Chapter 138

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Chapter 138: At the Foot of Sword Demon Mountain

Ming He raised her eyes to see a woman clad in a light blue gauzy robe, her gaze intense and unwavering. The woman’s lips curved gently, her eyes sparkling like stars, radiating a bright and clear light.

Her eyes were exceptionally pure.

The bearer of those eyes stood tall, a long sword strapped to her back. Her breathing in the darkness was steady and rhythmic, exuding an air of calm composure.

When Ming He had first entered Chang Gui City in disguise, the sun had been high in the sky, casting its harsh light. After listening to the chatter of cultivators at the Small Teahouse, engaging in a hasty skirmish with armored guards, and fleeing in disarray, the moon had risen above the willows, replacing the sun—a full day had passed in what felt like an instant.

Now, the moonlight filtered through the mountains, mingling with the night clouds, casting a soft glow over the surrounding darkness, creating an atmosphere of quiet solitude.

By the faint moonlight, Ming He could make out the woman’s features.

Her black hair was tied up, her eyes clear, and her lips curved in a gentle smile. Her entire demeanor radiated youthful vigor, reminiscent of Ming He’s own past self.

Her features were striking, her face exceptionally beautiful.

Yet, Ming He was certain she had never met this woman before—someone who would extend a helping hand in such a perilous moment.

With a cultivation level at the Dust Dispersal stage, she had managed to evade the armored guards, even if only temporarily. Truly, the human race was brimming with talent, and one could not judge strength by cultivation alone.

Ming He lowered her gaze and softly asked, “Who are you?”

“I am Xie Xiaojing,” the woman in the light blue robe replied, her head dipping slightly as a flicker of disappointment crossed her face—disappointment that Ming He did not recognize her.

But it was only for a moment.

Soon, she lifted her head again, her smile bright and her face glowing with vitality. “I am an inner sect disciple of Qingbi Mountain in the First Continent. I am traveling with my master to seek opportunities for my life’s flying sword. I happened to pass through here and encountered my Senior Sister.”

Qingbi Mountain.

Ming He frowned, still puzzled.

She had heard of Qingbi Mountain.

It was one of the major sects in the Eastern Region, though its power and legacy paled in comparison to the Floating Cloud Sect and the Beast Master Sect. Still, it was an ancient sect with a rich history, particularly renowned for its swordsmanship.

But Ming He was certain she had never met a disciple from Qingbi Mountain, and the title “Senior Sister” was even more perplexing.

Ming He looked up at the woman named Xie Xiaojing, her gaze steady in the darkness, each word spoken with care. “Though I am a disciple of Qingbi Mountain, I am not originally from the First Continent.”

“I was once an outer sect disciple of the Liu Yun Sect, and I stood on the same stage as my Senior Sister. In that battle, I caught a glimpse of the path I wished to pursue in my cultivation,” the woman in the light blue robes, her sword resting on her back, explained.

She had discovered her purpose and passion for cultivation even before Ming He had.

Her lively and radiant demeanor was entirely different from Ming He’s own.

It was a presence all her own.

“My Senior Sister once illuminated my path, so now, I have come to illuminate yours,” Xie Xiaojing said, her expression solemn.

On the same stage.

An outer sect disciple of the Liu Yun Sect.

Ming He’s starry eyes widened slightly as a long-buried memory surfaced—a memory that had seemed insignificant at the time.

During the outer sect grand competition at the Liu Yun Sect, she had once defeated a girl wearing a blue disciple robe.

Among the nine fighters on stage, only one had known she was destined to lose yet had insisted on facing Ming He, unshaken even in defeat.

She indeed lost.

At that time, Ming He had only struck once.

Yet, Ming He remembered her.

She had only been in this world for a few years, but the vastness it offered her was far greater than those more than a decade in her past life. Her memories were as wide as the ocean, thus she had no impression of Xie Xiaojing, who had blossomed and shaken off the dust.

But then Xie Xiaojing mentioned the Liu Yun Sect’s outer sect.

In that instant, Ming He recalled.

That seemingly unimportant strike from years ago, that ordinary battle, was it still such a significant moment in others’ hearts, a moment that illuminated their path to cultivation?

Could she also ignite someone else’s path?

Ming He lowered her eyelids, her expression unclear, momentarily stunned, not knowing what to say.

“One day, I will be as powerful as my Senior Sister!” the girl said brightly, her crystal-clear and confident voice echoing in Ming He’s ears.

You will, Ming He silently answered in her heart, feeling a faint smile tugging at her lips in response to Xie Xiaojing’s respectful and passionate gaze. “I am very happy to see you like this.”

“I am also very happy to see you like this, Senior Sister Ming He,” Xie Xiaojing replied with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling, her entire presence exuding pride and warmth.

“Happy?” Ming He paused, her expression dazed, then after a moment, she let out a low laugh. “Now, I am an enemy to the world, in a state of disarray, fleeing everywhere. I am no longer…”

No longer that sword cultivator who once illuminated the world with a single strike on the arena.

The youthful spirit of those times had eroded with time; the blue clothes had turned to black, and she was no longer bright and honest. How could she still illuminate your path?

Her expression was handsome, but a hint of bitterness lingered. She wanted to say so, but upon seeing her own reflection in Xie Xiaojing’s clear eyes, she lowered her head, saying nothing.

“You certainly are,” Xie Xiaojing said, gently pressing her hand on Ming He’s shoulder and channeling spiritual energy to heal her wounds and cleanse her of dust and grime. Her voice rang out clear and cheerful, just like in the past. “Senior Sister Ming He will always be.”

And always will illuminate my path and my heart.

“Tap, tap, tap!”

Heavy footsteps sounded again, approaching the hidden place where they were.

Ming He knew she had been discovered once more.

She frowned, looking at her empty right hand, gathering her focus, and the next moment, a slender, fair hand pressed down on it.

“Senior Sister Ming He, leave the armored guards outside to me. You go first and leave this city,” Xie Xiaojing said calmly.

From the moment she decided to leave the comforts of her sect and venture out with her master, she had been prepared for such a plan.

Ming He looked at Xie Xiaojing, disbelief in her gaze. How could someone at the Dust Dispersal stage possibly be a match for the armored guards?

“But the armored guards are responsible for protecting the human race and low-level cultivators!”

Xie Xiaojing’s thoughts were clear as she smiled at Ming He. She waved her hand and pulled an item from her storage ring, placing it in Ming He’s palm. “This is for you, Senior Sister Ming He.”

“I’m going,” Xie Xiaojing leaned close to Ming He’s ear and spoke softly, her lips curving into a joyful smile.

She felt this was probably the closest distance she had ever been to Senior Sister Ming He.

“Hey—”

Ming He opened her mouth, wanting to speak but stopping short. She watched as Xie Xiaojing took a few steps past her, rushing out of their hiding place, and the next moment, the sound of weapons clashing rang out.

She could not see the battle, only hearing the increasingly intense sounds of combat, leaving her unable to gauge the progression of the fight.

But when would she ever abandon her little Junior Sister?

Even when she was a Junior Sister herself, she had never been forsaken by her Senior Brothers and Sisters.

Ming He stood tall, her gaze resolute, stepping forward to leave the narrow space hidden by clutter, ready to face the armored guards in a fair battle.

She might face death, but she couldn’t let Xie Xiaojing confront them alone.

She had just saved her, after all.

The wind lifted her clothes, and a white figure suddenly appeared before her, blocking her path. “Your little Junior Sister will be fine.”

The voice was cool and composed. “So, you should leave this city first.”

The figure stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Ming He, and in an instant, they had soared dozens of miles away. The gentle breeze brushed past them, and the dilapidated buildings of Chang Gui City receded into the distance like a reflection.

The river meandered lazily, its clear waters rippling in the wind.

This sudden figure had taken her out of Chang Gui City, placing her by the stream, where she stood silently, lost in thought.

Ming He studied her carefully, noting the white robes and headscarf, with a jade ornament hanging at her waist. This was the distinctive attire of the Nine Heavens Pavilion.

She had encountered a fair number of people from the Nine Heavens Pavilion, but not many.

There was the one who had taken the Xuanyuan Sword from the Divine Sword Tomb; another who had ensured her safety on the path to the Northern Wilderness when her spiritual ocean was in turmoil; and then the white-clad Nine Heavens Guard who had captured Yóu Lìng.

But they were not the same.

The one before her now—she had never seen her before.

Even though her face was concealed and her presence subdued, Ming He was certain this was her first encounter with this particular Nine Heavens Guard.

Though dressed in the same white robes, Ming He sensed immediately upon meeting her that this one was a woman.

A woman she had seen before.

She must have encountered her, recognized the true face beneath the white robes and headscarf.

The feeling she gave was oddly familiar.

“Have we met before?” Ming He asked, her eyes deep and probing, filled with a sharp curiosity that could pierce through any disguise.

The white figure paused for a moment, her breath faltering slightly. Her eyes were hidden beneath the headscarf, making it impossible to discern their expression. Her voice remained cool and composed, though there was a deliberate softening of her tone. “Do you speak this way to every woman you meet?”

“Of course not; you’re the first.” As Ming He spoke, she felt an inexplicable flutter in her chest, her thoughts drifting to her Senior Sister far away in the Ice Palace on Qin Huang Mountain. The words seemed to carry a hint of teasing, though she hadn’t intended it.

But truly, she was simply asking and answering a question.

As for Xie Xiaojing, the image of the armored guards wielding their spears deepened the shadows in Ming He’s gaze. She wasn’t wrong—their duty was to protect the human race and low-level cultivators, while carrying out the edicts of the Emperor.

“Hmph!”

The white figure scoffed softly but said nothing more. Her form flickered and vanished without a trace.

Being able to fly was indeed impressive.

Ming He watched the disappearing figure, silently murmuring to herself. Unconsciously, she clenched her right fist, her knuckles turning pale and translucent, her body trembling for a moment.

She gazed at the green leaves drifting down the distant stream, her eyes shimmering slightly as she sighed deeply and relaxed her body.

Recently, she seemed to sigh a lot.

Ming He sighed again, her gaze falling upon the object clutched in her palm. It was three feet long, crystal-clear, and a translucent green, sharp at the tip with thin, blade-like edges—clearly a sword.

A bamboo sword, casually carved from bamboo.

It was also what Xie Xiaojing had handed to her before the battle.

Qingbi Mountain, a prominent sect in the Eastern Region, renowned for its swordsmanship.

The mountain where Xie Xiaojing had joined was situated in the southern part of the Eastern Region, abundant with Qingbi bamboo.

This bamboo was resilient and exceptionally suited for sword cultivators.

For three years, they chopped bamboo, and for another three, they carved it—this marked the beginning of the outer sect disciples’ training.

Only after they could slay beasts with the bamboo sword could outer sect disciples advance to the inner sect.

Xie Xiaojing, hailing from Liu Yun Sect in the Eastern Region, naturally could not afford to spend six years as an outer sect disciple at Qingbi Mountain.

Her entry into Qingbi Mountain was entirely due to her innate talent, a gift for swordsmanship.

The blue-clad outer sect disciples who had once battled alongside her had all chosen the path of sword cultivators, each with their own unique opportunities.

Ming He smiled faintly, tightening her grip on the bamboo sword. She lifted her head, gazing at the sky in silence for a moment before stepping toward her next destination.

One might say she was fleeing, or perhaps she was wandering the world.

After Ming He left, the white figure reappeared at the original spot, gazing at the ever-flowing stream with a somber expression.

“Does it hurt?” another white figure descended from the air and spoke softly, “It’s already quite good, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t it hurt you?” the first white figure turned around, her voice icy. “You don’t feel anything—”

She looked up at the dark expanse above, her eyes swirling with emotion, though her words bore no connection to the previous ones. “But of course, it hurts me.”

“The Four Seasons Flower is about to bloom,” the later figure suddenly lowered her voice.

Above the Imperial Palace, thick layers of dark clouds stretched across the sky, accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder that could shake the heavens and earth.

A young boy lay on the eaves of the Imperial Palace, chewing on a blade of grass. Despite the roaring thunder, he appeared utterly at ease, dozing off to the gentle warmth of the glazed tiles below.

“Boom! Boom!”

The thunder continued to roll, the dark clouds churned, and for miles around, only the Imperial Palace exhibited such a scene.

Inside the Imperial Palace, there was no sunlight; outside, one could not see the dark clouds or hear the thunder.

Purple ripples accompanied the thunder, gently oscillating and creating fine ripples that expanded from the inside out—this was the unique craft of a formation master.

And within the Imperial Palace, there was only one formation master.

“Of course, it counts.”

The young boy murmured softly, turned over, and fell into a deep sleep, the corners of his lips curling into a carefree smile.

He paid no heed to the raging thunder, wanting only to sleep until the world turned dark.

Today was another good day.

Dust filled the sky, with a patch of light green standing tall and unmoving. In the distance, amidst the swirling dust, a shadow in black clothes appeared, stumbling and trembling.

Suddenly, the wind ceased, and the dust settled, covering the figure in a layer of sand, adding a third color to the mix of dry yellow and light green.

It was a startling streak of crimson, trailing along her footsteps and seeping into the parched earth, only to be swallowed by the swirling yellow dust before it could vanish completely, as though it had never existed.

Ming He surveyed her surroundings with cracked lips, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She hadn’t expected to find herself smiling in such dire circumstances.

Yet, against all odds, she smiled.

After wandering aimlessly, the path she had hastily chosen in her desperate flight had led her to the Northern Wilderness, toward Sword Demon Mountain.

This marked the second month of her relentless pursuit.

Three months prior, she had arrived here in a similarly disheveled state, and amidst her confusion, she had discovered her own path in Swordsmanship.

What would this time bring?

Ming He smiled again, standing in the Northern Wilderness, gazing toward Sword Demon Mountain.

This time, she might just secure the Four Seasons Flower.

Had her subconscious led her here because of her Senior Sister?

Ming He’s lips curled with a hint of pride as she tightened her grip on the bamboo sword, her eyes reflecting exhaustion teetering on the edge of collapse.

Yet, beneath the weariness, there was a glimmer of determination and resolve.

Winter Weed tree, we meet again.

Ming He stepped forward, her hand brushing against the resilient green tree that stood unyielding against the relentless dust. She whispered softly, then in an instant, her figure darted forward like a gust of wind, racing toward Sword Demon Mountain.

Whether it was Mu Chen or Sword Demon, surely one of them could save her now.

After all, even with her extraordinary abilities, she was no match for the royal side of the Earth Emperor Realm!

“Ming He, your life is mine!” A sharp, murderous voice rang out behind her, followed by the cold, disdainful face of Liu Yu.

Ming He clenched the bamboo sword, her pupils narrowing. She didn’t dare look back, her mind focused solely on running forward.

This wasn’t the first time Liu Yu had hunted her during these two months of fleeing for her life, nor was it the first time she had narrowly escaped under Liu Yu’s relentless pursuit.

She had never imagined that a sword cultivator, unable to fly due to a deficiency in her spiritual ocean, could run so swiftly under the oppressive weight of a royal from the Earth Emperor Realm, as if her feet were slick with oil.

But this was the Northern Wilderness.

Amid the swirling yellow dust, there was nothing but the Winter Weed tree; in this vast, desolate expanse, there was no place to hide.

And Sword Demon Mountain was still at least half an hour away.

To make matters worse, she was injured.

Ming He gripped the bamboo sword, her eyes darkening. This sword, gifted to her by Xie Xiaojing, had proven invaluable, accompanying her through a month of life-and-death escapes.

Though its tip was dull and its body light, making it ill-suited for overpowering foes, compared to Shadow Strike and Blue Sea, it held an irreplaceable role.

It was fast, resilient, and free-spirited.

Bamboo sword, Emerald Bamboo, Xie Xiaojing, outer sect of Liu Yun Sect.

As Ming He ran, her thoughts drifted to the connections tied to the bamboo sword, her figure moving at its utmost speed.

She felt as though she herself had become that bamboo sword, wielded by the hand of the Northern Wilderness.

“Boom!”

The gust of Liu Yu’s palm wind surged toward Ming He, targeting her vital points with deadly precision.

She had no strength to resist, only the desperate urge to flee.

“Stop!”

A deep, commanding voice suddenly rang out. In a flash, a figure appeared before Ming He, intercepting the palm wind with ease. With a swift motion, he caught the attack and teleported away with Ming He, vanishing from Liu Yu’s sight.

“Gong Shu!” Liu Yu murmured, her eyes darkening with frustration. His cultivation was undeniably superior to hers.

In a secluded corner of the Northern Wilderness,

“Why did you save me, senior?” Ming He asked bluntly, her gaze fixed on the figure who had set her down.

It was a middle-aged man dressed in flowing robes, his hair and beard a stark white. His demeanor was warm, his spiritual energy gentle and serene.

Ming He recognized him.

He was the Vice Sect Master of the Shanhai Sect in the central region, the Shishu of Xia Fengye. He had been present during the opening of Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain at Canglang Island.

Back then, he had fought alongside Liu Yu against Yóu Lìng. Now, he had saved her from Liu Yu. What was his motive?

“I saved you because you do not deserve to die,” Gong Shu stated plainly.

“After the events at Canglang Island, my sect investigated your past. We concluded that the Imperial Palace made a mistake this time, just as it did centuries ago.” His tone was calm as he regarded Ming He. “You are not Su Ming He, but neither are you of the demon race, correct?”

Ming He remained silent.

She found herself perplexed by the man before her, a wild and absurd suspicion creeping into her thoughts.

“So what?” Ming He replied lightly, her voice devoid of gratitude for her rescue.

Gong Shu remained unbothered. “Mistakes must be rectified. The human race cannot afford further devastation. My sect is here to make amends.”

“The first step is ensuring your survival.”

“Just me?” Ming He raised an eyebrow, her tone indifferent.

“For now, yes,” Gong Shu replied gently, meeting her dark gaze. “The human race is in a fragile state…”

He sighed, unwilling to elaborate further, his eyes lingering on Ming He’s black-clad figure. “You’ve been hunted for two months. Haven’t you ever wondered how the armored guards always manage to find you so precisely?”

What did he mean?

Ming He’s eyes narrowed. “Did you plant something on me?”

Her expression shifted, though her heart remained steady. Her gaze turned cold as she stared at the royal who claimed she should not die.

“Indeed,” Gong Shu confirmed with a nod. “All I can tell you is that it is a token.”

A token?

Did Ming He possess a second token?

“Gong Shu!” Liu Yu’s voice thundered, shaking the very earth.

Gong Shu’s expression grew serious as he turned to Ming He. “Ming He, protect yourself. I can only hold Liu Yu off for fifteen minutes at most.”

Though his cultivation surpassed hers, it did not guarantee victory in strength.

Fifteen minutes.

Ming He’s lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze deepening. She gave a slight nod and turned to flee without hesitation.

Gong Shu watched her swift and decisive movements, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. His right palm gathered power, stirring the air as he faced Liu Yu’s cold, expressionless visage.

Behind them, the clash of forces shook the Northern Wilderness, the battle between royals resonating with overwhelming power.

But none of that concerned Ming He.

She had already caught sight of Sword Demon Mountain’s silhouette.

By the time Liu Yu broke free from Gong Shu’s hold and gave chase, Ming He stood at the foot of Sword Demon Mountain, her gaze sharp and clear. In her right hand, she held the bamboo sword, while her left hand lightly caressed the purple Merchants’ Guild token. Her brows lifted, her expression enigmatic and inscrutable.