Chapter Eight: The Tyrannical Sword Technique

Opening the brocade pouch, Li Pingyang tipped out its contents—a key.

The key slipped from the pouch, struck the floor with a crisp metallic ring, bounced twice, and came to rest in the corner of the room. Li Pingyang walked over and picked it up, noticing three tiny numbers etched at the end with a knife: "066."

The instant he saw those numbers, Li Pingyang was startled. Not long ago, he'd passed a wooden door and seen the very same digits inscribed above it.

A prickling sensation shot through his mind, and a thought formed swiftly—could this key unlock that door?

It seemed almost too coincidental, yet not impossible.

He hurried back, searching for the wooden door labeled "066," and found it quickly, his memory guiding him. Standing before the door, Li Pingyang took a deep breath.

This room was peculiar, different from the others. Aside from the familiar furnishings he'd seen before, a red cabinet stood out, something new. Unlike the other rooms, which were spotless as though constantly tended, this one was filthy and disordered, as if untouched for years.

Crumpled paper balls littered the floor, and a half-finished sketch lay on the table, too distant for Li Pingyang to discern its subject.

Nervously gripping the key, as if steeling himself, he pushed it into the lock and turned the handle.

A sharp click sounded—the key fit perfectly.

He had truly opened the door.

Li Pingyang pushed it open, and a wave of musty air rushed out, reminiscent of a long-sealed cellar suddenly exposed, making him cough.

Just as he reached for his fire starter to search for a candle, he was surprised to find a light cord on the wall. A gentle pull flooded the room with light.

The harsh, long-missed brightness felt unreal, as though he had stepped out of Song Dynasty and back into the modern world. Shielding his eyes, he took a moment to adjust.

Every corner was thick with cobwebs, and the cabinet was coated in dust.

A chair, its back facing him, was occupied by someone—a person long dead. More precisely, a skeleton.

When Li Pingyang saw the gray coat draped over the bones, his pupils flickered and tears welled up.

He could not believe, nor did he want to believe.

That coat made him tearful. As he picked it up, he clung to a desperate hope that it was merely a similar garment.

Counting from the top, the fourth button was missing, the fifth had been replaced with a smaller one from a shirt, and the seventh...

All those subtle details, known only to him, matched perfectly. Li Pingyang finally broke down, clutching the coat and collapsing onto the floor.

It was his father's coat.

There could be no mistake.

There could not possibly be another identical one.

But his father had been missing for seventeen years. Why was his coat here?

He hugged the coat tightly, burying his face in it, and childhood memories surged forth.

He remembered, as a child, his love for White Rabbit candies, always eating them with the thin sugar wrapper. Whenever he cried, his father's candy could soothe any grievance, no matter how big.

His father had punished him most severely when he was five, believing the boy had stolen something. He was hung up and beaten with a belt, and his beloved wooden toy car was smashed to pieces. That was Li Pingyang's most heartbreaking cry—he stormed out of the house, eyes red with tears.

He hated his father then, hated him bitterly. Hungry and lost, Li Pingyang wandered far from home, sleeping beneath a distant overpass.

That night, he cried himself to exhaustion, finally covering himself with a discarded cardboard sheet and falling asleep.

Later, his father learned the truth—it had all been a misunderstanding. He grabbed a coat from the chair, rushed out in regret, searching for his son all night with a flashlight.

When he found Li Pingyang sleeping under the bridge, snoring and curled up with a stray dog, his father finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The next morning, Li Pingyang awoke to find his broken toy car, painstakingly glued back together by his father, sitting at his bedside.

Drawn back to the present, Li Pingyang's eyes were wet as he searched the coat’s inner pocket, where he found a candy—though now spoiled and moldy.

He took a deep breath, draped the coat over the chair, closed his eyes to steady himself, then turned to the yellowed drawing on the table.

Drawn in black ink, it was a sketch of a building, incomplete but recognizable in outline.

When Li Pingyang saw the shape, his mind jolted as if struck by lightning.

He stared at the drawing, bewildered—why was it here?

It was the temple.

The very temple that had brought him to this world.

The sketch matched the temple he frequented exactly. Above it, storm clouds and lightning were drawn, just as they were on the day he crossed over.

The sky was so dark and oppressive that it felt suffocating; even the crow perched on the lamppost outside the door was included, making the scene uncanny.

Beneath the drawing, seven more sheets, all ink sketches, depicted the same temple.

At that moment, Li Pingyang felt a burning sensation in his chest, and instinctively reached for the mysterious wooden box given to him by the dying envoy.

He was stunned again, recalling the massive stone columns he'd passed earlier, carved with serpentine patterns—the very designs magnified from the wooden box.

No wonder they seemed so familiar.

The wooden box also bore a keyhole. On a whim, Li Pingyang inserted the key from room 066.

He turned it, and the box clicked open. As he lifted the lid, a blinding green light forced him to squeeze his eyes shut.

“Ding! Congratulations, you have unlocked the Demon Slayer System.”

An electronic voice echoed in Li Pingyang's mind, and a virtual interface appeared before him.

Name: Li Pingyang

Profession: Demon Slayer

Level: LV1

Monster Cards Owned: 0

Permissions: Level One [0/100]

Quest One: Slay the Violet-Eyed Giant Python to obtain a three-star card—Violet-Eyed Sky-Swallowing Python. Card Attribute: Fire. Reward: Unlock the shop.

Staring at the floating, holographic status screen, Li Pingyang was dumbfounded, unable to believe what he saw.

The green light faded.

Inside the wooden box lay a green ring, jade-like in texture, shining with an emerald glow. Around the ring coiled a miniature green serpent, moving as if alive.

Li Pingyang slipped the ring onto his finger, gently closed his hand—and a pixelated short sword materialized in his palm. When he relaxed, the sword vanished.

Images appeared in his mind.

A book titled “Tyrant Sword Technique” rapidly flipped page by page. A tiny swordsman appeared, wielding a long blade and moving with lifelike grace.

With no way out for now, trapped inside the giant python’s belly, Li Pingyang summoned the pixel sword again and began mimicking the sword technique.

Warm energy surged through his body, a trickle of true qi collecting in his dantian, making him feel invigorated.

In his dantian, a broken great blade was locked down by seven thick chains. Sensing Li Pingyang’s faint qi, it stirred and began to awaken.

Though he could not see these changes, he felt his exhaustion melt away after practicing the sword.

Just as he stretched, he looked up and saw the sky outside.

What was happening?

From another perspective, the python’s head was cleanly severed by Li Pingyang, who, holding the pixel sword and stretching, had dispatched it effortlessly.

Li Pingyang: “???”

“Truly tyrannical…”

His mouth twitched as he spoke. He watched the enormous snake head crash to the ground, stirring up a powerful gust that sent the surrounding trees swaying wildly.