The dark sky gradually brightened. Sunlight along the horizon began to tint the sky in gradients of azure, making the lingering white streak of a shooting star appear exceptionally cold.
Wen Li sat in the courtyard resting her chin on one hand, watching Gu Linshu snap a branch off the peach tree. Full of youthful vigor, the young man treated the twig as a sword, stepping forward and slashing it out.
Whoosh!
The peach twig lashed out like a whip, but swayed continuously from inertia. Gu Linshu concentrated, exerting force with his wrist in an attempt to control the trembling twig.
Yet it had the opposite effect, making the twig wobble even more erratically.
Wen Li pinched an almond from the plate on the table, flicked her wrist, and shot it straight at Gu Linshu's wrist.
“What are you shaking for? You're trembling like a sieve.”
Stung by the pain, Gu Linshu's grip loosened, and the peach twig dropped to the ground.
“Whenever you practiced swordsmanship in the past, you either followed manuals or sought guidance from sword cultivators. Your stances and movements look decent enough, but you lack the spirit of a sword cultivator. You're merely imitating other people's movements and demeanor, not your own.”
Listening to Wen Li's instruction, Gu Linshu felt bashful. Lowering his head and clenching his fists, he said via voice transmission, “Master speaks the truth. That is also what those senior sword cultivators who instructed me in the past said—that I have no talent for walking the Dao of the Sword.”
No matter how many days, nights, or years he practiced diligently, he remained stuck at the superficial level of holding a sword. It was no wonder many people in the Northern Province knew that the fabulously wealthy Wangyue Sect had produced a talisman prodigy who was obsessed with the Dao of the Sword yet utterly devoid of talent for it.
Wen Li caught the trace of inferiority that had gradually taken root after years of futile effort. Sighing speechlessly, she dearly wanted to shake him awake: Young man, you do have sword talent! You do! It just takes sacrificing your family to the heavens, that's all.
The first time Gu Linshu had comprehended sword intent, it was in a state of madness after slaying his parents, his kin, and his beloved.
Yet after waking from that state, he never took up the sword again. He lost his sword heart, and lost his obsessive devotion to the Dao of the Sword, leaving behind only resentment and revulsion.
Wen Li waved her hand dismissively. “Those people are talking out of their asses. Clearly, it's their own lack of skill. You still have talent for the sword. Look at the muscle on your arms and your storage bag bursting with endless spirit stones! You're far more talented than them. They're purely jealous of you, terrified that if you truly step onto the Dao of the Sword, you'll drown them in wealth and outshine those paupers who have nothing to their names except their swords.”
Gu Linshu: “...” Master, you might as well not comfort me.
“What, you might not believe in yourself, but can you really not believe in me?” Seeing his fair, scholarly face still mired in gloom, Wen Li clicked her tongue.
“N-No, I believe completely, M-Master!”
Gu Linshu looked up, the gloom in his eyes clearing. That made sense. He hadn't met Master before, but now that he had this ten-thousand-year-old monster backing him, she could drive him onto the Dao of the Sword one way or another, even if she had to whip him along.
That's more like it. Wen Li nodded nonchalantly. “Mm. Just do as I said and start by practicing with a branch. Find a feeling where you can become one with it without relying on spiritual energy, controlling it at will. As for forms, I have an exclusive manual here to pass down to you.”
From her storage bag, she fished out a yellowed manual and tossed it to Gu Linshu.
“...Oh!”
Hearing that it was her exclusive manual, Gu Linshu immediately leaped forward to catch the yellow booklet, which nearly fell apart and scattered pages in midair. Holding it in his hands, he flipped it open:
“Sword Cultivator Move One: Blade of Tetanus. Most sects pride themselves on righteousness and forbid smearing poison or medicine onto sword blades. One can instead hone a thousand-year-old rusted ancient sword. Whoever gets stabbed dies! Guaranteed zero trace of poison, leaving behind dead men who tell no tales.”
“...”
Though he did not know what tetanus was, Gu Linshu knew this was a peerlessly sinister ploy.
Refusing to give up, he turned to the second page, eager to see some proper sword techniques.
“Sword Cultivator Move Two: Sword Name Sneak-Attack Method. Name your sword something unexpected to bewilder your enemy and stall their reaction time, taking them by surprise to strike first and seize the initiative. Refer to names like ‘Wait a Minute,’ ‘Spare Me, Senior,’ ‘I Have Something to Say,’ or ‘Ancestor, Save Me!’ (Do not use ‘Hold On,’ because I already used it!)”
“...” He was absolutely certain this had been authored by Master.
Perhaps Gu Linshu's speechless expression was too obvious; Wen Li, who hadn't touched this manual in ages and had forgotten its exact contents, stepped up behind him and glanced over his shoulder, her expression freezing.
Then, she silently reached out and flipped the yellow booklet to page seven.
That was the actual instructional guide for proper sword forms.
“Here. You have no use for the earlier parts yet. Look at them only after you've truly entered the Dao of the Sword and obtained your own blade.”
Hands tucked behind her back, Wen Li walked away with utter composure.
“All right.” Although somewhat underhanded, those preceding tricks had already been tested and verified by Master to be extremely effective—such as the sword's name.
Evening.
Instead of getting word back from Zongzheng Huangyue, Wen Li ended up waiting until the very people who had ambushed them in the courtyard residence last time showed up.
By then, it was too late to run; they were completely surrounded in the residence.
Seven black-clad cultivators landed on the roof of the courtyard, glaring down at them coldly.
“Fellow Daoists, our master requests your presence. If you refuse, we will have no choice but to offend.”
Standing beneath the unblooming peach tree in the courtyard, Wen Li wore a mocking expression. “Whether you offend or not is entirely up to your tongue, isn't it? Your master certainly trained you well.”
A casual glance revealed four Late-Stage Foundation Establishment cultivators, two Foundation Establishment Great Perfection cultivators, and one Mid-Stage Golden Core cultivator.
It would be difficult for her to fight them alone, to say nothing of having Gu Linshu at Early-Stage Foundation Establishment with her.
The lead black-clad cultivator's eyes grew cold, yet he still made a gesturing motion.
“Since Fellow Daoist has thought it through, after you.”
Standing beside Wen Li, Gu Linshu sent a voice transmission, “Master, are we really going with them?”
“Cut the nonsense. If we fight, we'll just end up badly injured and still get dragged over. Better to go in one piece. Since they said 'request,' it means there's still room to maneuver.” Wen Li transmitted back, setting off to follow them.
Gu Linshu followed.
Yet the moment Wen Li stepped out the gate, her spiritual energy suddenly jolted.
Bang!
The courtyard doors were shattered by her blast, falling into ruined pieces across the ground in an instant.
“My apologies. I felt a sneeze coming on just now and couldn't hold it in, so it ended up releasing as spiritual energy.” Wen Li offered a faint smile.
The lead black-clad cultivator glanced at the door, his expression unchanged. “Please.”
So what if she left a clue for Zongzheng Huangyue? If his master wanted to take someone away, there was no one they couldn't take.
Catching the contempt in his eyes, Wen Li curled her lips into a smile. Those who didn't care about Zongzheng Huangyue and dared to ambush her twice in the capital of Houchi Kingdom could only be one of a few individuals.
As for who it was...
...
“Your Highness, it has been dealt with cleanly.”
In the underground dungeon of the Houchi Kingdom imperial palace.
Zongzheng Huangyue sat before an iron door that reeked of dampness and blood. A dark shadow emerged behind her—the only Nascent Soul cultivator assigned to her by the Saint Emperor.
As for the subordinates she had taken with her to Beiqiong Kingdom, the highest among them had only been at Mid-Stage Golden Core.
Dressed in opulent black-and-gold robes, Zongzheng Huangyue slowly raised her eyes. She did not turn to look at how bloody and sickening the innermost chamber of the dungeon was; she merely held out her hand.
The Nascent Soul cultivator immediately stepped forward and dropped to one knee. “Your Highness.”
Zongzheng Huangyue gazed at him with eyes full of innocence and self-reproach. “Was I too cruel? If they hadn't failed to protect me and allowed me to get hurt, I wouldn't have wanted to kill them.”
Her raised right wrist was wrapped in white cloth, bearing an actual injury—one she had cut herself upon returning this morning.
This was her excuse for executing these people; otherwise, having no pretext when the Saint Emperor questioned it would seem suspicious.
“Your Highness did nothing wrong. It was their negligence; they deserved to die.” The black-clad Nascent Soul cultivator was masked, yet his voice sounded young, and his eyes were sharp and clear. Facing Zongzheng Huangyue, he was exceedingly deferential.
Hearing this, the corners of Zongzheng Huangyue's lips curved slightly. She reached out and patted the cultivator's shoulder.
“If the Saint Emperor asks, just tell him I am fine. I do not want him to worry about me.”
“Yes.”
After dealing with those people, Zongzheng Huangyue exited the dungeon. Just as she stepped outside, she heard someone come to report.
“Your Highness, the Imperial Preceptor summons you to the ancestral temple.”
Zongzheng Huangyue's brow furrowed slightly. She casually inquired, “What is the matter? How did Master look?”
Could Zongzheng Yingchu have found out that she defected and took another master? Impossible. No matter how formidable he was, he wasn't as formidable as her new master.
Aside from the Saint Emperor, this nominal master of hers was one of the few beings in Houchi Kingdom whom she treated with deference, caution, and awe. Yet, remembering that he was nothing more than a defeated foe before her new master, the fear in her heart subsided by a few degrees.
The messenger hesitated and shook his head. “I do not know either. The Imperial Preceptor's expression looked no different than usual.”
Hearing this, Zongzheng Huangyue couldn't help feeling tense as she hurried toward the ancestral temple.
...
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