The intense golden light was so dazzling that Gu Qingyi couldn’t even keep his eyes open.
He tightened his grip on the food box handle and raised a hand to wipe the sweat from the tip of his nose.
Although he couldn’t see anything, in the pitch-black darkness after closing his eyes, he caught a glimpse of an orange glow in the distance:
It was very warm, exactly the same as the one radiating from the beautiful “big brother.”
Following the direction of the light, Gu Qingyi took a few steps based purely on instinct. A cool breeze rushed to meet him, carrying a salty, fishy scent and the distant cries of seagulls.
…Huh?
Gu Qingyi stealthily opened half of his left eye. Somehow, he had appeared on an ocean island; the black sun and those large houses were all gone.
All around him was the boundless, deep blue sea. The island before him was lush and verdant, with a winding path paved with small white stones.
At the end of the stone path lay a sparkling lake, and by the lake sat a waterfront pavilion with blue tiles and white walls.
The pavilion hugged half the lakeshore. Among the overlapping corridors stood a towering paulownia tree—perhaps it should be called a “Divine Paulownia Tree.”
Its canopy was dozens of yards wide, effectively blocking out the sun and covering most of the lake in its shadow.
The leaves were golden, and suspended among them were countless small spheres. Unlike the hairy catkins of ordinary paulownia fruits, these were crystalline, smooth, and shimmered with a metallic luster.
The sea breeze blew, making the forest ripple like waves.
Whether entranced by the beautiful scenery before him, Gu Qingyi actually heard a series of wind chimes ringing crisp and tinkling, yet distant and ethereal.
He raised his hand to shade his eyes and finally, beneath the massive divine tree, spotted a blurry, ink-colored figure.
It’s the beautiful big brother!
Gu Qingyi hoisted the food box and trotted toward the waterfront pavilion
Deep within the pavilion, Wu Youqi sat cross-legged beneath the paulownia tree.
He was facing away from the entrance, looking toward the thick, broad trunk of the divine tree, his long, wavy hair draped behind him—entangled with the black robes covering his entire body.
Across his knees lay a spirit sword. Four feet and three inches long, forged from mysterious iron and thin as a cicada’s wing, the hilt was coiled with a horned dragon, set with a water-blue gemstone.
The luster of the gemstone was somewhat dull, yet under Wu Youqi’s touch, it slowly began to glow with spiritual light.
The weapons of this world were divided into four tiers, named in order: Heaven, Earth, Mysterious, and Yellow.
Heaven-tier weapons were the hardest to find, existing only in ancient ruins or the Guixu (abyss) where powerful beings had perished. Obtaining one was entirely a matter of destiny and luck.
Furthermore, Heaven-tier weapons often contained powerful spiritual or demonic energy, and sometimes even the lingering souls of their previous masters, offering the potential for extraordinary martial arts encounters.
Those fortunate enough to obtain a Heaven-tier weapon often became powerful figures—either the cream of the Immortal Realm or the mighty leaders of the Demon Clan.
As for ordinary cultivators, most used Mysterious-tier spirit swords. Occasionally, when an ownerless Earth-tier spirit sword appeared, it would trigger a frantic scramble.
Seven years ago, Wu Youqi was fifteen years old, having just completed his first year of apprenticeship at Qingshao Peak.
After the internal courses ended, they were required to participate in a trial at the spirit vein. Upon passing, they would be permitted to stay at their respective peaks to cultivate under their masters.
The spirit vein of Qingshao Mountain was rich in wind and water, a rare ice-type spirit vein. After the trial began, Wu Youqi accidentally fell into an ice cavern.
The cavern was freezing. He shivered and wandered for a few turns, heading toward an obvious light for an hour, only to emerge onto a snowy ridge.
Just as he was about to freeze to death, a bone blade appeared on the ice field ahead, deeply embedded in the frozen surface.
The bone blade was blood-red, seven feet and six inches long, exceptionally striking in the pure white world of ice and snow, with a beast-headed phoenix pattern carved into the hilt.
Having no idea how to escape, he approached the bone blade to try his luck.
However, the moment he touched the hilt, the ice field shook violently, and the howling wind coalesced into a dragon, opening its mouth to spew flames as it lunged at him.
The terror of impending death prompted him to pull out the bone blade, and though the sword technique he revealed was merely the most basic Qingshao swordplay, it was enough to strike fear into the silver dragon.
After circling for a while, the silver dragon let out a long howl and vanished, and the clouds and mist that had obscured the sky dispersed.
Afterward, Wu Youqi felt a burst of powerful spiritual energy erupt from the bone blade in his palm, washing through his meridians and instantly pulling him into his spiritual consciousness.
In the realm of spiritual consciousness, he met the bone blade’s previous owner a Taoist nun who had perished ten thousand years ago.
She told Wu Youqi that the bone blade was named “Hidden Bone of the Withered Tower,” a Heaven-tier divine weapon crafted from the fangs of an ancient mythical beast.
By pricking his left middle finger and dripping three drops of his heart’s blood, he could form a blood pact with the divine weapon, making it acknowledge him as its master and become his soul-bound weapon.
Wu Youqi, however, shook his head and refused.
“Why?!” the nun’s eyes widened.
After disciples joined Qingshao Mountain, the internal affairs manager would distribute a blue-steel sword to each of them. The style and design were identical, with no grade or rank.
Upon passing the trial, the masters of each peak would prepare spirit swords for their disciples, either by retrieving them from the warehouse or having them custom-forged.
Wu Youqi didn’t want any divine weapon; he only wanted one from his master.
Therefore, he could not let the “Hidden Bone of the Withered Tower” acknowledge him as its master right now.
After understanding the reason, the nun swore profusely, calling him ignorant, calling him unweaned, and labeling him a brat who squandered heavenly treasures.
“You don’t understand,” he chuckled, “my master, he is very good.”
The nun was furious, sneering and warning him that since he was only in the Foundation Establishment stage, not acknowledging the divine weapon was like a three-year-old child strutting through the streets clutching a bar of gold.
Wu Youqi thought about it and nodded, “Then I will give it to my master.”
“…” The nun was choked by these words, her soul flickering with many colors before finally dissipating directly into the Hidden Bone of the Withered Tower.
After surviving the turmoil, Wu Youqi finally escaped from the spirit vein. While the Sect Leader was concerned about his safety and the divine weapon, Wu Youqi only cared about the results of the trial.
After all, he had been snatched away by the ruins as soon as he entered the spirit vein and hadn’t undergone the trial like the other disciples.
The Sect Leader laughed at his antics and mysteriously gestured for him to look toward the door at the end of the month.
Outside the door, the Immortal Venerable Qingyi, who had arrived at some point, stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at a blossoming pear tree by the wall.
“Master!”
Qingyi turned his head to glance at him and gestured to lower the spirit crane.
Once they returned to Qingshao Peak, before his master could even ask, Wu Youqi immediately produced the Hidden Bone of the Withered Tower, holding it up with both hands as an offering:
“Master, Master, look at this bone blade. I found it in the spirit vein. A Taoist nun said it was a Heaven-tier divine weapon; I am giving it to you!”
He then explained his encounter in detail, including the nun’s comments about him being a child clutching gold.
“And what about you?”
“Hmm?” Wu Youqi looked up, puzzled, just in time to see his master’s long, fair hand grasping the hilt, the veins clear and the knuckles distinct.
The Hidden Bone of the Withered Tower was taken away. Wu Youqi’s earlobes turned slightly red, and just as he lowered his gaze, he heard his master speak softly:
“What will you use in the future?”
“The… blue-steel sword from my initiation?” He wasn’t entirely sure, not knowing if his master had prepared a spirit sword for him.
He looked up cautiously, only to see his master flick a wisp of spiritual energy from his fingertips; a cyan-green light instantly enveloped the Hidden Bone of the Withered Tower.
When the spiritual light dissipated, his master handed the bone blade back. “There is no demonic or fiendish energy within; it is suitable for you to use.”
So, he was just… checking it for him?
The crimson bone blade returned to his hands. His master even patted his shoulder, “This is your destiny.”
Looking at his master’s calm face, Wu Youqi opened his mouth, but any further words could only be swallowed back. “…Oh.”
“There is a sword-casting conference in the capital next month. I intended to take you to see it and provide you with some experience, and now—”
A sword-casting conference?
That kind of conference where many sword-smiths would display newly forged spirit swords for passing guests to purchase, select, or even bid on?
“I want to go!” His eyes lit up, and he even audaciously interjected: “Master, I want to go!”
Later, Qingyi spent seventeen thousand top-grade spirit stones to bid on an Earth-tier spirit sword, its hilt coiled with a horned dragon and set with a water-blue gemstone:
“One must be cautious when carrying a divine weapon. Take this sword to make do for now. It won’t be too late to change it once your cultivation level has increased and you can protect yourself.”
Although his master had misunderstood his intentions, looking at that spirit sword, Wu Youqi still blushed furiously, and his palms broke out in a sweat.
He took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands before respectfully receiving the spirit sword with both hands, his movements as careful as if he were holding a rare porcelain vase.
Weapons bid on at a sword-casting conference often required naming; they were unawakened to wisdom upon being forged by the smith, waiting for the first master to blood-bond and name them.
And naming a weapon was indeed an art.
In the world of cultivation, there was no shortage of weapons named things like “Oh my,” “Dammit,” and “Haven’t Decided Yet.”
He pondered for a moment, immediately pricked his finger to blood-bond the spirit sword, and named his soul-bound weapon: Duqing (Lone Clarity).
“Duqing?” Qingyi repeated, “What is the meaning of this name?”
“Shen Du, Wei Qing (Caution in solitude, purity alone).” Wu Youqi answered quickly while clutching his sword, yet he stole a glance and smiled the moment he lowered his eyes, successfully masking his little ulterior motive:
Wei Qing (Pure alone), Du Qing (The only one, my Qing).
The Duqing sword had followed Wu Youqi for seven years, accompanying him through almost every dangerous trial in his life. He could explain the origin of every fine line upon its surface.
Wiping the blade with deer leather, the Duqing sword emitted a zheng sound.
The clear, shrill ring echoed into the clouds, causing the bronze bells hanging from the divine paulownia tree to chime ding-dang.
This forbidden area was an illusion he had created, a place his master had brought him to after giving him that sword.
It was far from the cultivation continent, in the middle of the Fantasy Reflection Sea in the East China Sea, on an island called Phoenix Island, where it was said that true phoenixes had roosted tens of millions of years ago.
Behind him came the sound of rustling footsteps. Wu Youqi did not turn around, only slowly putting away the cloth he used to wipe his sword.
He had long sensed the fluctuations in the boundary, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.
The formation sealing this forbidden area was one his master had taught him hand-in-hand, saying it was a unique formation taught only to him.
To think…
Wu Youqi laughed self-deprecatingly. His master had even lied to him about that.
The demonic clan could not withstand the powerful spiritual energy of the formation. The only ones capable of breaking into the forbidden area were the cultivators of Qingshao Mountain.
Hearing the footsteps approach, Wu Youqi gripped the sword hilt and spoke slowly: “While I haven’t lost my temper yet, get out.”
“Considering our former fellow-disciple relationship, I will pretend you were never here.”
However, the intruder was not intimidated; instead, they took a few more steps forward.
Wu Youqi furrowed his brows, his entire body instantly coalescing with layers of demonic energy. He narrowed his eyes and turned his head, only to see—
Gu Qingyi, carrying a food box, perched by the waterfront pavilion door, half his head poked out, eyes blinking blinkingly:
“Beautiful big brother, are you hungry?”
“I brought you some delicious flower cakes!”