The woman wore practical attire, her body laden with bundles of all sizes. The iron flute from earlier peeked halfway out from one of the packs. Her appearance was dignified, with plump, rosy cheeks, long eyebrows extending toward her temples, and lips like flower petals. Though a cultivator, she bore an air of opulence, resembling a peony that was vibrant yet not vulgar.
This was none other than the senior sister of Tianxuan Sect—Yan Lin.
Yan Lin grabbed a large gourd-shaped wine jug and took several hearty gulps before cheerfully exclaiming, “Little junior sister, I heard your Spiritual Artifact has recognized its master. Is it true?”
Before Jinshu could answer, she continued, “Whether it’s true or not, since we’re here, let’s have a little spar!”
This senior sister was passionate by nature, and her greatest hobby was sparring with others, to the point of near obsession.
Jinshu waved her hand dismissively. “Senior sister, I’m under confinement right now. If we fight here in the Rear Mountain, Master will surely get angry. I don’t want to stay in this place for another ten days or half a month!”
Yan Lin shrugged it off. “What’s the big deal? It’s perfect here—few people around, great for cultivation. I’ll even come keep you company.”
With that, she noticed the old man standing nearby and exclaimed in surprise, “How is there an old man in the Rear Mountain with no Spiritual Power at all? Could he be a hidden master of immense strength? Might you offer some guidance, elder?”
Old Man Fei was momentarily taken aback before politely declining, “Unfortunately, I truly am just an ordinary person who enjoys taking walks.”
“Is that so?” Yan Lin’s eyes dimmed with disappointment before turning eagerly back to Jinshu.
Jinshu’s lips twitched. “Really, no sparring, senior sister. Actually, I suffered internal injuries from a match a few days ago.”
“Who could possibly injure you?”
Jinshu’s mind raced, and she quickly replied, “Senior sister, you might not know yet, but Elder Huai Shan has taken on a new disciple. He’s incredibly strong! I sparred with him and, even though I won, I still got injured. Why don’t you go challenge him instead?”
Yan Lin placed her hands on her hips, pondered for a moment, then took two playful steps forward, grabbing Jinshu’s arm. “Good junior sister, I don’t know where he is. Why don’t you take me there?”
She tossed out the wine gourd, which instantly grew to an enormous size. Yan Lin pulled Jinshu onto it, and before she could even agree, the gourd soared into the air, leaving the old man as a tiny dot in the Rear Mountain below.
This was the first time Jinshu had ever done something so unruly. The whistling wind whipped her hair wildly against her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but worry, “Senior sister, the patrolling disciples in the Rear Mountain will spot us. If they report to Master, I’m done for.”
Yan Lin stood at the front of the gourd, spreading her arms with a carefree flourish. “Don’t worry. If those kids in the Rear Mountain dare to snitch, I’ll challenge them to spar every single day. Besides, Elder Xuan Qing is away on a long trip.”
Jinshu sighed softly and obediently pointed out the location of Long Aotian’s residence, as described in the book. In no time, the two landed in front of a simple, modest hut.
Yan Lin jumped to the ground, the gourd shrinking back to its original size. She picked it up and took a few more swigs of wine before shouting at the top of her lungs, “New junior brother, your two senior sisters are here to see you!”
But after calling out twice, there was still no movement from inside the hut. Curiosity piqued, she began to head toward the entrance. “Could he have gone down the mountain?”
But as soon as she pushed open the door, she was startled, taking two quick steps back. Jinshu hurried forward to support her while glancing inside, asking with concern, “What’s wrong?”
Looking in, he too was startled. The windows and doors inside were all covered with black cloth, and only an object in the center of the room shone with a mirror-like glow. In its translucent reflection, half of a human face could be seen—expressionless, with bloodshot eyes.
Anyone would likely be frightened by such a sight. Jinshu’s heart pounded twice before he gathered his courage and looked more closely. Only then did he realize it was Li Xingdao sitting in the middle of the room, holding the Black Iron Sword, with a handkerchief clutched in his hand.
As the door opened, light streamed in. Li Xingdao frowned uncomfortably, then turned and saw Ji Jinshu and the other standing outside. He immediately straightened up, gripping the Black Iron Sword, and spoke warily, “The matter between us was settled some time ago. Why have you brought someone here?”
It seemed he had misunderstood. No wonder—someone who could write such a letter clearly wasn’t the type to let things go easily.
Jinshu was about to explain when he saw Li Xingdao raise the heavy Black Iron Sword, enveloped in a heavy, oppressive aura, and charge toward the two of them.
Sword light filled the air. Yan Lin laughed heartily, pulling Jinshu behind him, and praised, “I’ve always liked how little my junior brother talks!”
The two clashed in combat. Jinshu hid to the side as Yan Lin unleashed a variety of weapons, one after another from his hands. Li Xingdao soon found himself overwhelmed, with several bloody gashes appearing on his body.
A long flute shot out like a throwing dart from all directions toward Li Xingdao. Yan Lin swung a guqin in his hands, not as a musical instrument but as a weapon, smashing it heavily toward Li Xingdao.
This senior sister had peculiar tastes—she loved musical instruments but couldn’t play them. Instead, she used them all as weapons. Larger ones were sealed with Spiritual Power and stored in a bundle, while smaller ones were simply tucked into her clothing for easy access. She was practically a walking orchestra, and when she moved, the metal instruments clashed together with a cacophony of clangs and clatters.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” Li Xingdao finally fell defeated, kneeling on the ground, his eyes fierce as he demanded an answer from Jinshu. He clutched the Black Iron Sword tightly in his arms, like a mother holding her child.
Jinshu quickly explained, “I haven’t done anything! My senior sister just heard a new disciple had arrived and wanted to test your strength.”
But Li Xingdao gritted his teeth, looking unconvinced.
Yan Lin retrieved the weapons scattered across the floor and asked curiously, “She’s not lying. But what were you doing in the room just now?”
Li Xingdao didn’t answer. Instead, he got up from the ground, hugged his sword, and turned to go back inside. Jinshu grabbed him, “Hey, you’re injured. You should go down the mountain and get it checked.”
“No need for your concern,” he said, shaking off Jinshu’s hand. But the long sword in his arms began to hum and vibrate.
A hint of anxiety appeared on Li Xingdao’s face.
Jinshu knew this sword held special meaning for Li Xingdao, but Yan Lin didn’t. Confused, she asked, “Your sword seems sentient—is it telling you to go heal? Were you polishing it in the room just now?”
Li Xingdao hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t sensed any killing intent in Yan Lin’s moves earlier and knew the visitors meant no harm, so he nodded.
“But why polish a sword in a pitch-black room? You scared me half to death.”
“It doesn’t like light.”
Sword cultivators often keep company with their blades, but it’s rare to see someone so obsessed with polishing a sword that they become almost unrecognizable. Just as Yan Lin was about to say something, Li Xingdao bowed and said, “During my recent spar with this senior sister, my sword was already damaged. Now, after another bout, it will likely need some time to recover. I must take my leave now.”
Jinshu hadn’t expected—nor had the book mentioned—that Long Aotian would be so fanatically devoted to his sword. Seeing him about to return to his room, she hurried forward to grab him, stopping him. “No, I think you should tend to your injuries first.”
He was covered in bloodstains. Although Yan Lin hadn’t struck with full force, injuries were inevitable in a spar. If he went back like this, he probably wouldn’t bother properly treating his wounds.
Li Xingdao furrowed his brows, about to refuse, but Yan Lin also stepped forward. The two of them flanked him, practically carrying him onto the now-enlarged gourd without leaving room for argument.
The sect leader of the Tianxuan Sect was a medicine cultivator, and his head disciple, Bu Quegan, was one as well. The Spiritual Medicine Pavilion at the foot of the mountain was under his charge, where disciples would go for treatment when injured.
Bu Quegan and the original host weren’t particularly close, so Jinshu’s impression of him aligned perfectly with the book’s description—a medical genius, an unattainable flower on a high peak.
As for why the two became so familiar that Bu Quegan would accompany her down the mountain to intercept a letter, that was due to an incident late on the night Jinshu transmigrated into this world.
Suddenly finding herself in a book had dealt a significant blow to Jinshu’s young heart. On her first day, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, her mind preoccupied with worries. She spent half the night wondering what had become of the original host whose body she had taken over. Seeing the moonlight as pure as jade but finding herself utterly unable to rest, she simply picked up her sword and went out to practice the sword flight often mentioned in novels.
She found a secluded spot, channeled her Spiritual Power, and watched as the long sword hovered above the ground. Tentatively, she placed one foot on it, feeling a sturdy sensation beneath her, then confidently stepped onto it with the other foot.
At first, Jinshu was somewhat apprehensive, but after confirming she could stand steadily, she directed her Spiritual Power to make Banyu rise slowly.
However, barely two meters into her flight, she was startled by the cold mountain night breeze, nearly losing her balance and tumbling down.
Yet, she grew more determined with each attempt, her desire to conquer burning fiercely within. After repeated tries, she finally grasped the basics.
Thick clouds couldn’t obscure the bright moonlight, and scattered stars twinkled above. The surroundings were serene and quiet, with only the faint chirping of cicadas and the occasional fluttering of swallows and sparrows passing overhead.
Humming a cheerful little tune, Jinshu glanced around curiously, her flying sword gliding smoothly beneath her feet.
But her triumph lasted only moments before a sudden gust of wind unsettled her balance, causing both her and the sword to wobble precariously.
She cried out in alarm, trying to steer the sword downward, but the wind had other plans. It carried her far away before dropping her heavily to the ground.
“I’ve told you several times not to rush. I need to explain things clearly to my parents before I can come to Chuanfu City to find you. Without our parents’ approval and a matchmaker’s word, even if we were together, it wouldn’t be proper!”
The affected female voice sent shivers down Jinshu’s spine. Rubbing her sore leg from the fall, she stood up.
“How could I possibly deceive you? You don’t believe me?” The female voice quickly took on a tearful tone, the shift so abrupt it left Jinshu somewhat stunned. “After all the love I’ve given you, even willing to sacrifice everything for you—and in your heart, I’m just a liar?”
The voice grew clearer as she approached. Jinshu felt uneasy eavesdropping on others’ private affairs, but this stone path along the stream was the only way forward, flanked by thorny bushes as high as her calves. Reluctantly, she continued onward, quickening her pace, wishing she could simply fly past like a bird.
A moon-white robe was the first thing to catch her eye. Looking up, she saw a man with elegant brows and bright eyes, as serene and noble as a clear breeze after rain—the very picture of aloof dignity. He was speaking into a communication spirit stone, his face contorted into an absurd expression, clearly straining to pitch his voice higher.
“If you truly love me, send the spirit stone to me. How could a poor girl like me afford to travel such a distance to find you? Is your love for me nothing but empty words? If you’re not sincere, then don’t contact me again.” With a crisp snap, the man neatly closed the communication spirit stone and turned around.