The cultivators fell silent.
They were the most promising youths from across the Three Mountains and Five Seas, journeying thousands of miles to study at Wendao Palace.
Wendao Palace was a sacred place rich in spiritual energy, steeped in ancient Daoist tradition, nestled at the edge of the mortal realm within a blessed land.
Naturally, a place like this was no charity hall. Without the authority of a dominant sect keeping order, the various factions would tear each other apart long before any discussion of “equal distribution” could begin.
Some seized the moment to educate their younger peers. “Besides, even a great sect has its own difficulties. Just because they’re powerful doesn’t mean we should let our imaginations run wild. We’ve came here from afar. Aren’t we also taking what might have belonged to others?”
“Exactly. As long as we can cultivate to the Spirit Void Stage here, once we leave Wendao Palace, the world will be vast, the skies high, and the seas wide. The rewards will come.”
“Rules may be rigid, but people aren’t. Cultivation requires flexibility, too.”
Some stood up for Mr. White-Brow. Others stewed in quiet resentment.
“Shimei, don’t speak up. Endure for now. Calm seas follow the storm. Take a step back, and the sky opens wide.”
“Shixiong, we worked so hard to get here, but in the end, it’s no different from our tiny sects.”
The older disciple shook his head. “It’s just a beast from the demon clans. Not worth my effort.”
The girl looked dazed. “Is that so?”
Her fingers curled tightly around the hilt of her sword, but she didn’t dare to strike the tree while she was just a mayfly. In the end, she merely glanced aside, her anger trapped behind silence.
Gu Ruhui walked past them. Zhuo Qingyuan caught his eye and winked. In a whisper, he said, “Third floor of the Sutra Library, sixth shelf on the left. Some great techniques up there. Xiao Cui and I both checked them out.”
Lang Cui coughed lightly and gave a subtle nod.
Gu Ruhui understood.
The rewards handed out by Wendao Palace meant little to these youths. They were likely the kind of idle books they’d already skimmed through back in childhood.
No wonder, during the gathering at the Star-Picking Tower, those radiant prodigies could casually quote scriptures so profound and esoteric. It wasn’t just natural talent. They were raised steeped in it.
Gu Ruhui couldn’t insert himself into those conversations. He didn’t even want to.
In his heart, there was only the sword. He read no other texts, discussed no other topics, used no other weapons.
Every night, he slept with his sword in his arms. In his eyes, there were no spring blossoms, no autumn leaves, no winter snow.
Zhuo Qingyuan had once said in admiration, “Only someone like you could truly learn the Twelve Heavenly Sword Forms of Sword Immortal’s.”
Really?
Gu Ruhui’s long lashes fluttered like feathers. He smiled faintly in his heart, but he didn’t respond.
He often dreamed the same dream. A sudden storm. Wind like thunder. Flashes of white robes, dark hair, blades piercing through chests. Screams echoing one after another. Even in dreams, he could smell the scent of rain colliding with fire.
Since that day, his home was gone. He became rain without trace, trees without roots. Ashes of all things. Wherever he looked, it was all sword-light and blade-shadow.
Gu Ruhui was only twelve, yet already many souls had fallen beneath his sword.
When he killed, he would wonder.
What makes a person human?
If someone goes hungry, is poverty-stricken, and lives without dignity, can they still be called human?
If someone grovels, lies, steals, and revels in cruelty, are they still human?
Then perhaps, those he killed weren’t really people.
So his sword was swift. Without hesitation. Without mercy.
The Sword Immortal once praised him: “A true swordsman must be clear-minded and wise. At your age, you’ve already achieved the clarity of sword-heart, the will of the sword, and even touched the soul of the blade. You’re only slightly beneath what I was back then.”
Shifu’s praise caught Gu Ruhui off guard. For the first time, he felt a sort of excitement and joy he had never known.
And so, he pushed himself harder. Tenfold. A hundredfold. He left no moment of rest, no inch of slack.
Yet the Sword Immortal said: “Ruhui, asking the Dao is not the same as seeking the Dao. The more you struggle, the more exhausted your body and mind become. How can you then see where the Way lies?”
Gu Ruhui was lost.
His shimu, who had always been indifferent, finally spoke when she saw the brilliance and the weight of his devotion. She said softly: “The sky is high and the clouds are light. Why not rest awhile?”
His shifu taught him to learn the sword like a person. His shimu taught him to rest like a person.
He had never thought much of Xue Cuo. But one day, sitting beneath the flower pavilion, sipping tea with his shifu and shimu, Gu Ruhui found himself wondering—what if he had parents like them?
Xue Cuo, with Sword Immortal and shimu, had everything Gu Ruhui once dreamed of.
And yet he only seemed to let them down. But if it were him, he would never bear to disappoint them.
The world’s deepest bond is that between kin. The rarest love is that found among mortals.
But for Gu Ruhui… there was only the sword.
White-Brow turned a blind eye to the commotion and spoke gently to Gu Ruhui. “Shizhi* aaa, with your swordsmanship, you should’ve taken the top spot. What happened? Did something go wrong during the trial?”
(*TN: address for one’s fellow disciples’ disciple. “Zhi 侄” is literally “nephew”.)
Gu Ruhui, with long lashes like feathers and pale lips, cupped his fists and said, “I was careless and got a little injured.”
White-Brow chuckled. “So that’s it, haha. No matter. I have some pills. You can pick a few later.”
Just then, a crisp young voice rang out, disrupting the warm atmosphere.
“White-Brow-shibo, you made a mistake. The first place is Kong Yun, not Gu Ruhui.”
The voice instantly made everyone realise that what had just happened wasn’t trivial. It was akin to blatant favouritism during a public examination.
The white brow youth lowered his head slightly, his expression peculiar, and he sighed softly. “Xue Cuo, are you disagreeing? Because Ruhui surpassed you?”
Xue Cuo looked genuinely puzzled, hands on hips. “I was just laughing at you since you’ve wrongly assessed who caught a cloud and who didn’t. It was so obvious. Why are you mistaking birds for people?”
Gu Ruhui spoke softly. “Xue Cuo-shidi.”
Xue Cuo looked at him, pursed his lips, and eventually returned the courtesy by cupping his hands. “Ruhui-shixiong.”
He didn’t like Gu Ruhui.
That sudden realisation left a faint trace of disappointment in Gu Ruhui’s heart.
The white-browed youth waved his sleeve, stirring the clouds, and declared, “I never act improperly, never speak carelessly, and I certainly never misjudge people.”
Just as he was about to leave, Xue Cuo let out a “Oi oi!” and suddenly flipped upside down, hanging from the cloud by his legs, one hand gripping the edge and the other stretching out toward Kong Yun.
Startled, Kong Yun quickly grabbed him. “Do you wanna die? We’re so high up! Hurry and get down!”
Xue Cuo stubbornly dragged the cloud back, gritting his teeth. “No one leaves! Not until this is cleared up!”
Now, the expressions of the other cultivators began to shift restlessly. A handsome disciple with a limp stepped forward and shouted, “Immortal Master, we don’t understand! Gu Ruhui-shige didn’t have a cloud. How did he qualify to enter the Sutra Library? Please explain!”
“Exactly! This can’t stand!”
“It’s too unfair!”
The crowd broke into a chaotic uproar. Before the white browed youth could respond, someone jumped out to defend him. “Fellow cultivators! Hear me out!”
“Wendao Palace is a sacred place with ten thousand years of legacy. Master White-Brow is a man of Dao and virtue. He would never do such a thing. I say there’s something suspicious about that one called Kong Yun!”
“A monster from a miscellaneous background? And he caught the cloud faster than the rest of us? This smells fishy!”
“Instead of accusing others, maybe we should reflect. If we were as excellent as Gu-shixiong, wouldn’t we also be qualified for special treatment?”
Someone snapped, “You bootlickers and so shameless. Pei!”
The crowd quickly split into two opposing camps, swords almost drawn. White-Brow’s brow twitched, and he shot a glare at the instigator, Xue Cuo.
But Xue Cuo had no time for that. Hanging from the cloud, he shouted, “Kong Yun, hold my waist—my waist! I can’t hang on much longer!”
Kong Yun caught him and tried to bring him down, but Xue Cuo muttered, “If I come down, he’ll run off!” So he stubbornly refused.
Kong Yun was filled with mixed emotions. He’d been furious moments ago, yet somehow, Xue Cuo’s ridiculous antics made him feel somewhat comforted.
Though, maybe it was just that Xue Cuo hanging off two clouds like that looked unbelievably stupid.
White-Brow was growing visibly impatient, but he knew this couldn’t be simply suppressed. He gave Gu Ruhui a gentle pat on the shoulder and spoke to the students, “Fellow disciples.”
The room fell silent, waiting to hear how White-Brow would settle this matter.
White-Brow scanned them with calm eyes. “This trial may indeed have its flaws. So, let’s do this. Choose one more person among yourselves to enter the Sutra Library with me.”
The disciple who had been first to object was overjoyed. “Immortal Master! I, Xiaofeng, volunteer!”
“Pei! Why should you be the one?”
Xiaofeng flared up. “I’m the only one from my sect admitted here. We’re already at a disadvantage. That’s exactly why I should go!”
“I’m a Western Sea disciple and have come from afar. We endured hardship to study here. Why not us?”
“What about my sect…”
The argument shifted instantly. The disciples who were once united in their complaints splintered into isolated factions, now at each other’s throats over this one coveted spot.
White-Brow clasped his hands behind his back and watched leisurely, unconcerned.
Kong Yun, furious, finally yanked Xue Cuo down with brute force. Xue Cuo landed on the cloud with a thud.
Frowning, eyes sharp, Kong Yun bowed deeply toward the figure reclining atop the clouds, drinking as if above it all.
“Sword Immortal senior,” he said in a clear, resolute voice, “I do not accept this!”
