Chapter 55: "Flawless"

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Dongyuan Sect, Outer Disciples’ Library.

The Library was where Dongyuan Sect stored all kinds of cultivation manuals, tales of the supernatural, and historical records. There was one for the inner sect and one for the outer sect.

The outer sect library housed a small number of low-grade cultivation methods, but mostly legends and historical texts, rarely frequented by anyone. Thus, to distinguish them, disciples referred to the inner library as the “Scripture Pavilion” and the outer one as simply the “Library.”

On this day, Song Yan stepped into the Library.

Several days had passed, and the dark flames of “Heart Demon” in the Two Rites Realm showed no unusual signs. At this rate, it would take more than half a year for the little sword to dispel those flames from its body.

After completing his basic spirit refinement and qi-nurturing exercises for the day, Song Yan had some idle items he planned to sell at the market. Passing by the outer library, he thought he might as well look for books about ancient sword cultivators.

The “Complete Compendium of Immortal Ways and Customs” was comprehensive, but its content on ancient sword cultivators was rather scant.

The outer library had five floors, and any outer disciple could borrow any book here, including the lower-grade cultivation manuals.

There were a few other outer disciples scattered about, but none spoke loudly. After all, on the top floor sat an elder who cherished silence.

“I need to find some ancient texts...” Song Yan swept his divine sense over the shelves, but there were simply too many books.

“Junior Brother Song.”

“Hmm...?”

Song Yan wasn’t sure if he was being addressed, but when he turned, the man was indeed looking at him.

But...

He didn’t really recognize him, though he seemed vaguely familiar.

The man had upright features and held a scripture in his hands. Though plainly dressed, there was an understated scholarly grace about him.

“Sun Zhengfu, a steward disciple of the Ink Dao Institute.”

“Ah...” Song Yan remembered now. Not long ago, feeling stagnant in his cultivation, he had sought solace in calligraphy and chess, hoping these arts would aid his progress with the Five-Star Meridian Nurturing Technique. For a time, he often went to the Ink Dao Institute to copy calligraphy and calm his mind.

He had indeed seen this man before, but at the time, Song Yan hadn’t paid him much attention—thus, he seemed familiar, yet he couldn’t recall his name.

“Greetings, Senior Brother Sun.”

Sun Zhengfu was at the sixth level of Qi Refinement—it was proper to address him as senior brother.

Sun Zhengfu shook his head. “There’s no need for such formalities among fellow disciples.”

To others in Dongyuan Sect, Sun Zhengfu seemed a man of few words. In truth, his reserved nature stemmed from his old-fashioned, serious temperament, and his tendency to be meticulous had offended several well-connected disciples.

His parents, both cultivators, had once warned him: “Disaster comes from the mouth.”

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So he became taciturn. Whether this silence did him any good remained to be seen.

“Junior Brother Song, why haven’t you been to the Ink Dao Institute lately?”

He greeted Song Yan mainly because this junior seemed to be the first person, since Sun Zhengfu became steward, to genuinely use the art of calligraphy to cultivate his heart.

Perhaps they were kindred spirits, both lovers of the written word.

If the opportunity arose, he could invite Song Yan to the Society of Ink and Color in the future.

Song Yan was a bit puzzled, but there was nothing to hide, so he replied honestly, “Recently I made a small breakthrough in my cultivation, and then went out on a mission with a senior sister from the inner sect, so I haven’t been back.”

“I see.” Sun Zhengfu nodded. “The way of writing teaches one to focus the mind and see one’s true nature. I’ve seen your calligraphy; you have a natural talent. We should exchange ideas more often.”

“Yes, thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother.”

This senior brother... seemed to be a genuine devotee of calligraphy.

“Are you here today to find any particular text?”

“Not for any secret techniques, I just want to find some books about sword cultivators from ancient times—legends or records, anything will do.”

“Sword cultivators?” Sun Zhengfu repeated the term thoughtfully. He came here often in search of calligraphy texts, and remembered most of the books.

“I think I’ve seen a few miscellaneous books with ‘Ancient Sword’ or ‘Sword Cultivator’ in the title. If memory serves, they’re on the third floor, sixth shelf, near the ‘Ink Dao Stele Records.’”

Song Yan’s heart leapt and he quickly thanked him: “Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother.”

“No need to be so polite.”

Sun Zhengfu had been there for a while. Returning his book to the shelf, he bid Song Yan farewell and left the library.

“What a helpful senior brother,” Song Yan thought.

He went to the third floor, sixth shelf, and found the “Ink Dao Stele Records.” Searching around it, he soon found the book he was looking for.

“Tales of Ancient Swords.”

The title rang a bell.

The books in the outer library were all paper, not jade slips, so they had to be read page by page.

Song Yan skimmed a few pages, confirmed it was the book he sought, and went downstairs to check it out.

He was on a tight schedule today—if he waited too long, the market would close. Better to sell his odds and ends first, and then read the book at leisure.

...

Lingyuan Marsh Market, central district.

Unlike Granny Qin’s shop, the center was lined with pill, artifact, and talisman emporiums, and the “Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion.” While there were fewer oddities than at the night market, the daytime bustle was much the same.

During the day, the market was mostly filled with sect disciples.

Sometimes, while wandering, you might even run into someone you knew.

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“Kong You, do you take me for a fool? For a few tattered scrolls, you want thirty spirit stones? Has everyone on Mount Forgetting-the-World gone mad?”

“What did you say?”

“I wasn’t talking about you, I was saying—”

Whether it was vendors hawking their wares, bargaining, or bickering, all of it gave Song Yan the illusion of being back at the market fair in Shiliang Town.

He spent about half an hour selling off all his miscellaneous items.

He felt a bit embarrassed always going to Granny Qin to offload his minor cultivation junk—after all, she had scolded him more than once for it.

There was still plenty of time. He thought he might find a teahouse to sit down, have some tea, and read his book.

This “Tales of Ancient Swords” wasn’t a long volume—if he could finish it, he could return the book on his way back, saving himself a special trip next time.

Passing a street corner, he noticed several youthful, striking female cultivators calling out from a shopfront, their voices as melodious as silver bells.

“Taoist robes, silk gowns, cloaks, and skirts...”

Song Yan couldn’t help but glance at... the shop sign.

“Seamless Garments...”

He murmured the name, reading it aloud. “An ingenious name for a shop.”

Judging by the ladies’ calls, it was a store specializing in tailored robes and gowns for cultivators.

While not as popular as artifact forging, the craft of robe-making was still in high demand, especially among female cultivators.

After all, as the saying goes, clothes make the man, and a good saddle makes the horse. In the cultivation world, tailoring was far more than mere aesthetics.

Song Yan had heard that some custom-made robes, though expensive, were inscribed with formation patterns that kept them free of dust.

Some even had spirit-gathering arrays sewn inside, making cultivation twice as effective for half the effort.

However...

That was beyond his current means.

He was about to leave when he felt his sleeve being tugged.

“?”

He turned to see a slender, frail-looking girl.

“Fellow Daoist, how can I help you?”

It was considered quite rude to grab someone’s sleeve at random.

Song Yan was not without temper himself.

The girl's fair face was sprinkled with a constellation of freckles. She seemed a little timid, but her gaze was stubbornly resolute.

“To... to tailor a robe, three-pattern spirit stones are enough for one.”