Chapter Twenty-Five: The Twin Swords of Parent and Child

“No danger should ever be underestimated, not even the smallest one!” Xiaoshan murmured to himself as he watched Haoyun’s departing figure.

Turning around, Xiaoshan glanced back—the severed tree branches oozed green sap, swaying gently as if trembling in fear. Was it possible that even the man-eating tree was shuddering?

“Xiaoshan, Xiaoshan! What are you daydreaming about?” Ruoxi waved her hand in front of his blank face, alarmed at his motionlessness.

“He’s been frightened by Haoyun’s power! He’s scared—traumatized, even!” Haotian remarked coolly.

“You’ve only practiced martial arts for an afternoon! Don’t lose heart! Besides, he had a sword in his hand!” Ruoxi, seeing Xiaoshan’s vacant expression, truly feared that being caught by the man-eating tree twice in a row might have left him shaken.

But then she thought, he’d never acted like this before, not even in front of his own father.

“You talk too much—could you die from saying less?” Ruoxi retorted angrily to Haotian, her lips curling in irritation.

Could it really be that Haoyun’s words had stung him? Watching Haoyun’s retreating back, Ruoxi felt a strange notion rise within her.

Yet the thought flitted by in an instant, and her gaze shifted to Xiaoshan. Could it be that you’ll now train day and night, spurred on by this?

“Are you alright?” Ruoxi asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Xiaoshan replied, shaking his head at Haotian and the others. He pressed his lips together, saying nothing more.

“A typical man-eating tree takes a hundred and five years to mature, growing faster the more living creatures it devours,” Haotian explained, sounding for all the world like a little encyclopedia.

On the contrary, the fewer creatures it consumes, the more sluggish its growth—two hundred years, five hundred, sometimes even a thousand!” Haotian continued his lecture.

As he spoke, a small white rabbit hopped merrily through the forest on Xiaoshan’s left.

Suddenly, disaster struck—the rabbit landed on one of the man-eating tree’s branches, and its nightmare began.

In an instant, the entire tree’s branches writhed, wrapping around the helpless rabbit. When its eyes were covered, the branches finally stilled.

A few drops of blood seeped through the tangle, but other branches quickly shifted to block the gap, and no more red stained the scene.

After a while, the branches slowly loosened, dropping a few bones to the earth below.

The soil shifted, and the bones were buried beneath it, as though nothing at all had just happened.

“A fully grown man-eating tree can devour even a martial artist with no inner strength. The one before you has been growing for four or five centuries—together, they could certainly make a meal of you!”

“Do you still dare to press on?” Haotian asked.

“I need a weapon,” Xiaoshan said after a pause.

Ruoxi touched the hilt of her own sword, glancing at Haotian and the others. Her eyes settled on Haoyun, who stood a little distance away.

Haopo shifted slightly. Haoyun had his back to them, so his expression was hidden, but strapped across his back were two identical swords.

The scabbards and hilts of the twin blades were exactly alike, likely a pair of matching swords—the twin blades of parent and child.

These paired swords complemented each other. When wielded together, their power doubled; separated, their effectiveness was greatly diminished. Only in a single wielder’s hands could their true might be unleashed.

Haopo’s left hand grasped one of the swords on his back, fingers trembling slightly, as though he was reluctant to offer it to Xiaoshan.

Just then, from the same direction as before, another rabbit approached—this one larger than the last, likely the mother.

She stopped a little way from the man-eating tree that had devoured the previous rabbit, stretched out her tongue, then her forelegs, only to draw back as if fearful of sharing the same fate.

Hesitating, a single tear seemed to slip from the mother rabbit’s eye. She turned away, took a few steps, glanced back once more, and then left that sorrowful place behind.

“These are the twin swords of parent and child,” Haoyun’s voice drifted over, slow and weighty, resonating in Xiaoshan’s ears. “The child’s blade is swift as thunder; the parent’s blade, heavy as a mountain. Which of them do you desire?”