Chapter 51

Qing Zhouxue was already one of the most accomplished figures among her peers in Taichu Sect, so her defeat cast a shadow over the hearts of the other disciples. Gu Ruoshui's sword strike was exceptionally beautiful and graceful, but on that day, many had only seen the afterimage of the blade, swift and powerful as a flash of white lightning. Yet the attendant disciples of the Liuyun Sect showed no surprise; to them, their senior disciple was the reincarnation of a Sword Soul, gifted since childhood, undefeated in swordsmanship among those of equal cultivation—and she never should be defeated. She was a formidable peak they could never surmount, only gaze upon from afar.

Senior Brother Xiao had not participated in the competition that day because he was as drunk as a dead dog, and no one could drag him out of it. He missed the event, and afterward, the Sect Leader grabbed his ear and reprimanded him severely. Then he spent several months in a solitary confinement cell without showing any sign of reform. The moment he stepped out of the confinement room, a gaze locked onto him.

"Senior Brother, wait a moment."

Xiao Hong looked at Qing Zhouxue, who was radiating a faint cold aura, wondering where she had suddenly appeared from. "What is it?"

"Would you like to spar with me if you have time?"

He instinctively reached toward his waist, but the place where his precious wine gourd usually hung was empty—the Sect Leader had confiscated it. The touch left him feeling disgruntled, and he gave her a slightly annoyed look, waving his hand. "Some other day. I'm going to get a drink now."

But Qing Zhouxue said, "Wait."

She rummaged through her storage ring and found a few jugs of wine she had bought with Ruan Mingzhu and the others when they went down the mountain that day—she had gotten extra for herself and Bai Su, and naturally, they had not been drunk.

A delicate wine flask appeared in her hand, and she tossed it to Xiao Hong. He caught it, lifted the lid, and inhaled the fragrant aroma of good wine.

Qing Zhouxue stood with her sword behind her back, persistent. "Now that you have wine, how about a spar?"

Xiao Hong was taken aback but did not stand on ceremony. He tilted his head back and took a big gulp, swallowing greedily, then let out a long sigh. "You're quite something. Fine, you're better than that brat Lian Qing."

The empty wine flask and his long sword soared into the air together. With a flick of the blade, the flask shattered into neat fragments.

The Qingshuang Sword responded to the call as well, letting out a resonant ring.

Qing Zhouxue moved her feet lightly; catching each of his strikes was now quite easy, and she even had room to counterattack. But she was not satisfied with this. She focused on the sword intent behind his techniques. When Xiao Hong struck with swift strokes, it seemed as though several extra swords appeared behind him, sharp enough to cut through metal like mud—unyielding and fast. This was the path a sword cultivator must comprehend: uniting one's spirit root with one's sword, achieving a union of person and sword, able to transform at will. Her Qingshuang Sword could presently condense frost freely, but for some reason, such afterimages had never appeared. In her earlier battle, she had observed that Gu Ruoshui's dark long sword was entwined with layers of sword spirits, different yet sharing some commonality.

She drove her sword forward, weaving through the dense shadows, and clashed mightily with Xiao Hong's blade, neither gaining the upper hand. That bout ended in a draw.

When Qing Zhouxue asked how he had cultivated his sword intent, Xiao Hong stared off into space for a long moment, then said slowly, "I got drunk and threw a fit. When I woke up, the Master's purple bamboo grove had been chopped into a mountain of skewers. After that, whenever I danced with the sword, I'd see three or four shadows… Hah, at first I thought I was seeing things from too much drink!"

Qing Zhouxue fell silent for a moment, then said in surprise, "Really?"

He nodded. "Mm. But I've heard the old men say that it's different for everyone; you can't force it. How you're supposed to develop your sword intent, that, I wouldn't know."

That one flask wasn't enough, and it only whetted his craving, so he dashed off down the mountain like a bird heading for the woods.

Qing Zhouxue didn't notice when Xiao Hong had already disappeared. She was still pondering the elusive concept of sword intent but could find no answer. She was still too weak. Though it couldn't be forced, she could think of no other means at the moment. Steadying her mind, she decided to try a last-ditch effort and hurried toward the outer sect.

It had been a long time since she last set foot there; it was still as lively as ever. Compared to the inner sect, there was far more of the mundane world's vitality. She had given all the remaining wine to Senior Brother Xiao Hong, so she browsed the outer sect's market, found a tavern, and bought a jug of wine.

As she passed by the disciple quarters, she bumped head-on into a young girl. The girl was carrying a wooden basin full of clothes to wash, and because she was skinny, she seemed to be struggling. When she looked up and saw Qing Zhouxue, her eyes lit up, and she set down the basin. "Immortal?"

Qing Zhouxue stopped and looked at her. She seemed a bit familiar, but she could not recall knowing such a person.

"Immortal… I—I'm Yu Ying!" The girl grabbed her sleeve, looking somewhat excited.

Yu Ying. Qing Zhouxue rolled the name around in her mind, and then a memory flashed—on the day of the Moon Lantern Festival, her master had made her carry that child back, with a face black as coal. Now she was clean, had grown a bit taller, and had filled out slightly, revealing the charming plumpness of a young girl.

"Hello," Qing Zhouxue finally remembered and nodded at her, then corrected with all seriousness, "You should call me 'Senior Sister.'"

Yu Ying, who had just finished her chores, hadn't paid attention and realized that her hand, smudged with gray dust, had dirtied Qing Zhouxue's snowy-white sleeve. She let go abruptly, flustered, and tried to wipe it clean.

Qing Zhouxue didn't mind and casually patted the sleeve, which became spotless again. Since the child was one her master had taken in, she felt she should show some care, so she rummaged through her storage ring.

That small storage item, if of high enough quality, could keep food fresh. For instance, she later learned that when she first met Yun Shuchen, the small, soft, white pastries her master had fed her had actually been treasures preserved from the previous dynasty. Because a few identical pieces had remained, and her master thought the set was not quite neat, she had given them all to Qing Zhouxue.

On the day they went down the mountain during the Moon Lantern Festival, she had bought many snacks. Her master had said inner sect disciples rarely had time to go down the mountain, so since they had found delicious food, they might as well buy some of each and bring them all back. She took out a few pieces of candy and placed them in the little girl's palm. She was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say, then said softly, "Cultivate well."

Yu Ying stood stunned, watching the white-robed figure walk away. After a moment, she clenched the candies, put them in her pocket, bent down to lift the basin, and trudged toward the river.

On Heyi Peak.

Yun Shuchen had gone out today. When she returned, she looked around but didn't see her disciple practicing sword or reading. Perhaps she had hidden herself in some corner to cultivate in seclusion. As she walked through the corridor, she happened to notice a figure reclining in the pavilion. Qing Zhouxue leaned half against the railing, her white-silk robe soaked into the pond water, wispy like clouds. She seemed unaware, her eyes half-closed, holding a wine flask and clumsily trying to pour it into her mouth. Yun Shuchen approached her slowly and took the flask away, hiding it behind her back.

Qing Zhouxue, though drunk, showed no sign of inebriation; her face was expressionless, just as usual. But when she tried to lift the flask, her hand kept missing her mouth, which betrayed her state. When Yun Shuchen took the flask, she didn't seem to mind, letting her fingers loosely hold the railing. She stared up at Yun Shuchen without moving.

Yun Shuchen curved her lips and held up a finger, waving it before Qing Zhouxue's eyes. "Do you still recognize who this is?"

Qing Zhouxue squinted, staring at that hand waving for a long time; to her eyes, it seemed to waver into three hands. After watching for a while, she felt dizzy and closed her eyes, letting out an "Mm." "It's you."

The answer was as good as no answer. Although she didn't know why her disciple had suddenly started drinking, the way she was seriously drunk but like a block of ice was adorable no matter how you looked at it.

She was leaning precariously against the railing, her robe already half soaked in the water. Yun Shuchen used her spiritual power to lift her and settle her properly in the pavilion, then dried the damp hem of her robe with a wave. The young woman lowered her elegant eyes, stared at the dried fabric, and murmured, "Amazing."

She spoke so softly, like a soft cloud circling a mountain peak. "Master."

Yun Shuchen poked her cheek with one finger and asked softly, "Am I truly your master?"

Qing Zhouxue froze for a moment. "Aren't you?"

"No," the woman said in a gentle voice. "Call me Big Sister."

Qing Zhouxue gazed at her for a moment and then shook her head slowly. "My mother gave birth to only one child."

Yun Shuchen had thought that, given her disciple's light and soft voice right now, she would address her with such warmth. Unexpectedly, Qing Zhouxue was remarkably skilled in killing the mood. Yun Shuchen's crestfallen expectations were chilled to the bone, drenched by cold water, leaving her only able to force a faint smile and say gloomily, "You really know how to talk."

For some reason, Qing Zhouxue suddenly felt that the gentle voice by her ear had turned considerably colder. She looked up once more, against the light, at Yun Shuchen's profile.

Qing Zhouxue's cheeks finally gained a bit more color, like the tips of lotus petals reddened by the summer wind. The cold air that usually hung around her brow softened significantly. In that state, she didn't seem like an untouchable star spirit, but like a celestial who had fallen into the mortal world and touched its glamour, yet retained her aloofness.

Yun Shuchen simply watched, memorizing every detail and burying it in her heart, using the pain of her fingernails digging into her palm to stay lucid, restraining herself from reaching out. At last, she let out a soft sigh. "You can't drink like this next time. Come on, I'll help you back to your room to rest."

* * *

When Qing Zhouxue sobered up the next day, she figured she hadn't shown the same boldness as Senior Brother Xiao Hong, because when she swung her sword, it was still just a swing; she hadn't gained any new insights. Just as she thought. That method was too unconventional, and she hadn't held high hopes, so she wasn't disappointed. But it seemed she had drunk a bit too much yesterday; her memory was patchy. Had she seen her master yesterday? Probably not. She thought uneasily: Last night, she must have gotten too drunk and gone straight to her room to rest. After waking up from the hangover, her head still throbbed faintly. Qing Zhouxue didn't like drinking, and after forcing herself to get drunk, she hadn't expected it to be so unpleasant. She probably wouldn't touch such things again.

Since the senior brother was unreliable and she felt too unwell to practice martial arts today, yet didn't want to waste time, she dragged herself to her master's study. Because she had a young disciple studying swordsmanship, Yun Shuchen's collection of books had, at some point, gained many volumes related to the sword, including all the sword manuals of the Taichu Sect, from beginner to advanced, as well as mental techniques and commentaries compiled by predecessors, all arranged neatly.

If A Jin had arranged them, that demon cat was barely literate and would have only lined them up by size and thickness, like laying bricks. Qing Zhouxue's fingers traced the spines of the books. These manuals were arranged by the date they were compiled; if that date was unknown, they were ordered from simple to profound—clearly Yun Shuchen's habit of tidying things up. Whatever Yun Shuchen acquired, she always went in sets, rarely buying single items. If she came across an orphaned tome, she would go to great lengths to find its companions from every corner of the world, to complete the set. Such little quirks of hers were always so endearing.

At the thought, even her headache eased a little. Qing Zhouxue scanned several thick volumes but found nothing about sword intent. Then, by chance, she took down a book titled "Cultivation Notes on the Sword," and found it was a handwritten copy, with line after line of ink script neat and graceful.

"When I was young, I traveled the mortal world and saw emerald peaks, rivers and lakes, all kinds of skies, and thousandfold paths. Cause follows nature. I crossed a small boat from west to east, drifting slowly with the wind along the river."

This book contained more travel logs and scenes of the human world than cultivation, but the prose was succinct and beautiful, unlike the dry scriptures.

"That night, the sky was clear, and all was silent. The river surface was like a mirror, carrying ten thousand stars, shimmering with scattered light—a stunning sight. I danced with my sword on the boat, exhilarated; I was so lost in the moment that I didn't even know where I was. It was then that I spontaneously comprehended the Way of all nature under heaven. Sword intent: to be utterly empty and utterly real, moving with the heart alone."

This passage mentioned it only in passing, and Qing Zhouxue read it several times, but still couldn't make sense of it. It seemed that being able to perceive such a phenomenon truly required luck. She closed the book and rubbed her eyes wearily. If this continued, she would have no chance at the top prize at the Immortal Ascension Assembly, and then how could she get that Crimson Heart Lotus?

Since this was a dead end for now, she had to put it aside. There was another urgent problem: how to overcome her fear of thunder. As long as the Liuyun Sect still participated in the Assembly, she would inevitably face Gu Ruoshui and her ilk. And as long as Gu Ruoshui had a lightning spirit root, Qing Zhouxue, because of her own issues, would be unable to take on her sword with equanimity. But she had to break through that fear.