Chapter 42: The Hidden Sword Gathers Its Aura

With a sweep of his divine sense, he found the three unharmed. With a light tap of his finger, three demon beast cores floated slowly down into his palm.

“If you’re all right, you’d best return to the sect as soon as possible.”

“Th-thank you, Senior Brother, for saving us!”

“May I ask, Senior Brother—”

“Senior Brother!”

Ignoring the distant shouts of gratitude from the disciples, Song Yan left Xiawei Peak without a backward glance.

He hadn’t made the arduous journey here specifically to save these strangers from the same sect. His purpose was the demon core of the Shadow Cat demon now in his hand; he’d only come out of curiosity when he sensed a distress talisman from a junior disciple.

Unexpectedly, there really had been a cat demon.

“At last, I have all six demon cores. I can go back and report.”

This task had been far from simple. Though the Shadow Cat demon wasn’t powerful, it was remarkably elusive. The first three were easy enough—the murderous intent of the Shadow Cat demon was pronounced, making it easy for Song Yan’s divine sense to detect. But once alerted, the rest of the demons vanished, lying low, forcing Song Yan to search the Yanran Mountains for three or five days.

Luckily, he had now gathered what he needed and could return to the sect.

It had been over three months since the day Song Yan comprehended the embryonic form of his Dao heart from the Eight Desolations Returning Origin Sword Manual. He had finally restored himself to the fifth level of Qi Refinement—perhaps even slightly further than before he had dispersed his cultivation to start anew.

From that day forward, aside from his usual accumulation of spiritual power and honing his sword aura, Song Yan had earnestly studied certain sword techniques, particularly the art of sword control mentioned in the sword manual.

One of these was not strictly a sword technique, but a secret stance for focusing the mind and concealing one’s edge, called the “Hidden Sword, Gathered Spirit Stance.”

It allowed him to suppress his own cultivation aura, making it impossible for others to discern his true level.

However, Song Yan did not hide his cultivation within the sect. After all, he had been a member for more than two years now, and the fifth level of Qi Refinement was merely average. Considering the time lost to rebuilding his foundation, he was even somewhat behind. Besides, the restoration of his cultivation would be discovered sooner or later; it was better to be open about it from the start.

Should he travel outside the sect in the future, this stance would prove most useful.

The other technique was the one Song Yan practiced most assiduously: the sword-controlling art “Sword in the Clouds.”

This move was formidable in power, but taxing as well.

Most of the other sword-controlling techniques recorded in the manual emphasized the ultimate strike—one sword to break all arts. However, those required profound understanding of sword intent and deep refinement of one’s life-bonded flying sword.

The Sword in the Clouds was different; it required only a strong enough divine sense to split and guide multiple sword auras, unleashing astonishing might. Complex in its variations, Song Yan nonetheless devoted himself to the practical applications outlined in the manual. His approach was simple: as a beginner, he shouldn’t be greedy for quick results. He chose a versatile technique and practiced it with steady diligence, step by step. Once he mastered it, then he would consider the next.

Perhaps a slow method, but effective.

After three or four months of relentless repetition, he had achieved a fair degree of mastery.

After Song Yan’s departure, the three disciples supported each other down Xiawei Peak.

“That Senior Brother looked unfamiliar, as if I’ve never seen him before…”

“Among so many outer sect cultivators, who would’ve thought we had one so formidable…”

Song Yan’s robe was no different from theirs, so they knew he was an outer disciple.

“I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere… hmm…”

The honest-faced youth pondered hard. “Ah, that’s it! I saw him at the Mo Dao Institute.”

“At the time, Senior Brother Sun said, ‘His calligraphy reflects his character; this Senior Brother’s state of mind grows ever more tranquil…’”

The youth mused for a moment, then said, “He acted with such righteousness. We must not be remiss in courtesy. If we get the chance, let’s visit him to express our thanks.”

“Yes.”

…

Song Yan walked out of the Chores Hall and went straight back to his cave-dwelling.

Outside, he found a message talisman.

“Hm?”

He was puzzled. He had few friends in the sect, and he’d already completed more than enough sect tasks in recent days. Who would be seeking him at such a time?

He infused it with spiritual power, activating the talisman.

“There is an anomaly in Linxi County. Disciples are being dispatched to investigate. Gather at the Dao Square Gate at three-quarters past the hour of Si.”

“Dispatched disciples: Qin Ying, Li Qingfeng, Song Yesheng.”

The speaker was a woman, her voice cool and clear; Song Yan didn’t recognize her.

“Qin Ying?”

The name sounded familiar. After pondering a long while, Song Yan recalled.

“That must be the inner disciple prodigy, the peerless talent who established her Dao foundation at just twenty-nine.”

Perhaps because the task was special, the Chores Hall had also issued him a sect-leave permit. The permit, in the form of a talisman, came in duplicate; the copy left with the sect was, it was said, to monitor whether disciples on temporary leave ran into danger.

“An inner disciple leading, soul-binding talismans issued—what could be so urgent?”

After a moment’s thought, Song Yan turned away from his cave and headed straight for the Lingyuan Marsh Market.

The Worries-Easing General Store was unchanged.

He pushed open the door; Granny Qin was as lazily at ease as ever. No matter when he came, she was always there, as though she needed neither cultivation nor rest, only pleasure.

“Well, if it isn’t our Yesheng! What rare wind blows such an honored guest to my humble shop?”

How familiar.

Granny Qin’s odd humor hadn’t changed either.

Qin Xijun tapped her finger lightly, and a cup of spirit tea slid in front of Song Yan.

“It’s been eight or nine months. Have you only now remembered me, your Granny?”

Truth be told, since the incident at Silent Valley, apart from his first visit to the store to sell some talismans and odd jobs, he had devoted himself entirely to cultivation and not returned.

“Oh, it’s like this, Granny. I have some goods to sell, and I’d like to buy a few things as well.”

He rummaged through his storage pouch, not noticing the shifting expression on Qin Xijun’s face.

…

When Song Yan came to, he found himself outside the shop.

Bang!

The door closed, just as before.

“I’m in a foul mood today. No guests!”

“Granny, don’t be like that! I’m about to leave the sect to slay demons, and I’m flat broke. I fear death is nigh if you don’t let me in!”

The more Song Yan spoke, the more tragic he made it sound, as if being kept out would doom him to die outside.

“Hm? What sort of task…”

Sure enough, the door opened.

“Hehehe…”

Song Yan grinned. “I don’t know, but it must be extremely dangerous, Granny. I’m not joking—the one leading us is an inner disciple at Foundation Establishment!”

“Oh?”

Qin Xijun frowned.

“Who?”

“I know her, but she doesn’t know me. Senior Sister Qin Ying from the inner sect…”

…

Oblivious to the look on Qin Xijun’s face, Song Yan busied himself laying out his wares, then rubbed his hands together.

“Heh, Granny, about that half-broken talisman you picked up at the night market last time—you can’t use it right now, so… could I borrow it?”

Last time he was here, Qin Xijun had mentioned finding a half-completed protective talisman at the Lingyuan Marsh night market. It could withstand a full-strength attack from a Foundation Establishment cultivator, but only once.

This task already looked dangerous; borrowing it would be a good insurance policy.

“Here’s the deal—if I don’t use it, I’ll return it. If I do…”

Before Song Yan could finish, Qin Xijun cut him off: “If you use it, you’ll owe me, boy. You’ll have to work off three hundred spirit stones’ worth of chores for me. Now take the talisman and get out!”

…

Song Yan carefully stowed away the azure talisman and left in high spirits.

Reclining in her chair, Qin Xijun muttered, “That brat, no conscience at all. After all the worrying I did for him, the trouble I went to…”

Her anger faded quickly. After all, Song Yan didn’t know the details—he just thought of her as a merchant dealing in spiritual wares.

“Still, it seems the boy is fine. Less than a year, and he’s rebuilt his cultivation.”

Qin Xijun felt somewhat reassured.

It was not uncommon for cultivators to lose their level for various reasons—defeated in combat, gravely wounded, or from taking strange, dispersing elixirs. So long as the foundation remained intact, normal cultivation would restore their level at about this pace—not fast, but not slow.

“Ah…”

With a sigh, she murmured the name over and over.

“Qin Ying…”