# Chapter 98: I Am No Genius
Playing at mazes with Zhao Lang was no good choice, especially when the maze was shifting and reshaping in real time under the opponent's control.
Jiang Wang simply vaulted up and landed upon the stone wall.
What greeted him was a flame bullet hurtling toward him with a shriek.
Jiang Wang rolled in midair, his foot brushing the stone wall lightly, then drove straight in with his sword.
The vines that had crept unnoticed onto the wall suddenly burst forth, winding around his ankle.
A sweep of sword-light severed the vines, but in the same breath Jiang Wang could only sidestep, widening the distance between himself and Zhao Lang.
Wind blades, long in the making, came one after another, splitting the air with their whistle.
This bout between the two was a dazzling exchange, each side giving as good as it got, drawing exclamations of wonder from the soldiers watching on the sidelines.
For one thing, they set aside their contempt for the Dao Academy's disciples. For another, they gained a new respect for Zhao Lang himself.
Jiang Wang had by now set aside the Dao arts altogether. In his understanding and use of Dao arts, he was far behind Zhao Lang, with almost no room to play—he had been forcibly cut off time and again. So he simply poured all his focus into honing his swordsmanship.
No longer bound by the five killing methods, he broke apart the Purple Qi from the East Sword Art and gradually breathed it into every strike. In time, every cut could dissolve into a killing method, and every killing method could twist freely into any other.
Every single sword-stroke was the Purple Qi from the East Sword Art.
The process was arduous and long, and it was fortunate that Zhao Lang intended to see it through. His Dao arts were deft indeed, yet he never dealt the finishing blow, only pressing Jiang Wang forward, forcing him to grow.
Every time Jiang Wang's swordsmanship smoothed a little further, Zhao Lang raised the power of his Dao arts in kind. Compared with the battle power Zhao Lang had so far shown, this degree of control was the truly terrifying thing.
At last, Jiang Wang turned and leapt out of the ring, and offered Zhao Lang a deep bow.
"I thank Brother Zhao for his favor!"
The sword was in his hand now, and the sword was complete.
At any moment he could strike, and every strike was a killing method.
"What's there to thank?" Zhao Lang laughed. "In the future, who knows, we might be brothers-in-arms."
He was truly a talent fit to help Wei Yan manage the camp: in a single bout he had both bestowed a favor and educated his subordinates, all the while remembering to recruit.
There was, of course, no need to argue over the victory or defeat.
The foot soldiers on the field were gleefully egging him on. "That's right! With skill like yours, brother, skip the Prefecture Academy and come join our barracks! We're all spirited men here!"
What a thing to say. A spirited man was dashing and bold, sure, but was there any real appeal in that? The City Academy had no famous senior sisters, but it was said the Prefecture Academy was thick with beautiful female cultivators.
In his heart he had already refused these men without hesitation; on his face, however, he parried warmly. "The Prefecture Academy examination is still far off. I'll decide then."
Today's trip to the city garrison camp could be said to have yielded a full harvest. Having agreed with Zhao Lang to come seek his instruction again when he was free, Jiang Wang left with Tang Dun.
...
The soldiers dispersed one by one. Zhao Lang lingered a while, then saw Wei Yan approaching, hand on his blade.
"All style, no substance," Wei Yan sneered.
Zhao Lang gave a wry smile. "If I could breach realms as easily as you, I wouldn't have thrown my time into all this. I spent so much effort on the minor Zhou Heavenly circulation, and still couldn't build it to perfection. When I finally completed the major Zhou Heavenly circulation, progress has been slow, and the Gate of Heaven and Earth remains out of sight. The army is a place that needs battle power so desperately—if I don't polish my Dao arts, what else is there to do?"
He spoke simply, and his expression was plain.
But to reach his level of mastery over nearly every common low-grade Dao art—how much sweat had it cost?
Now he could stand tall as the deputy general of the Fenglin City garrison, side by side with Wei Yan, accepting his subordinates' reverence with ease.
What he had crossed was not merely the distance between an ordinary man and a genius.
Nor was what he had paid the hardship any ordinary person could imagine.
The entire Fenglin City garrison had one commanding general, two adjunct generals, and five deputy generals. These eight were the high command, and both Wei Yan and Zhao Lang were among them.
"Your problem is that you think too much of others and too little of yourself."
"Enough of me." Zhao Lang changed the subject. "And you? You've already opened the Gate of Heaven and Earth. When are you going to Jiujiang?"
Wei Yan's face darkened. "My transfer order didn't pass."
Zhao Lang naturally knew the reason, so he did not press for an explanation. Instead, he patted Wei Yan on the shoulder. "You no longer need to prove yourself in a place like that. Actually, the road in the White Feather Army is broader, and it's right in the capital region. You're no inferior to Zhu Weiwo—any day now that General Huangfu might take notice of you."
"Ha. As long as I cannot spread my wings and show my plumage, as long as I cannot break free from this stranglehold, I will never surpass Zhu Weiwo."
Zhao Lang noticed that the knuckles of Wei Yan's hand around his blade had gone white—the mark of too much force.
"He always thinks he's right, and never considers anyone else's feelings. If not for my mother..." Wei Yan stopped there.
Zhao Lang was silent for a while, letting Wei Yan steady his own emotions, then said, "Or perhaps he cares about you too, and simply doesn't know how to say it."
"Ha." Wei Yan sneered. "You don't understand him at all. You don't understand me either."
Zhao Lang fell silent.
"You think he's atoning? You think he feels guilty? You're too naive!" Wei Yan pressed the blade and walked away.
Zhao Lang watched his retreating figure and did not follow.
...
The cloud crane fluttered in, a round white jade clamped in its beak.
Jiang An'an grabbed it, and the crane dissolved into a sheet of letter paper, the jade settling in her palm.
"For you!" Jiang An'an used the little hand holding the jade to half-hide her eyes, and held out the paper with the other. "An'an didn't peek, not at all."
Jiang Wang reached out and flicked her nose. "Little trickster."
He spread open the paper.
*Daoist Jiang:*
*Who can be without doubt? The title of teacher-in-one-line does not befit me. The path of cultivation is long, and even Blue Rain walks it as one still beset by doubt.*
*Please give my regards to your younger sister. The cloud crane bears a recording stone—I wish for the sound of a child's voice.*
*Also, what place is "beneath the maples"?*
*— Blue Rain Above the Clouds.*
"This jade is for you to speak into for the sister who wrote the letter." After reading, Jiang Wang took the white recording stone, fed a mote of Dao essence into it, and handed it back to An'an. "Now when you speak into it, your voice and your appearance will be preserved, and the mistress of the crane will see them."
"Really?" Jiang An'an's eyes went wide.
Suddenly a white screen of light sprang from the recording stone, and on the screen a pretty little girl stared wide-eyed. "Really?"
It had reproduced Jiang An'an's likeness completely.
"How miraculous!"
A moment later—"How miraculous!"
"It's recording now, An'an. Mind how you speak," Jiang Wang reminded her from beside.
"It's recording now, An'an. Mind how you speak."
The recording stone echoed back the very words, sending Jiang An'an into a fit of giggles.
Once she had laughed her fill, she raised her chin, thought it over seriously, then said to the recording stone, "Sister, can you use this stone to talk to me? An'an wants to see what you look like!"
When she finished, she handed the recording stone back to Jiang Wang.
Only after Jiang Wang had closed the recording stone and the white screen vanished did she whisper, "I—said—everything—now."
Jiang Wang's smile vanished at once. "Then go do your studies. Trying to sneak out of them again!"
He hurried An'an off, thought a moment, then picked up his brush and wrote his reply on cloud letter paper:
*Daoist Ye:*
*Fenglin City is my hometown, and the maple grove beyond the walls is beautiful beyond words.*
*Come autumn, the maples blaze redder than fire. Words cannot capture it; meaning cannot exhaust it.*
*You dwell in the land above the clouds; I live in the city beneath the maples.*
*"Beneath the maples" is just that.*
*I return the recording stone with this letter. My young sister is still small and clumsy—do not hold it against her.*
*— Little Jiang Beneath the Maples.*