Chapter 1266: Taking the Blade Lu Yun had long known that it was Iron Heart Lan’s martial arts manual causing the phenomenon, yet he couldn’t quite understand how an ordinary manual could enter his dreams so vividly—and transform into an ancient-dressed figure so strangely. As he pondered this, without any warning, the bare-handed, ancient-dressed figure suddenly raised his hand, and a long blade shimmering with a cool, silvery gleam instantly appeared in his grasp. The blade’s edge was cold and sharp, flashing with a chilling brilliance that sent shivers down one’s spine. It was astonishingly keen. After all, if this blade were slicing pork, it would surely slice it neatly—into thin strips or into chunks. Without thinking, Lu Yun stepped back two paces, remaining ever vigilant, gazing intently at the ancient figure. Though it was a dream, the scene felt so real that any misstep might see the figure strike him with a single cut—one that Lu Yun simply couldn’t be sure he’d avoid. "Receive the blade." In this unreal yet real dream, a stranger's voice suddenly broke through, startleing Lu Yun, who thought the ancient-dress figure was about to slash him with a knife and immediately retreated as fast as he could. However, though Lu Yun moved swiftly, the ancient figure seemed to cling to him like a shadow—always close, following him step by step, no matter how fast he retreated. The figure maintained a steady three-foot distance, moving in perfect sync with Lu Yun's every motion. Whoa! If it weren't for the mysterious and unpredictable strength of that ancient figure, Lu Yun would have shouted in frustration—what kind of monster is this? Just a fleeting image a moment ago, now solidified into a physical presence, and now it's as if it's constantly clinging to him like a never-satisfied nag. Retreat! Retreat again! Facing the long knife in the ancient figure's hands, Lu Yun could only instinctively step back. "Receive the blade!" "Still that slightly husky voice, yet Lu Yun couldn't see any movement on the ancient miniature's lips—clearly, the figure hadn't opened his mouth at all. Who exactly had uttered that line, 'Receive the blade'? Was there another powerful presence within his own dream? Man, all I did was accidentally pick up a martial arts manual. Doesn't have to be this taxing, does it? Retreating again and again, yet still unable to escape the ancient figure. Finally, Lu Yun gave up and stopped, gazing at the ancient figure holding the long blade and asking, 'Hey, what do you actually want?' 'Receive the blade.' Just those two words, yet now they seemed imbued with magical power, their sound waves sweeping wildly toward Lu Yun. 'Receive the blade?' 'Receive the blade?' Lu Yun looked at the long blade in the ancient figure's hands, then down at his own empty hands. How exactly was he supposed to receive the blade? Did he have to kneel and raise both arms like in a TV drama, to take the blade from the figure's hands? Take the blade! The hoarse voice rose once more. Now, those two simple words seemed to carry an incalculable magic, striking directly at Lu Yun's mind. Gently raising his hands, Lu Yun appeared outwardly dazed, yet within his mind everything was clear. He mused: "This odd fellow—does he intend to teach me sword techniques?" It had long since passed the age of cold weapons; even the sharpest long blade could hardly stand against bullets. Yet, as he thought this, his hands never ceased their motion, slowly and steadily lifting. The long blade in the ancient figure's hands did not land in Lu Yun's grasp. Instead, as Lu Yun's hands rose to meet at his chest, a flash of cold light passed through—by then, a long blade identical to the one held by the ancient figure had appeared on both of Lu Yun's hands. Whoosh! A gentle breeze swept past, actually caused by the flutter of the ancient attendant's robe. As the moment Land Yun took the swords in his hands, the figure in classical attire launched himself out like a gust of wind, extending his arms with graceful motion, the swords flashing brilliantly—demonstrating an exceptionally powerful and dynamic sword technique, just as he had once taught Land Yun to practice martial arts. Yet everything had happened too suddenly. It was one thing to see a small figure teaching himself a set of martial arts from a single scroll of techniques—now, he had even managed to develop a sword style. Holding his long sword in hand, Lu Yun swallowed hard, thinking: How could it be that he had spent all this time practicing swordsmanship, only to find himself relying on robbery and murder to build his dream of three thousand consorts? Though he wasn't particularly learned, he hadn't yet deteriorated to the point of needing to kill people. The principle of "paying debts with goods, fulfilling obligations with lives" was something Lu Yun understood well. If he truly had to rely on robbery and murder to earn his living, then he would rather abandon his grand plan of three thousand consorts. Even if he succeeded in achieving that goal, he didn't want the women in his life to live in constant anxiety and worry. After all, one often encounters wet shoes while walking along the riverbank—what if, in time, he found himself compelled to use his sword to kill people? Lu Yun couldn't imagine the consequences that would befall the young women around him. With a solid thud, Lu Yun's long sword fell to the ground—something he absolutely didn't want to touch. Suddenly, the once-uninterrupted performance of the ancient-style figures halted mid-action. Their eyes, expressionless as ever, fixed firmly on Lu Yun, and their sword, now hanging limply at their sides, pointed straight down with a cold, sharp gleam. Lu Yun felt a bit unnerved under their steady gaze—just staring at him like that, he was certain he'd either be frightened to death or simply paralyze himself with fear.