Chapter 151: A Youth with a Sword Cuts Down a Mountain
The old scholar stood atop a huge boulder on the mountain peak, the mountain wind blowing, his sleeves fluttering and rustling.
At this moment, the white-haired old man standing tall against the wind had not a trace of his former shabbiness!
The old scholar gazed toward a point of light that suddenly flared up eight hundred li away. Even across such a great distance, it still felt somewhat dazzling to the old man. He nodded slightly and said, "So many years have passed, and although the sword's edge is much blunter than the legends say, the sharpness contained within hasn't diminished much. Impressive, truly impressive. After ten thousand years of leisurely time, through seas changing into mulberry fields, it still possesses such a weight of spirit and energy. But..."
The old scholar quickly smiled and said, "With this mountain, I will make you retreat in the face of difficulty. When it comes to fighting, after all, the less fighting the better—it hurts the harmony, you know."
The mountain beneath the old man's feet, which he had visualized into a painting, had a name so great it couldn't be greater.
Within the Central Continent, the largest of the nine continents in territory, there was a great mountain called Sui Mountain. Its momentum was majestic, as if rising from the ground to pierce the heavens. At its summit stood a stele inscribed by the Supreme Sage with the words "Uniquely Revered Under Heaven." There was the Cliff of Ritual Sages carved with "Ancestor of the Five Sacred Mountains." There was the phrase "A Gentle Breeze Arrives" left by the first disciple of the Dao Ancestor. And there were the four characters "Only I Wudang" carved into the stone with his finger by a sage of the Military School.
The stone inscriptions of sacrificial texts written by emperors of various dynasties across the continents who came here to perform the Fengshan ceremony and announce to Heaven numbered over one hundred and eighty, written in seal script, clerical script, regular script, and cursive script. These mysterious words and cliff faces extended from the Heaven-ascending Platform at the summit of Sui Mountain all the way down to the mountainside. Famous relics and scenic spots were almost everywhere.
The old scholar gazed at that dazzling sword light, somewhat surprised. Earlier, when he had first appeared at the mouth of the old well, he had seen Chen Ping'an's hand position while holding a sword. It was truly an eyesore—even someone like the old scholar, who wasn't particular about martial arts, couldn't bear to look at it. But at this moment, seeing the posture of the youth holding the sword horizontally before him, the old man had only one feeling.
Steady.
The youth's hand holding the sword was very steady, his heart was calm, his mind settled, and thus his entire spirit and will were even steadier.
After the tall woman infused all her sword intent into the "old sword blade," the next moment, in an even more ethereal form and a profoundly mysterious aura, she appeared directly above the lake of Chen Ping'an's mind-heart. Golden pupils, bare feet. When her toes lightly touched the lake's surface, ripples spread out, and then a voice resounded in the youth's heart.
Her warm voice rang through his heart: "Don't rush to act. First, get used to the feeling of a tenth-tier Qi refiner."
"So-called sword techniques are just a few types; they can't make too many variations. This is the difference between the later martial world and the mountain immortals. Qi refiners refine Qi, nurturing and integrating it, giving birth to countless kinds of sword intent—some deep, some shallow, some high, some low. If others are wells and streams, and you are a lake or river, then naturally you surpass them by a thousandfold or a hundredfold."
"The length of the sword aura depends on the degree to which your physical body and Qi mansions have been opened. The more Qi mansions you open, the deeper you excavate your potential. If others only have a single inferior blessed land, but you possess all the paradises and blessed lands, the difference between the two is as vast as heaven and earth! Meridians are like roads; the tougher and wider they are, the more they become your grand thoroughfare while others are stuck on single-plank bridges and sheep-path trails. How can they compete with you?"
She looked around, saw the scenery of the youth's mind-heart, and said with a full smile, softly, "Do you understand?"
The youth was struggling to adapt to the feeling of being a tenth-tier Qi refiner. The airflow around him was extremely chaotic; he couldn't even open his eyes, let alone speak. Fortunately, she told him he only needed to think it in his heart. The youth honestly told her, "I understand, but I don't know how to do it."
She was not at all surprised and burst into loud laughter.
Chen Ping'an, not knowing why, continued to strive to adapt to being a tenth-tier Qi refiner.
That strange feeling was indescribably mysterious.
It was like a starving person suddenly having their stomach filled with rich meat and fish, leaving no gap at all, all his Qi mansions stretched open.
That original thread of vital energy, which had felt like a wandering fire dragon, suddenly transformed from the size of a needle and thread into an exaggeratedly large loach. It raced through his meridians swiftly, crashing through everything, unimpeded. Along the way, it continuously swept up the vital energy from various Qi mansions and acupoints, rolling up like a snowball, in such a manner that it seemed it wouldn't stop until it became a veritable flood dragon.
Inside his body, it was clear as crystal; the meridians of his torso stretched and expanded like golden branches and jade leaves.
True Qi without impurity, returning to simplicity, enabling long life and lasting vision.
Various concepts that Lin Shouyi had once mentioned floated up one by one in Chen Ping'an's mind.
Above the mind-heart lake, she said softly, "Still missing a bit. A sword cultivator is not an ordinary Qi refiner after all."
Then she looked up, gazing into the distance, through this chamber of Chen Ping'an's mind-heart, directly at the huge boulder on that mountain peak. She asked with a smile, "What do you think? Otherwise, if you shamelessly bring out this Sui Mountain to resist the enemy, it would be too unsportsmanlike a victory."
"Making you admit defeat sincerely is enough."
The old scholar understood and laughed heartily. After a slight hesitation, he slightly retracted his gaze, letting his eyes wander over the entire mountain. Finally, his gaze settled on a cliff face. On it was a strange "calligraphy piece" written long ago by an ancient sword immortal with abundant sword aura. It was the "Flying Sword Calligraphy" that had attracted countless sword cultivators from the Central Continent to come and observe, even to build huts below the cliff and comprehend the way of the sword.
"Take it, then—whatever you can take depends on your ability. That boy Zuo was just like you back then, before he formally learned swordsmanship. He unintentionally climbed the mountain, looked at the cliff, and observed the characters. In that single look, he grasped six characters. The talent and aptitude for learning the sword became immediately apparent. Among sword cultivators, geniuses emerge in great numbers, but geniuses also come in different sizes. Five characters guarantee becoming a land-bound sword immortal. Chen Ping'an, let's see what your bone structure is!"
With a wave of his sleeve, seven archaic characters on the cliff face flew off the stone wall, speeding toward Chen Ping'an eight hundred li away. In an instant, they arrived beside Chen Ping'an, now reduced to palm-sized ancient seal script, dazzling with golden light and radiant. The characters revolved rapidly around Chen Ping'an.
But in the end, not a single character was willing to approach Chen Ping'an. Instead, they kept increasing their distance and finally turned around and flew back.
After the old scholar saw this, he was both embarrassed and guilty, muttering, "I've made a mess of things. Little Peace, I'm sorry. How was I to imagine these characters would be so uncooperative..."
The woman standing on Chen Ping'an's mind-heart lake snorted coldly.
The old scholar said with an awkward smile, "Tricky, truly tricky. What to do now? No matter, I'll find a simpler and easier method. It won't stump me. I have an old friendship with the mountain god of Sui Mountain; I know his family treasures best. If that doesn't work, I'll just..."
"It doesn't surprise me that those seven characters look down on me."
At that moment, Chen Ping'an opened his eyes to a slit. Instead of communicating with the tall woman through his mind-heart, he spoke directly out loud, "And actually, I don't really want them either. Truly!"
Her heart shook.
The youth tightened his grip on the long sword in his hand and slowly said, "When I practiced fist techniques, I always had a feeling: that if I trained to the end, my punches would be very fast, even the fastest. Now that I have you by my side, I feel that's enough. I don't need any characters. This next sword stroke will be very fast! Believe me, it will definitely be very fast!"
The woman nodded.
The old scholar was stunned for a moment as well, then clicked his tongue in admiration. "This tone—really reminds me of Xiao Qi when he was young."
A smile appeared in the old man's eyes, but he deliberately strained his voice and snorted coldly, "Let's see just how much this sword stroke can make your tenth-tier cultivation display the power of an eleventh or twelfth tier! Chen Ping'an, don't hold us back and only show the strength of a seventh or eighth tier. Come on, if you don't deliver this sword stroke now, the flowers will be cold by the time the feast is served!"
After teasing the youth, the old man sat cross-legged and murmured, "As the poets say: ten years to sharpen a sword, the frosty edge never tried. Today I show it to you—who has a grievance in this world? But there are so many grievances in the world, yet there is only one sword."
The old scholar smiled carelessly, putting aside these melancholy feelings, and said with schadenfreude, "Besides, others sharpen a sword for ten years. The sword in your hand, Chen Ping'an—well, it's been a full ten thousand years."
Almost simultaneously, Chen Ping'an and the tall woman said in a deep voice, "Go!"
Chen Ping'an began to sprint forward.
The youth was actually dragging the sword as he ran.
The old scholar, seeing all this, just shook his head with a smile.
The youth ran forward with his head held high.
The youth leaped high into the air and slashed down with his sword.
A profound silence fell.
There was no blinding sword light that illuminated heaven and earth, no magnificent sword aura that pierced the rainbow.
But at that instant, on the huge boulder at the mountain peak, the old man, who had been sitting facing south, shifted sideways.
On the lake of the mind-heart, the woman suddenly plunged to the bottom of the lake, closed her eyes, and said slowly, "Ten thousand years."
At the same time, beside the well at the Autumn Reed Inn, Li Baoping, who had been studying the painting scroll, suddenly widened her eyes and exclaimed in shock, "Why does the scroll suddenly have another crack?"