Chapter 142

"May I ask who this senior is?"

Her brow furrowed instantly, and with a stretch of her hand, she grasped the Qingshuang Sword. The moment her thumb and forefinger tightened around the hilt, the sword's faint hum ceased abruptly.

From within the ice came a faint, languid reply: "Merely someone on the verge of death. Not worth mentioning."

The Qingshuang Sword seemed to recognize this person.

Qing Zhouxue remembered that her master had told her the previous owner of the Qingshuang Sword was Shenshan Shu—a fallen sword immortal.

"Are you... a friend or relative of Senior Shenshan Shu?"

"Shenshan Shu." The woman's voice was calm. "He was my first disciple."

Qing Zhouxue was momentarily stunned. She had never heard that that renowned sword immortal had a master. In the many records circulating in the cultivation world, it seemed consistently believed that Shenshan Shu was a naturally gifted rogue cultivator.

"No need to dwell on it. It's been many years. I've been quietly cultivating here for a long time now, and I have no connection to the Liuyun Sect either."

Her voice sounded serenely throughout the cave dwelling, unhurried and measured. Though it was quite cold, it inexplicably put one's heart at ease.

Qing Zhouxue sat cross-legged against the wall, listening quietly as she spoke—she could sense that this person, despite her mysterious origins, harbored no ill intent.

After she finished that sentence, the whole ice cave fell once more into a piercing silence.

Qing Zhouxue had originally come here to cultivate, so she closed her eyes and entered meditation, circulating her energy for a long while.

She let the bone-chilling cold gradually nourish her dantian. But the place seemed a bit too frigid—she was like a waterbird thrown into a school of fish: opening her mouth at will was enough to fill her belly. Her meridians were so thoroughly saturated that they ached with fullness.

She furrowed her brows faintly.

After who knew how long, the woman's voice sounded again: "Focus your qi and calm your mind. Gathering at the dantian is not the only way to gather."

Qing Zhouxue hesitated for a moment, then felt her words made some sense. So she split her spiritual power into two streams and tried circulating them. At first it was somewhat overwhelming, but after a full cycle, as she grew familiar with it, she managed both paths with relative ease, without them interfering with each other.

Her entire being felt refreshed.

Just at that moment, she felt a slight shock inwardly—she had never heard of such a cultivation method before.

She cultivated fully like this for a day, then seeing that the hour was late, she stopped meditating, rose to her feet, and said to the ice layer, "Thank you."

The ice did not respond.

As if no one was there.

Qing Zhouxue waited a moment, then took the Qingshuang Sword and walked out.

She exited the cave, and because she had been immersed in the cold for so long, even the ordinary, mild evening breeze felt somewhat scorching.

The Liuyun Sect's protective array covered the floating rock in an airtight manner. There were no four seasons, and it always appeared evergreen.

Qing Zhouxue hurried back to her residence and began training with her fellow disciples as usual.

Another agonizing struggle followed; she emerged from the formation weak and weary, leaning against a table as she exhaled a hot breath.

That little white bird was chirping incessantly because it wanted to squeeze out, but its feathers were too fluffy and it had gotten stuck in the gaps of the cage.

Qing Zhouxue kindly pinched a few of its feathers and pulled it out.

A white blur flashed before her eyes, and something soft brushed against her cheek. The little sparrow turned its beak away, pressing only its fluffy head against her, as if comforting her.

After one nuzzle, it suddenly seemed to remember something.

Qing Zhouxue felt a sharp pain on her cheek—she had been pecked hard, but without breaking the skin.

Such a moody little bird—it resembled her master.

Qing Zhouxue didn't know why she associated her master with this little round chirping creature.

The thought of her made Qing Zhouxue, once again propping up her exhausted body, take up a brush and write a letter on paper.

As she wrote, the little sparrow hopped onto her shoulder, seemingly wanting to see what she was writing.

Qing Zhouxue had written a good long passage, but catching a glimpse of the bird's size, she suddenly sighed, crumpled up the previous draft, and burned it.

The little silver bird's eyes widened slightly, then it flapped its wings as if in protest.

"Too much for you to carry," Qing Zhouxue said.

She had thought of many things and written many things as well. But if she had to summarize briefly, there wasn't really anything worth reporting.

So she wrote just four characters: "All is well."

She rolled the little note again and again until she was sure it wouldn't come loose, then handed it to the silver bird. The silver bird took it in its beak and flew off, leaving behind a profoundly wistful silhouette.

Qing Zhouxue thought she must have seen things.

*

The Liuyun Sect did not witness the change of seasons, so the passage of time seemed all the longer.

Qing Zhouxue stood at the edge of the floating rock, parting a wisp of cloud, and gazed far off toward the mortal world. The snow below seemed to have already melted.

Spring was approaching.

At this time, Heyi Peak ought still to be half-covered in snow. But the tips of the small grass below were already brimming with readiness.

Over these past months, apart from intensely preparing for the competition with her fellow sisters, she had spent her time meditating at the ice cave—quite monotonous.

That strange senior within the ice layer rarely chatted with her, nor did she discuss the Dao with her; she only occasionally pointed out some cultivation techniques.

Most of the time, it remained silent and still.

Today, Qing Zhouxue finished her cultivation and was about to take her leave when she heard a faint sigh from within the ice: "Why do you cultivate the Dao?"

She sat cross-legged and answered, "At first, it was for survival."

"What joy is there in life? What bitterness in death?"

"There was no joy, nor any bitterness either." Qing Zhouxue thought for a moment, then added, "Later... I came to understand that if there is joy, there is also bitterness—just like yin and yang."

The voice fell silent for a moment. "So, you rejoice in what the world rejoices in, and grieve in what the masses grieve in?"

"No."

Qing Zhouxue lowered her gaze. "It is a private feeling."

"Not yet reaching emotion, then where emotion is focused, afterward forgetting emotion—these are the three realms. The way of forgetting emotion is annihilation, yet it is not annihilation."

Qing Zhouxue was momentarily taken aback. The hollow echo landed in the ice chamber, where cold met cold, deepening the chill to the bone.

She pondered for a long time and could not help but frown. "...What does that mean?"

But again, there was no response.

Qing Zhouxue had no choice but to hug the Qingshuang Sword and walk out. Just as she exited the cave mouth, she ran into an old acquaintance she was not too familiar with.

Gu Ruoshui was practicing swordplay in an open area at the back of the mountain. Standing beside her were three people who should be her fellow disciples preparing to compete with her.

In the dim light, the silvery electric glint was piercing. After only a glance or two, Qing Zhouxue felt a sharp sting in her eyes.

Years had passed, yet she remained as swift as before, just like the bearing of a thunder spirit root. Every movement had no superfluous motions—clean and decisive, carrying even a hint of killing intent.

Standing at a distance, Qing Zhouxue watched for a long while, pressing her thumb on the hilt of the sword, slowly rubbing the icy, jade-like Qingshuang Sword.

Indeed, a formidable opponent.

Gu Ruoshui finished her final thrust with a closing stance. At that moment, thunderbolts rose from beneath her feet, exploding all around in a tight, unbroken ring of electricity.

To dodge this move... one would have to jump early and immediately shield the body with cultivation, blocking the thunder.

Qing Zhouxue watched intently, calculating in her mind, when a woman beside Gu Ruoshui noticed her. Suddenly her willow-leaf brows shot up, and she strode over, interrupting with dissatisfaction: "What are you looking at?"

This woman looked somewhat familiar.

Qing Zhouxue gave her a quick once-over. She recalled that that day at the tavern, when they first encountered Gu Ruoshui, she and a junior sister of hers had gotten into an argument over the Qingshuang Sword—it was that somewhat shrewish junior sister.

Qing Zhouxue said, "Watching her practice the sword."

"The competition is coming soon. What are you up to, secretly watching our senior sister practice her sword at this time?"

"This place is not privately owned," Qing Zhouxue said calmly. "What do you mean by 'secretly watching'?"

With that, she didn't want to argue and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" The girl grabbed her wrist and yanked her back—

The Qingshuang Sword instantly spun in her hand, tracing a graceful, long arc, turning into a grip like a dagger, ready to defend.

Qing Zhouxue hadn't intended to do anything to the girl, but a red shadow flew into the corner of her eye, swift as a wildfire. With one kick to the girl's waist, she was sent stumbling, and at the same time she released Qing Zhouxue.

Qing Zhouxue froze for a moment, turning to look—it was Ruan Mingzhu. She thrust her saber into the ground with a thud and said coldly, "Keep your hands to yourself around us. What, are we supposed to all close our eyes just because we've passed by your senior sister?"

Ruan Mingzhu had just exited the cave dwelling for fire-attribute cultivation when she spotted Qing Zhouxue. She had been about to come over and walk together, but she happened to witness the whole scene and hear every word. Finally, when that girl grabbed Qing Zhouxue, she was so furious she couldn't hold it in any longer.

A cultivator being kicked without any spiritual power—it couldn't be considered harmful to the body.

But the girl froze for a moment, and perhaps wounded in her pride, she burst into tears, turning her head and crying to Gu Ruoshui, "Senior sister!"

Gu Ruoshui rubbed her brow. She didn't find anything wrong with being watched. She had been about to scold that girl—Junior Sister Guan Qianqian—back into line, but the situation had already escalated.

She first shot a glare at Guan Qianqian, who hiccupped and stopped crying. Then Gu Ruoshui looked directly at Ruan Mingzhu: "Since we're not on the arena, using force violates the rules."

"She made the first move!"

Ruan Mingzhu laughed in anger: "Her posture—anyone trained in martial arts would know the next moment she was about to strike out with her palm, right?"

"But she hadn't actually struck yet," Gu Ruoshui said calmly. "You already kicked her."

Qing Zhouxue frowned: "Looking at the whole cause, it was this young lady who was rude first."

"The Immortal Ascension Assembly expressly prohibits stirring up trouble."

At that moment, Guan Qianqian sneered coldly: "If you don't apologize to me, I'll go report to the Sect Leader right away. Then your group—maybe you won't even get the chance to step onto the arena, right?"

"So you're Qing Zhouxue?"

Guan Qianqian seemed to have heard of her too, glancing at her, then staring intently at Ruan Mingzhu: "I have classes and cultivation in the next few days, so I don't have time right now. Three days from now, at this same time, come back here. If I don't see you then, don't blame me."

Ruan Mingzhu narrowed her eyes, her fingers clenched so tightly they could have dented the saber grip.

Guan Qianqian seemed a bit cowed, stepping back slightly, then she linked arms with Gu Ruoshui, stuck out her tongue, and gave a sweet smile: "Let's go, senior sister, we'll find another place."

The open area at the back of the mountain cleared of people. Gu Ruoshui glanced back at them, then turned and led her remaining two fellow disciples, disappearing into the night.

The evening breeze was slightly cool.

Ruan Mingzhu's hand suddenly relaxed; her long saber dragged on the ground, and she couldn't be bothered to sheathe it. She stomped her foot, turned, and left, not speaking another word along the way.

Qing Zhouxue also remained silent, her brows tightly knit.

Back at the courtyard with the yin-yang shaped formation.

Lin Xunzhen and Bai Su were sitting by the spirit spring, with their trouser legs rolled up and calves soaked in the water, chatting and laughing.

They both looked over at the same time. Seeing the two's faces as stiff as frost, they were momentarily taken aback.

Senior Sister Lin's smile faded. "What happened?"