Li Zhexian had already left the arena for over a ten seconds.
Only then did the cheers from the audience erupt like thunder.
A faint smile lifted the corners of Xue Qinghe's lips, a glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes.
Her gaze shifted to where Li Zhexian had been seated earlier, and on the table she saw that cup of warm wine, still sending up curling wisps of steam.
…
In a quiet courtyard—
Li Zhexian leaned lazily against a stone table.
The wine gourd lay tipped over, its precious contents untouched.
The breeze toyed with a few stray strands of hair at his temple.
His eyes were closed, his mind sinking into the trace of the wind's path.
The wind—
Colorless, formless.
Elusive, impossible to grasp.
Truly difficult to comprehend.
From noon, he sat there motionless until dusk closed in.
That glimmer of inspiration in his mind gradually dimmed.
A creeping frustration, like a vine, silently wound its way around his heart.
—Whoosh!—
At that moment, the wind suddenly surged.
The courtyard's four-season plum tree swayed, scattering a few crimson petals.
One landed on his sleeve, another in the wine, and one more, perfectly, came to rest on the Qinglian Sword lying across his knees.
The petal trembled faintly, like the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wings.
Li Zhexian's eyes snapped open.
With two fingers, he flicked lightly against the sword's body.
Zheng!
The plum petal split neatly in half, yet the sword edge had not shifted in the slightest.
He murmured under his breath:
"To cut with the lower sword—strike as the wind sweeps the plum."
"Unbound by form, unhindered by momentum—borrowing but a single wisp of Heaven and Earth's breath…"
The night wind grew fiercer.
It swirled the fallen plums into a haze of blood-colored mist.
A petal brushed across his cheek, bringing with it a faint, cool fragrance—like an unpaid debt of love, an unfinished poem, a half-lived life…
Li Zhexian suddenly raised the Qinglian Sword.
The sword light flashed like lightning, arcing back to shear off a single lock of his temple hair.
The Qinglian Sword let out a subtle hum, as though whispering an apology to its master.
Lowering his gaze, Li Zhexian watched the severed hair fall silently with the plum petal, vanishing into the dust.
"A middle sword cuts oneself; it cuts the inner entanglements. Just like the wind urges the plum blossoms to fall, so a new bud can be expected. The falling of the plum blossoms is a law of nature, and the cutting of obsession is a matter of the heart."
The night deepened, the wind stilled, and the last petals fell.
Only the gnarled bare branches remained, stubbornly thrusting toward the heavens, like a sword pointing at the sky.
Li Zhexian, sword in one hand and wine gourd in the other, walked to the plum tree.
He slapped the trunk with his palm. The tree shook violently, and the final three crimson petals drifted down.
Li Zhexian vaulted upward with his sword.
The first strike teased the wind, sending a plum petal flowing backward nine feet against the current.
The second strike churned the wind, revealing cold starlight through a gap in the clouds.
On the third strike—
Both Li Zhexian and his sword seemed to merge into the wind. Only a long, resonant cry echoed:
"Open!"
The pitch-black night sky seemed to be torn open by that piercing plum fragrance.
A thread of blood-red dawn spilled through the crack, staining the sword tip with the last traces of fallen red.
Li Zhexian tipped back his head and drank deeply.
"To cut with the upper sword—is not to cut the long night, but to cut away the darkness within the heart!"
"Though the plum falls, its fragrance remains; though the sword grows old, its will stays evergreen!"
…
From first catching the faintest trace of the wind's intent—
To being trapped within its formless, shapeless nature—
And finally, from the sight of wind-driven plum petals falling, glimpsing the wind's true outline—
Li Zhexian had at last grasped that elusive wisp of sword intent.
When he looked up again, it was already the next morning.
A blood-red sun rose slowly over the horizon.
The wind had stilled.
The courtyard's four-season plum tree stood bare, stripped of its blossoms, lending the place a touch of desolation.
"This time, to have understood a sliver of the sword intent within the wind… it's thanks to you."
With the sword tip, Li Zhexian flicked some wine onto the barren branches.
The wine misted into a colorful haze.
As the haze dispersed, three new plum blossoms bloomed miraculously on the bare branches, radiant and captivating.
Li Zhexian nodded repeatedly.
"Marvelous!"
"The plum sheds its flowers to reveal its true character, the sword grows old to rediscover innocence!"
"It's just a pity…"
He sighed with regret, picked up his Clear Spring Wine Gourd, and turned back toward the house.
This wisp of sword intent he had gained from the wind was still not enough to forge a new sword technique.
Li Zhexian went inside, intending to rest for a while.
In his mind—
Images suddenly rose of a group of sword cultivators in azure robes, eyes bound with black silk.
"Ye Lingling once said…"
"Wind Sword Sect's Sect Master, Feng Bailong, wraps his eyes in black silk so he may better hear the sword's song."
"Senior Chen Xin also advised me to travel through the Four Lower Sects and the Three Upper Sects."
"Perhaps…"
"The key to completing the third form of my Qinglian Sword Song…"
"…lies within the Wind Sword Sect."
…
He slept until the sun was already setting.
Tok tok tok—
Li Zhexian was awakened by the persistent knocking at the courtyard gate. He stretched, slipped on his shoes, and slowly ambled to the door to open it.
The moment the gates swung wide—
The crowd outside made his vision blur for a moment.
Li Zhexian even wondered if he was still dreaming.
Beyond the courtyard gate—
Not only was the entire Heaven Dou Imperial Battle Team present—
The Elephant Armored, Blazing, and Godwind Teams were also gathered.
Nearly thirty people in total, crowding the entrance until not even a drop of water could get through.
"So many of you?"
"Come in, then…"
A trace of surprise flickered in Li Zhexian's eyes, but he quickly returned to his usual calm, turning to lead them inside.
In just a single day—
The plum tree was once again full of blossoms.
Li Zhexian lounged lazily in a sandalwood chair, his half-lidded eyes sweeping over the stream of people filing in. His voice was still husky from sleep:
"What do you want with me?"
"Let's be clear first—today I'm tired, not in the mood to fight."
Everyone's gaze carried mixed emotions as they looked at the youth in the chair.
He truly did look as though he'd just woken—
His hair slightly messy, hanging loosely over his shoulders; the white silk sleep robe half open at the chest, radiating a natural air of ease.
To him, this carefreeness seemed perfectly fitting—
Pleasing to the eye.
Just then—
Yu Feng darted to Li Zhexian's side, pointing accusingly at the three other teams, indignantly complaining:
"Idol!"
"They pestered me nonstop, insisting I bring them to you!"
"When I refused, they even tried to beat me up!"
Dugu Yan and Ye Lingling exchanged a glance, both showing helpless expressions.
They too had been worn down by these people's persistence.
But judging from their looks—
They didn't seem to be here to cause trouble.
And most importantly…
Even if they were, they couldn't beat Li Zhexian.
So they brought them anyway.
Feng Xiaotian leaned forward, hands braced on the sandalwood wine table, his sunny, handsome face serious as he looked Li Zhexian straight in the eye:
"Sword Wine…"
"We can't beat you in a fight."
"But we've heard you're a wine lover—today, our three teams have joined forces, and we're going to drink you under the table!"
Pa!
Pa!
Pa!
Huo Wu, Huo Wushuang, and Huyan Li all leaned forward at once, bracing their hands on the table, their eyes blazing as they locked onto Li Zhexian.
"Do you dare take the challenge?!"
"Today, we will get you drunk!"
Li Zhexian laughed.
In the way of the sword, perhaps he still needed more time to climb higher—
But when it came to a drink... Li Zhexian had never bowed to anyone!
"Let's go! Let's go!"
"To Shanxiang Pavilion!"
"If I, Li Zhexian, don't get you all drunk today, you came to Heaven Dou City for nothing!"
After a quick wash and change of clothes—
Li Zhexian led nearly thirty people, arms slung over shoulders, straight to Shanxiang Pavilion.
Once the server led them to a private room, Li Zhexian grabbed Dugu Yan and Ye Lingling, asking:
"Where's Qinghe?"
"Didn't he come with you?"
Dugu Yan crossed her arms and shot him a look.
"Missing your good brother again?"
"Xue Qinghe is the crown prince—unlike us, he doesn't have this much free time."
"Probably won't be coming today."
Li Zhexian nodded with mild regret.
"All right, then."