Chapter 48

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Chapter 48: Title

"You’re lying! Master never ascended." Tears blurred Xia Shi’s vision until the figure before her became a haze. She clung to his sleeve. "Where is she? Senior Brother, tell me—where’s Master?"

Ye Xiao gripped her elbow to steady her. "You… remember everything?"

Xia Shi shook her head. "Only fragments."

Ye Xiao didn’t press further. His gaze dropped to her thin garment and bare feet. "Can’t even bother with shoes?" he chided, guiding her to the inner room and shutting the window firmly.

Flickering candlelight bathed the room. Ye Xiao stood with his back to the bed, hands behind him, the dancing flames reflected in his steady gaze.

The formidable Sect Leader of Sanqing, who commanded awe by day, now blinked back tears. He tilted his head upward, voice stern as ever: "What do you recall? Speak."

Xia Shi sat hunched on the bed, clutching a thin blanket. Her raspy voice trembled through the room.

She pieced together broken memories, recounting them haltingly. When she reached the moment Master Fu Qing sealed her memories, her voice broke entirely.

She understood. Even four centuries of lonely confusion in Sword Pavilion couldn’t spark resentment—not toward the Master who’d cherished her since childhood.

"With such injuries… how could she ascend?"

Ye Xiao exhaled quietly. "Master didn’t ascend. She’s in seclusion, healing."

Xia Shi moved to rise barefoot, but froze under his sharp glance. "I need to see her."

Ye Xiao nodded. “Alright, get properly dressed and tidy up. I’ll wait outside.”

“Yes, yes!” Xia Shi nodded repeatedly, wiping the tear stains from her face.

After so long without seeing her Master, she had to look clean and presentable.

Xia Shi removed her disguise, changed into an old set of disciple’s robes, checked herself several times, then hesitantly stepped out.

When Ye Xiao glanced at her, he snorted. “Now you look proper.”

Shen Huaiwen, who had returned unnoticed, held a thick cloak. She draped it over Xia Shi’s shoulders, brushed her cheek gently, and spoke softer than usual.

“Your Master will be glad you came to see her.”

“Really?” Xia Shi’s eyes still glistened, her nose red as she fought back tears.

Shen Huaiwen smiled faintly, inhaled quietly, and nodded without a word.

“Let’s go. It’s late.” Ye Xiao turned away and led the path.

He took them to a lonely peak near the Sword Pavilion, though the view was splendid.

A cool breeze blew along the way, but Shen Huaiwen shielded Xia Shi from the chill.

“Is Master secluded here?” Xia Shi asked, scanning the dim surroundings.

Ye Xiao’s reply drifted on the wind. “Yes. It’s closest to the Sword Pavilion.”

Everyone in the Nine Realms knew Master Fu Qing favored her Junior Disciples most. Even when they erred gravely, she’d protect them single-handedly.

Choosing a secluded spot near the Sword Pavilion made sense.

After climbing halfway up the mountain for some time, a pavilion emerged, encircled by a barrier shimmering with spiritual power.

The spiritual breath within the barrier unmistakably belonged to Fu Qing.

“Master’s inside.”

Xia Shi gazed at the lit room atop the pavilion. Her eyes burned as she whispered, “Master… your unfilial disciple has come.”

She approached the barrier, hand trembling toward it.

“Don’t disturb her seclusion.”

Xia Shi flinched at Ye Xiao’s warning. Cultivators couldn’t be interrupted during seclusion—touching the barrier recklessly might cause harm.

She withdrew her hand, knelt before the barrier, and pressed her forehead to the leaf-strewn ground.

The faint scent of soil filled her nose. Tears fell, dampening dead leaves and earth.

“Master, forgive me… forgive me…”

“This is all my fault. You should’ve surrendered me. My mistakes… all mine.”

“Is your injury grave? Why such long seclusion? Tell me what healing materials you need—I’ll retrieve them! I swear I will!”

“Master… I’ll obey from now on…”

…

She repeated “fault” endlessly—yet what fault was truly hers?

Shen Huaiwen steeled herself, bent down, and pulled Xia Shi up. “Enough. You’re still wounded.”

Xia Shi’s eyes were swollen as she stared at the pavilion within the barrier, refusing to rise. She’d spoken so many words, yet her Master hadn’t responded at all—surely still angry with her.

She sniffled, mumbling, “Senior Sister, Master won’t see me.”

Shen Huaiwen wiped Xia Shi’s tears, only for another to fall. “Master remains in seclusion. She sees no one.”

Xia Shi considered this. Of course—one couldn’t simply exit seclusion on a whim.

“Then why won’t she speak to me?”

Shen Huaiwen’s gaze flickered toward Ye Xiao.

The barrier rippled then, two golden characters materializing: Leave.

“…Master commands me to go.” Xia Shi stared numbly at the words, her heart aching again.

She rose slowly, leaning on Shen Huaiwen’s arm, and bowed deeply toward the pavilion.

“May Master remain well. This disciple takes her leave.”

Swallowing her sorrow, Xia Shi forced a smile for her senior sisters. “Let’s return.”

If Master wished her gone, she would obey.

Ye Xiao gave a brief nod, transporting them instantly to the Autumn Forest medicine room.

“Rest,” he said before departing with Shen Huaiwen.

Xia Shi lingered in grief, watching her senior sisters leave without another word. Even Huaiwen’s expression had been cold—they must’ve resented her all these years.

Rightfully so. Master’s grave injuries were her fault.

Before the pavilion, Ye Xiao dissolved the barrier.

Shen Huaiwen followed. “Why not tell her? If she discovers—”

“She won’t.” Ye Xiao’s voice hardened. “I’ll ensure it.”

They climbed to the highest floor, incense smoke greeting them. Ye Xiao took six thin sticks, passing three to Shen Huaiwen.

Lighting them, both bowed thrice before the memorial tablet.

“Master,” Ye Xiao murmured, “Junior Sister visited today. I didn’t reveal your fate. She’s grown obedient, though burdened and quiet.”

“Huaiwen and I will protect her. Be at peace.”

Dawn found the training ground swarmed with disciples eager to witness the Wugui sword’s chosen.

Fifty cultivators stood rigid as the white-misted Long Sword hovered before them. Suiyin fixated on the blade, desire coursing through her veins.

The Wugui sword trembled, its sword cry reverberating.

“It truly seeks its master today,” Xuanchen observed, studying the crowd. “Who claims it?”

Ye Xiao’s reply brooked no argument: “The sword chooses. None may interfere.”

Mo Ye chuckled twice and agreed, “Sect Leader Ye is right.”

By the training ground, Wen Zhishu pushed through the crowd with Xia Shi to reach the front.

“Xia Shi, look—Suiyin’s over there.”

Xia Shi wore a headscarf and a heavy cloak, starkly out of place among disciples in their pristine celestial robes. The medicinal scent clinging to her made others instinctively step back.

“Zhishu…am I too conspicuous?” Xia Shi muttered, feeling like a trespasser.

Wen Zhishu tightened the cloak’s cords. “Elder Huaiwen ordered you to avoid drafts until your wounds heal.”

“And once the sword trials begin, no one will glance this way anyway.”

Xia Shi lifted her gaze—and immediately froze. A piercing stare pinned her in place.

Past Suiyin’s figure, she spotted the five sect leaders. Ye Xiao watched her through half-lidded eyes, his gaze unblinking.

Xia Shi: “…”

A gong’s boom shook the air. The Sword Selection Conference had begun.

This wasn’t about people choosing swords—it was swords choosing people.

“Disciple of Sanqing Realm, Senior Sister Zuo Ji, approach for the trial.”

The crowd buzzed. The first challenger was Zuo Ji herself.

Zuo Ji bowed deeply to the Wugui Sword before gripping its hilt, her consciousness merging with the blade.

Suiyin tilted her head toward Lu Ciyou. “Why bow to a sword?”

Lu Ciyou, who’d been nodding off despite her divine Soaring Dragon weapon, blinked. “A sword cultivator asking me?”

“It’s sword etiquette. Shenwu weapons have spirits. Until bonded, they demand same courtesy as humans.”

Suiyin straightened with a thoughtful nod.

In less time than it takes to drink tea, Zuo Ji released the hilt, her energy dissipating.

She bowed calmly to the sect leaders and retreated—a failed trial.

More disciples followed. Some mirrored Zuo Ji’s failure; others were repelled by the sword’s aura before touching it.

Then—

“Disciple of Sanqing Realm, Suiyin, approach for the trial.”

“Now the real show starts,” Xuanchen murmured.

Ye Xiao raised an eyebrow. “City Lord Xuanchen favors this Junior Disciple?”

“Junior?” Xuanchen scoffed. “She’s that person’s disciple. Ordinary she is not.”

“Wugui isn’t just any Shenwu Sword,” Master Lu cut in bluntly. “Even Xia Wuwei might fail to claim it.”

Mo Ye nodded. “Master Lu speaks truth.”

Silence fell as all eyes turned to Suiyin—already completing her sword bow below.

Suiyin raised her hand to grasp the sword’s hilt when a spiritual light suddenly shot into her forehead.

Her movement froze as mist enveloped both her and the Wugui sword.

Xia Shi’s heart clenched at this abrupt change.

Wen Zhishu reassured her nearby: "Don’t worry. The Wugui sword must be recognizing its master. This is Suiyin’s opportunity."

Inside her consciousness sea, Suiyin watched mist condense into a faint figure.

When the figure turned, Suiyin recognized her instantly.

"You’re… Tiansui?"

The woman’s appearance perfectly matched the chess player who had faced Lingyang Jun in Lingyang Secret Realm.

Tiansui showed mild surprise. "You know me?"

The ethereal woman beside Lingyang Jun seemed almost immortal.

Suiyin bowed respectfully. "I saw your chess game when I entered the Broken Stream barrier in the secret realm."

"I see." Tiansui sighed. "Is she… well?"

"Who?" Suiyin asked, sensing this wasn’t about Lingyang Jun.

"Yan Ge." Tenderness softened Tiansui’s eyes. "How has she been?"

"Aunt Yan’s well." Suiyin blinked curiously. "You know her?"

"…An old friend."

Before Suiyin could inquire further, gentle force expelled her from her own consciousness sea.

The unseen power guided her hand to the Wugui sword’s hilt.

She pulled forcefully—

Sword energy exploded. The sky darkened as thunder boomed through roiling clouds.

The crowd below erupted in awed shouts.

As the divine weapon acknowledged its master, Wen Zhishu murmured: "It actually chose her."

Xia Shi watched the stage, where wind whipped the girl’s red dress around her figure brandishing the Long Sword.

Her sword had finally found its destined wielder.