[The Huiyuan Sword Art is studying Flowing Light, Sword Shadows… Current Progress: 1%]
Wait — it could do that?
Gu Chengming stroked his chin, thoughtful.
Was this a special trait of the Huiyuan Sword Art as a "foundational sword art" — or was it a function that unlocked for any cultivation method once its affection reached the "Adoration" stage?
He wasn't entirely sure. But that uncertainty didn't stop him from making up his mind.
With a single focused intent, the jade slip containing Flowing Light, Sword Shadows flared with light. The sword intent and techniques stored within began to flow outward — like a hundred rivers converging on a single sea — pouring in an endless stream into the deceptively plain Huiyuan Sword Art, which swallowed them whole.
The Hundred Bones Resonance, watching from the sidelines, was utterly dumbstruck.
[The Hundred Bones Resonance stared, jaw on the floor, thinking: holy shit — no wonder Gu Chengming likes the Huiyuan Sword Art so much. This is straight-up cheating!]
[It had always assumed the Huiyuan Sword Art refused to compete because it knew it was just a beginner-grade throwaway technique — that it didn't have the standing to vie for favor against a body-tempering art destined to achieve supreme enlightenment like itself.]
[But now it saw the truth: the Huiyuan Sword Art had been playing a long game all along.]
[If it could just absorb the strengths of every other sword art out there, it would never have to worry about being replaced by something stronger.]
[The Hundred Bones Resonance thought: this is one terrifying technique. Looks like I really did underestimate it.]
[And that meant the other one — the one called the Qingxin Formula — probably wasn't simple either.]
The Qingxin Formula, for its part, felt nothing in particular. It didn't seem the least bit worried about being replaced.
Well. When you're just here for the entertainment, all you need is something entertaining to watch.
With the matter of Flowing Light, Sword Shadows settled, things were moving forward — slowly, yes, but slow progress was still better than standing still and staring into the void.
...................
In the days that followed, Gu Chengming's life fell into a rhythm that was equal parts steady and subtly off-kilter.
Now that the Huiyuan Sword Art had entered a state of secluded contemplation to study the new material, Gu Chengming found himself with an acute awareness of what it felt like to lose something only after it was gone.
The smooth, responsive fluency he'd always taken for granted during practice — that sense of the sword moving like an extension of his own arm — had quietly vanished. In its place was a faint, stubborn resistance. It was only now that he realized the Huiyuan Sword Art had been silently correcting his force application and adjusting his angles the entire time.
Stripped of that invisible support, Gu Chengming had no choice but to re-examine his own foundational sword principles from scratch. It was a blessing in disguise, of sorts — his basics grew measurably more solid through all the stumbling and grinding.
As for the Hundred Bones Resonance: after witnessing the Huiyuan Sword Art's maneuver, it had sunk into a prolonged and troubled silence.
It had begun to wonder — should it start developing some new features of its own? Absorbing the essence blood of demon beasts, maybe? Or observing some other body-tempering technique for reference? It couldn't seriously let itself get shown up by a basic sword art, could it?
In the midst of this full and industrious cultivation life, Gu Chengming hadn't forgotten his side business either.
After all, the third arc of his story had been dragging on long enough — and that third arc was also the climax and turning point of the entire work.
What the readership would call the "crowd-pleasing" part.
A cold, austere, ascetic master — by accident, ingests a strange poison known as Harmonious Joy Powder. As the drug takes hold, the master's Dao-heart begins to waver.
To save them, or not to save them?
And if so — how?
That was the question.
Gu Chengming wrote with inspired ease, capturing the forbidden atmosphere in vivid strokes — the master teetering on the razor's edge between reason and desire, the protagonist's soul locked in furious internal war.
Of course, for the sake of passing review — ahem, for the sake of preserving artistic integrity — he hadn't written anything too explicit. He leaned heavily on indirect description and psychological suggestion.
That quality of being half-veiled, like a pipa held before the face — that hazy, half-revealed tension — turned out to be far more cheek-reddening than anything blunt and direct.
Several days later, the work was done.
Gu Chengming blew the ink dry, then bound the thick stack of manuscript pages into a volume.
[The Qingxin Formula finished reading your latest story. It thinks: well, that's a tasteless little hobby you've got there.]
[The Qingxin Formula says it has absolutely no interest in such clichéd plotting, and next time you write something like this it's going to find the whole thing rather dull.]
[Qingxin Formula Affection +3]
Oh? A classic case of "the mouth says no, but the body is honest."
.................
The following morning. Hidden Sword Pavilion.
The pavilion was unusually quiet today — it had clearly been deliberately cleared of visitors.
The moment Gu Chengming stepped through the door, he felt a scorching gaze latch onto him like a limpet.
Behind the counter, Yu Wenqiu was seated as always in her elder's robes, a jade slip pressed to her forehead, apparently consulting some text.
But a closer look revealed that the jade slip was upside down.
Her eyes had no focus whatsoever, and kept darting toward the entrance every few seconds. The whole scene was uncannily reminiscent of a boarding-school student at one of those semi-militarized exam-factory high schools — sneaking a delivery order and hovering by the gate to wait for it.
"Elder Yu."
Gu Chengming stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
"Ahem! Oh, you're here?!"
Yu Wenqiu's hand jerked, nearly sending the jade slip flying.
She hurriedly set it down and arranged her expression into something composed and detached, giving a slight incline of her head:
"Mm. No need for formalities."
She cleared her throat, letting her gaze drift with studied casualness over the suspiciously bulging front of Gu Chengming's robe:
"That… story you were asked to write — the one meant to assist with tempering the heart through worldly experience — is it finished?"
"It is, and I haven't let you down."
Gu Chengming presented the manuscript with both hands.
Yu Wenqiu's eyes lit up instantly. She snatched it and whisked it into the wide sleeve of her robe.
"Mm. Very good."
Yu Wenqiu drew a slow breath, struggling to suppress the corners of her mouth from curling upward uncontrollably. She kept her face straight and said,
"Since it's complete, this seat shall take it back to… savor carefully. If there are any deficiencies, I will provide guidance in due course."
"Many thanks, Elder." Gu Chengming played along with cooperative obedience.
"One more thing."
Yu Wenqiu seemed to recall something, and fished a small bottle out of her storage pouch and tossed it to Gu Chengming.
"These are Lapis Lazuli Mind-Purifying Pills. If you find your mind restless and distracted during cultivation, take one and let it dissolve under your tongue. You've got dark circles under your eyes — clearly you wore yourself out writing this… this reflection piece. Take them and recuperate."
Gu Chengming accepted the pills with a peculiar expression.
Fine medicine, to be sure — it was just that… he really didn't need them.
He set the thought aside, gave a cupped-fist salute, and took his leave without further comment.
......................
The moment Gu Chengming's foot cleared the threshold of the Hidden Sword Pavilion, Yu Wenqiu handed her duties off to a junior disciple, sweetening the deal with a bottle of pills in exchange for the disciple covering her shift for the afternoon, and slipped away without a second word.
Back in her own courtyard, she couldn't wait — she pulled the manuscript out of her sleeve.
"Finally… finally, it's here!"
"That cliffhanger-leaving wretch — do you know how long I've been waiting?!"
She turned to the first page, and the familiar handwriting greeted her.
The story picked up right where it had left off.
Yu Wenqiu read with relish — frowning at one moment, expression easing at the next, utterly absorbed in the bizarre and vivid world Gu Chengming had built.
But as she turned the pages, her eyes began to take on a strange light.
Finally, she reached that pivotal chapter.
[The moonlight lay like still water. Beads of fine perspiration gathered at the master's brow. Those eyes — always cool and remote in daylight — were now hazy and unfocused…]
"Gulp."
Yu Wenqiu swallowed.
This… this writing… this was…
Especially as she read further — where that usually meek and cowering rebellious disciple, in order to save the master, found themselves forced into a decision that "violated every ancestral propriety," and began to undo the master's sash…
Yu Wenqiu snapped the manuscript shut.
What is this little Gu writing?!
But…
But she really, really wanted to know what happened next.
Yu Wenqiu's fingers picked and scratched at the cover, her mind apparently hosting a debate between two very small internal voices.
One voice said: you've read this far — are you seriously going to be able to sleep tonight if you don't finish?
The other voice said: …he's right.
Face flushed, furtive as a thief, Yu Wenqiu cracked the book open again just a sliver.
............
Half an hour later.
Yu Wenqiu lay slumped in her chair, finished.
Not only finished, but with her imagination having independently rendered the whole thing into vivid mental imagery.
The sheer sense of transgression had left her profoundly shaken.
She sat bolt upright, staring down at the manuscript in her hands, brow furrowed.
"Wait a moment…"
"The master in this book — cold in temperament, never smiling, and a sword cultivator on top of it…"
"This is practically me!"
Yu Wenqiu's heart lurched.
"Surely not…"
A terrifying thought materialized in her mind.
"Surely Gu Chengming isn't hinting at something?!"
"Does he harbor some sort of improper designs on this seat?!"
Yu Wenqiu bit her lip, caught between shame and fury.
She half-wanted to drag Gu Chengming back and demand to know exactly what he meant by writing this sort of scene.
But… she'd barely gotten to her feet before she sank back down in defeat.
What if she was just overthinking it?
If she went storming over to confront him, wouldn't that be as good as a confession? Wouldn't it mean admitting she'd inserted herself into the story?
How humiliating.
She wanted to rage, and she wanted to read the next installment. She wanted to demand answers, and she was afraid of making a fool of herself.
If Gu Chengming ever found out, he'd probably just say one thing: "Behold — the undignified spectacle of a novel addict."
..................
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