"~~ Hmm?"
Riven raised an eyebrow, feigning mild confusion as he looked toward Murong Fu.
The young master of Swallow Nest hesitated. His throat moved slightly as he swallowed, the movement subtle—but not unnoticed.
Murong Fu quickly composed himself and said, "This sword manual… *ehem* to destroy such a Mystic art would be a shame."
He softened his tone, and with a diplomatic smile added,
"If Your Highness is truly interested in learning martial arts, our Murong family maintains the Repaying Water Pavilion.
Its collection of manuals is modest, but refined. I am willing to trade ten Mystic-tier manuals in exchange for this one."
His voice remained steady, but there was a flicker of greed in his eyes—barely masked behind courtesy.
"Trade?"
Riven let the word hang in the air, then offered a casual chuckle.
"Oh, Lord Murong… you underestimate me far too much."
Without so much as a second thought, he tossed the Evil-Repelling Sword Manual across the stone table as if it were no more than a dried leaf, a discarded relic of no importance.
Murong Fu's eyes widened. He reached forward instinctively, catching the scroll with both hands, his breath momentarily caught in his chest.
Was this real?
Did Riven Ashvale—this newly enfeoffed, enigmatic noble—just throw away a martial treasure in plain daylight?
The situation was comical.
What had begun as an even conversation was now being shaped into a meeting between two men with a substantial power imbalance, all thanks to Riven.
The Rich man had taken pity on the poor man, giving him the martial manual he so greedily desired.
At that exact moment, the poor man was bent over, picking up the manual the rich man had tossed aside.
'That's it. Bend. Bend and pick it up. To the outside world, I would have done you a favor.' Riven inwardly smirked.
Satisfied with Murong Fu's performance, Riven leaned back, his tone light, his gaze calm.
"Lord Murong has already offered gifts beyond measure. How could I possibly ask more? Certainly not your family's Star-Shifting Technique, right?"
He smiled faintly. "If you want the scroll, take it. A gift. From me to you. Consider it a token of friendship."
Murong Fu froze. Words failed him for a moment.
Even Bao Butong and Feng Bo'e exchanged glances, speechless. Neither of them had expected this.
A martial art so rich in mystery, so obviously dangerous and powerful, simply… handed away?
Murong Fu, realising he had already started to lose momentum, tried to speak. "This…"
But all he could do was gulp down a mouthful of saliva in shock.
Pride or profit? A challenging question, indeed.
But Riven tilted his head, his smile still on his lips, though his voice grew a shade colder.
"What's this? Does Lord Murong think me unworthy as a friend?"
He kept his voice low. But the concealed intensity within his words was more piercing than any blade.
A subtle chill crawled down Murong Fu's spine.
He lowered his head instinctively due to an invisible yet undeniable pressure. "I dare not."
Ultimately, Murong Fu decided to put his pride aside and accept the outcome. It was already checkmate; what was left for him to do?
"Then it's settled," Riven said.
The sharpness dissipated into thin air in an instant, and again came the gentle atmosphere.
His warmth returned as if nothing had happened. "I'm new to the Martial world, after all. I hope Lord Murong might one day guide me through its depths."
The two spoke briefly—light words, measured exchanges. Enough to maintain courtesy, to test intentions without commitment.
They spoke of nothing important afterward – both enjoying the tranquil atmosphere and the warm tea.
Soon after, Murong Fu and his men took their leave.
Lord Riven summoned a steward and instructed him to attend to Lord Murong Fu and his party, even after they leave the main gates, so that the people of the city can see Lord Murong departing the Ducal household with proper respect.
Just enough for them to know the newly enfeoffed Duchy does not discriminate against the martial warriors or families.
…..
[Ding! Used one crit chance.]
[Ding! You have gifted Murong Fu the 'Evil-Repelling Sword Manual.']
[You have triggered a Thousandfold Critical Return!]
[You have obtained the flawless, heaven-tier lower-grade martial art: Sunflower Manual!]
The sudden system notification rang in Riven's mind like a bell struck in silence.
A Thousandfold return?
Heaven-tier martial art?
His eyes gleamed with surprise, but his face broke into a grin.
Now, the environment devoid of strangers, he could take off the metaphorical mask.
"Sunflower Manual…?"
He narrowed his gaze.
The Sunflower Manual—according to its introduction - is famed in martial lore, cloaked in taboo and mystery.
Its complexity was deeper than the Evil-Repelling Sword Manual, from which it was originally derived.
But unlike its simplified counterpart, this was the original scripture.
Complete. Raw. Dangerous.
And unfinished.
For all its brilliance, the original author had failed to resolve several foundational flaws within it, especially the first and the most important hurdle.
Riven's grin gave way to a frown… thoughtful.
The system had given him a challenge instead of a gift. Gave him a lock without a key.
Still…
He smiled. The deeper the danger, the greater the reward.
[Ding!]
[Note: The flawless version of the 'Sunflower Manual' has addressed its original shortcomings, perfectly resolving problems left by the original author!]
"Huh??!! It's resolved?"
Riven's frown froze. Now giving way to amused disbelief…. (¯ . ¯;)?
Riven: 'System… my G…. You are too good for me.'
Riven Ashvale glanced down at the newly acquired manual in his hand. He turned to the first page, where the introduction gleamed with arcane energy and hidden menace.
[Sunflower Manual — Flawless Version]
Originally created by an unnamed eunuch of an imperial palace, this manual was developed to restore his depleted yang essence and rebuild foundational life force.
Due to its extreme focus on yang energy, the original method required castration (as he created it from his point of view) to prevent loss of control; otherwise, practitioners would suffer from internal combustion, paralysis, and eventual death from excess yang fire.
The flawless version has corrected these structural imbalances.
Through harmonization of yin and yang, it now enables full cultivation without castration—allowing the body to achieve an acquired Pure Yang Martial Constitution.
Riven's lips curved in excitement.
"So… the original version was created by a eunuch… to restore what he no longer had," he muttered to himself.
He let out a soft, dark chuckle.
"Hahahaha…..To reclaim manhood through martial arts. How poetic."
The absurdity wasn't lost on him. But nor was the depth of the technique's ambition.
A manual that forcibly restructured the human body's core essence. One that transcended the limitations of flesh and gender.
Something powerful enough to twist life itself—and now refined into perfection, which the original author probably spent years upon years trying to achieve.
An absolute genius.
It was beautifully dangerous. Taboo. Legendary.
And now, it belonged to him.
….
Outside the gates of the Duke of Sundawn's residence.
The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone path.
Murong Fu paused just as they reached the horses tethered at the end of the courtyard road.
He turned and looked back at the estate, his expression unreadable—caught somewhere between admiration and wariness.
Behind him, Bao Butong, still flushed with embarrassment from earlier, broke the silence.
"Young Master," he said, "that Riveron Ashvale… he is no ordinary man."
Feng Bo'e glanced sideways. "What do you mean, Brother Bao? What's so strange about him?"
Bao Butong stroked the thin stubble along his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought.
"He says he knows nothing about the Martial world, about martial arts.
Yet how did he know about the Star-Shifting Technique?
The name of the martial art… that's not something the average Martial world knows, let alone identifies it as a Murong legacy. That is only known to veterans."
Feng Bo'e frowned, recalling the moment.
"He did mention it… clearly too."
"And," Bao Butong added, gesturing back toward the estate, "did you notice the stone tiles and the open area outside the Pavilion?"
"The one with the cracks and signs of trampling?"
Bao Butong nodded. "Cracks in slate stone like that… those aren't caused by decor or accidents.
That Kind of looked like footwork. Pressure. Someone stepping there and unleashing strength. Deep… however, deliberate control not to shatter the stone."
Feng Bo'e inhaled slowly. The realization settled in.
He might be one of those 'muscle heads', but even he could understand the depth here.
Bao Butong continued, his voice lower now.
"And that crane…"
The moment those words came out of his mouth….
They both comically turned back, as if to make sure the white-feathered beast wasn't silently trailing them.
"That wasn't just a divine spirit beast. That was a cultivated creature," Bao Butong said. "You saw its discipline, right?—its body control to the Crown Prince's command, its awareness.
That was like a trained elite soldier responding to commands deeply ingrained in their body and psyche.
Moreover… It's reached a realm equal to Innate experts."
He glanced at Murong Fu. "Only creatures like the rumored serpent and tortoise from Mount Wudang under the Sect master are even comparable… probably"