Those mental cultivation verses mixed, flowing like the surging river water in Song Qian Ji’s mind, churning like rolling sand.
He couldn’t see clearly or remember a single character.
“It’s good that you’ve forgotten! Water has no fixed form, the sword has no fixed method. The great river flows east without asking where it came from. Ten thousand swords are born from the heart—that is the true meaning of this ‘River Crossing Sword’!” Xian Jian Chen laughed. “My disciple is indeed a genius. You ordinary people naturally can’t understand.”
The enemies on water, land, and in the sky were provoked, their attacks becoming more vicious.
Song Qian Ji was surrounded, and the black-awning boat was on the verge of capsizing.
“Let a thousand people sail with the wind, and all thousand will choose the easiest path of drifting with the current. Let a thousand people sail against wind and water, and they’ll devise a thousand different methods. Water has no fixed form, the sword has no fixed method. No river has two identical waves. People’s experiences differ, so the mental cultivation for this sword also varies. Sailing against the current, with unpredictable wind and waves, the only constants are ‘the location of the opposite shore’ and ‘the heart that defies heaven.'”
As Song Qian Ji contemplated this, those verses that had sunk into the sand became clear again. After breaking apart, they recombined and appeared line by line in his mind.
His movements became increasingly fluid, changing from holding the sword with both hands to wielding it with one. The sword that weighed over a thousand catties became lighter and lighter in his hand until it was as light as a drop of water.
“Good sword!” Song Qian Ji’s mind became clear as he shouted sharply.
“Retreat first!” Zhao Tai Ji called out.
Before his words faded, the waves gathered with the sword energy of the “River Crossing Sword,” like a waterfall hanging upside down in the air.
Where the sword passed, a water curtain shot to the sky.
Song Qian Ji wreaked havoc in all directions.
It seemed he was no longer wielding a sword, but an entire river.
The setting sun spread like blood across the western sky, and the White Dragon River flowed with blood.
The waterfalls propelled the black-awning boat out of the encirclement.
With the River Crossing Sword leading the way, the White Dragon River was now at Song Qian Ji’s command.
“Want to escape? Not so easy!” Zhao Tai Ji sneered. “Pour!”
Enemies on all sides avoided the unstoppable sword energy and collectively brought out hundreds of storage bags.
The bag openings widened, pouring a transparent, oily substance that glinted with pearl-like light into the river, spreading rapidly.
Song Qian Ji’s nose twitched slightly as he smelled a faint, cold fragrance.
“It’s mermaid oil!”
Mermaid oil could burn anything. The enemy had prepared so much oil—they intended to burn the entire river.
“Light the fire!” Zhao Tai Ji commanded.
At the same time, thousands of cultivators rushed out from the mountain ridges. Countless burning arrows transformed into streaks of flowing fire, drawing gorgeous trajectories under the setting sun like a huge rainbow bridge, shooting directly at the black-awning boat.
The fire arrows engraved with symbols were swept away by Song Qian Ji’s sword energy, but more arrows fell into the river.
A thick layer of mermaid oil covered the river, and the flames ignited instantly upon contact!
Cultivators wearing “Divine Fire Cloaks” in the mountain ridges, unafraid of the massive flames, rushed toward the small black-awning boat like a dense murder of crows.
A raging fire burned the river!
The river’s surface transformed into a sea of fire.
Fire borrowed the wind’s force, and wind-aided the fire’s light, quickly covering the entire White Dragon River.
The “River Crossing Sword” could no longer summon waves, and the blade became heavier and heavier like the setting sun sinking at the horizon.
The battle situation reversed in the blink of an eye.
Zhao Tai Ji laughed loudly: “Xian Jian Chen, two hundred years ago when you caused havoc in the Qian Kun Hall and shattered the Passing Water Bridge’s cloud sea, did you ever imagine tonight? When I burn through this White Dragon River, how will you use your River Crossing Sword?”
Hua Wei Sect had a not-so-secret secret: whoever mentioned Xian Jian Chen’s name in the Qian Kun Hall would be “struck by lightning.”
Thus, the sect leader, peak masters, and elders became restrained in their speech, living in trepidation.
Outside, they received offerings from half of the Western Continent, but in their sect, they had been suppressed by a sword energy for over two hundred years, unable to raise their heads.
How could they not hate?
If this grudge wasn’t avenged, their heart demons wouldn’t be eliminated.
“How strange that everyone who comes to kill me must first reminisce with me. Is it because daily life is too boring?” Xian Jian Chen remained seated in the boat cabin, sighing and shaking his head at the sea of fire. “So many spirit stones, enough to buy a city—or at the very least, to buy wine—yet you pour them into the river to skip stones. What a pity, truly a pity!”
The blood-colored sunset had completely sunk behind the White Dragon Mountain.
The night sky was illuminated red by the river of fire. Rolling thick smoke rose, obscuring the stars above.
Shrimp, crabs, fish, and turtles were all killed; water beasts that couldn’t escape in time were burned by the fierce flames, emitting miserable screams.
Corpses floating on the river emitted the charred smell of cooked flesh, mixed with the strange cold fragrance of mermaid oil—the intense smell made one nauseous.
The enemies’ arrogant laughter, battle cries, and screams of agony when struck by swords filled Song Qian Ji’s ears.
Fighting became increasingly difficult for him.
Xian Jian Chen counted numbers, calculating how many spirit stones this battle would cost the “Righteous Immortal Alliance.”
Song Qian Ji heard this and became furious: “You still won’t draw your sword? We’re in the same boat!”
Xian Jian Chen: “Why don’t you hold on a bit longer?”
Song Qian Ji: “If you’re so capable, you come up and try!”
The black-awning boat was enveloped in flames, with no escape in any direction.
Only Song Qian Ji’s sword energy struggled to maintain their defense.
Xian Jian Chen laughed heartily: “Take another sword!”
Without thinking, Song Qian Ji raised his hand to exchange swords.
The sword hilt felt cool in his hand, like holding a handful of crushed ice, making the surrounding heat waves recede somewhat.
“This sword is named ‘Waning Moon.’ Cold like moonlight, it naturally counters fire.” Xian Jian Chen casually recited: “The poem says, ‘People have joy and sorrow, partings and reunions; the moon waxes and wanes, becomes clear and cloudy.’ All things, when developed to an extreme point, must turn back to achieve the cycle. Just as a full moon must wane. Haven’t you seen the moon? When it’s almost but not quite full, its moonlight is most abundant.”
Song Qian Ji looked up: “I have seen it.”
Tonight, the moon couldn’t be seen; the night sky was shrouded in layers of fire and smoke.
“Holding the ‘Waning Moon Sword,’ you must learn to accept imperfection,” Xian Jian Chen said. “Master will now transmit the mental cultivation method to you.”
Zhao Tai Ji retreated to the edge of the battle, standing on the riverbank twenty zhang away from the black-awning boat: “Xian Jian Chen, it’s useless!”
Since rising to fame at the Wen Ya Assembly, Song Qian Ji had encountered numerous fortuitous events, accumulated good fortune, became a young lord, and reached heights in just a few years that others couldn’t achieve in a lifetime.
He had never known imperfection in his life, so how could he accept it?
“He doesn’t even know how to write or use the characters for ‘imperfection,’ how can he use your ‘Waning Moon Sword’?” Just as Zhao Tai Ji finished speaking, he noticed the battle situation had changed.
With the Waning Moon Sword in hand, Song Qian Ji completely changed from his previous style of massive chopping and cutting. His swordplay became gentle like moonlight spreading over willow-lined shores.
Xian Jian Chen smiled: “Master was originally worried that your life had been too smooth sailing, making it difficult for you to understand the true meaning within the Waning Moon, but I didn’t expect you to subdue it so quickly!”
The moonlight broke through the sea of fire, carrying the black-awning boat forward.
Song Qian Ji battled against the wind and current, growing increasingly valiant.
However, the great fire burned more and more fiercely. Enemies continuously poured out from both banks, becoming more numerous as he killed them, seemingly endless.
Zhao Tai Ji’s face turned ashen, exclaiming in shock and anger: “So what if you’ve subdued the Waning Moon Sword? Do you know how many people have come tonight?”
Xian Jian Chen: “You’re right. Disciple, perhaps we should surrender. The continent’s edge—we need not go there.”
Song Qian Ji looked back, his eyes blood-red, then suddenly smiled: “Tonight I shall cut my way through this White Dragon River!”
Zhao Tai Ji instinctively stepped back three paces, not daring to meet his gaze: “Wishful thinking! The White Dragon River is already under the sect’s control!”
“Spring Autumn!” Song Qian Ji raised his hand.
The Spring Autumn Sword shot forth.
Zhao Tai Ji suddenly felt overwhelming pressure bearing down on him and hurriedly drew his sword to resist.
How had Song Qian Ji’s cultivation advanced so quickly?
If they couldn’t eliminate him tonight… in a hundred years, no, perhaps just ten, the world would have another Xian Jian Chen!
At this moment, a third voice suddenly sounded from the shore:
“The White Dragon River was created by heaven and earth—who can claim to be its master?”
Following this unexpected, unfamiliar voice, a burst of heavy rain pattered down.
Countless figures suddenly rushed out from the continuous mountain ridges on both banks.
Hundreds of storage bags were cast out, pouring sand and gravel into the river.
The sand rain flashed with silver light, falling from the sky in vast quantities.
The flames were covered by the silver sand, immediately weakening.
“What is that?” The cultivators of the Immortal Alliance were stunned.
“Not good, it’s Water-Fixing Sand!”
“Where did so much Water-Fixing Sand come from?”
Zhao Tai Ji, while dodging the Spring Autumn Sword, shouted: “The ‘Righteous Immortal Alliance’ is here! Who dares to be so presumptuous?”
Roars of laughter erupted from both banks, like thousands of birds flapping their wings at once:
“I am your father!”
“I am your ancestor!”
“Even a mighty dragon cannot suppress a local snake! Brothers, break their Divine Fire Cloaks!”
These people who suddenly appeared like mountain spirits and wild ghosts engaged in chaotic battle with the Immortal Alliance cultivators.
The flames were mostly extinguished by the Water-Fixing Sand, instantly relieving the pressure on Song Qian Ji: “May I ask which fellow Daoists have come?”
Upon his question, a bold voice immediately sounded from the mountain: “The Giant Whale Gang, along with the Sand Sea Sect, the twelve ship crews of White Dragon River, and the thirty-six cave rogue cultivators of White Dragon Mountain, are late in bringing the boat!”
The Immortal Alliance cultivators were shocked and burst into curses:
“Where did these small sects come from, seeking their destruction!”
Zhao Tai Ji was especially enraged to the point of collapse. Listen to what a bunch of miscellaneous fish and shrimp they were—calling them small sects was elevating them; they were merely a group of insignificant rogue cultivators and martial gangs. Hua Wei Sect wouldn’t even issue them invitations to celebratory banquets.
With his thoughts in disarray, he was severed of an arm by the Spring Autumn Sword, blood gushing forth.
Song Qian Ji said: “So it’s Guild Master Yan.”
Guild Master Yan laughed: “Friend Song Xun, we owe you more than just one life from Blood River Valley. Unfortunately, our abilities are limited, and our cultivation is insufficient. We can only help your boat cross this White Dragon River!”
Xian Jian Chen looked at the flying silver sand, muttering to himself: “I thought I’d seen everything, but this strange event I truly haven’t witnessed before.”
On both banks of the great river, silver rain fell everywhere.
The White Dragon River transformed into a silver river of stars.
Guild Master Yan laughed loudly: “Mermaid oil burns on water, and water cannot extinguish it—only Water-Fixing Sand can put it out. Living off the mountains and waters, we miscellaneous fish making our living on the river never lack this ‘Water-Fixing Sand’.”
Song Qian Ji understood clearly that such words were meant to boost morale on their side.
Water-fixing sand was a material for crafting artifacts, nurtured by spiritual shellfish at the river bottom, much rarer than pearls.
Small sects and rogue cultivators along the river mostly specialized in sand collection. Gathering one or two ounces was enough to sell to large sects for spirit stones.
Such an abundance of Water-Fixing Sand, collected grain by grain from the river, represented countless hours of labor.
Tonight, the various “miscellaneous fish” of White Dragon River had given their all.
Another voice rang out: “Lord Song need not worry. After crossing this river, fellow Daoists from Flower Stream Sect, Great Mystery Sect, and other sects will receive you! Do not waste time here, go quickly!”
With silver sand everywhere and figures in chaos, Song Qian Ji could only identify people by their voices: “Captain Lu Zhou, you’ve come too.”
“Ha, Lord Song still remembers us!”
The Immortal Alliance cultivators found this absurd.
Song Qian Ji’s followers and lackeys were supposedly all trapped in Qian Qu, so where did these people come from?
What benefits had Song Qian Ji given them to make them so willing to risk their lives?
In terms of cultivation, the Immortal Alliance cultivators were naturally stronger, but tonight they wore heavy “Divine Fire Cloaks” that slowed their movements, and they were caught unprepared by the “Water-Fixing Sand,” making them truly miserable.
The Spring Autumn Sword seized this opportunity to fly across the sky, cutting down large swaths of enemies like harvesting wheat.
When brave men meet on a narrow path, the braver prevails. The Immortal Alliance had already lost the heart of the brave.
Song Qian Ji gathered his breath, his voice spreading across both banks of the White Dragon River: “Thank you all!”
Guild Master Yan said: “We came here tonight with no other requests. Whether we can return or not, we are not! There is only one matter we wish Lord Song to agree to.”
“Please speak,” said Song Qian Ji.
“We wish to offer Lord Song a bowl of White Dragon wine!”
Xian Jian Chen: “Heh, he doesn’t even know how to drink…”
“Why not! Bring the wine!” Song Qian Ji called out.
A wine jar was thrown across the burning river.
Xian Jian Chen smelled the extremely rich wine fragrance and lamented: “Such good wine, pity that I cannot drink it myself.”
He took out his tea bowl and filled it for Song Qian Ji.
Song Qian Ji threw his head back and drank it all in one gulp.
The wine was extremely potent, like the river flames burning through his throat and intestines, mixed with the taste of scalding fresh blood, cold rust, and the chill night wind.
Song Qian Ji’s eyes turned completely red from the wine’s heat as he threw the bowl into the river.
“Lord Song must be victorious!” Guild Master Yan laughed heartily.
The White Dragon River was instantly submerged in cheers:
“Victory in this battle!”
“Victory! Victory!”
……
“How strange that I never knew cultivators could show such loyalty without being bound by oaths. Tonight’s strange events are truly too many.”
As the black-awning boat regained stability, Xian Jian Chen began brewing tea again.
The flames extinguished, the strange fragrance of mermaid oil scattered by the wind, and the night sky returned to clarity.
The sky-piercing battle cries were left behind as the small boat, like a swimming fish, lightly passed through the wind and waves.
Still sailing against the current, yet faster than going with the flow.
Stars emerged one by one from behind the clouds.
The wind and smoke on the river surface gradually dispersed.
The light boat had already passed countless mountains.
“It’s not because of loyalty, but because they feel a world with me is better than a world without me.” After saying this, Song Qian Ji fell silent for a long while.
Xian Jian Chen was about to scold him for being narcissistic when he saw him standing at the bow, leaning on his sword and saying: “You asked if I’ve seen the moon. Look at the water—what a big moon.”
Xian Jian Chen stood up and pulled him into the boat cabin.
Song Qian Ji didn’t resist: “Why do I see so many moons? Tell me, why!”
Xian Jian Chen laughed in exasperation: “Master can handle a thousand cups without getting drunk and never turns down alcohol, but how are you drunk after just one drop?”
“Am I drunk? Impossible!” Song Qian Ji shouted.
“White Dragon wine has an extremely strong aftereffect. Who told you to act like a hero earlier?” Xian Jian Chen sighed, taking out a pillow for him. “Just sleep.”
Song Qian Ji opened his blood-red eyes: “Do you know what I like to do most?”
“Watch the moon? Scoop up the moon?” Xian Jian Chen guessed carelessly.
“Wrong.” Song Qian Ji extended a finger to poke the boat floor. “I like farming. The land is most fair—as long as you are good to it, it will never say ‘sorry’ to you.”
Xian Jian Chen gave a light laugh: “Who said ‘sorry’ to you? Master never apologizes!”
Song Qian Ji seemed not to hear, lying on his back on the boat floor, muttering softly: “I’ve done all I can; I’ve killed until I’m weary. I don’t want to walk the same path as before.”
“What drunken nonsense,” Xian Jian Chen murmured.
In Hua Wei Floating City, Song Qian Ji said the same words.
But what followed was completely different.
His voice was so indistinct that Xian Jian Chen had to lean closer to hear clearly:
“I just want to protect my fields and the people around me. Even if this time I still have to hear ‘sorry,’ I accept it… This world isn’t good enough, but I still have countless things I can’t bear to part with. I still want to fight for it one more time.”
Xian Jian Chen fell silent, stood up, and walked alone toward the bow.
The night wind blew his sleeves fiercely, like flying white butterflies.
Song Qian Ji closed his eyes, his voice almost inaudible: “Xian Jian Chen, are you still hiding something from me? What grudge do you have with that person? Why did you leave your natal sword at the continent’s edge? Why are you so unwilling to trust people…”
“Sleep well.”
This time it was Xian Jian Chen’s turn to pilot the boat, while Song Qian Ji slept in the cabin.
Green mountains stretched continuously on both banks, with countless stars and a moon reflected on the White Dragon River.
The small boat, like a bamboo leaf, floated gently along the winding river of stars, carrying Song Qian Ji away from the battlefield, drifting with the night wind into a dream deep within flowers.
In this vast world, how many people came across mountains and waters to kill them, and how many others came through water and fire to save them?