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The night passed without incident.
Early the next morning, before dawn had fully broken and faint rooster calls could be heard, Chu Yunsheng was awakened by the clear, ringing sound of a sword from the courtyard.
He rose and spent some time changing into the brand-new clothes the maid had prepared the day before. He felt no resistance or embarrassment at dressing as a woman; his mindset was calm, open, and entirely natural.
After tying up his hair and pushing open the door, Chu Yunsheng stood in the covered corridor. By the lotus pond, on a small practice ground carved out beside a massive rock, Xie Chengyun was practicing swordplay. He wore a neat, agile set of short blue training clothes, clean and simple.
What he practiced was no peerless sword art, nor did he circulate true qi outward. He was merely performing basic sword techniques—plain, fundamental movements—over and over again, tirelessly repeating them.
Yet though the moves were simple, when executed by Xie Chengyun, they seemed anything but ordinary.
His cleaving and lifting were like a coiling dragon, heavy as a thousand jun; his chops and thrusts surged like thunder, killing intent tightly condensed. His hooking and drawing were as deft as pulling silk, profound mysteries hidden within; his taps and interceptions were nimble as swallows and hawks, shattering both motion and stillness alike.
The slender, gleaming blade flowed with cold light, cutting dew and severing leaves, as if it contained a trace of some wondrous Dao rhythm—vague and hard to grasp, yet exquisitely beautiful.
Man and sword, sword and nature, seemed to merge into one. When the sword intent rose, the wind itself followed.
Fetching a basin of water, Chu Yunsheng washed up beneath the corridor while admiring this impromptu sword dance.
Before falling asleep the previous night, he had pondered what weapon he should use. He had considered blades and swords, spears and staves, even some rarer, unconventional weapons. Yet in his cultivation days, he had practiced the sword, and the sword path he achieved was too upright—unsuited to the Shengsheng Yi Dao Scripture. Exotic weapons, on the other hand, were too narrow and one-sided, lacking grandeur. None were sufficient to carry and integrate the further insights he had gained into the Yin–Yang Crosswise Palm.
After much thought, perhaps only the saber was worth trying.
Though this world lacked spiritual energy and supernatural arts, the principles behind blades and swords shared many common threads.
Chu Yunsheng focused intently on Xie Chengyun's swordplay, pondering the Yin–Yang Crosswise Palm alongside various saber techniques he remembered from the past. Gradually, a faint stirring arose within his heart.
Slowly.
The courtyard walls carved the light into shifting bands of shadow, and a single line of orange-gold dawn leapt into view. The vast brilliance radiated in all directions, rolling over layers of cloud, piercing narrow gaps between the trees, and inch by inch spilling into the courtyard—dispersing the mist and illuminating the earth.
The sword swept past, slicing apart a thin sheet of light. With a soft clang, Xie Chengyun sheathed his blade.
Fine beads of sweat rolled across his brow. His gaze swept the courtyard, paused briefly on Chu Yunsheng, then he turned and strode into the main hall.
Moments later, Xie Chengyun returned, refreshed and dressed once more in his usual plain, flowing white robe. In his hand was a long case, which he brought before Chu Yunsheng.
"These twin blades are named Sun's Remnant and Moon's Bane. The former was forged from yin-iron on a day of extreme yang, at a place of extreme yang; the latter was cast from yang-water on a day of extreme yin, at a place of extreme yin. They contain within them the qi of yin–yang transformation and are ranked seventy-second on the Jianghu Weapons Register. Until you find a weapon that truly suits you, you may use them for now."
Xie Chengyun spoke lightly, his voice clear as jade striking stone.
Chu Yunsheng dried his hands and opened the case, revealing two short sabers inside—one dark silver, the other deep black. A faint sense of icy chill and searing heat rushed toward him.
The two blades were identical in shape, both with relatively broad faces. Placed together, they resembled an incomplete Tai Chi symbol, their aura extraordinary.
Even though Chu Yunsheng did not much understand the rankings of the so-called Weapons Register, he still praised sincerely, "Excellent blades."
At this, Xie Chengyun smiled. "They were taken from the Xie family treasury. If you like them, there's no need to return them."
As those words fell, Chu Yunsheng noticed the old steward, Uncle Fu, who had just returned from outside and now appeared in the courtyard, halt in mid-step. Even as he quickly lowered his head, he could not hide the look of heartfelt anguish on his face. The glance he shot at Xie Chengyun was much like one reserved for a benighted ruler who had lost a kingdom to beauty.
Xie Chengyun acted as though he had seen nothing and continued, "Today is the day of the grand martial gathering of the seven major martial halls of the capital. I have received an invitation and will go to watch. Make some minor changes to your current appearance and come with me."
In his first battle upon entering the jianghu, Xie Chengyun had ranked thirty-seventh on the White Dragon Ranking. Now, six years later, though he rarely made a move, his ranking had still climbed to thirteenth.
With such a position on the White Dragon Ranking, Xie Chengyun was more than qualified to attend as a renowned hero, watching alongside famous martial elders and offering guidance at major bouts between cultivators of the Hanshen Realm.
With nothing else pressing to do, Chu Yunsheng nodded in agreement. He picked up the twin blades, slid them into the empty sheaths inside the case, then hung them separately at his left and right waist.
After settling matters regarding the weapons and their outing, the two ate a light breakfast in the courtyard. Each then circulated their qi and sat in meditation for a while before making a brief tidy-up and mounting their horses, heading toward Chonghe Martial Hall in the western district of the capital.
As the capital of the Great Xia Dynasty, Shangjing could hardly be called anything but prosperous and lively.
The Xie family, a top-tier clan possessing three half-step Youxian experts, had its ancestral lands in Changning of Bing Province and could be said to be the undisputed power of that region. Their grand residence in Shangjing was likewise situated in the exceedingly prestigious Eastern City, surrounded by the comings and goings of high officials and nobles, with Dingdan level powerhouses as common as clouds.
In places frequented by such elites, the roads were correspondingly broad.
In the Eastern City, two main thoroughfares ran north to south, each over fifty zhang wide. Shops on opposite sides of the street had to shout at the top of their lungs to be heard across. Stalls lined both sides, and tens of thousands of people passed through each day. Yet even at peak foot traffic, the streets could still accommodate several carriages side by side—or even a troop of light cavalry at full gallop.
Leaving behind a secluded, tranquil residence and entering these bustling streets, one could finally glimpse the true face of Shangjing: the imperial capital's towering grandeur and the vast, sweeping spirit of the Central Plains, converging in a single place.
Once they left the Eastern City and entered the Western City, richly dressed aristocratic youths became rare. Instead, the eye was filled with martial artists in fitted garb, some wearing swords, others bearing sabers, blood vigorous, their spirits high. Along streets and alleys, martial halls stood shoulder to shoulder, densely packed, with banners flying.
Once, an idle wanderer of the jianghu had taken the trouble to count all the martial halls in Shangjing's Western City and arrived at the astonishing total of three hundred and fifty-eight, large and small.
From this, the capital's fervent martial culture could be seen clearly.
And in such an atmosphere, events like sparring and martial gatherings among the seven great martial halls were hardly rare.
By the time Chu Yunsheng and Xie Chengyun arrived at the training grounds of Chonghe Martial Hall, the surrounding raised stands were already packed to the brim—crowds surging, heads packed tightly together, men and women, young and old alike.
Below the raised stands, the seven martial halls had already arrived. They faced one another, their auras clashing; before the matches had even begun, the atmosphere was already charged with the ferocity of dragons and tigers.
Aside from members of the martial halls themselves, this gathering was also open to the broader martial world. Any cultivator at the Hanshen Realm under the age of thirty could participate, and thus the arena held many who were eager and itching to try their hand.
At the edge of the training ground, directly in front of the ring of high stands, an additional platform had been erected. Upon it were placed eight grand armchairs, accompanied by small tables with snacks and tea.
At this moment, five of the chairs were already occupied. Three of the seated figures were quite advanced in age and were likely renowned experts of the Hanshen Realm in Shangjing, or perhaps half-step Dingdan cultivators.
For contests at the Hanshen level, true Dingdan powerhouses would not come to participate. Between Hanshen and Dingdan lay an entire gulf; to those at the Dingdan Realm, watching Hanshen bouts was like observing children learning to walk—hardly enough to stir interest in watching or offering guidance.
The remaining two, however, were about the same age as Xie Chengyun. One had a square, upright face and carried a folding fan, dressed like a refined scholar; the other wore his long hair loose, clad in black fitted attire, with a heavy sword strapped to his back. Both carried extraordinary presence.
"Eighteenth on the White Dragon Ranking—Jade Fan Tanhua, Fang Wenmin, a direct disciple of Taiyi Dao Palace, foremost among the Four Great Daoist Observatories. Twenty-first—Sword Severing the Vast Seas, Li Ming, a disciple of the famed Shu Mountain Sword Sect."
Xie Chengyun spoke in a low voice, concise and to the point, as he led Chu Yunsheng off their horses and toward the platform.
"Brother Xie!"
Seeing Xie Chengyun arrive, all five on the platform rose to their feet. Fang Wenmin, an old acquaintance and close friend of Xie Chengyun, waved his fan and smiled. "I heard Elder Chai mention that you were invited to this gathering, but I still found it hard to believe. Just last month you were in the Miao Territory, slaying with your sword the chiefs of the three great Miao strongholds of the Nanhu Dao. In the blink of an eye, you're already back in Shangjing."
"If it were me going into battle, I'd surely have to trade wounds for wounds and then recuperate for quite some time. Yet you not only rushed all the way back to the capital, you even have the leisure to come watch martial contests. I truly can't compare."
Xie Chengyun exchanged greetings with each of them in turn, then laughed. "Brother Fang flatters me too much. You know as well as I do—my cultivation method is better suited to fighting in groups."
"Don't stand there and tire yourselves—sit, all of you, sit."
One half-step Dingdan elder gestured toward the chairs with a smile and said, "Young Hero Xie left the capital at a tender age and was away for many years. I have long regretted never meeting you. Seeing you today, you truly live up to your reputation—a young talent of exceptional ability."
"Ah, Old Feng, you weren't merely regretful," an elderly man with a white beard and a Buddha-like face laughed from the chair to the left, teasing him. "When Young Hero Xie first entered the White Dragon Ranking at fourteen, you took one look and wailed to the heavens for quite a while. Not for any other reason—just because back then you prided yourself on your status and refused to enter the Xie household as an introductory martial instructor, thus missing your chance to be a mentor to a White Dragon Ranking prodigy. You've been regretting it ever since!"
Old Feng snapped back, "Go to hell, you old Zhang! If it had happened to you, wouldn't you regret it too?"
Amid their banter and mock scolding, the group gradually grew familiar and at ease.
Xie Chengyun took the second chair on the right. Chu Yunsheng stood behind him, deliberately suppressing his presence so as not to draw attention.
Yet no sooner had he settled into place than Chu Yunsheng still caught a deliberately cast glance. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the one appraising him was none other than Sword Severing the Vast Seas, Li Ming, ranked twenty-first on the White Dragon Ranking.
Although Li Ming was indeed sizing him up, there was none of the usual male appreciation or lewdness in his gaze toward a woman—only a trace of puzzlement and uncertainty.
Sure enough, the next moment Li Ming turned to look at Xie Chengyun. Speaking across Fang Wenmin, he asked, "Brother Xie, is this your newly taken sword attendant?"
Those words successfully drew the attention on the platform to Chu Yunsheng.
Chu Yunsheng's expression remained unchanged, his head slightly lowered. On top of the bone-shrinking technique, he had applied another layer of makeup, rendering his features only vaguely similar to Ji Ling's—no longer dazzlingly striking, but instead refined and dignified. Clad in a light aqua-green dress, he appeared especially quiet and elegant, a world apart from the bewitching demoness Ji Ling. Naturally, he bore no resemblance to Chu Yunsheng himself either.
"A sword attendant?"
Fang Wenmin was also taken aback, then exclaimed in surprise, "Brother Xie, could it be that your sword art is about to enter the realm of no sword, no self?"
A sword attendant, as the name implied, was one who bore the sword.
Most swordsmen regarded their treasured blade as their very life and would not easily part with it. But when one's sword art reached the stage of true transformation—entering the state of comprehending the ultimate principles of the sword, no sword and no self—one would often temporarily leave the sword behind. At such times, a sword attendant who stayed at one's side without leaving a single step was needed: presenting the sword when it was to be used, and letting it be forgotten when it was not. Between having a sword and having none, one grasped the meaning of no sword and understood the essence of having one.
Xie Chengyun's sudden acquisition of a companion at his side could not be explained as a mere maid—no maid should possess late– Hanshen cultivation. Nor could it be a guard, for the cultivation was too low. The only explanation was that this person was a sword attendant.
"Young Hero Xie is about to enter the realm of no sword, no self?"
The other three elders were likewise shaken.
The state of no sword and no self was usually something only Dingdan cultivators could comprehend—yet Xie Chengyun was still merely at the Hanshen Realm.
Under the many astonished and bewildered gazes, Xie Chengyun shook his head with a smile and said, "I've only gained a slight insight, that's all. I'm still far from the realm of no sword and no self. Taking Chu-Chu as a sword attendant is simply because we happened to strike a chord—better to be prepared than not."
Everyone understood that "a slight insight" was merely a modest turn of phrase.
Old Feng let out a sigh. "A prodigy among the young."
Fang Wenmin gave a wry smile. "You and I are only five places apart on the White Dragon Ranking, yet the gap feels as vast as heaven and earth—so much so that one can only despair at the sight."
"Martial cultivation allows no slackness," Li Ming shot Fang Wenmin a glance. "Ever since you arrived in Shangjing, you've been sleeping among flowers and willows, composing poetry and trading verses every day. You haven't properly practiced martial arts for many days now. Naturally, you can't compare to Brother Xie."
Fang Wenmin's face flushed slightly. He waved his fan in embarrassment. "Brother Li, with so many people here, could you at least leave me a bit of face?"
Li Ming ignored him and turned his gaze back to Xie Chengyun. "If you're aiming to enter the realm of no sword, no self, how do you plan to temper your sword? If you lack a better method, once matters here are concluded, why not return to my sect with me and pay a visit to my elders?"
Fang Wenmin nodded in agreement. "The Shu Mountain Sword Sect is one of the two great sword-path holy lands under heaven. It gathers the swords of myriad schools and preserves the imprints of heaven and earth. There is even the Sword Dao Stone for disciples to temper themselves. If Brother Xie pays them a visit, even if you don't obtain the chance to temper your sword at the Sword Dao Stone, there will still be countless sword-path experts with whom you can spar. It would certainly be of great help to you."
"Aside from its sect-defining supreme arts, the Shu Mountain Sword Sect holds no prejudice against those of other sects or families," Li Ming added. "If Brother Xie were to arrive, tempering your sword at the Sword Dao Stone would not be out of the question."
Hearing their words, Xie Chengyun smiled and sighed softly. "I appreciate Brother Li's kindness. However, I've already decided that on the third day of the coming month, I will open a Sword Platform and ask the swords of the world."
The few people on the platform froze in astonishment.
Opening a Sword Platform—this was far more than "enough"; it was downright outrageous. It had been thirty years since anyone last opened a Sword Platform. The dangers and terrors involved—did they really need further explanation?
A hush fell over the platform, and even the bustling, clamorous training ground below sensed that something was amiss, gradually quieting down.
"Brother Xie, you are not the sort of person to act rashly. Why must you—"
Fang Wenmin began hesitantly.
Xie Chengyun raised a hand. "My mind is made up. There's no need for further persuasion. Today is the grand occasion of the Seven Great Martial Halls' gathering. If I were to steal the spotlight, I would truly feel ashamed."
The others let out soft sighs and said no more.
At this moment, the final two grand armchairs also welcomed their occupants: a middle-aged saber wielder at the half-step Dingdan level, and the White Dragon Ranking's eleventh-ranked Flood Dragon Spear, Yu Dan, a martial artist of itinerant, unaffiliated origin.
To reach eleventh on the White Dragon Ranking as an unaffiliated wanderer, Yu Dan's talent and strength were naturally not to be underestimated. He had roamed the jianghu for many years, but his personality was solitary and aloof, preferring to keep to himself. This was his first visit to Shangjing, and he was unfamiliar with Xie Chengyun and the others. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, there was little further conversation.
Chu Yunsheng felt slightly puzzled that such a solitary martial artist would attend an event this lively. Yet after scrutinizing him a few times, he found nothing amiss.
Before long, the master of Chonghe Martial Hall stepped into the center of the training ground. His true qi surged as he spoke in a thunderous voice. After introducing the eight individuals on the platform, he announced the start of the martial gathering.
No sooner had his words fallen than two figures leapt into the arena.
"Pei Jing of Shangjing's Yangwei Martial Hall—Heavenly Song Nine Swords! I ask for your guidance!"
"Lu Yuanbai of Qing Province—Flying Snow Palm! I have come to fight!"
One was a resolute youth wielding a longsword; the other, a young knight with jade-white palms. Both were at the mid– Hanshen Realm. They loudly announced their names, exchanged salutes, and then—one sword, one palm—swiftly clashed.
Sword qi and palm wind intertwined, hot and cold streams of true qi colliding and surging.
One side's sword intent was grand and upright, broad and unrestrained, yet with finesse hidden within—sweeping freely in all directions, unmatched by any foe. The other side's twin palms struck lightly, soft as flowing water, yet heavier than a massive stone, their force fierce and formidable.
Their movement techniques were likewise distinctive. As their figures whirled and darted, they appeared free and graceful, fulfilling every onlooker's imagination of what wandering heroes of the jianghu should be.
Cheers and shouts rang out without cease. Some of the unreserved women of Shangjing even raised their scented handkerchiefs and silk flowers high, casting flirtatious glances and offering sweet-voiced praise.
Chu Yunsheng watched intently, counting one flaw after another in the two fighters' techniques, while in his mind he evolved a far more meticulous and splendid bout.
In the end, Pei Jing of Yangwei Martial Hall emerged victorious. The eight on the platform offered brief comments, and the second match began soon after.
After several consecutive bouts, varying expressions of fatigue appeared on the faces of all eight.
This was not because sitting there for so long truly tired them—for with their level of cultivation, sitting for a day and a night would amount to nothing. Rather, the quality of these matches simply could not be called particularly high. The first few bouts were novel enough, but afterward they grew increasingly dull. Through several matches in a row, there were plenty of swordsmen, and even some at the late Hanshen stage, yet not a single one had even brushed the threshold of the true principles of the sword.
Watching on and on, it indeed became rather boring.
At noon, after everyone had eaten and taken a brief rest, the martial gathering resumed.
The sun slanted westward; cicadas began to chirp.
On such a summer afternoon, sitting beneath thatched shelters with a gentle breeze drifting by, lethargy naturally crept in—making one all the more drowsy and ready to doze.
Chonghe Martial Hall was considerate in its arrangements, and Chu Yunsheng was also given a seat. Sitting behind Xie Chengyun, he, too, began to feel a trace of drowsiness.
However, as he sat there, a feeling of fullness suddenly arose in his lower abdomen.
He glanced at the fiercely contested match in the arena, sweat flying, then sent a secret voice transmission to Xie Chengyun to inform him. After that, he rose from the platform and headed down.
Leaving the training ground and turning into the rear courtyard of Chonghe Martial Hall, the noise instantly fell away.
Everyone from the martial hall had gone to the arena to compete or watch the bouts. The rear courtyard was quiet and empty. Chu Yunsheng surveyed the layout of the buildings, searching for the latrine.
A moment later, he caught a whiff of a slightly pungent odor. Quickening his pace, he was about to pass around an old locust tree and reach the latrine—
when, at that very moment, a corner of black clothing dropped down from the tree, abruptly entering Chu Yunsheng's view.
An eerie current of true qi, faintly carrying sharp, wailing cries, spread out in an instant. A woman clad in black, her lips a purplish red, leapt down from the tree. Her aura marked her as late– Hanshen.
She blocked Chu Yunsheng's path, swept her gaze up and down him, and gave a cold laugh. "Ji Ling, I've been waiting here for you for two full hours. At least you weren't stupid enough to the very end—you actually dared come looking. A dignified Holy Maiden of a Nine Immortals Palace, yet shameless enough to become Xie Chengyun's servant. How pitiful, how laughable."
Chu Yunsheng's hands had already settled on the hilts of the twin blades at his waist, yet he did not draw them.
His true qi followed a different path from Ji Ling's. Once he made a move, his identity would be exposed.
He paid no heed to the mockery in the woman's words. Instead, he lifted his eyes to glance at the locust tree before him and the row of latrines beside it, then quietly held his breath for a moment before letting out a heartfelt sigh.
"Impressive."
To wait by a latrine for two full hours in the height of a summer noon—was that not worthy of admiration?
This person was unquestionably a ruthless one.
The woman in black did not understand what he meant. Frowning impatiently, she said, "Cut the nonsense. Where is the Son of Heaven Sword? Hand it over to me. Since you can't get away immediately, stay hidden at Xie Chengyun's side for now. I'll be the one to take the Son of Heaven Sword back to the sect."
Chu Yunsheng had no idea what the Son of Heaven Sword even was, but he still carefully considered Ji Ling's personality and arrived at what her likely reaction would be in such a situation.
"In your dreams."
He picked up a lock of hair by his cheek and wound it around his finger. With brows drawn and face cold, he snapped back in a coquettish, petulant tone, "If I give you the Son of Heaven Sword, all the credit will be yours. Do you really think I, Ji Ling, am a fool—someone you can bully at will?"
The woman in black was not surprised by Ji Ling's refusal. She said coldly, "Then what do you intend to do? The deadline is approaching. If neither of us can bring the Son of Heaven Sword back on time, there will be no good end for either of us."
"If you leave now and are sensed by Xie Chengyun, he will surely pursue you for thousands of miles. The two half-step Dingdan elders are not near Shangjing. Even if the two of us join forces, we still couldn't defeat Xie Chengyun. You won't give me the Son of Heaven Sword so I can return first to report—what exactly are you planning?"
It seemed that seizing the Son of Heaven Sword was a mission assigned by the Nine Immortals Palace to both Ji Ling and the woman in black.
The accompanying elders were only half-step Dingdan, which showed that the task was not considered particularly difficult—at least on the surface. Moreover, the woman in black was confident that even if Xie Chengyun or the Xie family captured Ji Ling, they would absolutely not be able to find the Son of Heaven Sword. Otherwise, she would not have demanded it outright instead of worrying beforehand.
Chu Yunsheng wore an arrogant expression and snorted coldly. "Within a month, I will free myself and leave Shangjing. Since the Son of Heaven Sword is in my hands, it will naturally be presented to the sect by me. There's no need for you to arrange things on my behalf."
The woman in black's brows knit even tighter.
She knew well Ji Ling's pride and stubbornness. Her eyes turned as she decided to temporarily abandon the idea of leaving, planning instead to wait until Ji Ling was on the brink of death before coming to seize the sword.
With that thought, she shot Chu Yunsheng another glare, tapped the ground with the tip of her foot, and was about to leap away.
At that moment, a streak of sword light burst forth—bright and pure like snow piled along the eaves, fierce and biting like the howling winds of deep winter.
The sword cry tore through the air.
The woman in black's protective qi shattered like thin paper, collapsing with a single thrust.
She let out a muffled grunt as her body abruptly stiffened. Her eyes froze, and a thin line of blood split open from her brow down to her throat. In the next instant, she collapsed limply to the ground, her vital energy completely dissipated.
Chu Yunsheng turned his head and saw white robes fluttering at the corner of the corridor. Xie Chengyun approached with a hand resting on his sword, his smile dazzling to an excessive degree. "Chu-Chu truly lives up to her name— even with brows drawn and eyes cold, she's still exquisitely charming."
Chu Yunsheng: "…"
For some reason, he suddenly felt an urgent desire to switch to another world and start living there instead.