At dawn, after Mo Xian and Ling Rong finished their meal, Mo Xian led Ling Rong toward the martial arts training ground exclusive to sword cultivators.
Just as they stepped into the training ground, Mo Xian noticed that Jiang Ruansheng had also arrived. For the sake of caution and to ensure Ling Rong’s true identity remained hidden, Mo Xian discreetly cast a spell to subtly restore the disguise on Ling Rong. Previously, Mo Xian had once believed that the boy named Jiang Ruansheng was Ling Rong, but after carefully reviewing Ling Rong’s memories, he realized with a start that it was the boy in black clothes who was actually Ling Rong. It seemed that the Qinggui Sword had recognized Ling Rong early on the previous day and had intentionally confused his identity information to prevent his exposure.
When Jiang Ruansheng saw Ling Rong, he ran toward him, shouting, “Brother Gou Dan! Brother Gou Dan! Brother Gou Dan!”
He called out “Gou Dan” several times at the top of his lungs. The loud voice echoed through the training ground, instantly drawing curious gazes from the surrounding disciples.
“Who is being called Gou Dan? That name is truly unique,” a round-faced disciple remarked with a puzzled expression.
“None of our sword cultivation disciples are named Gou Dan, right? Could our Master have taken on a new disciple named Gou Dan? That is too unbelievable,” another tall disciple chimed in, his eyes filled with astonishment.
Seeing that Ling Rong did not react and continued walking as if he hadn’t heard, Jiang Ruansheng grew anxious and raised his voice, “A-Rong?”
This call finally made Ling Rong stop. He turned around, looking bewildered, and asked, “Are you calling me?”
“Yes, Brother Gou Dan!” Jiang Ruansheng hurried over, scratching his head and flashing a guileless smile. “I just called you ‘Brother Gou Dan’ several times, but you didn’t answer.”
“Gou… Gou Dan?” Ling Rong’s eyes widened in surprise. “That series of ‘Gou Dan’s’ was actually meant for me?”
“That’s right,” Jiang Ruansheng nodded matter-of-factly, seemingly finding nothing strange about it.
Ling Rong was utterly confused. Assuming Jiang Ruansheng had mistaken him for someone else, he waved his hands and said earnestly, “My name is Mo Rong, not Gou Dan!”
Jiang Ruansheng was also bewildered, wondering, What is going on with Brother Gou Dan? Why does he keep changing his name? He says he is A-Rong, then Gou Dan, and now Mo Rong. However, Brother Gou Dan must have his own reasons for doing this. Scratching his head, Jiang Ruansheng decided not to dwell on it, quickly replying, “Alright, Brother Mo Rong. I was reckless, hehe.”
Just then, a blinding golden light erupted as if from thin air, filling everyone’s field of vision. The radiance was so intense that they could barely open their eyes. As the golden light gradually dissipated, a man in magnificent gold robes stood tall and straight in the center.
It was Wen Pinglan.
As Wen Pinglan’s wide sleeves fluttered, his robes, embroidered with golden flowing-cloud patterns, cascaded down like a waterfall. He lightly touched the jade crown in his hair, and the gilded jade crown refracted tiny glints of light, making his perpetually cold, frosty countenance appear all the more noble and luxurious.
The other disciples were astonished. In the past hundred years, their Master had always worn simple, elegant attire; seeing him in such dazzling, eye-catching golden robes was truly rare. It looked… it looked exactly like a peacock spreading its tail. Yet, no one knew for whom the Master was “spreading his tail” today.
“That is our Master,” Mo Xian whispered, leaning toward Ling Rong to remind him.
“Greetings, Master!” Ling Rong reacted quickly, clasping his hands in a respectful salute. Simultaneously, the other disciples followed suit in unison, “Greetings, Master.”
“There is no need for such formalities,” Wen Pinglan waved his hand indifferently, though his gaze locked onto Jiang Ruansheng like a hawk, revealing a hint of scrutiny.
The day before, he had placed a curse on the jade pendant he had given to Jiang Ruansheng, embedding a portion of his own vital memories into it. He had originally envisioned that if Jiang Ruansheng were truly Ling Rong, seeing those memories would make him understand his hidden intentions and come forward to clarify his identity. However, if Jiang Ruansheng were not Ling Rong, his eyes would inevitably betray some anxiety when seeing him today, as if he had seen those memories. But at this moment, Jiang Ruansheng’s eyes were filled with blank innocence, as clear as if he had never seen those memories at all.
How could this be? Wen Pinglan frowned, a flicker of confusion and ripples of doubt rising in his heart. But soon, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to conclude that his spell must have failed. It seemed he would have to find another way to test whether Jiang Ruansheng was indeed Ling Rong.
“The other disciples are dismissed to practice sword techniques on your own. The new disciples, gather in the center of the training ground; I shall instruct you personally,” Wen Pinglan said, his voice calm yet carrying an unquestionable authority.
“Study hard and listen to the Master, you understand?” Mo Xian leaned down and whispered to Ling Rong.
“Understood, Brother,” Ling Rong nodded vigorously, responding in a voice only they could hear.
“In the immortal sect, you must call me Senior Brother,” Mo Xian corrected him with a smile, patting Ling Rong lightly on the shoulder.
“Yes, alright,” Ling Rong answered obediently before quickly running over to stand in front of Wen Pinglan. Jiang Ruansheng followed suit.
Observing how close Mo Xian was to the new disciple, the others in the training ground couldn’t help but feel curious. Some disciples whispered, “What is the relationship between that new disciple and Senior Brother Mo Xian? The way they acted just now was definitely not ordinary.”
“Indeed, Senior Brother Mo Xian is usually so aloof, yet he is so concerned about this newcomer; it is very strange,” another disciple chimed in. All eyes turned toward Ling Rong, filled with curiosity and speculation.
Meanwhile, Ling Rong was observing his Master, Wen Pinglan, in detail. Wen Pinglan had long, narrow phoenix eyes that turned upward at the corners, like the most stunning stroke in an ink painting. His thick, long lashes cast butterfly-wing shadows beneath his eyes, trembling slightly with his gaze. At this moment, those eyes were looking elsewhere, yet this casual profile alone made Ling Rong feel as if he had fallen into a dream, stirring ripples in his heart. How can there be such a good-looking person in this world?!
Wen Pinglan withdrew his gaze from Jiang Ruansheng’s face and said calmly, “I possess an excellent immortal sword that I intended to bestow upon one of you. However, I am truly worried that if I choose the recipient randomly, you might harbor doubts, thinking me partial or unfair. Therefore, I have decided to let the sword choose its own master. In this way, everything will be determined by the will of the sword, which is fair and just.”
Hearing this, Jiang Ruansheng’s eyes filled with curiosity and excitement, and he blurted out, “An immortal sword can choose its own master? That is so rare!”
“Yes,” Wen Pinglan replied simply without further explanation.
He then assumed a solemn expression, raised his right hand, and a dazzling light erupted from his palm. From within the light, a sword slowly emerged. The blade shimmered with a piercing, icy coldness.
Standing at a distance, Mo Xian had been silently observing the situation. At first, he had subconsciously assumed that Wen Pinglan would summon the Qinggui Sword. But when he focused and saw the appearance of the sword, his heart constricted, and a look of panic involuntarily appeared on his face.
The sword in Wen Pinglan’s hand was clearly the “Demon-Slaying Sword” he had wielded a hundred years ago when attacking the Demon Realm!
Mo Xian immediately realized with keen insight that Wen Pinglan intended to use the characteristics of the Demon-Slaying Sword to detect whether any demonic energy was hidden within the new disciples, thereby distinguishing who the true Ling Rong was.
The Demon-Slaying Sword was different from the Qinggui Sword. The Qinggui recognized its master; given its special connection to Ling Rong, it would surely do its utmost to help Ling Rong disguise his identity and cleverly conceal the demonic energy within him. But this Demon-Slaying Sword was born specifically to restrain the demon race and possessed a natural, keen perception of and aversion to demonic energy. If it were to detect the demonic energy in Ling Rong.
Thinking of this, Mo Xian was frantic with anxiety.