The reputation of Tianyi Sect resounded across the land.
“Hahahahahahaha!” Xiaofeng let out a bright laugh, then turned and smacked the disciple beside him. “So, you’re a little Daoist from Tianyi Sect! My shidi spoke impertinently. I’ll give him this slap on your behalf.”
The disciple took the slap in full view of the daylight crowd. He clutched his face, but dared not speak, dared not even show anger.
Xue Cuo found the scene oddly familiar. He sat cross-legged, raised his head, and said crisply, “Fellow Daoist, you struck him, but now he bears a grudge against me. Haven’t I thus made an enemy for no reason.”
Xiaofeng stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Eh, we cultivators seek life against the will of Heaven. What grievances can we not endure? A mere slap is nothing. Even if you had beaten him to death today, the disciples of my sect would only praise your conduct.”
Xue Cuo tilted his head. “Sword Uncle?”
Snow Sword was being clutched in the dark green hand, and had long since grown impatient. It surged forward without waiting. A mere paltry fool in the Spirit Void Realm. How dare he prattle on so grandly?
Xiaofeng and his fellow disciples took a step back, their faces cool and impassive.
In the world of cultivation, when you say the wrong thing, it’s best not to splash blood on others as you die. Else no one will bother collecting your corpse.
However, Xiaofeng remained entirely unperturbed. A fellow cultivator committing murder was far easier to explain than Xiao Dongping’s mess.
The disciple’s hair stood on end. One glance at the cold faces of his sect brothers, and his heart turned to ash. He drew his sword as he risked for his life.
Any evil sword like this one which had been sealed within Tianyi Sect’s Sword Tomb had already developed spiritual awareness. Such a weapon was equivalent in power to a Nascent Spirit expert. Snow Sword didn’t even spare him a second look.
The green-black hand gripped the hilt and prepared to strike… when it heard Xue Cuo say: “Sword Uncle, leave it,”
Snow Sword gave a discontented hum. It hadn’t yet tasted blood and was clearly displeased, but before so many eyes, it had to give Xue Cuo face, so it refrained.
Xiaofeng was disappointed. He’d hoped to rid himself of a scheming disciple by letting Xue Cuo do the dirty work. He hadn’t expected the boy to refuse to be anyone’s borrowed knife.
Xue Cuo pointed toward those atop the clouds. “The villagers were slain by people from your Qingping Sect. I don’t kill because I dislike killing. But I once shared a meal with this village’s chief. Kindness like that must be repaid.”
“Today, I’m requesting for all you geges and jiejies to enter the village and carry the dead. Those with missing limbs or heads must be sewn back together by hand. You shall dig their graves yourselves and bury them properly.”
“I once read in a book: ‘To be pure is to bring clarity. To be calm is to bring peace.’ I ask all you geges and jiejies to wear mourning robes and hold a proper water and land Daoist rites, to guide the dead to peace.”
Everyone exchanged glances, then erupted in rage. “You want us to wear mourning for commoners?! This outrageous!”
Only Xiaofeng remained composed. He studied Xue Cuo for a moment, then descended from his cloud. “The little Daoist is right.”
He gave Xue Cuo a deep bow, and strode calmly into the village.
Xue Cuo blinked in surprise, muttering to himself: This one is flexible. No excuse to strike him now. Only the rest remain.
Snow Sword at his side was twitching with anticipation, blade practically drooling.
Seeing their shixiong yield so quickly, the other disciples paled and descended as well.
“This is a virtuous act, filled with merit.”
“Merit.”
“We’re rather good at performing Daoist rites.”
Xue Cuo was stunned. He had never intended to let the Qingping Sect disciples go, but now that they had complied, it was no longer right to strike.
The bodies in the village would occupy these disciples for a good while. Even the usually serene Xiaofeng looked pained as he sewed limbs together. He muttered bitterly that if Xiao Dongping ever returned from the dead, he’d butcher him himself.
By the time the final corpse was buried, the sky had turned dark.
Xue Cuo had been out for several days and needed to rush back to the Immortal Forest, so he left quietly after watching Xiaofeng and the rest completed the rituals.
As soon as Xue Cuo departed, Xiaofeng’s shidis and shimeis stamped hard on the fresh mounds, their faces twisted with humiliation. “Shixiong! That brat went too far! I refuse to swallow this!”
Xiaofeng sneered inwardly, but let a touch of fury show on his face. “If not for the powerful treasure guarding him, hmph. That sword of his is no ordinary thing. But he’s only at the Foundation Building Stage. One day someone will kill him for it.”
“Kill him for it?”
Eyes flickered. Thoughts stirred. Xiaofeng noticed their reaction out of the corner of his eye and was pleased. He watched the direction Xue Cuo had gone and swore silently.
One day, he would slaughter his way to rise above this world. And no one would dare use their connections to suppress him.
—
Snow Sword soared lazily through the night sky, carrying Xue Cuo back toward Immortal Forest.
Xue Cuo was nearly asleep. Having only just stepped into the first stage of cultivation, he hadn’t yet mastered breath concentration or the ability to remain alert through day and night.
In the Immortal Forest, not a single pine rustled. The wind was held at bay. Mirror Lake was still as glass.
Liuming Peak slumbered like a painting.
Snow Sword drifted through the trees and came to rest outside a cottage by the lake. Then, with a sudden jolt, it dumped Xue Cuo unceremoniously onto the grass and quickly retreated behind a tree, unmoving.
There, standing on the grass, was a woman in a plain robe and a simple thornwood hairpin. Her hands were clasped behind her back.
Beside her stood a wide, towering sword. It’s dragonbone body carved with blood-red scales, heavy as a mountain.
The master of the Dragon Might Sword.
Its former wielder had once cleaved her way across seventy-nine iron chain bridges, cutting down the venomous dragon Ao Xing with a single strike.
But that sword had not been seen in Eastern Divine Land for many years.
Xue Cuo landed with a thud. He got up, rubbing his eyes. As soon as his sight cleared, he caught sight of his mother and hastily, he patted dust from his robes.
“Come here.”
Xue Cuo shivered. He shuffled forward, one foot tripping over the other, trying desperately to hide the muddy stains on his clothes. “Mom.”
Xue Zhenzhen glanced at him. “Have you practised your sword these past few days?”
Xue Cuo snuck a glance up at her, racking his brains for an excuse. “I’ve been… these few days…”
Paak——
The cane lashed through the air with a sharp sound.
Xue Zhenzhen’s face turned icy. “Turn around. Lie down.”
Xue Cuo clutched his ears. “Mom, don’t hit, don’t hit.”
Zhenzhen sneered. “Don’t hit? If I don’t, how will you ascend to Heaven. Turn over. Stick your backside out.”
Face full of dread, Xue Cuo turned around and flopped belly-down onto a pile of stones. He gripped his ears tightly, pleading, “Mom, a little bit gentler.”
Xue Zhenzhen raised the cane and scanned him from head to toe. His pale skin was splattered in mud, and atop it clung a dreadful assortment of black streaks, grey smudges, blades of grass and bits of leaf. What an utter disgrace.
Paak—
“A man who breaks his word. That’s the first.”
Every time she told him to practise his sword, he’d nod and promise earnestly. Then he’d in fact go slack off or space out. A thousand swings? He’d barely reach five hundred on a good day.
Paak—
“Slick-tongued trickster. Deceiving the the immortal tree spirits. That’s the second.”
She’d only just returned from Mirror Lake, where hundreds of spirit pines had tattled on him through the wind. This rascal had flattered and fooled them, taken advantage of their innocence, and somehow siphoned off years’ worth of cultivated Dao essence. What he’d done with it, Heaven only knew.
Paak—
“Naughty and stubborn. Fond of skiving and sleep. That’s the third.”
“Xue Cuo, let me ask you: to wield a sword is to purify the heart, perceive the sword’s intent, commune with the soul, and forge a path. Awareness, comprehension, reasoning and grasping clearly. Which of these four have you even brushed against?”
Xue Cuo winced and grit his teeth in pain, still clutching his ears. “I… not… even… one…”
Zue Zhenzhen set down the cane and folded her hands behind her back. Her gaze needed no fury to command fear: “At least you still understand, that’s still good. You were never born with great talent. If you don’t train harder than anyone else, and your spirit lags behind others too. Then you won’t be able to attaining the Dao in this lifetime. You’ll live and die a failure.”
Xue Cuo furtively wiped at his eyes, sniffing back tears. “Mom… I don’t want to attain the Dao.”
Xue Zhenzhen inhaled deeply. No matter how many times she beat him, this child wouldn’t behave and always had something to say.
“Don’t want to attain the Dao?”
He ducked his head. “Just want to live like an ordinary person. Grow old. Get sick. Die. That’s fine.”
Xue Zhenzhen let out a breathless laugh. “An ordinary mortal? Those short-lived mayflies?”
She reached into his pocket and drew out a talisman. “If you become a mortal, you won’t escape a single one of life’s eight sufferings. Poverty, hunger, exhaustion. You won’t rise, won’t progress, and not even reincarnation would offer escape. You’d be reborn as a crawling insect. And you envy that?”
Xue Cuo hesitated, then sniffled and said, “The other day I met a jiejie. She gave me water to drink. I just felt that she was like me.”
“Mom, the Daoist books say that everyone in the world can cultivate. That all can attain the Dao. If that’s true, what’s so wrong with being a mortal?”
Xue Zhenzhen stared at him. Her fury had passed, but in its place settled a terrible calm.
“Xue Cuo. You are mistaken. Laughably so.”
“My Dao does not save demons or monsters. My Dao does not save pigs, dogs, or mortals or ants.”
“Immortals cultivate the immortal path. Mortals go to the wheel of rebirth.”
“But—I shall not punish you for that today. I have the patience to correct this is a mistake of yours once you enter the Dao. Or perhaps, by then, no correction will be needed. You’ll simply understand.”
“From tomorrow, you will start atoning for the mess you’ve made.”
“Each morning by the Hour of the Dragon, you’ll draw water from the spirit spring to feed the immortal pines. There are three hundred and sixteen of them. Each gets three ladles.”
“You will swing your sword one thousand five hundred times per day. If you slack, I’ll punish you.”
She summoned Dragon Might Sword. Xue Cuo scrambled upright. He said nothing, but it was clear that he was fearful from the beating. He wasn’t actually convinced.
Zhenzhen suppressed her ire and clasped he has behind her, “Tomorrow, come to Wanhua Pavilion. I’ve matters to discuss with you.”
“Yes,” muttered Xue Cuo.
Dragon Might Sword vanished into the sky.
Only then did Snow Sword creep out from behind a tree, peeking sheepishly from the shadows.
Xue Cuo wiped away his tears. “Sword Uncle, it’s a good thing you stayed hidden. My mom’s Dragon Might Sword is really fierce. You might’ve lost your life.”
Snow Sword buzzed faintly in embarrassment, tip bobbing as it nodded.
Xue Cuo popped a few qi-nourishing pills, then began skilfully carving a ladle and wooden bucket for watering the trees. Snow Sword circled him, the dark green hand hopping lightly in the grass.
“No need to help,” said Xue Cuo, waving him off. “Once I made a fireburst talisman and blew up the Saint Lady Jinci’s fish bucket. Mom punished me by making three hundred buckets. Had to pick the nicest one and give it to her when apologising in person.”
The green-black hand was extra sympathetic towards Xue Cuo.
But then it remembered Xue Cuo’s infamous Super Thunderbolt Talisman with a Shocking Sound and Invincible Thunderbolt Fire Dance in the Universe and thought: perhaps the punishment had been too light after all.
Snow Sword leaned lazily against the stone heap, watching him work. After a while, the green-black hand leapt onto a rock and began sketching something simple in the dust.
Xue Cuo leaned in. “Are you drawing a dog?”
Snow Sword snapped its fingers against his forehead. Xue Cuo blinked, eyes watering. Then the sword awkwardly rubbed the sore spot to make amends.
Xue Cuo: “Sword Uncle, is it a person?”
The sword gave a weary hum, then drew another figure beside the first: short and stubby, with a ridiculous sky-high bun.
Xue Cuo gave a surprised laugh. “That’s me, isn’t it? And the tall one… is that you?”
The green hand on the sword paused, then hummed and gently patted his head.
Once the bucket was done, Xue Cuo took out the Essential Dao of Runes, a treasured book gifted to him by Ren Shu-gege. He read it slowly, savouring every page. Eventually, he dozed off on the ground, face pressed into his sleeves.
In his robes, the white pearl gifted Ren Shu from that monster fish emitted a gentle glow. There was a faint echoing of the sound of distant waves.
In that glimmering, fleeting light, something shadowy seemed to move.
But no one noticed it.
