“In these three years, your cultivation progress has been mediocre,” Fu Hua’s tone remained flat, as if stating a fact.
“The first level of Taixu Sword Qi is not yet perfected, your true qi circulation is sluggish, and your sword techniques are mere imitations.”
Arthur inwardly sighed.
Could he be blamed for this?
The foundation left by the original owner was already mediocre.
Although he hadn’t been lazy these three months, he was no true martial arts prodigy; maintaining his current level without regressing was an achievement in itself.
“This disciple is dull-witted and has disappointed Master,” he lowered his head, feigning shame.
“Not so,” Fu Hua shook her head.
She walked to the edge of the platform, gazing at the churning cloud sea, her blue-green gown fluttering slightly in the morning breeze.
“You are clever-minded and have a talent for ‘technique’ and ‘ingenuity.’ The bamboo water channel and the method of cultivating the Vegetable Garden are not things a dull-witted person could accomplish.”
Arthur’s heart stirred.
Was this…
acknowledging him?
“However, the path of cultivation prioritizes ‘heart’ and ‘nature,'” Fu Hua turned around, her deep blue eyes fixed on him.
“Your heart is not at peace.”
Arthur met her gaze calmly: “This disciple does not understand what Master means.”
“Your eyes often hold contemplation,” Fu Hua slowly approached, stopping three steps away from him.
“Not contemplation of cultivation, nor worries about seeking the Dao.
It is contemplation of worldly matters, worries about mundane affairs.”
She paused, as if weighing her words.
“You care about the growth of vegetables, calculate expenses, ponder how to make the Bamboo House more comfortable.
These…” she slightly frowned.
“…are not wrong in themselves.
But for cultivation, they are distractions.”
Arthur listened quietly, though his mind was rapidly calculating.
This was the first time in three months that Fu Hua had spoken so directly with him about “cultivation” and “heart-nature.” Was it simply a master’s admonishment, or…
some kind of test?
He decided to take a gamble.
“Master,” Arthur raised his head, his green eyes shining with sincerity—or at least what appeared to be sincerity.
“This disciple has a question, though I’m not sure if I should ask.”
“Ask.”
“You said cultivation prioritizes ‘heart’ and ‘nature,’ that the heart must be at peace, and distractions must be removed.”
Arthur spoke slowly, his tone respectful, but the content of his words made Fu Hua’s eyes flicker slightly.
“But in this disciple’s humble opinion, is so-called ‘heart at peace’ not about having an empty heart, but rather…
having something to hold onto in the heart, thus remaining unmoved by external things?” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Fu Hua silently watched him.
Arthur continued: “This disciple grows vegetables because I want to be self-sufficient, not wanting to trouble Master often or spend extra money.”
“This disciple repairs the Bamboo House and makes the shower to make life more comfortable.
These are indeed ‘mundane affairs,’ indeed ‘distractions.'”
“But precisely because of these ‘mundane affairs,’ this disciple wakes up every morning knowing I need to water and weed; precisely because I think about making the Bamboo House more comfortable, I ponder how to channel water or block the wind.”
“These ‘distractions’ let this disciple know what to do today and where to go tomorrow.
They are like…
like the furrows in the Vegetable Garden, gathering scattered thoughts together and giving direction to the days.”
He paused here, observing Fu Hua’s expression.
That beautiful face still showed no obvious emotion, but in those deep blue eyes, there seemed to be an extremely subtle light swirling.
“So this disciple thinks,” Arthur’s voice grew softer, as if afraid of disturbing something.
“what cultivation seeks in ‘heart at peace’ might not be an empty heart, but a heart that holds onto something—holding onto the ‘Dao’ one believes in, holding onto the people and matters one cares about.”
“Precisely because there is something to hold onto, one can maintain a piece of tranquility in the heart amidst this chaotic world.”
The mountain wind howled past, blowing at the hems of their clothes.
Fu Hua stood there quietly, not speaking for a long time.
The cloud sea churned below, and the rising sun had completely leaped out of the cloud layer, splashing golden light across the sky and earth.
Her profile was edged with a soft golden glow in the morning light, her long eyelashes casting faint shadows under her eyelids.
Arthur waited, his heart actually feeling a bit nervous.
His words were half sincere, half strategic.
The sincerity lay in his genuine belief that ‘having something to hold onto’ was closer to the essence of ‘inner peace’ than ‘an empty heart’; the strategy lay in his desire to use these words to gently knock on Fu Hua’s heart, which had been closed for too long—
What do you hold onto, Master?
Is it that vow to protect Shenzhou?
Or…
something else, deeper, heavier, and more solitary?
After a long while, Fu Hua finally spoke.
Her voice was very soft, almost scattered by the wind.
‘Having something to hold onto…’ she repeated these four words, as if hearing such a notion for the first time.
Then she turned around, facing the sea of clouds once more.
‘Starting today, come here every day at Chen hour,’ she said without looking back, her voice returning to its usual flat tone.
‘I will teach you the second level of the Taixu Sword Qi heart method.’
Arthur was taken aback, then felt a surge of joy in his heart.
Was this… Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
an acknowledgment of his words?
At the very least, not opposition?
‘Yes, disciple obeys!’ he quickly bowed in response.
‘Also,’ Fu Hua paused.
‘What you said earlier is not without reason.
But what one holds onto must withstand the erosion of time and the changes of the world.
What is held too lightly will be lost just as easily.’
She glanced at him sideways.
That glance was faint, yet it inexplicably tightened Arthur’s heart.
‘Take care of yourself.’
With that, her figure shifted slightly, and she stepped directly from the edge of the platform, falling into the churning sea of clouds.
Her blue-robed figure was swallowed by the mist in an instant, disappearing without a trace.
Arthur hurried to the edge of the platform, seeing only the vast sea of clouds, with no sign of Fu Hua anywhere.
He stood at the cliff’s edge, letting the mountain wind tousle the golden hair on his forehead.
Only after a long while did he slowly let out a breath.
‘What one holds onto must withstand the erosion of time…’ he softly repeated Fu Hua’s last words, a complex expression flashing in his eyes.
Yes, she had lived too long, seen too much.
Seas turning into mulberry fields, dynasties rising and falling, friends and loved ones turning to dust.
What she held onto must have endured countless instances of ‘erosion’ and ‘change.’
That was why she had become so aloof, so distant.
Not born without emotion, but…
not daring to let herself feel too easily?
Arthur shook his head, dismissing this thought.
It wasn’t the time to delve into such matters yet.
He turned and left the platform, returning along the path to the Bamboo Forest.
Morning light filtered through the bamboo leaves, casting scattered spots of light on the ground.
In the distance, birdsong rang out, clear and melodious.
As he walked, he suddenly remembered something.
He hadn’t prepared breakfast yet today.
At this hour, he should have already been preparing a simple porridge.
Although Fu Hua had long since abstained from food, she occasionally partook—especially over the past three months, her ‘occasional’ instances had noticeably increased.
Arthur quickened his pace.