Chapter 7:

The fireworks that night were breathtakingly beautiful. Later, whenever Xue Ying recalled them, she found them utterly romantic. Amidst the sky full of fireworks, she drew her sword, and the frost condensed into snowflakes that dissipated into the air along with the sparks.

So beautiful.

The only flaw was that Ziya was too weak—after just a few bouts, he cried and refused to continue.

What a shame.

With Guānhuǒ in hand, Xue Ying felt fully revived. Remembering her promise to spar with the disciples of Taichu Sect, she eagerly sought out Duyi Zhou and asked if she could borrow the training grounds.

“Five hundred mid-grade spirit stones for the venue. Double for sword cultivators.”

Having been thoroughly beaten by Wen An, Duyi Zhou’s mind was much clearer now. He had reverted to his cold and ruthless persona as the senior brother of Taichu Sect, especially picky when it came to sword cultivators.

“We’re practically family. Talking about money hurts feelings.”

“Talking about feelings hurts money more.”

Xue Ying realized that her senior brother Duyi Zhou had been beaten quite badly. She changed tactics. “I won’t hide it from you, Senior Brother Duyi. I promised my junior brothers and sisters that once Guānhuǒ was ready, I’d spar with them.”

A faint smile appeared on Duyi Zhou’s stern face. “Even better. You pay and exert effort, while Taichu Sect reaps the benefits.”

Xue Ying: “…Senior Brother Wen, why didn’t you just stab him to death?”

Jokes aside, when it came to matters concerning Taichu Sect, Duyi Zhou wouldn’t act recklessly. He reluctantly agreed to let Xue Ying use the training grounds. But once given an inch, she took a mile. “One more thing, Senior Brother Duyi. Do you know any disciples skilled in ‘Mending the Heavens’?”

“Mending the Heavens”—the art of repairing artifacts and formations—was a branch of artifact forging. Though Ziya excelled at crafting artifacts, his skill in mending was mediocre. Fixing swords was manageable, but inlaying Hánmíng Stone into the Zǐwēi Path was beyond him.

Not only was the technique demanding, but Hánmíng Stone was also absurdly expensive.

Duyi Zhou paused, letting Xue Ying finish. She looked uneasy. “Last month, during a spar with Senior Brother Wen, I accidentally damaged the Zǐwēi Path. Since no one in Taixuan Sect is skilled in mending, I thought I’d ask…”

“Fine,” Duyi Zhou agreed immediately.

Xue Ying, accustomed to being fleeced, shuddered and reflexively stared at him.

Duyi Zhou seemed puzzled. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Back then, Yuhengzi slashed the Zǐwēi Path eight times. The Taixuan Sect’s leader came begging for help and ended up drowning in debt.” Duyi Zhou glanced at Xue Ying, baffled that she, his disciple, was unaware.

“Did you think Taixuan Sect became destitute for no reason? A grand sect reduced to living off charity—it’s laughable. Though, it’s amusing how like master, like disciple…”

Xue Ying stopped listening. Her mind was consumed by the thought of bankruptcy. All those sleepless nights coloring, saving every penny with Wen An, even drinking water to stave off hunger before achieving fasting…

Yuhengzi, you monster!

“Then forget the repairs.”

Duyi Zhou challenged her conscience. “The Zǐwēi Path is where your sect’s founder practiced swordsmanship. Think carefully.”

Your Taixuan Sect only has one tourist attraction.

Xue Ying: “…How much?”

She, Xue Ying, disciple of the Sword Immortal Yuhengzi, hadn’t even succeeded in usurping him and had already contracted the same disease.

Poverty.

Without the fate of a Sword Immortal but cursed with their afflictions, holding the invoice and IOU Duyi Zhou gave her, Xue Ying trudged toward the training grounds, her entire life feeling bleak.

Duyi Zhou mentioned that after Yuhengzi became a Sword Immortal, he no longer had to pay for damaging the Zǐwēi Path.

Maybe she should just kill her master sooner.

But before that, she had to repay these debts. As a sword cultivator, where could she earn extra money?

Assisting Wen An? No good—a drop in the bucket. Besides, Wen An hadn’t raised her wages in five years.

So poor. Why didn’t she have a father like Lin Jiu Jiu?

Speaking of Lin Jiu Jiu…

Xue Ying suddenly realized—though she had no money, she had the protagonist’s luck! In the novels, Xue Ying would stumble upon fortuitous encounters whenever she left the mountain. She could go dig up a secret realm.

As long as she didn’t report it to the sect, everything inside would be hers. She could excavate a few secret realms and strike it rich. If she got lucky, she might even pay off Taixuan Sect’s debts.

With this money-making idea, Xue Ying’s gloom vanished. She hurried excitedly to the training grounds.

News of Xue Ying’s arrival spread like wildfire. Disciples rushed to the training grounds as if facing a world boss. This wasn’t their first time—there were rules. Newcomers needn’t bother; it’d just waste time and embarrass them. This time, it was mostly elite disciples—skilled but inexperienced, needing tempering.

After trouncing one elite disciple, Xue Ying meditated briefly. When she opened her eyes, she saw Yan Gou, the disciple who’d spoken to her in the square that day.

“Senior Sister Xue Ying!” Yan Gou was ecstatic, dressed flamboyantly and waving a flashy folding fan inscribed with four bold characters:

“Destined for Romance.”

As if foreshadowing his eventual demise from exhaustion.

Xue Ying was polite. “I fight rough. Since you’ve just joined, hurting you would be my fault.”

For once serious about a duel, Yan Gou clasped his fists. “Though I’m new, I’ve trained in the Yan family’s secret arts since childhood. Hearing of your peerless swordsmanship, I wished to test my skills.”

Whispers erupted. “The Yan family’s secret arts? I heard they hail from the East Sea, where a dragon maiden married into their line. Their descendants excel in water-based spells. Is he using that against Senior Sister Xue Ying?”

Xue Ying rose, gripping Báilù. Yan Gou was wreathed in water serpents, faint scales glinting at his temples.

Seemed he had some real skill.

Xue Ying nodded, turning her blade. “My apologies.”

A thunderous crash echoed from the stage. The crowd’s eyes followed Xue Ying. Lin Jiu Jiu watched from afar, her attention not on the fierce duel but on Duyi Zhou below.

Senior Brother…

“My child.”

Lin Jiu Jiu snapped back, bowing. “Father.”

The middle-aged man observed the training grounds, stroking his goatee. “Every generation’s Sword Immortal emerges from Taixuan Sect. Yuhengzi’s disciple is already so formidable at her age. It’s only a matter of time before she succeeds him.”

Lin Jiu Jiu stayed silent. In her past life, Xue Ying had ventured into the Endless Sea, tainted by demonic energy. When she returned, Wen An led a purge, only for Yuhengzi to intervene and spare her.

But Yuhengzi and Xue Ying…

Lin Jiu Jiu bit her lip. What was so special about Xue Ying?

Knowing his daughter well, Lin Shen was aware of Xue Ying and Duyi Zhou’s clash at Bìluò Peak. Servants had recounted everything, including Liǔ Jūnzhuó’s involvement.

“I’ve looked into it. That Liǔ Jūnzhuó only recently joined Taixuan Sect. Xue Ying dislikes him, hence her conflict with Yuhengzi, leading to Guānhuǒ’s destruction and her plea to Taichu Sect. Nothing like your dreams.”

Lin Shen gazed at his beloved daughter, her features mirroring his late wife’s. Heart aching, he declared, “If you fancy Liǔ Jūnzhuó, we’ll have him marry in.”

He, Lin Shen, lacked many things—but not money. Couldn’t he buy one Taixuan Sect disciple?

Born with a sword bone.

Even a natural Dao body would have to marry in!

Lin Jiu Jiu shook her head. Whom she liked didn’t matter. What mattered was her father’s health, Senior Brother’s safety, and Taichu Sect’s survival.

Recalling her past life, she implored, “Father, with this second chance, I can’t stand idle. If not for myself, then for Taichu Sect, please trust me.”

“In my dreams, the demonic path invaded en masse. The three realms drowned in blood. Taichu and Taixuan perished.”

Lin Shen remained skeptical. The four realms were like an egg—pure above, turbid below. The demonic realm, born of filth, was suppressed by the cognitive realm. Even if they came, the cognitive realm would suffer first. He cared little for grand events, only his daughter’s well-being.

If Xue Ying dared bully her, he’d make her pay!

“Don’t cry, child. I have ways to deal with Xue Ying.”

Lin Jiu Jiu wiped her tears, urging, “Father!”

Lin Shen raised a hand, enigmatic. “You don’t understand. To kill a snake, strike its head. Xue Ying, as Yuhengzi’s disciple, may seem glorious, but she’s dirt poor. What do the desperate do? Scramble for money. You said she always stumbles upon fortuitous encounters when descending the mountain? Hah! Child, let me recite the sect rules.”

“Article 52: Any disciple discovering a secret realm must report it to the sect. No hoarding.”

“Tell me, where are these secret realms? I’ll obliterate them—all handed over.”

Dream of striking rich? Ha!

……

After an exhilarating bout, Xue Ying felt awkward lingering at Taichu Sect. Bidding farewell, she prepared to return to Taixuan Sect when Duyi Zhou sent a parting gift.

A training grounds repair bill.

Note: All damages caused solely by Xue Ying.

Xue Ying: “…Can this get any worse?”

With debts piling up, she pocketed the bill and hurried back.

Returning to Taixuan Sect, Xue Ying felt at ease. Taichu Sect was nice, but something always felt off.

Like the difference between in-laws and family.

Instead of heading straight to Níngshén Peak, she detoured to Rùnyǔ Valley to test the waters.

Rùnyǔ Valley, Wen An’s abode, was perpetually drizzling, lush with vegetation. His thatched hut blended into nature—elegantly attuned to the Dao. In reality…

Wen An was too cheap to build proper housing.

Landing excitedly, Xue Ying rested her hands on the fence. Before she could call out, she spotted someone practicing sword forms in the yard.

The movements were sluggish, full of openings. Worst of all, it was Liǔ Jūnzhuó.

Xue Ying’s face darkened. She turned to leave when a timid voice called, “Senior Sister?”

Ignoring him, she strode away. Liǔ Jūnzhuó hesitated, torn between chasing and staying. Luckily, Wen An appeared and summoned Xue Ying back.

“Junior Sister.”

Seated in the yard, Xue Ying sipped tea from a bamboo cup, its rustic charm undeniable.

Liǔ Jūnzhuó practiced sword forms nearby, stealing glances. Noticing Xue Ying’s veiled face, Wen An deduced progress on the Zǐwēi Path repairs. Just as he relaxed, Xue Ying spoke.

“Senior Brother Duyi said repairing the Zǐwēi Path is a major undertaking. He’ll visit soon.”

Wen An’s smile nearly cracked. “You don’t need Dìtīng’s whispers to read minds now.”

“Practice. I know you too well.”

Your fake smiles are unmistakable!

Wen An’s displeasure soured Xue Ying’s mood. They traded barbs. “The sect leader is furious about you stabbing Yuhengzi.”

“More pay cuts?”

Last time she damaged the Zǐwēi Path, her performance metrics tanked. In all Taixuan Sect, only hers were negative. Every Merit Hall visit shamed her.

Wen An smiled serenely. “You ruined Yuhengzi’s pristine reputation. Did you think the sect leader would let it slide?”

A Sword Immortal wasn’t a Sword Immortal without bachelorhood. Yuhengzi, long single, was the dream of countless maidens and matrons. Xue Ying’s scandalous rumors shattered his aloof image.

Xue Ying fumed. “His reputation’s ruined, so I get pay cuts? My reputation’s trashed, and no one cares? So I’m just unlucky?”

Wen An: “It’s different. He’s your master, your father figure—parent, heaven, earth, teacher. Are you his mother?”

Xue Ying: “…”

Noticing Liǔ Jūnzhuó’s gaze, Wen An resumed his gentle senior brother persona. “Since you’re back, go to Níngshén Peak and apologize. Yuhengzi’s been bedridden for days.”

That didn’t add up. Both were stabbed in the kidney, yet Duyi Zhou was lively enough to spar with Wen An. Yuhengzi, stronger than Duyi Zhou, was still down?

Perhaps sensing her confusion, Wen An sobered. “I’m not sure. The sect leader said his cultivation went awry. That’s why he didn’t draw his sword that day—letting you win.”

Xue Ying asked, “Should we call Tàisù Valley’s healers?”

Wen An: “No money. He won’t die.”

Taixuan Sect tradition: heal by lying down.

Briefed, Xue Ying bid Wen An farewell, ignoring Liǔ Jūnzhuó entirely. Once she left, Liǔ Jūnzhuó dared approach. “Senior Brother, will Master punish Senior Sister?”

Wen An smiled. “Worried about her?”

Under his gaze, Liǔ Jūnzhuó faltered. “It’s only natural…”

Wen An half-listened, recalling Duyi Zhou’s message.

Dìtīng’s whispers claimed Liǔ Jūnzhuó and Xue Ying were entangled.

……

In truth, Xue Ying’s cave wasn’t far from Yuhengzi’s—one at the peak, the other at the base. No need for discretion. As a child, Xue Ying didn’t live on Níngshén Peak, sharing dorms with others. Later, assigned her own space, she moved to Níngshén Peak only after Yuhengzi left.

Lost in thought, Xue Ying’s nerves settled by the time she reached Níngshén Peak. She was young—plenty of opportunities ahead. No loss.

Resolved, she headed to Yuhengzi’s cave. Compared to Wen An’s humble abode, Yuhengzi’s was stark—bare stone bed, stone table, stone stools.

Fitting for a Sword Immortal.

Detached from worldly pleasures, devoid of entertainment.

Yuhengzi sat reading when Xue Ying entered. Not expecting visitors, his hair was loose, cascading over his shoulders. His pale violet robe bore no adornments. Perhaps due to injury, his lips were pallid.

He seldom smiled, yet his face captivated many—both his own allure and the Sword Immortal’s prestige.

“Master.”

Xue Ying bowed properly.

Yuhengzi set down his scripture, long lashes lowering toward his disciple. Undoubtedly, Xue Ying was exceptional—rising swiftly, her swordsmanship dazzling all of Taixuan Sect. And her beauty…

A cold voice echoed in the cave. “You’ve come to see me?”

Xue Ying dared not meet his eyes, murmuring, “Yes.”

From Yuhengzi’s vantage, her lips stood out—slightly pursed, the bow pronounced, tempting one to taste them. He rubbed his forefinger. “Victory and defeat are common. Don’t dwell on it. Sit.”

Flattered, Xue Ying inched to the seat opposite him, hands on her knees, eyes downcast. Silence lingered until Yuhengzi resumed reading. Unable to bear it, Xue Ying ventured, “Senior Brother said your return this time was… unusual.”

Yuhengzi’s tone frosted. “Speak plainly.”

Xue Ying hesitated, then produced a gifted elixir, sliding it toward him.

“I’ve followed you since childhood…” She stammered under his gaze. “My techniques, swordsmanship—all learned from you.”

Recalling the past softened Yuhengzi’s expression. His voice warmed, a faint smile in his eyes. “I understand your intent. Elixirs are useless to me. Take it back.”

Xue Ying nodded. “Oh.”

Then swiftly pocketed it.

Meeting Yuhengzi’s inscrutable look, she decided to cut to the chase. “I’ll be blunt.”

Yuhengzi’s face darkened slightly, though his tone remained even. “Go on.”

“Master, are you going to die?”

Yuhengzi: “…”

“Senior Brother said your cultivation’s flawed. Since I practice the same, what if I end up like you? You’ve lived long, became a Sword Immortal—worth it. But I’m young. If I can’t be a sword cultivator, I’ll switch to spells.”

“So, Master, give it to me straight. Can I keep practicing? If not, kick me out early. I’ll join Taichu Sect as their disciple.”

“Master, are you listening?”