Chapter 65

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The sun rose and the moon set. Though the elderly gentleman was deeply concerned about Qi Wuhuo, the young Daoist locked the door to the woodshed from the inside. The old man had considered calling upon some of the younger villagers to break the door open, but he hesitated. The young Daoist had assured him that there was no cause for worry. If his actions disturbed the youth unnecessarily, wouldn’t his well-meaning intentions result in harm instead?

For a time, he was plagued by conflicting thoughts.

In the end, he had no choice but to wait outside.

Who would have thought that by nightfall, a light drizzle began to fall? Winter rain was the most disheartening, its chill seeping into one’s very bones. Even wearing thick cotton garments offered little protection. Young people might find it uncomfortable, but for an old man, it was unbearable. Persuaded by his family, he reluctantly returned home, resolving to return the next morning to check on the young Daoist.

If the youth still hadn’t emerged by then, they would have no choice but to force the door open, lest the young man fall ill within.

At this time, the month was drawing to a close. Only a crescent moon remained in the sky, and wisps of dark clouds gathered, obscuring its light. The drizzle pattered softly in the village, lending the scene a tranquil, almost ethereal quality. A misty haze blanketed the chilly waters, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Even with lanterns raised, it was impossible to see far.

The old man gazed outside and sighed. “That woodshed leaks terribly. If the young Daoist stays inside, he might get drenched by the rain.”

After some thought, he turned to his two sons and said:

“Prepare two sets of clean clothes. Tomorrow, come with me to check on him.”

The two sons acknowledged the command and went to make preparations. The old man continued to stare out the window, listening to the rain. Lost in thought, he seemed to be recalling something from the past.

Inside the woodshed, however, things were not as cold and damp as the old man had imagined. Though the rainwater leaked through the roof, it never reached the ground.

Wisps of soft, white energy resembling clear vapor circulated within, shifting and transforming like clouds tinged with a faint radiance. Yet, they exuded a surprising heat. The falling raindrops evaporated in an instant, turning to steam that mingled with the atmosphere. This vapor encircled the young Daoist, accentuating his ethereal presence. However, his face was faintly pale, betraying an apparent struggle. Even so, his breathing remained steady and even.

Commanding the Qi with his Spirit.

The Primordial Qi he had cultivated through a year of meditation was rapidly brought under control.

The immense strength of his Primordial Spirit stabilized the flow of Primordial Qi, rendering it calm and stable. By the time Qi Wuhuo opened his eyes again, sunlight had already begun to filter through the cracks in the woodshed. The faint chirping of morning birds echoed in his ears, and the air felt damp yet cool. He exhaled softly, shifted his body slightly, and rose to his feet.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by the warmth of the sunlight. Birds resting on nearby trees took flight, startled by his movement.

A branch swayed, dislodging a single drop of collected rainwater. With precise timing, the young man extended his hand, catching the droplet in his palm.

Its faint chill brushed against Qi Wuhuo’s skin.

“What fine rainwater…”

He gazed around, feeling as though everything before him had been renewed, as if a layer of dust had been washed away, leaving the world pristine and vibrant. Since awakening from his Dream of Yellow Millet, his Primordial Spirit, now grounded upon a transcendent foundation, finally felt stable. No longer did it feel as though his Primordial Qi and Primordial Essence struggled to support it, as if top-heavy and unbalanced.

Clenching his fist, Qi Wuhuo sensed the robust strength of his Primordial Essence.

As he inhaled and exhaled, the flow of Primordial Qi circulated naturally throughout his entire being.

[Three Talents Complete].

This is the most fundamental principle of the orthodox Daoist path. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and it ultimately reaches completion.

Qi Wuhuo exhaled slowly, sensing the liveliness and joy of his spirit.

It was like a person who had endured a lifetime of hunger finally savoring a satisfying meal.

A trace of curiosity began to stir in his heart.

His Primordial Spirit foundation originated from the seventy years of spring and autumn within the Yellow Millet Dream, where his true nature remained unclouded. It was in no way inferior to the level of Innate One Qi.

Yet, his Primordial Qi and Primordial Essence were merely at the level of an ordinary person.

Thus, for him to cultivate along the orthodox Daoist path was exceptionally difficult.

His teacher had explicitly stated that achieving the [Three Talents Complete] would require no less than fifty years of painstaking effort.

But how could a single year of meditation bring his Primordial Qi to match the profound foundation and attainment of his Primordial Spirit?

Could it be that the river held some hidden mystery?

Qi Wuhuo already had some faint suspicions in his heart, but he did not obsess over pursuing the answer. At this moment, his lively spirit had yet to fully calm, akin to the world washed clean by the rain, now appearing more clear and pristine than ever. Filled with joy, the young daoist looked ahead to see the path before him. Though the morning was still early, two or three mischievous children dressed in cotton garments were already running and playing.

Some of them leaped into puddles, stamping in the water and causing it to splash everywhere.

Their cotton clothing became muddy, yet they continued to laugh and play with unbridled happiness.

One of the children held a tree branch, pretending to be a swordsman as they played together.

The young Daoist watched them, and a memory stirred. Six years ago… no, seven years ago, he too seemed to have been like this.

In just seven short years, it felt as though a lifetime had passed.

The children laughed and gradually ran off.

The Daoist smiled faintly and turned away.

With his mind free of distractions, he stretched his body. After a night of meditation, a slight fatigue lingered. Seeing the children playing with branches as swords, a playful thought arose in his heart. He bent down to pick up a fallen branch. With a light stroke of his left hand, his fingers glided along the branch, Primordial Qi circulating through it. The twigs and protrusions fell away cleanly, leaving a smooth and straight stick.

With a flick of his wrist, the droplets of rain clinging to the branch were scattered. Raising the branch, he waved it twice in the air. The movements were fluid, and it was clear that the sword techniques from his Yellow Millet Dream had not been forgotten. Yet, in the end, they were still mundane sword forms.

His thoughts suddenly turned to the farewell gift from Senior Sister Yumiao.

As the thought arose, a searing sensation appeared between his brows, as if a scroll had unfolded before his eyes. On it were four cloud-like ancient characters:

[The Hunyuan Sword Canon].

A technique she had created herself, one that had reached the level of a [Canon]. In her younger years, Senior Sister had been full of pride. With a sword in hand, she had proclaimed her aim to pierce directly through to the Primordial Unity Realm.

[TL_Note: The ranking of techniques goes as such: [Mysterious Methods] -> [Profound Chapters]->[Jade Formulas]->[Daoist Canons]->[True Scriptures] ]

Qi Wuhuo thought of his Senior Sister Yumiao, the one who had once stormed the Heavenly Court, requiring one of the Thirty-Six Thunder Generals to personally intervene. He thought of her being ensnared by threads of emotion, unable to transcend despite her comprehension. His heart stirred with insight as the jade scroll gently unfurled, revealing the preface of the technique Senior Sister Yumiao had created herself:

[A swordsman of the mortal world sees clearly, acts decisively, and cultivates a sharp mind—thus, they call themselves Swordsmen.]

[A cultivator channels Qi through the sword, moves as swiftly as flight, and employs spells—thus, they call themselves Sword Immortals.]

The text appeared to distinguish between mortal swordsmen and worldly Sword Immortals, but immediately following were bold, striking characters, exuding a sharp and unyielding aura:

[What a pity! What a joke! What a lament! What a shame!]

[As for the swordsmanship learned in recent times, those who wield it are, without exception, merely scratching the surface of the surface—so shallow and vulgar as to be utterly contemptible!]

[I, Yumiao, shall establish the Dao of the Sword here, prove the Dao of Primordial Unity, and become the progenitor of a school of Sword Immortals!]

The youthful ambition radiated vividly, leaping from the text.

Qi Wuhuo noticed that the name following “I” blurred slightly, as though it was “Yumiao”, yet simultaneously nonexistent. He understood that this name could only be discerned because he possessed Yumiao’s jade slip.

Reading these words, it was as if he could see the youthful, high-spirited Senior Sister Yumiao, wielding a gleaming sword, her eyes bright and full of life. Sitting before him, she held the blade horizontally across her lap, gently stroking its edge as she discussed the path of the sword.

[If one learns the form of the sword, perfecting its outward manifestations, then the sword’s Qi will naturally be complete within—this signifies that your body and mind have a master.]

[Sword Qi is none other than Gang Qi! To refine the sword, one must first refine Qi; to refine Qi, the priority lies in preserving the Spirit.]

[One must swallow the stars and hold Gang Qi, master the interplay of water and fire, and harmonize Kan and Li. The key lies in the Yang Spirit, where the Three Flowers gather at the crown and the Five Qi return to the source—this is the way to enter the Dao through the sword.]

[This sword is not a tool for slaughter but a medium for my entrance into the Dao and the instrument of attaining the Dao!]

[Those without this mindset cannot use the Dao of the Sword to reverse the flow and return to the origin, nor can they achieve the realm of Primordial Unity.]

Qi Wuhuo observed the lines of text that followed: mastering the sword lay in outward practice, while the operation of the Great Dao for cultivation resided within. Without a doubt, this reflected the elder’s teachings, allowing one to calmly walk their own path. It was a swordsmanship that transcended ordinary techniques, seamlessly integrating Daoist methods, foundational cultivation, and divine abilities. In theory, this method of cultivation could reach the realm of immortals.

This profound Sword Canon was penned personally by Yumiao, a testament to her extraordinary talent and vision.

At last, Qi Wuhuo read the concluding passage of the general preface:

[The Dao of the Sword, in its application, can ward off disasters and sever waters; carve rivers upon the earth; sever the seven emotions, cut off the six desires, and transcend the mundane mind!]

[Profound yet miraculous, it soars here and there, invisible and elusive; conjures clouds and rain; as fierce as tigers and dragons, unpredictable and boundless.]

[It exterminates the wicked among humanity and annihilates ghosts of the underworld!]

[It averts calamities of fire and water, entering without drowning or burning; it quells the chaos of war, making it seem as though nonexistent.”

Qi Wuhuo lingered on the words: “Sever the seven emotions, cut off the six desires, and transcend the mundane mind…”

His mind drifted to the memory of that gentle girl, softly replying: “It’s not that I can’t; it’s that I won’t.”

Now recalling her words, they seemed to carry a deeper, more profound meaning.

With a solid foundation in swordsmanship from his Yellow Millet Dream, Qi Wuhuo felt naturally inclined to test this new path after receiving the handwritten Sword Canon from his Senior Sister. Just as he immersed himself in contemplation, a faint stagnation arose in his Spirit, and simultaneously, the Mountain God Seal at his side subtly resonated, as if being provoked. Qi Wuhuo froze. An inexplicable feeling of being watched crept over him.

The [Hunyuan Sword Canon] glowed faintly within Qi Wuhuo’s brow.

Qi Wuhuo was contemplating the sword techniques and unconsciously immersed in the flow of his thoughts. Following the natural rhythm of the techniques, he murmured a single word: “Slash.”

In one fluid motion, he reversed his grip and struck a sword arc guided by the faint sense of connection to the Earth Veins.

For a fleeting moment, the sword imprint left by Yumiao within the Hunyuan Sword Canon shone brightly before returning to its subdued state.

Meanwhile, in the Land Deity Temple.

Lord Lingmiao was engrossed in divination. At first, when he attempted to deduce the origins of the individual in question, the results eluded him entirely. This realization caused a pang of unease to strike his heart.

‘Could it be that this individual is a true cultivator with deep lineage and sect ties?’

He mulled over this notion, considering whether the person’s background might involve a connection to certain exalted beings such as True Lords, rendering them inscrutable.

Thinking thus, he decided to shift his focus. Instead of probing their origins, he sought to determine their current whereabouts. This time, the calculation proceeded smoothly.

This minor success allowed him to breathe a small sigh of relief.

With my Earth Deity’s power and my use of the orthodox methods passed down from the Taishang Lineage, detection by others should be exceedingly difficult.

The incense ashes and incense in his hand converged, forming the silhouette of a young Daoist’s back. Many of them looked together. Clad in a blue Daoist robe, with his hair tied neatly by a wooden hairpin, the figure radiated a natural and gentle air. The ethereal qualities of the smoke lent the image an almost immortal grace, as if cloaked in cloud and mist, exuding three parts of celestial elegance.

Lord Lingmiao stroked his beard, murmuring to himself: “It seems I was mistaken; perhaps he is someone with a background but without supervision from his sect.”

Just as he leaned closer to discern more details, the young Daoist reached out and plucked a tree branch, inspecting it casually.

The gathered Earth Deities murmured in curiosity: “Why would he break off a tree branch?”

The answer came swiftly. Without turning around, the young Daoist swung the branch like a sword in a reverse slash, the motion as effortless as the drifting clouds. What seemed mundane was soon disrupted by a piercing clang—a clear and resonant sword cry.

Zheng!!!

After using the Earth Veins and the Taishang techniques for divination, Lord Lingmiao’s beard and hair suddenly bristled and stood on end.

He felt as if his entire body’s hair were being sharply stimulated, standing upright in unison.

Within the Earth Veins, it seemed as though a sharp edge had exploded forth.

In the next moment, the calm and gentle voice of the young boy was carried along with the flow of the Earth Veins, being etched into their memories.

“Slash.”

A branch freshly plucked from a tree swept across.

The gathered smoke condensed like a sword, sweeping fiercely.

It was as if a white light burst forth, shining brilliantly like sword qi.

I have a sword like a dragon, resting within its scabbard with a long sigh.

For several breaths, the supremely sharp and domineering sword intent lingered before gradually dissipating. Only then could the many Land Deities regain their sight.

What they saw before them:

Lord Lingmiao’s hair bun had been severed, loose strands falling; the incense burner was shattered, and the image of the young Daoist was slowly fading away.

Because he had reversed his hand to slash the sword, his sleeve hung low.

Thus, the young Daoist waved his sleeve gently.

And so, the smoke completely dispersed.

Only the plain, low chant, still accompanied by the faint hum of a sword, lingered for a long time, reverberating in the ears of the many local deities.

“Nothing is unseverable.”

PS:

The sword techniques originate from the [Primordial Sword Manual], authored by Bi Kun, styled Yunlong, a swordsman from the chaotic times at the end of the Yuan dynasty and the beginning of the Ming dynasty.

The currently circulated version is a reproduction engraved during the Qing dynasty.