Qinghe held no sword in his hand.

Seeing that he was empty-handed, everyone was even more shocked.

“You’ve already cultivated the Tianxuan Nine Swords to the seventh level!” Duan Linshu’s eyes lit up. “Truly a heaven-sent genius.”

Even Luo Ying, currently the foremost sword cultivator of the Gujian Sect, had only cultivated the sect’s Tianxuan Nine Swords to the eighth level. When she emerged from seclusion after reaching the eighth level, she was five hundred years old. Now this Qinghe had reached the seventh level at three hundred years old—perhaps he could even surpass Luo Ying in the future. Thinking of this, Duan Linshu’s lips curved in a smile. He turned to ask Elder Liu of the Yunxiao Sect, “Does this sword intent contain any bloody baleful qi?”

The Gujian Sect cultivated sword hearts—sword intent reflected one’s character. This sword intent was clean and clear, like a silver dragon emerging from water. Where was there any resentful baleful qi? Could it be that the Liuxia Sword was tampered with by the Suyue Sect and Dong Fushang Sect working together, processed to deceive him? Elder Liu’s face was iron-blue. The Yunxiao Sect was the world’s foremost sect, standing above the four great sects, but in recent years, the sect’s disciples had mediocre cultivation with no brilliant talents emerging. In the last few section competitions, they hadn’t gained any advantage. Originally, his disciple also had excellent aptitude and decent sword dao, but then the Gujian Sect produced Qinghe, who thoroughly suppressed him.

So the Dong Fushang Sect had set up such a scheme to sow discord! No wonder they sought him out to examine the sword. Elder Liu smiled bitterly in his heart, knowing his explosive temper. If it had been one of his other senior brothers, they would have investigated thoroughly and wouldn’t have fallen for this trap.

Elder Liu took a deep breath and gazed at Qinghe. “Qinghe, excellent swordsmanship—truly worthy of being a disciple taught by that girl Luo Ying. Today’s matter was my mistake…” He rummaged in his sleeve and pulled out a jade box. “I happen to have a small piece of Frost Soul on me. Please accept it as my apology.”

Frost Soul? Very useful for Luo Ying’s Frost Sword Intent. Although only a small piece, it was quite valuable. Most importantly, it was applicable—very suitable for Master to nurture the Qianlong Sword.

Qinghe didn’t stand on ceremony and accepted the jade box with thanks.

After handing over the item, Elder Liu bid farewell and left with several Yunxiao Sect cultivators. But as he departed, he glared harshly at the Dong Fushang Sect cultivators. His explosive temper meant he couldn’t hide his feelings, clearly showing he now held a grudge against the Dong Fushang Sect. The Dong Fushang Sect cultivators’ expressions turned ugly, their gazes falling on Qu Ningsu before quickly looking away.

Just then, Qinghe suddenly said, “Little Junior Sister, see the guests out.”

This seemingly random statement made even the previously smiling sect master’s smile freeze. Su Zhuyi reacted quickly and immediately said, “My master is recuperating. What are you all doing, making such a commotion here? If you don’t leave, I’ll drive you away!”

She was young now and could act willful and unreasonable. Everyone present was from prestigious righteous sects with high moral standing—they couldn’t lower themselves to argue with a little girl. Having no choice, they could only be driven away by her.

After driving everyone away, Su Zhuyi discovered that Qinghe’s body immediately collapsed. He bent over and curled up there, looking extremely wretched.

Little Skull had just wrapped him with a large amount of spiritual energy. With Little Skull’s help, his primordial spirit gained the upper hand and almost completely suppressed the Longquan Sword. This should have been good news, but Qinghe suddenly realized that his relationship with the Longquan Sword wasn’t simply master and servant.

The Longquan Sword had already fused into his bones and blood. He was a descendant of the sword forger. Back then, the entire sword forger clan had thrown themselves into the furnace—that sword contained the flesh and blood of his ancestral relatives. Now, it had also merged with him. When the Longquan Sword was suppressed, his body also weakened and collapsed accordingly. That single sword strike just now had exhausted all the strength in his body. If he had to endure a bit longer, he would have collapsed.

In other words, it wasn’t just the Longquan Sword that had been continuously draining Master’s life force.

It was also himself. He would gradually be controlled by the evil sword and eventually become part of that sword.

Man was sword, sword was man.

“Senior Brother, what’s wrong with you?” Su Zhuyi approached and asked.

“I am human, I am not a sword.”

Qinghe pushed Su Zhuyi away and stumbled into his room. He sat in silent meditation, his breathing completely absent like a corpse.

Su Zhuyi clicked her tongue. She stood at the door for a while, then called Wu’er out. Seeing that Little Skull was fine, she asked, “When you helped him just now, what happened to him?”

“The aura on his body is the same as the black monster in the seal.”

Wu’er was half a Mountain River Spirit and could sense such things. Hearing him say this, Su Zhuyi indicated she understood something.

In her previous life, it seemed Qinghe had only gone on a killing spree after Luo Ying’s death. With the Longquan Sword on him, his desire for slaughter would be infinitely magnified—it wasn’t strange that he had committed so many family extermination massacres. But in the end, he had mysteriously died himself. Either he had perished together with the Longquan Sword, or his consciousness had been completely devoured by the Longquan Sword, and he had become part of the sword. So he died, and only news of his soul lamp being extinguished spread, but no one knew how he died or where.

Su Zhuyi leaned toward the former guess, because if it were the latter, that evil sword should still exist. But in the nearly thousand years that followed, no news of the Longquan Sword was heard. This proved that the sword had at least been quiet for a thousand years—either it was resealed or destroyed. Whether sealed or destroyed, it was related to Qinghe. Looking at it this way, Qinghe becoming this demon wasn’t his wish.

Just now, Qinghe said he wasn’t a sword, he was human.

This meant the Longquan Sword’s relationship with him wasn’t a simple master recognition. He was a descendant of the sword forger—that sword forger probably wanted to turn him into part of the sword, so the whole family of eighteen generations of ancestors could reunite and love each other.

This wasn’t without a solution. Su Zhuyi knocked on the door and shouted outside, “Senior Brother, since the sword has merged with you as one, I have a good method to drive out the sword’s evil qi.”

For fierce swords like the Longquan Sword with extremely strong killing intent, one either needed to find Mountain River Spirits to suppress it—this couldn’t be found, as Wu’er only counted as half, using righteousness to suppress evil. This was the same principle as the great master in the seal, using himself to suppress the sword.

Or one could only find a place of filth to use filth to suppress evil. Back then, that great master found seven demon heads to use evil to counter evil, but now that Qinghe had already merged with the sword as one, it wasn’t nearly so troublesome. There was no need for such complex seals to lock away the sword, because Qinghe now was that sword. He had will and could currently control his actions.

“Senior Brother, go to the mortal realm, find an ancient cesspit, and soak in it for thirty to fifty years. That should do it.”

This was what the books said. Whether it would be effective, Su Zhuyi truly didn’t know, but having a method was better than having none.

The tight-eyed Qinghe inside the room opened his eyes.

Su Zhuyi couldn’t sense his movement but timely added, “Why not try it?”

Qinghe: “…”

After Su Zhuyi finished speaking, she returned to her room. She wrote out a materials list and sent it to Zang Peak, then began cultivating.

Time flowed like water, years passed like shuttles.

For cultivators, ten years was but a fleeting moment.

Su Zhuyi was now sixteen. In the vast Luoxue Peak, she was the only person living quite carefree days. She had reached Foundation Establishment Great Perfection a year ago, but still hadn’t attempted to break through to Golden Core. Her preparations simply weren’t sufficient—she didn’t dare take risks.

Ever since a Gujian Sect disciple’s Golden Core tribulation lightning had gone awry and struck Luoxue Peak, Su Zhuyi had gone to the sect master for a schedule listing approximately when sect disciples would undergo tribulations, so she could prepare in advance.

Since Heaven’s tribulation lightning actively sought to strike her even during others’ tribulations, her tribulation would require extreme caution. So this past year, she hadn’t focused much on secluded cultivation but on preparing items for tribulation crossing.

This morning, she first replaced the plum blossoms in Master Luo Ying’s room with fresh ones, then lit calming incense. After going outside, she lit three sticks of clear incense before Qin Jianglan’s stone tablet and casually placed a red fruit picked from a tree. After completing these tasks, she and Little Skull made a round of Luoxue Peak, gathering some spiritual herbs to return and refine pills.

Little Skull wore clothes and shoes, and socks. Su Zhuyi had taught him threading and given him fabric, which he sewed himself. He hadn’t grown taller or gained weight, but he spent every day running around the mountains—mornings with Su Zhuyi, afternoons running wild with Xiaoxiao (who also wore clothes he’d made), and evenings cleaning himself thoroughly of dog scent in the gourd. The next day, he’d find Su Zhuyi again, living happily each day.

Pill refining required several more herbs. After gathering, Su Zhuyi went to Zang Peak to collect medicinal materials. Upon arrival, she rattled off a string of herb names, and the Zang Peak disciples hurriedly packed them for her with extremely polite attitudes.

After she left, a newly admitted disciple still in line asked, “Who was that senior sister just now? She’s so beautiful.”

“She’s from Luoxue Peak.”

With this explanation, everyone immediately understood.

Luoxue Peak was considered sacred ground of the Gujian Sect, where Luo Ying, the sect’s foremost sword cultivator, resided.

Luo Ying had taken two disciples in total. Both disciples were extremely famous.

One feared strangers, one feared death. The eldest disciple Qinghe feared meeting strangers—he’d never liked interacting with people, and in these ten years hadn’t shown his face even once. Whenever anyone inquired, his junior sister always said the senior brother was in seclusion and not receiving visitors. The stranger-fearing Qinghe had superb swordsmanship—he’d cultivated the Tianxuan Nine Swords to the seventh level. In the entire Gujian Sect, only one person surpassed him: his master, Luo Ying. Even the sect master had just reached the seventh level, and among the elders, some were still at the sixth level.

The youngest disciple feared death. Every month, she’d collect large quantities of materials for crafting substitute straw dolls from Zang Peak, never missing a month in ten years, month after month. Reportedly, her storage pouch was full of substitute straw dolls. Someone had seen the straw dolls she made—they were lifelike, even better than those made by masters specializing in magical treasures. Such a death-fearing beauty who was also a sword cultivator—her sword was probably soft, and both person and sword would start trembling upon encountering enemies.

New Gujian Sect disciples would spend a hundred years nurturing their sword hearts, but generally, after a few years, there would be some signs of sword heart development. But that death-fearing beauty had shown no trace of sword heart development in ten years. Just how afraid of death was she that she couldn’t even nurture a sword heart?

“So it’s her,” the new disciple murmured. “Beautiful indeed, but without a resilient heart, how can one step onto the path of immortality?”

By rights, he should despise such a person who was greedy for life and feared death.

But thinking of that face, he seemed unable to say anything. He gazed distantly in the direction the woman had gone, as if a patch of white moonlight had scattered across the forest path, keeping his eyes fixed for a long while without looking away.