The scorching sun baked the trial grounds, and a hazy heat wave rose from the bluestone floor.
On the field, disciples from other cultivation lineages had completed their trial assessments one after another, successfully joining the sects under various elders. At this moment, in the vast trial grounds, only the assessment for sword cultivation had yet to be conducted.
The white-robed cultivator responsible for registration held the list filled with names in his hand. His brow furrowed, and he moved his gaze away from the list with a hint of helplessness, looking toward the empty main seat.
Subsequently, he turned his head to look at Mo Xuan beside him, asking with a trace of hesitation in his tone, “Senior Brother Mo, Master is still nowhere to be seen at this hour, do we still need to audit those who registered for sword cultivation?”
Hearing this, Mo Xuan’s sword-like brows furrowed, a thoughtful look appearing in his expression as he asked, “How many people actually signed up for sword cultivation this year?”
The white-robed cultivator hurriedly took a glance at the list and replied, “Replying to Senior Brother, just two.”
“Only two?” A light flashed in Mo Xuan’s eyes.
The white-robed cultivator shook his head with a bitter smile, explaining, “Senior Brother, a hundred years have passed already, and every single time disciples sign up for sword cultivation, they are sent back without exception. Over time, everyone has come to know that Immortal Venerable Wangshu no longer takes disciples, so who would still dare to register for sword cultivation?”
Hearing these words, Mo Xuan could not help but sigh.
Yes, over the past hundred years, Immortal Venerable Wangshu, Wen Pinglan, had experienced a massive change in temperament due to the matter of Demon Venerable Ling Rong. He stopped taking disciples, and the sword cultivation lineage had gradually dwindled. The current situation was entirely within expectations.
Mo Xuan gazed at the unoccupied main seat, where the gilded coiled dragon patterns made one’s eyes sting under the blazing sun. Many years ago, when Master accepted him as a disciple, the queue of seekers in front of the main seat was so long that the end could not be seen.
Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly felt the spiritual energy between heaven and earth vibrate violently, and a beam of white light tore through the void, landing upon the main seat. Immediately following that, the white light condensed into shape atop the main seat, turning into a tall, straight figure.
Mo Xuan and the white-robed cultivator beside him reacted extremely quickly, hurriedly bowing to salute, and said in unison, “Greetings, Master.”
Although the surrounding elders felt that Wen Pinglan’s appearance was far too sudden and rather inconceivable, they also stood up one after another, saying respectfully, “Greetings, Sect Master.”
At the same time, Ling Rong and Jiang Ruansheng were hurrying toward the trial grounds.
“Sect Master, you actually came!” A trace of surprise surfaced on Qingliu’s beautiful face.
“What, am I not allowed to come?” Wen Pinglan glanced coldly at Qingliu, his voice like the frost of the twelfth lunar month, piercing with strands of chilliness.
Qingliu hurriedly smiled and said, “You can come, of course you can come!”
Wen Pinglan raised his hand, waving it casually to indicate that everyone need not stand on ceremony.
Seeing this, the white-robed cultivator in charge of registration quickly straightened his body and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Will the disciples registered for sword cultivation please gather in the center of the trial grounds!”
Ling Rong and Jiang Ruansheng had just stepped into the trial grounds when they heard this shout. The two exchanged a glance, then quickly squeezed through the bustling crowd to arrive at the center of the trial grounds.
Wen Pinglan’s gaze landed on the two individuals in the middle of the field, always feeling that these two were inexplicably familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere before. However, what made his brow furrow even more was that only two people had registered for sword cultivation this year!
Seeing this, Wen Pinglan’s face darkened. With a flash of his figure, he flew up from the main seat, landing in front of the two of them in the blink of an eye.
The moment Ling Rong saw Wen Pinglan, his heart contracted violently once again. He subconsciously lowered his head, not daring to meet Wen Pinglan’s gaze, deeply afraid that the emotions in his eyes would leak out and be seen through by Wen Pinglan.
Wen Pinglan’s gaze was like frost as he said, “The two of you must fight against me with swords in turn. If anyone among you can withstand three moves from me, from this day forward, you shall be a disciple under the gate of my, Immortal Venerable Wangshu’s, lineage.”
After a brief pause, he added another sentence, his tone as piercing as ice, leaving absolutely no room for negotiation, “If you cannot withstand them, then please return.”
As soon as these words were spoken, the surrounding elders all sucked in a breath of cold air.
Wen Pinglan’s achievements in the way of the sword were as deep as an abyss, and his sword techniques were superb and miraculous, crowning the entire cultivation world. In this vast cultivation world, very few people could survive three moves under his sharp sword strikes. Therefore, the cultivation world had always circulated this praise: “If heaven had not given birth to Wen Pinglan, the way of the sword would be like an eternal night.”
So, for the Sect Master to raise such a requirement, wasn’t he intentionally making things difficult for them? It appeared that the Sect Master was dead set on not taking any disciples.
The white-robed cultivator also shook his head, thinking to himself: It seems these two youths will definitely be sent away.
“The two of you, who will go first?” Wen Pinglan’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, his sharp, soul-stirring eyes carrying a look of scrutiny.
Ling Rong felt a burst of conflict in his heart. After hesitating for a moment, he took a deep breath, took a step forward, and said, “I will go first.”
“Good,” Wen Pinglan waved his hand, and a long sword impressively appeared in his grasp.
The blade was slender, flashing with cold light, and emitting a sharp sword intent.
Looking at that sword, Ling Rong’s pupils contracted suddenly, and a tumultuous wave crashed through his heart.
That was, the Qinggui Sword!
Hadn’t the Qinggui Sword already become a broken sword a hundred years ago? Now, how could this Qinggui Sword appear perfectly intact in Wen Pinglan’s hand?
Ling Rong stared blankly at the Qinggui Sword, lost in thought for a long time. He did not know that after his death, Wen Pinglan, carrying regret and obsession, had consumed a massive amount of spiritual energy and gone through thousands of hardships just to repair the Qinggui Sword.
Yet, although the sword was there, the Qinggui sword spirit could never be born again.
Wen Pinglan lowered his eyes to stare at Ling Rong, who was frozen on the spot, his finger pads unconsciously rubbing the hilt of the Qinggui Sword, his brow gradually pulling into a sharp arch, “Why are you daydreaming?”
He let out a sneer, a chill spreading along the spine of the sword, “Could it be that you are afraid?”
Ling Rong snapped back to reality. He forcefully suppressed the emotions churning in his throat, intentionally making his movements look unrefined as he cupped his hands to salute, “Senior praises me too highly, junior was merely contemplating the way of the sword.”
Following that, he made a gesture of invitation, “Senior, please guide me.”
Wen Pinglan snorted coldly, and his frost-colored wide sleeves suddenly whipped up the dust and sand across the sky. The dragon-like roar of the Qinggui Sword leaving its scabbard shook everyone’s eardrums until they ached.
Before the sword momentum could even arrive, the sword intent had already plowed three deep gashes into the bluestone beneath Ling Rong’s feet. This strike was as fast as a clap of thunder, the tip of the sword reflecting the sunlight like a poisoned silver snake, aiming straight for the vital point of his throat.
Just at the instant the edge of the sword was about to touch his skin, the Qinggui Sword suddenly let out an unwilling hum, the body of the blade shifting strangely by three inches.
Ling Rong spun around, intentionally staggering back half a step, the tips of his hair brushing past the sharp edge of the Qinggui Sword, kicking up fine silver light under the blazing sun, exactly like the stardust shaken off when a startled swan skims the water.
After stabilizing his body, he raised his head to look at that Qinggui Sword, the rims of his eyes flushing a misty layer of red. Just now, when the sword intent scraped past his neck, he could clearly feel the frequency of the sword spine’s vibration, a familiar resonance like the late-night whispers of caressing the sword a hundred years ago.
Could it be that this natal sword, which carried countless past events, had actually pierced through the disguise of his appearance and recognized its former master?
Wen Pinglan, however, did not notice this unusual movement, simply assuming the person before him had good luck and dodged the strike. In an instant, a cold light surfaced in the depths of Wen Pinglan’s eyes, the Qinggui Sword drawing a silver-white arc in the air as the second move attacked with a force that could topple mountains and overturn seas.
This time, the sword intent condensed into substantial sword shadows, dense and numerous like a sky full of flying locusts, completely sealing off all of Ling Rong’s paths of retreat.
Ling Rong did not dare to be careless, quickly circulating his spiritual energy in an attempt to resist the sword intent. Yet the Qinggui Sword seemed to possess intelligence, and at the instant it was about to touch Ling Rong, it suddenly changed direction, the sharp sword intent brushing past his sleeve and ripping a long tear into his black robe.
Wen Pinglan’s brow furrowed slightly, noticing the strangeness of the sword, but he did not think too much about it, assuming he had just used too much force moments ago, and after adjusting slightly, he prepared to launch the third move.
For this third move, Wen Pinglan brought his own comprehension of the sword path to the ultimate limit. The Qinggui Sword seemed to merge into the space between heaven and earth, its physical blade invisible, leaving only a brilliant flash of light that shot toward Ling Rong with a force of a thousand thunderbolts.
Ling Rong’s eyes flashed, sensing the power of this move, and he exerted all his strength trying to block it. However, at the critical moment, the Qinggui Sword intentionally altered the trajectory of its strike, and the sword move that could have been barely blocked by Ling Rong became incomparably tricky, pressing straight toward his vital organs.
Ling Rong was unable to dodge in time, and his entire person was struck by the sword intent, flying backward and slamming heavily onto the ground.
A trace of fresh blood leaked from the corner of Ling Rong’s mouth, his eyes filled with unwillingness. He looked at Wen Pinglan, then looked at the Qinggui Sword, his heart a chaotic mixture of complex feelings.
The blade of the Qinggui Sword was trembling. It was unwilling to let Ling Rong enter the immortal gate again, and unwilling to let him have any more entanglements with Wen Pinglan.
Looking at the fallen Ling Rong, Wen Pinglan’s expression was complicated as he said, “Since you could not withstand three moves, then please return.”
After saying that, he turned his gaze toward Jiang Ruansheng, “You, are you ready?”