Staring at the Soul-Stealing Flying Sword hovering before him, Shen Yue felt his heart sink into an endless abyss. The joy he had felt upon becoming a Sword Cultivator vanished completely, replaced by confusion and emptiness.
Even after Li Qingqiu retracted the Soul-Stealing Flying Sword, Shen Yue remained dazed, frozen where he stood.
Meanwhile, Zhao Zhen and Ji Ya were beside themselves with excitement. They rushed to Li Qingqiu's side, eagerly bombarding him with questions about how to perform the spell.
Yuan Li, however, looked at Shen Yue with concern, hesitating to speak.
Li Qingqiu shot the two younger disciples a glare. They flinched, then immediately scampered a few steps back, not daring to make another sound.
Seeing Shen Yue's face filled with disbelief and frustration, Li Qingqiu sighed and said, "What's with that look? You're not the only one who works hard at cultivation. I haven't been slacking either. If you could catch up to me so easily, what would that make your past defeat worth?"
Those words snapped Shen Yue out of his daze.
Yes—if Li Qingqiu were so easy to surpass, why had he worked this hard in the first place?
Looking at Shen Yue, Li Qingqiu continued, "Your talent and comprehension are both exceptional. It's just that the martial path limited your potential. If you keep cultivating diligently, your future will be boundless. In fact, I believe you might be the one most likely to attain immortality."
Immortality!
Ever since Li Qingqiu had slain the emperor, the Tianhong Sword constantly hovering at his side, rumors had begun to spread within Qingxiao Sect—that the Supreme Purity and Primordial Harmony Sutra might actually be an immortal scripture.
As the former number one under heaven, Shen Yue knew very well that martial arts and immortal cultivation were fundamentally different. Yet he had never received a definite answer—until now.
The moment he heard Li Qingqiu say "attain immortality," his entire body trembled. A surge of hot blood rushed up from his chest to his head. The joy of recognition and the burning desire to chase the immortal path merged within him, making his heart pound.
Who in the world didn't long to become an immortal? Especially those who practiced martial arts—most pursued strength to transcend mortality itself. Shen Yue was no exception.
Yuan Li and the others were equally shocked by the word "immortality," though none of them felt it as deeply as Shen Yue did.
He looked at Li Qingqiu, his chest tight with excitement, yet he couldn't find the words to speak.
Li Qingqiu smiled faintly. "That sword technique I just used—do you want to learn it?"
Shen Yue blinked, coming back to his senses. "Can I?"
He had to admit that Li Qingqiu's sword move was unlike anything he had ever seen. When that silver sword shadow appeared, he hadn't been scared—he had been restrained.
That oppressive power wasn't just an illusion. It had pinned his soul in place, leaving him with the terrifying sensation that his body and spirit were about to separate.
The speed of that sword!
The sharpness of its edge!
The incomprehensible pressure it carried!
It was perfect. Shen Yue couldn't help but want to master it.
When Li Qingqiu saw his expression, he gestured for him to come closer.
Shen Yue hesitated for a moment, but Yuan Li quickly stepped forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled him along toward Li Qingqiu.
Looking down at the ten-year-old Yuan Li, Shen Yue felt a pang in his chest, then chuckled bitterly to himself.
"Eighty-one years old, and I'm still so proud? I lost—so what's there to cling to?"
Once he accepted that truth, his heart felt lighter. His face relaxed, and he walked toward Li Qingqiu with eager anticipation.
Li Qingqiu began passing on the method of the Soul-Stealing Flying Sword. Yet, despite his deep understanding of swordsmanship, Shen Yue quickly found himself utterly lost.
The technique involved profound truths about the soul—something Shen Yue had never studied before.
He was so confused that even Li Qingqiu began to feel puzzled in turn.
"You don't understand soul-based arts," Li Qingqiu said, narrowing his eyes, "so how in the world did you create a Sword Soul?"
Shen Yue frowned and glared right back. "So what if I did?"
The two stared at each other, tension crackling between them. Yuan Li, Zhao Zhen, and Ji Ya held their breath, afraid they might start arguing—or worse, fighting.
If Master kills the Sword Saint, what are we supposed to do?!
...
Two days later, another stone monument was erected along the forging path in front of Mystic Heart Hall, commemorating Shen Yue's entry into the Dao—the man who had opened the path of Sword Cultivation within Qingxiao Sect.
The event caused quite a stir throughout the sect. Disciples whispered among themselves, wondering what exactly a "Sword Cultivator" was supposed to be.
The most agitated of all, of course, was Jiang Zhaoxia.
He stormed to find Li Qingqiu, demanding, "Senior Brother, did you do this just to win him over?"
Li Qingqiu calmly told him to go ask Shen Yue himself.
Half an hour later, Jiang Zhaoxia returned, bowing deeply. "Senior Brother, you were right. My swordsmanship can't yet match his. But I'll catch up one day—you'll see. I'll become a Sword Cultivator too!"
Li Qingqiu smiled and said sincerely, "I believe you. Shen Yue may have become a Sword Cultivator, but in my eyes, you have the potential to become a Sword Immortal."
The moment he heard that, Jiang Zhaoxia's frustration vanished. He grinned brightly. "Then when I become a Sword Immortal, Senior Brother, you must erect a monument for me too. I'll leave behind a Sword Immortal Inheritance!"
"Of course," Li Qingqiu laughed, giving him a light kick. "I've been waiting for that day."
The small gesture reminded Jiang Zhaoxia of their childhood, and warmth filled his heart.
Though more and more geniuses were joining Qingxiao Sect, he knew that his Senior Brother still believed in him. That alone was enough.
He soon took his leave, determined to begin his journey toward becoming a Sword Cultivator.
With the Grand Dao Combat Tournament approaching and the Sword Saint opening the path of Sword Cultivation, Qingxiao Sect grew livelier than ever.
Disciples debated endlessly about what defined a "Sword Cultivator."
Even the nobles and visiting patrons were curious—what was the difference between a Sword Cultivator and a swordsman?
By the end of March, in one of the guest courtyards, Prince Zhao Qi of King Wei sat at a stone table, drinking tea with a dark expression.
He had come to Qingxiao Sect seeking its support, even offering a bold promise—if he ascended the throne, he would declare Qingxiao Sect the sole imperial sect of the dynasty, with authority over all mortal martial sects.
However, Zhang Yuchun did not agree.
Although he refused politely and spared Prince Zhao Qi any embarrassment, Zhao Qi still felt insulted.
It was clear that Qingxiao Sect did not trust him.
Just then, a man dressed in a tight-fitting purple robe strode quickly into the courtyard. He approached Zhao Qi's side and whispered something in his ear.
After hearing the report, Zhao Qi's face darkened instantly. His hand clenched so hard that the teacup shattered in his grip. Gritting his teeth, he growled, "The Cui clan dares to contend with this prince for the throne? Outrageous! Insolent!"
His fury erupted like a raging lion's roar.
The man in purple lowered his voice and said, "My lord, we cannot stay here any longer. Matters of the world won't wait. Every day new contenders rise, and every day the feudal lords grow stronger. With Zhao Zhi dead, imperial authority is lost, and the prestige of the Zhao name can no longer suppress the ambitions of the world."
Zhao Qi took a deep breath and rose to his feet. "Summon Pei Zhangzhi. We leave the mountain in one hour."
"Yes, my lord!"
The purple-robed man quickly left the courtyard.
An hour later, Zhao Qi descended the mountain with his retainers and younger kin, though Pei Zhangzhi did not accompany him.
Pei Zhangzhi instead stood beside Zhang Yuchun at the edge of a cliff, watching Zhao Qi and his group make their way down the winding mountain road below.
Pei Zhangzhi sighed helplessly. "The affairs of the realm are pressing. I hope Hall Master Zhang won't hold it against him."
Zhang Yuchun's face remained calm. "Lord Pei, do you truly believe Prince Wei can unite the realm? He's already failed once."
Pei Zhangzhi wasn't confused by the question. His decision to stay behind already revealed his true stance.
Turning to Zhang Yuchun, Pei Zhangzhi asked frankly, "Since you're being honest with me, I'll be honest as well. Prince Wei indeed lacks the ability. So let me ask—who does Qingxiao Sect believe has the strength to bear the fate of the common people?"
Zhang Yuchun withdrew his gaze from the valley below and turned to face Pei Zhangzhi directly.
Normally gentle and approachable, his expression now turned solemn, and his presence was no weaker than Pei Zhangzhi's own.
"Qingxiao Sect does not meddle in worldly struggles," Zhang Yuchun said evenly. "But we will never tolerate acts that defy heaven or harm the innocent. Whoever ascends the throne—so long as they follow the will of the people—will always have our support. Our sect's purpose has never been domination. Neither the martial world nor the royal court concerns us."
Pei Zhangzhi squinted, his expression thoughtful. "Then if the Pei clan were to seek dominion over the realm, would Qingxiao Sect, for the sake of the marriage between Li Sifeng and Pei Miao'er, refrain from opposing us?"
Zhang Yuchun answered calmly, "Qingxiao Sect never initiates enmity."
Pei Zhangzhi smiled faintly. "That answer is enough."
They spoke a while longer before Pei Zhangzhi finally took his leave.
Zhang Yuchun remained on the cliff, watching as Pei Zhangzhi's figure disappeared down the mountain path. Under his breath, he murmured, "But Qingxiao Sect will never forgive anyone who provokes us first—never."
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
...
When April arrived, the preliminary round of the Grand Dao Combat Tournament officially began, to the excitement of thousands of disciples across Qingxiao Sect.
The matches were held at the foot of the mountain, where ten Martial Discussion Platforms had been constructed for the disciples to spar and compete.
The Broad Relations Hall temporarily recruited one hundred Registered Disciples to maintain order during the event.
The ten platforms were surrounded by crowds so dense that not even a drop of water could pass through. Even several Hall Masters had come to watch the spectacle.
Li Qingqiu, however, did not attend. He was sitting in the courtyard of Lingxiao Pavilion, savoring fine wine. The liquor had been gifted by a noble family—it was strong, fragrant, and full-bodied.
Today, he had chosen not to train, not to join the excitement, but to stay and wait for someone.
With most disciples down at the tournament grounds, Qingxiao Mountain felt strangely quiet. The stillness unsettled him a little. Even that rascal Yuan Qi was nowhere to be seen.
As Li Qingqiu took another sip of wine, a shadow descended from the sky and landed in the courtyard.
It was Shen Yue.
He was standing atop his hovering wooden sword, and as he landed, the sword's pressure sent waves of dust rolling across the courtyard.
Li Qingqiu waved his hand, fanning the air irritably. "For heaven's sake, you're supposed to be a Sword Saint. Do you really have to fly everywhere like that? You act as if you're afraid people won't notice you can fly."
Dressed in a long blue elder's robe, Shen Yue looked every bit the part of an immortal swordsman. Hearing Li Qingqiu's complaint, he gave a cold snort but didn't reply.
He stepped off the sword and sat opposite Li Qingqiu. His tone softened slightly. "I followed the route you described. There's indeed a spiritual mine in a valley near the eastern coast. It contains not only spirit stones but also a rare kind of ore—extremely hard, perfect for forging divine weapons."
The location he mentioned was the Fortune Opportunity Li Qingqiu had recently activated.
It was the first time Li Qingqiu hadn't gone personally to investigate a Fortune site. He had sent Shen Yue instead—first, because Shen Yue's loyalty had reached 95, and second, because the opportunity itself had been triggered by Li Qingqiu's own cultivation.
"Looks like the immortal from my dream wasn't lying," Li Qingqiu said with a smile. "That ore is no ordinary stone—it's Ancient Geng Metal Source Iron, an archaic material even more valuable than spirit stones."
He knew its name because, in the memory tied to the Fortune Opportunity, he had seen an ancient stone tablet inscribed with information about the mine.
Though the valley appeared naturally formed, it had clearly once belonged to someone.
That was how Li Qingqiu concluded that cultivators had once existed on this land. For some unknown reason, they had all vanished—leaving behind caves, treasures, and mines. Judging from the signs, their departure had been hurried. If they'd had time, they could have easily taken everything with them in storage bags or other storage artifacts.
"Still," Shen Yue said with a frown, "that place feels dangerous. Before I even entered, I could sense something watching me."