Chapter 8

The pill entered his mouth, tasting like a bland candy, and before he could savor it, it had already transformed into a wondrous aura, passing through his intestines and spreading to his limbs and bones.

Then, Han Muye only felt a slight warmth all over his body.

Is that it?

Is this all the high-quality solid pill can do?

After much hesitation, Han Muye put away the other solid pill.

This thing can still be exchanged for over a dozen spirit stones; it must not be wasted.

Perhaps this is the reason for his ninth-grade talent, not the fault of the pill maker.

Sitting cross-legged, Han Muye narrowed his eyes.

Since entering the Nine Profound Sword Sect, he had gained a lot of knowledge about cultivation through his maxed-out comprehension.

The techniques for forging sword artifacts, the skills for refining pills, and four sword techniques.

The Three Profound Sword Techniques: Falling Leaf, Lone Tree, and the one he comprehended from Instructor Lin in the afternoon, Stone Splitter.

The One Profound Sword Technique: Mountain Crusher.

The images of the sword techniques he comprehended were deeply etched in his memory, but that didn't mean he didn't need to practice.

During the skill transmission session today, holding a large sword, Han Muye had clearly comprehended all the essence of the Stone Splitter technique, but he could only display half of its skill.

It seems that the path of cultivation isn't just about comprehension; it also requires diligent practice.

Like Instructor Lin, who swung his sword countless times, one sword to crush a mountain.

Not knowing whether it was the effect of the solid pill or the absence of the sword that was supposed to disturb him at night, Han Muye had a good night's sleep.

The next morning, Han Muye casually picked up a sword and went to the backyard of the Sword Pavilion to practice.

Falling Leaf, Lone Tree, Stone Splitter, Mountain Crusher.

Without cultivation support, he purely practiced sword techniques, and in front of him, the sword light condensed into a sheet.

After several rounds, the four sword techniques were no longer distinguishable, only merging into an endless dark glow.

For Han Muye, who had comprehended the essence of the four sword techniques, the form of the sword moves was irrelevant; the key was the意境 (yìjìng) — the artistic conception.

Falling Leaf: The sword moves like a falling leaf, leaving no trace, like a hanging antelope horn.

Lone Tree: Though a lone tree cannot support, it stands firm and unyielding, unafraid of wind and frost, with a sense of determination in the sword moves.

Stone Splitter and Mountain Crusher were simple: steady, fierce, and accurate or not, it didn't matter much.

A sword that can split a mountain, whether it strikes the peak or the base, is the same.

When Old Huang Liuliu came out, he saw Han Muye wildly slashing with a sword.

He smiled but said nothing.

In his view, Han Muye had taken the solid pill, and the energy in his body had nowhere to go.

If there was no way to release the energy, it was better to practice more.

However, he didn't see the fine cracks appearing on the stone wall in front of Han Muye.

These were cracks caused by some kind of force.

After breakfast, the Sword Pavilion closed its doors, and then Old Huang Liuliu, with a serious expression, walked to the rows of wooden racks.

"These sword artifacts are all worn by human realm sword cultivators, from the initial cultivation of primordial energy to the peak of the foundation stage."

Old Huang Liuliu's expression was solemn as he pointed forward: "Sword artifacts have spirits, and we, the sword observers, do not desecrate the spirits within the swords."

He bowed forward, then held a piece of oil-soaked hemp cloth and walked to the wooden rack.

"Clang—"

Old Huang Liuliu pulled out a long sword, his expression solemn, neither sad nor happy, his eyes flashing with light, and he wiped the sword from the tip to the hilt with the hemp cloth.

After three rounds, he sheathed the sword and took a deep breath.

"Did you see that?"

"We must have a reverent heart when dealing with these sword artifacts."

Looking up at Han Muye, Old Huang Liuliu said in a deep voice: "These newly forged sword artifacts are fine, but if they have been long nurtured, you won't be able to draw the sword without sincerity."

Han Muye nodded.

He knew this; he had once made a fool of himself, using all his strength but failing to draw the sword.

Imitating Old Huang Liuliu, Han Muye first bowed and prayed, then drew the sword, and the hemp cloth gently caressed the sword, the light of the sword as clear as water.

After sheathing the long sword, Old Huang Liuliu opened his mouth, but ultimately lowered his head and muttered: "Truly a born sword observer..."

The two of them each took charge of one side, drawing the swords, wiping them, and then sheathing them.

Han Muye could sense the length, weight, and forging technique of the swords as soon as his hand touched the hilt.

At first, he wiped them very quickly.

These sword artifacts were newly forged and had little information for him to comprehend.

Until later, when he touched the hilt of a sword, his whole body trembled, and an image appeared in his mind.

A young swordsman in a blue robe, wielding a sword, roaming freely and at ease.

The sword light was like water, vast and boundless.

The Three Profound Sword Technique: Clear Water.

A cool aura penetrated Han Muye's body.

This time, he could clearly feel the cool aura flowing through his body and then dispersing into his chest and abdomen.

What is this aura?

Curious, Han Muye drew another long sword.

Another image appeared.

An old man in a gray robe, who had only cultivated one sword, this sword splitting the wind and thunder, blocking the mountains.

"Violet Flame, it's finally time to say goodbye."

The old man whispered, and then the long sword ignited, burning a hundred miles of mountains and rivers.

When the smoke cleared, the old man was gone, leaving only a weathered long sword.

The Five Profound Sword Technique: Wildfire.

"Boom—"

A violent force suddenly surged into Han Muye's body, a scorching aura like lava instantly ravaging his meridians, making his whole body spasm and tremble.

"Clang—"

The long sword fell to the ground, and Old Huang Liuliu hurried over.

"Little Han, what's wrong?"

Han Muye turned his head and smiled.

Then he felt as if his whole chest was about to explode, a fiery force piercing through it.

A mouthful of fresh blood spurted out, and Han Muye's body went limp, collapsing to the ground.

...

In a daze, Han Muye heard Old Huang Liuliu's voice.

"Thank you, Ancestor."

When he opened his eyes, in front of Han Muye were Old Huang Liuliu and an old man with white hair.

The old man held a weathered short sword, the very one Han Muye had drawn.

"This sword, though just a common item, was once the sword of Ancestor Taoran, who left the sect in rebellion." Holding the short sword, the old man's expression was somewhat unusual.

"Ancestor's sword?" Old Huang Liuliu was stunned and quickly said, "Ancestor's sword, so it must contain sword intent—"

"Ancestor, is he going to be alright?"

"Sword qi entering the heart and chest, whether he survives depends on his destiny." The old voice came.

The old man's expression was calm, and seeing Han Muye awake, he placed the short sword back on the wooden rack and turned to leave.

Old Huang Liuliu called out, then softly said, "Farewell, Ancestor."

Han Muye watched the old man step onto the stairs to the second floor of the Sword Pavilion and disappear.

"Don't stare, there are only three of us in the Sword Pavilion."

"Next time you see him, just call him Ancestor."

Old Huang Liuliu's face showed a hint of envy and longing, and he said softly, "Sixty years of sword observation in the Sword Pavilion, the position of a grand elder in the Nine Profound Sword Sect."

Ancestor?

There has always been a third person in the Sword Pavilion?

Han Muye was stunned.

But thinking about it, it made sense. In this three-story pavilion, he and Old Huang Liuliu were only responsible for the first floor, so the second and third floors naturally needed a stronger person to oversee them.

"Didn't you say that a sword observer rarely lives past a year, and living for ten years makes one a sect elder?"

"Is this one who has lived for sixty years?"

It turns out that a sword observer can live for sixty years.

How did this one survive?

Seeing Han Muye's expression, Old Huang Liuliu snorted and waved his hand, "Don't think too much, with sword qi in your chest and abdomen, it's hard to say if you can last three months."

Saying this, his tone softened, and he looked at Han Muye, "If you want to eat or drink something—"

"If you want to do something, just do it."

Picking up the hemp cloth for wiping the swords, Old Huang Liuliu patted his shoulder, "Go rest, I'll finish wiping the remaining sword artifacts."

Sighing, he hunched his back and walked to the front of the wooden rack.

"Clang—"

The sound of drawing a sword came.

Han Muye was somewhat dazed.

Do I only have three months left?

Wasn't it supposed to be a year?

Sword qi in the chest and abdomen?

Sword qi?

A thought crossed his mind, and his whole body trembled as a scene exploded in his mind.

At that moment, he saw the scene in his chest and abdomen.

A sphere of crimson flames, about a yard in diameter, rolled, surrounded by green clouds, gray earth qi, and a stream of mist.

Then, in the empty space around, thin threads of faint qi constantly intertwined and entangled.

Is this sword qi?

Where is this sword qi?