Chapter Thirty-Five: In the world of rivers and lakes, one is shaped by the world as much as one shapes it.

“Did Xiao Yan really teach you this sword technique?”
At that moment, a voice imbued with profound inner strength suddenly rang out.
From the group of martial artists emerged a man wearing a hat, the brim so wide that it shadowed his face and masked his features.
Yet as he spoke, the intensity of his internal energy radiated outward, causing everyone present to feel a subtle sense of oppression.
He was a master with an inner strength of twenty layers!
…
Chen Buqun squinted at him for a while before exclaiming in surprise, “Brother…”
Those around him drew in sharp breaths—so he was one of the Chen family.
Removing his hat, Chen Budiao revealed a handsome face, dignified and imposing, standing eight feet tall, his presence commanding.
The eldest son of the Chen family, Chen Budiao. Thirty years old, inner strength at twenty layers, acclaimed as a genius in his own right.
“Buqun, why are you hesitating? Aren’t you going to act?”
“This…”
Chen Buqun frowned, pondering a moment before he understood Chen Budiao’s meaning.
Did Chen Budiao suspect Lin Dong had stolen the Chen Sword Technique?
…
“But… it’s only somewhat similar. I don’t think this is the ‘Chen Sword Technique’…”
Chen Buqun’s voice was hesitant.
In truth, he wanted to say that this ‘Manure Sword Technique’ seemed even more refined, a return to simplicity, surpassing the Chen family’s swordsmanship.
“You… useless fool!” Chen Budiao scowled, glaring at his upright younger brother, unable to suppress his anger.
He understood perfectly what Chen Buqun meant. But if the Chen Sword Sect insisted this sword technique was theirs, who would dare contradict them?
Moreover, with the ‘Manure Sword Technique’ so similar to the ‘Chen Sword Technique’, such an opportunity was too good to waste.
Even if the Chen Sword Sect brazenly seized it, nobody would oppose them—the other party was merely a novice from Golden Mountain Temple, and no one would intervene.
“Lin Dong! Are you aware you’re using the ‘Chen Sword Technique’, stolen from our Chen family by thieves?”
Chen Budiao advanced slowly, his twenty-layer inner strength released, intentionally or not, creating such pressure that none of the martial artists dared move.
“Brother Budiao, you were once a hero I deeply admired… But, ha… I never would have thought…”
Lin Dong, perfectly lucid, immediately saw through the ploy.
Recalling the past, he felt a chill in his heart.
He remembered how he and Chen Buqun had idolized the prodigy Chen Budiao in their youth.
Back then, Chen Budiao was righteous, aiding the poor and upholding justice. But today…
The martial world had indeed changed some people…
…
“Enough talk. To think you exploited your connection with my family, conspiring with the thief Da Vinci to commit such disgraceful acts,” Chen Budiao, a seasoned veteran of the martial world, pressed closer to Lin Dong, his expression unwavering.
“Brother… you… If Father knew, he would never let you do this…”
Chen Buqun hesitated, then stepped forward slightly.
He understood how vital the ‘Chen Sword Technique’ was to the Chen Sword Sect.
But to snatch it by force—Chen Buqun felt it was deeply wrong.

“You shut your mouth!” Chen Budiao snapped coldly, turning to glare at Chen Buqun as a warning.
…
Not far off, Xiao Yan’s lips curled into a slight smile; this ‘Chen Sword Technique’ seemed familiar.
He remembered that Zhuge Yixiu had found it on Da Vinci, but after reading it, Xiao Yan noticed too many flaws, so he tossed it aside somewhere, not caring where it ended up.
Originally, he had intended only to read it, but his extraordinary talent naturally perfected the sword technique in his mind, applying it to his work in the manure business.
Thus was born the ‘Manure Sword Technique’…
…
“Chen Sword Sect…”
Under a distant tree, Elder Huiming shook his head and sighed. “Has it become a bandit sect now?”
Xiao Yan said nothing, simply watching the martial artists before him, his smile growing ever more exaggerated, his thoughts opaque.
“If the sect leader, Chen Bufan, were here, he would never let his son act so recklessly. Unfortunately, I heard he went north. You’ve heard what’s happening in the north, haven’t you?”
Elder Huiming continued to sigh, as if speaking to himself, or perhaps confiding in Xiao Yan.
“Mm.”
Mention of the north wiped the smile from Xiao Yan’s face, leaving his expression complex.
“Chen Budiao is formidable. If he’s truly shameless enough to strike at Lin Dong, I fear even I would be no match…”
Elder Huiming shook his head again. “Xiao Yan, go and fetch the abbot. Only he can resolve this.”
“The abbot? …Is that really necessary?” Xiao Yan glanced at Chen Budiao’s silhouette, then shook his head. “Such a noble hero—how could he come to this…”
…
Elder Huiming looked at Xiao Yan, suddenly struck by a foreboding feeling.
He seemed to guess something… almost unbelievable…
“You’re not thinking… Are you mad? Chen Budiao’s inner strength is twenty layers… His sword technique was personally taught by Chen Bufan, nearly perfected… Even experts at twenty-two layers would struggle against him…”
…
At that moment, Chen Budiao stood before Lin Dong, speaking calmly, “Hand over the sword technique, or I truly will kill you!”
“Master Chen, I ask for your guidance…”
Lin Dong cupped his hands, assuming a battle stance.
“Haha… Lin Dong, do you really believe that stealing a few moves from my family’s sword technique will let you defeat me?”
Chen Budiao advanced, not even drawing his sword, merely raising his hand to deliver a slap.
…
Even before the palm struck, Lin Dong felt the overwhelming presence of Chen Budiao’s inner energy.
His expression grew grim; he hurriedly channeled his own energy, the spoon in his hand rising naturally, thrusting forward like a sword.
Chen Budiao’s brow furrowed in surprise—he sensed a genuine threat from the spoon…
But how could that be?
Against opponents below fifteen layers, he could dispatch them with a flick, barely blinking.
But this little monk before him—did he really only have five layers of inner strength?
“Smack…”
“Bang…”

Two sounds rang out simultaneously, palm and spoon meeting their marks…
“Thunk…”
Chen Budiao was forced back a step.
“Spurt…”
Lin Dong staggered back six steps, finally steadying himself, but blood spilled from his lips…
“Hm?” Chen Budiao’s expression turned strangely complex. He had expected Lin Dong to die outright from this blow.
But only six steps?
With such a disparity in strength, this was impossible…
He remembered that last time, facing an opponent at ten layers, he’d sent him flying to his death, blood gushing.
“Did the sword technique dissipate most of the force?”
Chen Budiao’s smile widened. The more impressive the sword technique, the more justified his decision to seize it.
…
“This little monk… actually withstood it?”
The gathered martial artists were astounded.
…
“I’ll give you one chance. Surrender the sword technique, and I’ll spare your life.”
Chen Budiao stared coldly at Lin Dong, speaking softly.
“Cough… cough…”
Lin Dong’s figure swayed, but he stood, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, yet a smile still graced his face: “Ha… The sword technique belongs to my master… Unless he gives permission, even in death, I, Lin Dong, will not frown!”
“Haha… Your master? Is he worth it? He’s likely cowering in some corner, afraid to show his face. You truly are an adorable fool!”
Chen Budiao strode toward Lin Dong, a contemptuous smile on his lips.
“Enough talk. Come!”
Lin Dong’s hand holding the spoon trembled slightly; his opponent’s inner strength was indeed formidable.
“Heh… Interesting… This is quite entertaining…” Chen Budiao slowly drew the sword at his waist, his expression turning serious. “You’re truly going to die, you know that? And not just you—your entire Lin family will perish, every last one!”
…
Such is the martial world: when someone provokes an enemy and is killed, his family often shares his fate. The enemy will hunt down every relative, leaving no survivors to seek vengeance.
So-called cycles of retribution do not truly exist.
This is the harsh reality.
“Brother… let it go… He’ll really die…”
Chen Buqun, unable to bear the sight, could only plead from the sidelines, not daring to intervene.
“Hmph, stay out of this!” Chen Budiao shot him a cold glance, then launched forward, his sword thrusting fiercely at Lin Dong’s chest.
His earlier blow had been careless; this was now a full-powered strike from Chen Budiao.
Lin Dong’s death was assured.