Ji Wangshu scratched his head, pondering a solution internally. After a few breaths, he spoke up:
“How about this: you place the tip of your wooden sword against mine, and then you’ll be able to gauge how my practice is coming along.”
This method had been proposed by his master back in the Yixiu Sect, who gave it the elegant name of Yi Sword. It allowed one to sense the subtle shifts at the sword tip while simultaneously engaging in a contest of wits with an opponent.
Wooden Sword Mu Zhiming across from him fell into brief contemplation. A moment later, the remaining emerald green in her pupils lit up:
“Good idea, let’s do that.”
She promptly produced her wooden sword, her nose twitching as she caught the strange floral fragrance emanating from Ji Wangshu. Sensing his distance, she gently rested her sword tip against the one in his hand.
Seeing this scene, Ji Wangshu’s gaze turned wistful.
When his master was still around, afraid of injuring him, she would often practice with him in this very manner. Later, she went down the mountain to wander. After that, the gap between him and his junior sister’s cultivation wasn’t great, and he was too lazy to continue the tedious sword drills, so he never engaged in Yi Sword again.
He let out a light sigh, cast aside his distracting thoughts, and with a flick of his right wrist, he swept both his sword and Mu Zhiming’s into the air together.
Mu Zhiming’s embroidered shoes pressed against the stone slabs. Following Ji Wangshu’s lead, her delicate feet moved subtly, dancing with a rhythmic and graceful cadence.
She wore a plain green dress with a water-blue sash tied at her waist. The hem of her skirt spun open beneath the blazing sun as her form twisted, the outer edge a sea of verdant green, the center a swirling ribbon of water-blue.
With their wooden sword tips touching, her figure rose and fell like flowing water. Her spins stirred a gentle breeze that blew down the plum blossoms from the branches, petals scattering and landing softly on her shoulders.
Ji Wangshu on the opposing side executed his sword forms, his peripheral vision occasionally drifting toward Mu Zhiming.
At that moment, catching sight of this scene, he became completely entranced, his wooden sword movements even stalling for a beat.
She truly resembled a blooming snow lotus of the icy peaks.
After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the two lowered their wooden swords. Fine beads of sweat had formed on their pale foreheads.
For Ji Wangshu, performing this set of beginner sword forms without utilizing any spiritual power naturally wasn’t tiring.
But pretending to be a novice, deliberately exposing a few openings every now and then, while also making sure not to injure Wooden’s wrists—that was difficult.
For Mu Zhiming, she didn’t need to move much; she only needed to feel the “clang clang” sounds transmitted through the sword tips. Naturally, that wasn’t tiring either.
But it was her first time engaging in Yi Sword. Her wooden sword needed to stay closely adhered to Ji Wangshu’s, and as the instructor, she had to guide the trajectory of his blade. That was difficult.
Both of them let out a sigh of relief. “Good thing I didn’t hurt him/her.”
“So? How am I doing? Pretty decent, right?” Ji Wangshu said with feigned playfulness.
“Not… bad.” Mu Zhiming’s lips curled up slightly, a small sense of happiness welling in her heart. She continued, “From now on… we’ll practice the sword every day.”
Upon hearing this, Ji Wangshu immediately pressed his lips together, his face twisting into a grimace the color of a pig’s liver.
…
Time flowed on. Winter departed, spring arrived, and three months passed.
The plum blossoms in the small courtyard were still blooming, occasionally sending two petals drifting down.
Ji Wangshu sat on the stone stool, yawning. A wooden sword lay on the stone table, sweat stains still clinging to its handle.
He looked up slightly and noticed the sky was growing dim. Mu Zhiming still hadn’t returned. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh.
In these three months, his relationship with Wooden had been warming up day by day. Her speech to him had evolved from single words to short sentences. After each sword practice, she would sometimes sit on the stone stool, cupping her chin with both hands, listening to him recount tales of the martial world.
It was just that recently, Wooden had been returning later and later, he mused.
He had, of course, gone to ask Chen Miao, who was close to Wooden. Chen Miao said that Wooden was doing extra training in order to win first place in the upcoming Sect Grand Competition.
Hearing this, Ji Wangshu couldn’t help but frown. With his naturally laid-back disposition, he simply couldn’t comprehend why anyone would sacrifice precious evening rest time for the sake of winning a competition.
Forget it. She hasn’t returned anyway. It’s just as well; I can wake up and see if the junior sister is back yet.
With that thought, his consciousness withdrew from the dream world.
…
…
Ji Wangshu awoke within the main hall of the Yixiu Sect. He walked outside and checked the sky.
It was high noon when he entered the dream world, and it was still high noon now.
He pressed his temples, easing his muddled mind.
Under the Yellow Millet Pillow’s hundredfold time acceleration, despite the protective mechanisms, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat weary.
He released his spiritual sense, blanketing the entire main hall of the Yixiu Sect. After a few breaths, he frowned slightly.
A whole day had passed, and the junior sister still hadn’t returned? He pondered.
Usually, when Junior Sister Mo Chuhua went down the mountain to the market to buy things, the latest she would be back was half a day.
Could something have happened? Ji Wangshu silently cried out in alarm.
Just as he was thinking this, a shout suddenly echoed from the sect’s entrance at the foot of the mountain.
“Patriarch Ji~ are you there~” The voice reverberated through the mountains.
He flew over on his sword, only to see a plump woman in simple Daoist robes shouting at the entrance.
A dozen or so storage pouches hung from her waist, with fine beads of sweat dotting her neck.
Given the number of storage pouches at her waist, she was undoubtedly a traveling merchant, Ji Wangshu thought.
The cultivation world was vast and boundless, with many sects nestled deep within the mountains. Information could easily become scarce, which led to the development of the traveling merchant profession.
As the name implies, traveling merchants were cultivators who wandered between sect markets, selling pills and delivering messages. They typically started at the Golden Core or Nascent Soul realm.
“Daoist friend, what business do you have?” Ji Wangshu asked with a frown.
“Junior Sister Mo previously purchased a Foundation Building Pill and asked me to deliver it to you,” the traveling merchant said.
Hearing this, Ji Wangshu’s brow furrowed even deeper. “Where is my junior sister?”
The traveling merchant cupped her hands: “Cultivator Mo said she still had some matters to attend to and asked me to bring the pill back first.”
“However…” she lowered her voice.
“Sir, I heard some news at the market that a female cultivator was recently taken away by people from the Qingyun Sect, seemingly from the direction of your junior sister.”
At this, the traveling merchant grew indignant. “These people from the Qingyun Sect are becoming more and more brazen!”
Ji Wangshu’s heart tightened as his groggy mind processed this information.
The junior sister was captured by the Qingyun Sect?
He had heard of the Qingyun Sect before—it was an old, established sect. But lately, more people had been joining the Xinghe Sword Sect, leaving the Qingyun Sect without good sources of disciples. So they had resorted to “forced recruitment,” dragging people into their sect from all over.
However, he would believe that ordinary people were dragged in, but he definitely wouldn’t believe his junior sister had been.
Junior Sister Mo Chuhua was extremely meticulous in her work, very attentive, and exceptionally gifted in cultivation. She had already reached the Golden Core Realm a few years ago.
Whenever he got bored and tried to prank her, he would always end up being the one pranked instead.
Someone like that, and you’re telling me she was captured by the Qingyun Sect? Ji Wangshu quickly shook his head.
Not giving it much thought, he cupped his hands in a salute: “Thank you, Daoist friend.” As he spoke, he pulled several hundred spirit stones from his storage pouch and handed them over.
The traveling merchant immediately grinned, accepted the stones with a deft motion, then glanced around, leaned in closer, and whispered:
“Don’t worry, sir. The Snow Lotus Sword Immortal will arrive at the Ningzhou branch of the Xinghe Sword Sect next week. It’s said she despises this kind of thing the most. You could seek her help.”
Ji Wangshu was slightly taken aback after hearing this. The Snow Lotus Sword Immortal? She’s coming this quickly?
At the same time, at the Xinghe Sword Sect in the Central Continent.
Upon a moonlit platform, a graceful silhouette stood alone at the center, like a proudly blooming snow lotus.
Her features were cold and elegant. Beneath her water-blue sleeves was a slender, willow-like waist. Her dark hair cascaded down to her waist, and her skirt hem rippled like drifting clouds, outlining a soft and beautiful form.
Her slender arm gripped a wooden sword as she executed sword forms beneath a grove of plum trees. Her figure swayed gracefully, like a light cloud veiling the moon.
Though the swordplay was light and carried no spiritual power fluctuations, every move and stance was still exceedingly sharp. Each strike pressed forward with unwavering resolve.
Plum blossom petals drifted down gently. She lightly tapped her lotus foot, pausing briefly.
“Elder, Ningzhou is pressing for your arrival. You need to depart today,” a maidservant said as she approached.
“I know.” Her voice was indifferent.
Having cultivated for five hundred years and risen to the Spirit Transformation Realm, she had lost interest in many things.
Except for one thing.
One thing that could never be fulfilled.
The maidservant withdrew, and she resumed her dance with the wooden sword.
Over the years, she had collected many precious swords—some forged by master artifact refiners, some left behind by ancient immortals.
But the one she loved the most was still this wooden sword.
Holding it felt like the past was right before her eyes.
In the small courtyard, upon the stone stool, he sat.
Beside the flower garden, under the plum tree, she practiced her sword.
After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, she held the blade horizontally before her. Her jade-like fingers lightly traced the edge. The green cloth wrapped around the handle had long been worn white by the years, revealing the mottled wood grain beneath.
She raised her head, and a trace of nostalgia flickered in her emerald-green pupils, as if traversing the ages. She whispered softly:
“Wangshu, I miss you again…”
The moment her words faded, a petal drifted down from the plum tree above, landing right before her eyes.
At that very instant, within the Yixiu Sect in Ningzhou, ten thousand miles away, Ji Wangshu’s heart suddenly leaped. He inexplicably turned to look at the enormous plum tree behind him.
Though there was no wind, at that moment, a single petal fluttered gently down.