms, the mental states, the progression through stages—he understood it all, thoroughly and instinctively.
“It really worked!?” Lu Sheng murmured, closing his eyes as joy rose in his chest.
The experiment was a success.
It had cost him a heavy toll—his blood, his energy, his vitality—but in return, he had gained mastery of the Black Tiger Saber Technique.
“But… the Black Tiger Saber only had three levels. Where did the fourth level come from?”
That part puzzled him.
And yet, the more he examined this mysterious fourth level, the more familiar it felt—eerily so. It was as if the technique hadn’t come from the manual at all.
It was as if… he had created it himself.
The concepts embedded within it didn’t resemble the logic of this world. Rather, they reflected a synthesis of modern thinking: biomechanics, structure, motion. Ideas rooted in engineering and physics.
He might have only been a civil servant in his past life, but he had taken college courses in engineering mechanics and human kinetics. Somehow, those dormant ideas had fused into the saber technique through the modifier.
Before he could think further, Xiao Qiao returned, knocking gently at the door.
“It just so happened that I made blood-replenishing porridge for Third Young Lady,” she said softly from outside. “It’s mainly red dates. Third Young Lady didn’t want it, so I brought it to you first. This is lily and red date soup—it calms the mind and replenishes the blood. I also added some ginseng. Do you want it, young master?”
Her voice was gentle and cautious, but full of concern.
Lu Sheng gave a weak smile.
He really was lucky to have people like this around him right now.
“Bring it in,” Lu Sheng said softly.
Xiao Qiao gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. But the moment she entered, her eyes landed on a faint smear of blood on Lu Sheng’s collar.
“Young Master… y-you… what happened?!” she cried out in shock, nearly dropping the bowl of porridge in her hands.
Lu Sheng gave her a wry smile.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine? You’re bleeding!” Xiao Qiao’s face turned pale with fear.
“Really, I’m okay…” Lu Sheng replied, his tone helpless.
Xiao Qiao rushed forward and carefully handed him the steaming porridge.
“Here, Young Master. Drink this while it’s hot.”
With her help, Lu Sheng ate the porridge spoonful by spoonful. The warmth soothed him from the inside out, and gradually, he began to feel a little more human again.
As he rested, he carefully combed through the knowledge and experience of the Black Tiger Saber Technique now lodged in his mind.
It was strange—this wasn’t just memorization. The techniques felt like they had always been a part of him. No matter how complicated the forms or the principles, he could understand them with ease. Even his body seemed to know how to move.
If he weren’t in such a weakened state, he would’ve gone straight to the training ground to try them out.
After he finished eating, Xiao Qiao quickly excused herself and went to fetch the family doctor. She was still deeply worried about Lu Sheng’s condition.
The Lu family had its own resident physician—an elderly man with a thin frame and a wispy goatee. He arrived not long after, carrying a large medicine box over his shoulder.
He sat down beside Lu Sheng’s bed, checked his pulse carefully, and soon, his expression eased.
“Nothing serious. Just a case of depleted qi and blood, along with extreme mental fatigue,” the old doctor said. “A few days of rest and nourishing medicine, and he’ll be fine.”
He pulled out a brush, quickly wrote a prescription, and handed it to Xiao Qiao.
“Boil this twice a day. Give it to the Young Master for ten days, and he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Lu Sheng nodded in relief. The diagnosis matched exactly what he had suspected.
Not long after, Lu Quan’an arrived, accompanied by Lu Sheng’s second and third mothers.
“What happened?” Lu Fang asked anxiously as they entered the room.
Lu Sheng’s birth mother had passed away from illness when he was very young. Since then, it was his second mother, Liu Cuiyu, who had raised him. Gentle and kind-hearted, she had always treated him like her own.
Lu Sheng gave them a reassuring smile.
“It’s nothing serious. I just overexerted myself practicing martial arts,” he explained, one by one, to ease their concerns.
As the eldest son of the Lu family and heir to the household, any hint of trouble with him would naturally send the whole family into motion.
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