Chapter Eighteen: Transformation or Possession

Tan Qiuyi glanced at her son, feeling both comforted and sorrowful. Her son had grown sensible, which was a good thing. She didn’t insist on discussing the sale of their house, deciding instead to handle it herself so her children wouldn’t have to worry.

All that talk about hiding his true abilities to surprise the family, his teachers, and classmates—such words might fool others, but not herself. How could she not know her own child’s situation? Though she pretended not to care much about Xiao Nan’s academic performance, she still secretly called his teachers.

According to his homeroom teacher, Yang Yankun, the boy was born physically frail; pursuing martial cultivation would be more difficult for him than for others. As for the martial arts teacher, Mr. Tang, he had said Xiao Nan lacked coordination—learning sword techniques would cost much effort with little result. And those were the kinder words.

There was little she did not know; she simply chose not to voice it, afraid of crushing her child’s self-confidence. Since childhood, Xiao Nan had been timid and lacking in confidence. If he realized his own family had little faith in him, how could he ever improve?

Yet, as parents, no matter how poorly a child does in school, hope still lingers in the heart. There is still time, perhaps things will change. With more support and resources, maybe things could get better.

After a fine meal, feeling the warmth and fullness spread in his belly, Xiao Nan let out a long sigh. He knew he could not delay in improving his abilities. Whether for his family’s expectations or his own future, he could not afford to fail the college entrance exam this time.

For reasons unknown, in the short time of a single meal, he had already fully integrated into this family, accepting his mother and sister. The blood and storm of his previous life seemed to be fading away.

Tan Qiuyi and Xiao Bei went to the pharmacy, needing to spend the afternoon crafting medicinal pills for business. This was their family’s livelihood—it could not be neglected. Since it was the weekend, the little girl also had to help. Tan Qiuyi’s approach to parenting was quite progressive; she didn’t spoil her children, and paid much attention to nurturing their practical skills and independence. Of course, this was also because the family was busy and she couldn’t manage alone.

Xiao Nan, however, was told to stay home, the intention being to let him focus on his studies and physical cultivation. It was already April, the blossoms nearly fallen, the weather warming. Only a month or two remained before the entrance exams, with the division tests for arts and martial studies just ahead. He had no time to waste.

He left the yard and paced the street back and forth, carefully sensing his surroundings. Finding no signs of danger, he relaxed. At home earlier, worry had weighed on his heart. Gu Junwu from the Special Affairs Bureau had tracked him down at the hospital and used a mental secret art to probe his memories, stooping to despicable means. Such things could not be taken lightly.

Although he was a victim in the blood ritual matter, and no one had seen him acquire the golden light orb, to certain people, evidence hardly mattered. If they couldn’t find answers with Zhang Yi and grew desperate, they might lash out blindly in all directions. For now, most attention remained on Zhang Yi. His strength was great; others couldn’t easily take action against him, only probe, investigate, or strike from the shadows. Having such a prominent target up front bought much time.

As for what happened at the hospital, that might have been an exception. The hypnosis and mind-probing directed at Xiao Nan were likely Gu Junwu’s own decision, a shot in the dark just to see what he might find—picking the softer target first. Gu Junwu’s thinking was that even if nothing came of it, at least he could eliminate one suspect. After all, Xiao Nan was just a high schooler with no background; even if he made a mistake, there would be little consequence.

In the end, he ran into trouble and was seriously injured. For now, he would not be causing any more problems. As for others, like Ouyang Zheng and the City Guard personnel, Xiao Nan was less concerned. After Qin Shuang intervened at the hospital and news of Gu Junwu’s injury spread, many things came to light. The relationship between the Xiao and Qin families, and the old engagement, had faded into obscurity over time and was not widely known. But a thorough investigation would soon uncover it all, and they would realize that dealing with the Xiao family was no simple matter.

The absence of surveillance or abductions was already the best outcome. Of course, Xiao Nan didn’t expect the matter to end here; he only hoped the opposition would not come after him before he became strong enough to protect himself.

Closing the gate, Xiao Nan returned to his room, calmed his thoughts, and entered the misty space behind his birthmark. He was already impatient.

What met his eyes was a pool of shimmering water, its surface rippling with shifting human figures, indistinct and familiar. The images were unclear, but Xiao Nan guessed they were people and events from his memories.

Perhaps he lacked the necessary energy, strength, or access. He tried to delve deeper, but with no progress, set it aside for now.

At the center of the plaza, above a patch of mist, stood a small figure endlessly practicing with a sword, tireless and content.

“This little girl, doesn’t she ever get tired of waving that sword?” Xiao Nan found it amusing. Then he thought again: his sister’s image was conjured by the bronze mirror’s space; it was no wonder. Since it was a mirror, the image was an illusion—how could it feel fatigue?

The image of Xiao Bei was lifelike, every twitch of her eyebrows rendered in detail, the slight upward curve of her lips vivid, the wooden sword stirring the air into swirling currents, tracing patterns through the mist.

What was most peculiar was the faint golden light surrounding her.

Golden light?

Xiao Nan started, glancing down at his own image. He found the golden lines that had once circled him had already faded by half.

“So that’s it. The bronze mirror consumes energy to create my sister’s image,” Xiao Nan realized. He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad, feeling a touch of reluctance. But since it had happened, there was nothing to be done except observe what wonders his sister’s image held.

He reached out two fingers, carefully touching her shoulder through a gap in the sword’s arc.

There was a splash, as if a stone had dropped into water. Xiao Nan’s mind spun, his perspective shifting.

He found himself holding a wooden sword, wielding it—his waist powering the movement, his footwork tracing a circle. Then a force traveled from his waist to his elbow, through his wrist to his fingers, the sword tip gliding as fine as silk.

There was an ineffable ease and grace.

“Slanting Rain, Green Silk—these are the two sword forms I’m practicing,” he thought.

“No, not me—it's the little girl.”

To his astonishment, Xiao Nan discovered his body had shrunk, his hands plump with dimples between the fingers. On his chest, two small buns pressed tight against his clothes—uncomfortable. The space between his legs was empty, but that wasn’t all bad; with less burden, his body felt much more agile.

Indeed, that so-called manual being the world’s fastest martial art was not without reason.

Had he transformed? Or possessed another body?

Xiao Nan’s mind was a tangled mess for several seconds before he regained his composure.

What was this? Touch his sister’s image and immediately possess it, experiencing the mysteries of the sword?

It wasn’t that simple.

He felt the air brushing against the wooden blade, his heart moving with intention, the sword following his thoughts, his arm and the sword as one. He had the illusion that this was not a sword, but his own flesh and blood.

On the sword’s edge, he could sense clearly the eddying currents of the air.

“This is sword affinity—the ability to sense the movement of air,” Xiao Nan realized.

That was why, even with no power or speed, his little sister’s casual practice was so effortless and natural, every motion fluid and precise. She was born with an extraordinary affinity for the sword.

Any sword, in her hands, was like an extension of her own body—no adaptation required. Coupled with her sensitivity to the flow of air, she could grasp the essence of every move.

In such circumstances, any technique she practiced became second nature, mastered with ease.