Chapter Thirty-Four: A Hero Receives the Precious Sword

“Golden Ginseng Oral Solution, made from the cellular liquid of crushed Golden Leaf Ginseng from another world combined with exotic beast meat powder, is extremely high in energy and can be absorbed orally. It's perfect for martial artists.”

Song Mingyue handed Gao Wu a box of exquisitely packaged oral solution and said, “All bodily and mental evolution relies on energy. The Flying Squirrel Serum's neural transformation demands massive energy. This box should meet the required energy needs…”

“Thank you, you’re so thoughtful.” Gao Wu had already received so much; this was just another piece. He didn’t quantify these gifts by money as Song Mingyue did. To him, Song Mingyue’s ability to do all this made her his best friend.

There was no need for courtesy now. If he could improve his strength quickly, he would be able to help Song Mingyue and repay her kindness. Just as Song Mingyue valued him at a trillion, Gao Wu believed he would become immensely valuable himself. The debt of gratitude he owed now, he could repay tenfold, a hundredfold. Yes, he was that confident.

As usual, Gao Wu and Song Mingyue went to the first-floor training hall for sparring.

To Gao Wu’s surprise, Song Mingyue handed him a sword—a real blade forged from metal. She drew it with a flourish, the blade shining like autumn water, transforming into dazzling sword light in the air.

The sword had a slender blade, a square-shaped guard, a black hilt, and a matte black alloy scabbard, giving it a strong, unified feel, almost like a work of art.

Gao Wu took the sword in both hands, feeling its weight immediately. This elegant weapon weighed at least twenty kilograms.

Ordinary people use practical swords weighing two or three pounds. Martial artists, much stronger, usually wield swords under ten pounds. This sword was forty pounds.

Though his punch force now reached 1,300 kilograms, wielding such a heavy sword with precision was still difficult. Swords are not like barbells; they require full-body effort to swing. No matter how well-balanced, fine control of such a heavy blade was not easy.

“Titanium-tungsten alloy forged blade, ninety-nine centimeters long, highly hard, tough, corrosion- and heat-resistant. The hilt is nineteen centimeters, cast with carbon fiber particles to prevent slipping. The sword itself weighs nineteen kilograms, with the scabbard bringing it to twenty-nine. The scabbard has magnetic clasps, compatible with a specialized belt.”

Song Mingyue explained, “I had this sword custom-made for you. It’s still a bit heavy for now, but considering your strength will keep increasing, I left some room for growth.

“It’s mainly for training—the weight is appropriate. After injecting the Flying Squirrel Serum, you’ll need the sword to integrate body and mind.”

In fact, this was a level-three sword, made from special materials from another world, capable of concentrating mental power and gathering source energy. Martial artists cannot yet harness source energy, so using this blade was extravagant.

She spent a fortune to help Gao Wu sense source energy sooner, but there was no need to explain that to him.

“Such a good friend!”

Gao Wu was deeply moved; Song Mingyue was incredibly considerate. He wanted to give her a big hug!

A trillion’s worth of friendship—truly priceless! He was almost falling for Song Mingyue.

He often browsed weapon websites, so he knew this kind of high-grade sword cost at least three to five hundred thousand.

He drew the sword and inspected it closely. The guard had intricate patterns—his name: Gao Wu.

“The guard has an embedded electronic locator, which can be linked to your phone to prevent loss,” Song Mingyue explained as she helped Gao Wu set it up, tying the locator to his phone account.

“Wow, so thoughtful!” Gao Wu was even more touched. Losing a sword worth hundreds of thousands would be heartbreaking.

He drew the sword and swung it gently. The blade sliced through the air smoothly, its center of gravity twenty centimeters from the hilt, making it comfortable to handle.

Aside from being too heavy, it had no flaws.

Over the past month, with daily injections of Blood Dragon Serum, he had grown nearly four centimeters taller, breaking the 1.9-meter mark, with an increased wingspan.

Long arms paired with a slender blade provided a tremendous advantage in real combat.

He practiced a set of Swimming Dragon Sword techniques. Because the sword was heavy and exceptionally sharp, Gao Wu executed each move slowly and carefully.

After observing for a while, Song Mingyue joined with a wooden sword. The two blades clashed and intertwined, Song Mingyue calm and relaxed, while Gao Wu was exceedingly cautious.

The sword was too sharp—injuring Song Mingyue would be disastrous.

This concern made Gao Wu more focused than ever. But Song Mingyue’s sword grew faster, forcing him to keep up.

After ten minutes of sparring, Gao Wu was sweating, his whole body hot.

Song Mingyue withdrew her sword and stepped back, letting Gao Wu relax both physically and mentally.

“Wielding a sword requires a pure heart. People’s minds are complex, stray thoughts swirl like dust. Only in extreme situations does attention become extraordinarily focused, leaving no room for distraction,” Song Mingyue said softly.

She knew Gao Wu couldn’t master the sword yet, so she deliberately pushed him to stimulate his concentration. To avoid hurting her, he had to be extremely careful.

This externally induced extreme focus brought exceptional training results.

After several more rounds, Gao Wu felt his swordsmanship had greatly improved. However, such practice was exhausting, like dancing on a cliff; his body and mind endured immense pressure.

Back in the tea room, Song Mingyue played recordings of Gao Wu’s two fights from today on the projector.

The projector cast enormous HD images on the wall, showing every detail between the combatants.

Gao Wu admired his own heroic form in battle.

During the intense fight, he managed his expressions well—no twisted, ferocious looks.

In contrast, Han Song was poor at expression management, especially in the moment before Gao Wu’s palm struck him. His face, suddenly alarmed, contracted in terror, appearing ugly and somewhat comical in the slow-motion replay.

Unfortunately, Song Mingyue was unconcerned with his handsome appearance. Pointing to the footage, she said, “In both afternoon fights, you lured the enemy in, endured their attacks with your physique, then countered, making full use of your bodily advantage. Your Swimming Dragon Palm was also well executed…”

Song Mingyue broke the video down frame by frame, explaining as she went. Her comments were objective and fair.

Initially, Gao Wu felt proud, but after hearing Song Mingyue’s analysis, his spirits dampened. She was spot-on.

He won against Han Song and Yang Lin mainly because he could take hits. Han Song wasn’t careless; Yang Lin had already suffered, yet Han Song fell into the same trap.

It wasn’t that Han Song was stupid—Gao Wu was simply too resilient.

Tiger-form strikes landed eight times, yet he could still control his body and counterattack, something Han Song could never have anticipated.

Ultimately, martial artist battles are like this.

Their skill levels were close, but Gao Wu’s physical advantage allowed him to overwhelm Han Song. Even if Han Song avoided traps, three rounds would exhaust him, leaving Gao Wu free to finish him off.

After reviewing the fights, the two went together to White Scale Lake.

It was mid-December, and after several sharp cold snaps, the lake’s surface had formed a thick layer of ice.

Gao Wu and Song Mingyue walked to the center. Gao Wu drew his sword and cut a triangular opening in the ice, flipped the piece aside, and both dove into the depths.

Three minutes later, Gao Wu brought Song Mingyue out, riding the surging water onto the ice.

After a brief rest, Gao Wu replaced the ice chunk.

The nighttime cold would quickly freeze the surface again, so no one would notice it had been opened.

Aunt Lan watched Song Mingyue, dripping wet, get into the car. She nodded to Gao Wu outside, then started the vehicle and drove away.

Gao Wu’s figure soon vanished in the rearview mirror. Aunt Lan sighed quietly, “Mingyue, you’ve invested too much in Gao Wu.”

“He’s extremely important to me,” Song Mingyue replied, offering no further explanation but emphasizing Gao Wu’s significance.

“You’ve diverted so much money, it’s already affecting the company’s normal operations.” Aunt Lan was helpless. Her routine job was managing Song Mingyue’s company and her mother’s various assets.

Recently, Song Mingyue’s use of premium serums had been a huge expense. Combined with Gao Wu’s costs, over ten million had been spent in a month.

Most of Song Mingyue’s mother’s assets were fixed; suddenly pulling out so much cash put Aunt Lan under pressure.

She felt many expenses were unnecessary, especially the vast resources invested in Gao Wu—too extravagant.

Even the wealthiest families in Dongjiang rarely invested so much in their direct heirs.

“Let’s sell the downtown property; it should fetch twenty million,” Song Mingyue said.

“This…” Aunt Lan hesitated. That large apartment had a prime location, excellent layout, and appreciated value—an extremely high-quality asset.

Selling it seemed wasteful.

Song Mingyue understood Aunt Lan’s concerns and said calmly, “I’ll leave Dongjiang next year. Keeping these properties will be pointless.”