Young hero, stay put and don't be reckless.

Chapter 11: Traveling Together

At noon, Jiang Xun went to the front yard to deliver lunch as usual.

As he crossed the training ground, his steps unconsciously slowed down by half a beat.

The training ground was exceptionally lively today.

A dozen or so disciples in blue robes formed a circle, with two people sparring in the middle.

One was a young man in his early twenties, with a robust build, thick eyebrows, and large eyes. He held a long sword and exuded a calm and composed aura.

The other one was younger and less skilled in swordsmanship; he was forced to retreat repeatedly after just a few moves, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Senior Brother Lin is amazing!"

"Of course, our senior brother is the strongest in our Spring Water Sect!"

The disciples watching cheered and some even clapped.

Jiang Xun stood outside the crowd, holding a food box in his hand, staring intently at the person called "Senior Brother".

The man's swordsmanship was steady and powerful, each move exuding a solid strength. It didn't seem like he was practicing martial arts; it looked like he was really fighting to the death.

What surprised Jiang Xun the most was that when he thrust out his sword, the blade trembled slightly and made a buzzing sound that could be heard clearly from several meters away.

This is the person Jiang Xun met on the first day who could make the tip of a sword emit a white light.

It turns out he was the senior disciple of the Chunshui Sect.

Jiang Xun was so engrossed in watching that he almost dropped the food box in his hand.

"Hey, food delivery guy!"

A voice suddenly interrupted him.

Jiang Xun was startled and turned around, only to see a disciple in blue robes waving at him with an impatient look on his face.

"Put the food there and hurry up, don't delay our training."

Jiang Xun responded, jogged over, put down the food box, and turned to leave.

After walking a few steps, I couldn't help but look back again—the senior brother was still practicing his sword, the sword flashing, his figure agile, like a hero from a play.

In the afternoon, Jiang Xun continued chopping wood.

He was thinking about something while chopping.

Where is the Transmission Hall? How do I get in? Once inside, how do I find the secret manuals? And once I find them, how do I learn them?

After thinking for a long time, he realized a critical problem—he didn't even know where the Transmission Pavilion was.

During dinner that evening, he took his bowl and approached Aunt Zhao, pretending to chat casually.

"Auntie, I have something to ask you."

Aunt Zhao, munching on a steamed bun, mumbled, "What is it?"

"Um... where is the Transmission Pavilion? I heard the disciples talking about it when I was delivering food today, so I'm just asking out of curiosity."

Aunt Zhao glanced at him, her eyes filled with scrutiny.

Why are you asking this?

Jiang Xun scratched his head, looking simple and honest, with a harmless smile.

"Nothing much, just curious. I heard there are a lot of martial arts manuals hidden inside, and I wanted to broaden my horizons."

Aunt Zhao smiled and shook her head.

"Open your eyes? That's not a place you can just walk into. There are disciples guarding the entrance in shifts, and no unauthorized personnel are allowed to approach."

She chewed on her steamed bun and then gestured with her chin toward the window.

"It's right behind the training ground, in that three-story building."

Jiang Xun looked in the direction she pointed—behind the martial arts arena, deep in the bamboo forest, there was indeed a small building hidden.

The blue bricks and gray tiles stand there quietly, like a silent old man.

Jiang Xun stared at the small building, and that thought popped into his mind again, impossible to suppress.

Chuan Gong Ge (Transmission Pavilion)

Internal energy cultivation techniques.

It's hidden there.

Just after midnight, Jiang Xun quietly got up.

He didn't light a lamp, but dressed in the dark, carefully putting the iron plate and porcelain bottle close to his body—the iron plate was pressed against his chest, and the porcelain bottle was tucked into his belt. Only when everything was secure did he feel at ease.

Pushing open the door, the moonlight outside was so bright that it made the yard look blindingly white; you could even see the ants crawling on the ground.

The kitchen staff had gone to bed early; even Fatty Song's deafening snoring had stopped, and the only sound was the chirping of insects.

Jiang Xun walked close to the wall, his steps extremely light—the skills he had honed over the years of stealing came in handy tonight.

He passed through the woodpile, went around the well, and left the small courtyard behind the kitchen, crouching low as he made his way towards the training ground.

He had already scouted the location when he delivered the food during the day.

From the kitchen to the training ground, you have to walk along a bluestone path lined with bamboo on both sides, which rustles in the wind.

After passing through the training ground, you'll see that three-story building.

Aunt Zhao said that the martial arts manuals of the Chunshui School are all there.

Jiang Xun walked along the bluestone path, his pace quickening and his heartbeat accelerating.

Moonlight filters through the bamboo leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Stepping on the shadows shatters them.

The night wind blew, and the bamboo rustled, like someone whispering.

Jiang Xun's palms were sweaty.

It's not fear.

It's tension.

In my seventeen years of life, I've stolen money pouches, roast chickens, and steamed buns, but I've never stolen a martial arts manual.

He didn't even know what this thing looked like.

We've arrived at the training ground.

The place, bustling with activity during the day, becomes deserted at night, with only a solitary wooden dummy standing in the center of the area, motionless like a silent stone statue under the moonlight.

Jiang Xun didn't dare to linger and quickly crossed the training ground.

The Transmission Pavilion is just ahead.

The three-story building, with its blue bricks and gray tiles, sits quietly deep in the bamboo forest.

Two lanterns hung at the entrance, their dim light illuminating the tightly closed wooden doors. The doors were thick and heavy, and looked menacing.

Jiang Xun squinted and examined him carefully.

There was no one at the door.

But Aunt Zhao said that the Chuan Gong Pavilion is guarded by someone. It's impossible for it to be unattended at night.

Jiang Xun glanced around – there were bamboo groves on both sides of the building, and a cliff behind it.

There was no one at the entrance, so the guard must be somewhere else, either inside the building or hiding in the shadows.

He squatted down, picked up a small stone, and gently tossed it towards the building entrance.

The pebble landed on the ground with a soft "plop".

There was no movement.

Jiang Xun waited a while longer, but there was still no movement.

He frowned—had the guard gone to sleep to slack off?

Never mind, let's go in first and figure it out later.

Jiang Xun took a deep breath and tiptoed closer. He walked with his feet close to the ground, not daring to make a sound.

The doors to the Transmission Hall were two heavy wooden doors with bronze knockers that gleamed a dark yellow in the moonlight. Jiang Xun reached out and gently pushed them open—

Not moving.

It's locked.

He was prepared, pulling out a thin wire from his pocket—his old trade, his livelihood, which he carried everywhere.

He inserted the wire into the keyhole, listened intently to the sounds coming from inside the lock, and gently turned his fingers, once, twice—

"Click".

The lock is open.

He gently pushed open a crack and squeezed in sideways.

It was pitch black inside, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

Jiang Xun stood behind the door, holding his breath and remaining motionless. Only after his eyes had slowly adjusted to the darkness did he dare to look around.

The first floor is a large hall, with a long table in the center and a wooden box on it.

Bookshelves stood against the walls on all four sides, densely packed with books, some old and yellowed, others looking brand new.

Jiang Xun was overjoyed and was about to reach for the nearest bookshelf—

Suddenly, a gust of wind came from behind.

He turned around abruptly, and a dark figure pounced in front of him.

Jiang Xun didn't have time to think and instinctively dodged to the side. The dark figure brushed past his shoulder and slammed his hand on the door.

"Bang!"

With a muffled thud, the door panel shook, and dust fell down in clumps.

Jiang Xun then saw clearly that the person was about the same height as him, dressed in black, and his face was completely covered, with only his eyes showing.

Those eyes shone frighteningly bright in the dim moonlight, staring intently at him.

A thought flashed through Jiang Xun's mind: Oh no, I've run into a fellow traveler.

The man in black missed his first attack, and his second move followed immediately.

This palm strike was even faster than the previous one, carrying a strong gust of wind, and came straight at his face.

Jiang Xun couldn't avoid it anymore.

He instinctively raised his hand to block—

"Bang!"

The palms are clasped together.

A powerful force came from the other person's hand, making Jiang Xun's entire arm go numb. He staggered back several steps, his back slamming heavily against the door, making him grimace.

But even the man in black was forced to take a step back by his shock.

"what?"

The man in black let out a soft exclamation, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes as he looked him up and down.

Jiang Xun himself was stunned.

He could feel that the heat surged out of his body again just a moment ago—although it was only fleeting, it blocked the blow for him.

Otherwise, with his small frame, his arm would probably have been broken.

The man in black stared at him for three seconds, then suddenly lowered his voice and asked, "Who are you?"

The voice was very low, but Jiang Xun still recognized it—

female?