Snow had been falling for two or three days, and the accumulated snow in the sect had yet to melt away.
Lin Zhixue’s daily life returned to how it had been before.
Rising at the mao hour to meditate, she would go to the training grounds in the morning to practice swordplay, handle her study companion duties in the afternoon, and occasionally head to the Scripture Pavilion with Xu Muhe to browse through sword manuals.
Her days passed regularly and quietly, like a snow-covered mountain path where footsteps left only shallow impressions, showing little change.
...
Yet on this night, she sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the Guilan Sword resting across her lap, her brows furrowing tighter and tighter.
She had long memorized the mental cultivation method for the second stance of the 《Autumn Water Sword Technique》, breaking down the movements to practice them individually dozens of times until each sword strike was without a single flaw.
Yet whenever she tried to link it seamlessly with the first stance, there would always be a momentary hitch at the transition.
Her spiritual power supply was ample, and the movements were etched crystal-clear in her mind, yet she lacked that minuscule thread of cadence.
She understood every step, but executing the entire sequence in one flowing motion still lacked that seamless, organic harmony.
She set down the Guilan Sword and rubbed the space between her brows.
The door was pushed open a crack, and Xiaoyu squeezed through, several translucent snowflakes clinging to its form.
Of course, they were not truly clinging to it; it simply felt that this brought out a winter atmosphere, deliberately making its spirit body simulate the effect of snowflakes settling on its shoulders.
The moment it came inside, it shivered exaggeratedly.
“It’s freezing! The snow outside is almost piled up to the threshold. Zhixue, be careful not to slip when you go out tomorrow... huh?”
It drifted before Lin Zhixue, cocking its head to study her face. “What’s wrong? Sword practice not going well?”
“I can’t connect the second stance.”
“The second stance?” Xiaoyu floated to her shoulder, looking down at the watery gleam still slowly rippling across the Guilan Sword. “Demonstrate it for me.”
Lin Zhixue drew her sword from its scabbard and executed the transition between the ending of the first stance and the opening of the second.
Sword light carved an arc through the dim room. The first stance concluded crisply and cleanly, but as it transitioned into the second, the sword tip hitched imperceptibly, and the aqua-blue sword light dimmed slightly for that split second.
Xiaoyu didn’t speak right away after watching. Crossing its arms, it hovered in midair and thought for a moment.
“Zhixue, do you realize that it’s hard to make a breakthrough just by repeating the moves over and over?”
“A sword technique isn’t like ordinary sword moves; it’s the mental cultivation method that guides the stances.”
“The first layer of the mental method is suited for early Foundation Establishment. With your current cultivation, you can barely support the second stance, let alone bring out its true power.”
“To put it bluntly, you aren’t practicing swordplay—you’re just forcing it.”
“It’s not that you haven’t practiced enough, but that you’ve been struggling against your own realm.”
“Using first-layer spiritual power to drive a second-layer move is like trying to dig a massive pit with a tiny trowel. It’s remarkable enough that the trowel hasn’t snapped, but progress naturally won’t keep up.”
Lin Zhixue fell silent for a moment. “Then what should I do?”
Xiaoyu tilted its head, pondering for a good while.
“I vaguely recall that there’s a Cold Water Valley in the Central Domain.”
Floating in midair, Xiaoyu fished laboriously through its hazy, ancient memories.
Its tone carried a hint of uncertainty.
“It’s not particularly close to our Southern Domain, but not too far either.”
“That place has natural cold pools, cliff waterfalls, and exceptionally rich spiritual energy. Best of all, the valley’s unique terrain can amplify sword momentum, making it especially suitable for a water spirit root cultivator like you to polish sword techniques.”
Lin Zhixue listened quietly, her eyes cast downward as she gazed at the watery ripples gliding across the Guilan Sword’s blade. Scattered points of light reflected in her amber eyes, gleaming brightly.
She could not help but recall that day in the Xu family’s courtyard, when the Golden Core Dao protector had immediately persuaded Zhao Mingchuan to leave after she revealed that single strike.
Others assumed she was simply strong enough to intimidate them, yet she was thoroughly bewildered, completely unable to fathom why they had backed down.
She was well aware of the disparity in cultivation; had they genuinely insisted on clashing by force, she never would have been able to hold out.
After a long silence, she softly acknowledged, “Mm, I understand.”
Xiaoyu looked into her eyes and said nothing more.
...
Early the next morning, Xu Muhe was auditing the talisman shop’s accounts in the Xu family’s back courtyard.
Ever since the Zhao family matter was settled last time, the second branch’s attitude toward her had changed considerably, and they were now willing to let her look over the shop’s account ledgers.
She was looking down, cross-checking the numbers for a shipment of spirit paper, when a knock sounded from the door.
Setting aside the ledger, she went to open the door. Lin Zhixue stood outside in the snow, still wearing her light-grey robes, a few snowflakes resting on her shoulders.
“Zhixue? What brings you here?”
“I will be leaving the sect for some time.”
Lin Zhixue bypassed pleasantries, stating her purpose directly.
She didn’t say where she was going, nor for how long.
Xu Muhe was silent for a moment.
Having known her for some time now, she could somewhat fathom Lin Zhixue’s thoughts.
She knew that what Lin Zhixue kept to herself was truly something she did not wish to speak of, and asking would yield nothing anyway.
She turned and went back inside, emerging with an oiled paper packet neatly bound with fine hemp cord, exuding that same faint scent of osmanthus.
She pressed the paper packet into Lin Zhixue’s hands. “From that same shop last time. Eat it on the road.”
Lin Zhixue took the oiled paper packet and glanced down at it. When she lifted her gaze to Xu Muhe, the corners of her lips curved slightly, and a gentle smile rippled through her eyes.
Stowing the pastry into her storage bag, she said softly, “Thank you.”
...
Gu Yanqing had just ceased his cultivation.
His newly cultivated technique had shown some progress, but was not even halfway complete and still required continued polishing.
The medicinal potency of the Red Gold Sand coursed back and forth through his meridians; his whole body ached and swelled as though he had been thoroughly ground down.
As he looked down to tidy up the scattered spirit ore powder, three knocks sounded at the door.
Wiping away his sweat, he stood up and opened the door.
Sure enough, it was Lin Zhixue again.
She was the same as before, yet there seemed to be a hint of emotion in her eyes that had never been there in the past.
She spoke with her usual calmness: “I intend to make a trip to Cold Water Valley to hone my sword technique. I’ve already reported it to the sect, and came by to let you know.”
A subtle flicker passed through Gu Yanqing’s eyes. After a brief silence, he gave a gentle nod. “Be careful on the road.”
Beside them, Xiaoyu floated over as well.
“Then I’m leaving too!”
It drifted before Gu Yanqing, waving a tiny hand.
“Don’t get too bored being all by yourself in the sect!”
Gu Yanqing looked at it. “Are you afraid I’ll get bored, or are you afraid you won’t have anyone to talk to?”
“Afraid you’ll be bored, of course!”
Xiaoyu retorted immediately, then muttered under its breath:
“And along the way... maybe a tiny bit afraid no one will talk to me.”
“Understood.”
Xiaoyu gave one more earnest reminder: “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Mm.”
Lin Zhixue nodded gently to him, then turned and left with Xiaoyu.
Gu Yanqing stood in the doorway, watching the figures of the girl and the spirit drift further and further away.
Once the door closed, the courtyard grew suddenly quiet.
He remained where he was, not moving.
With her leaving, they likely wouldn’t be seeing each other every day like before.
Thinking about it, it made sense. She was growing stronger and stronger, now capable of holding her own ground, and had no need to constantly stay by his side.
Actually, this was quite good.
He knew deep down that his cautious avoidance of the plot had all been to steer clear of his original, inevitable demise.
Now that she could venture out to temper herself alone, it was genuinely the best outcome.
He understood all the reasoning, yet a knot of inexplicable tightness clogged his chest, refusing to dissipate.
He stood in the doorway for a long time, so long that passing chore disciples couldn’t help casting curious glances at him.
Gu Yanqing reeled in his thoughts, released his grip on the doorframe, and drew his sword as he walked out into the courtyard.
He had been so busy cultivating the new technique lately that he had barely practiced with his sword; it was indeed time to pick it back up properly.
The sword blade sliced through the cold air, letting out a crisp, clear hum.
Rate on N.U.
