Chapter 105

"Senior Sister Qing!"

At the sound of the voice, Qing Zhouxue silently turned her head and steered her steps elsewhere, pretending she hadn't heard. But unfortunately, she was a step too slow, and a group of disciples surrounded her, blocking her path.

"Senior Sister, how did you manage to split the entire arena in one strike?"

"Senior Sister, I heard that day you had three thousand spirit swords behind you. How did you summon them?"

"Grand Senior Sister..."

"I didn't split the arena with one strike. It was caused by the Thunder Tribulation." She frowned and answered as she walked, but was helpless as the crowd pressed in, with no room to step, so she had to halt. "As for the spirit swords, I know nothing about that."

After the Thunder Tribulation, the arena was nearly unusable and still under repair, with disciples barred from entering.

Earlier, Yun Shuchen had heard that the arena of the Main Peak was in ruins, and she had been in a good mood, ruffling Qing Zhouxue's hair.

Though Qing Zhouxue had come to offer compensation, the Sect Leader was too embarrassed to take money from the younger generation. So, holding back tears, he paid out of his own pocket, draining nearly half a year's worth of savings.

The private treasuries of the successive Sect Leaders of Taichu Sect had either been squandered by a certain acting Sect Leader in the past, or plucked day after day by Elder Yue. Ruan Mingzhu, after stumbling upon an opportunity, had casually burned down a mountain.

Now there was a newcomer—Qing Zhouxue—who, every time she underwent tribulation, produced a cataclysmic spectacle.

Afterward, the Sect Leader tremblingly calculated how many years the entire sect's resources could support these ancestors.

As for the thousands of spirit swords that had followed Qing Zhouxue into the Thunder Tribulation that day, they had ended up scattered across the arena. Most had been returned to their owners, while some had been gathered in the treasury with no one claiming them.

At this moment, quite a few swords she didn't recognize were hovering behind her, keeping pace. Since the tribulation, she had discovered she possessed this strange constitution—it seemed every sword that had gained sentience came to greet her.

Qing Zhouxue looked at the crowd of people and swords before her, lively and bustling. She was used to the quiet solitude of Heyi Peak, and so she found this scene highly uncomfortable, her brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

Suddenly, the Qingshuang Sword appeared out of nowhere. As she took her next step, she landed right on the blade, and it carried her up into the air, flying away, leaving behind only the sighs of her junior brothers and sisters.

A gentle breeze brushed her face, and the clamor by her ears faded into the distance.

Qing Zhouxue flew on her sword, and when she looked back, she was stunned. Though she had escaped the crowd, the dozen or so spirit swords were still stubbornly following behind her.

She turned and scolded, "Go back."

One short sword faltered, stopped in place, circled unwillingly twice, then slunk back dejected to find its owner.

The rest, however, shamelessly followed her all the way back to Heyi Peak, hovering around her, bobbing up and down.

As soon as Qing Zhouxue landed, Yun Shuchen was startled at first, then laughed. "What kind of formation is this? A thousand-armed Guanyin?"

Those spirit swords hung behind her like a peacock spreading its tail, and from a distance, it was quite a sight.

"It's her..."

"She's come..."

"Look at her..."

There was always some whispering at her ears, ethereal, as if coming from the heavens.

At first, Qing Zhouxue thought she was hallucinating, or that she'd mistaken the sounds of the wind.

But those voices grew noisier and clearer, until she couldn't help but ask, "Master, do you hear any sounds? Someone is talking."

"There's only you and me here," Yun Shuchen said. "Who else could be talking?"

It seemed only she could hear them. Qing Zhouxue was puzzled and glanced behind her. There was indeed no one else. Could it be that this group of swords was whispering?

The Qingshuang Sword hovered by her hand, and Qing Zhouxue suddenly heard a clear voice. "You can finally hear us speak."

Qing Zhouxue's hand paused. She bent her knuckles and gently tapped the bright, thin blade. "It's you?"

"Yes." The Qingshuang Sword was ancient, and its sword spirit's voice was primordial and desolate.

"Why do they follow me?"

"Pilgrimage."

Qing Zhouxue was momentarily stunned. She was merely one sword cultivator among many. Her cultivation wasn't especially high, and her swordsmanship still had room for improvement. Those words were rather frightening.

Probably a mistake. She frowned. "How do I send these spirit swords back?"

"Please forgive this one transgression."

The sword spirit whispered, "...It has been many years. They have waited for many years as well."

Yun Shuchen heard her disciple talking to a sword for a long time; to her ears, it sounded more like talking to herself, which was rather endearing. She smiled. "What did the sword spirit have to talk to you about?"

"Negotiating how to coax them back." Qing Zhouxue was constantly dealing with the sword spirits while also having to answer her master, and it seemed one mouth wasn't quite enough.

Seeing this, Yun Shuchen didn't speak again and quietly watched her, so that her disciple's tongue wouldn't tie itself into knots from overwork.

"I have been to the Loulan buried in sand and wind, and I know many of its stories."

"I was forged in the northern source, under eternal white snow."

"I have seen your childhood... back then..."

The group of spirit swords trembled, emitting a resonant hum, chattering all at once. It seemed each one wanted to speak with her, eagerly sharing its own stories and experiences.

Of course, Qing Zhouxue found it noisy. If this many people were chattering around her, she'd definitely want to get away.

But strangely, the ethereal calls swirling around her ears made her heart settle completely, as if she had returned home.

This unfamiliar yet familiar feeling made her recall... a very distant time.

Darkness, endless darkness.

Everything seemed to be deep in chaos, with or without hands and feet—no shape to grasp, no edge to see.

Back then, these voices seemed to have existed already, rambling boundlessly like this, complaining about the sorrow of having no master to appreciate them, recounting the untold stories of their previous owners, the secrets that no books would record...

Yun Shuchen sat to the side, finding it curious. It was the first time she had seen Qing Zhouxue speak so much.

Qing Zhouxue, surrounded by the sword spirits, spoke with them, but she was not as cold as when she talked with people. Though her expression was calm, there was a hint of lightness within that calm, like chatting with a kindred spirit.

It was rare to see her like this.

After who knows how long, the various spirit swords reluctantly dispersed, leaving only the Qingshuang Sword by Qing Zhouxue's hand.

She looked up at the crowd of swords flying away, and a glimmer of sword light fell into her eyes, like shimmering starlight.

"Finally gone."

She let out a light sigh.

The fact that sword spirits could speak had only been seen in books. Yun Shuchen found it interesting, so she reached out and grasped the Qingshuang Sword. But that sword twisted in displeasure, and the tassel whipped the back of her hand, leaving a red mark as it darted away from her grasp.

This made Yun Shuchen quite displeased. She used her spiritual power to forcibly pull the Qingshuang Sword toward her. The Qingshuang Sword radiated cold energy, and its blade began to tremble violently, as if resisting her.

Had it come obediently, Yun Shuchen wouldn't have done anything, but this strong resistant stance made her eyes go cold, and her spiritual power surged fiercely.

Seeing that her master had inexplicably gotten into a standoff with the spirit sword, Qing Zhouxue hastily ordered, "Let her hold it."

The Qingshuang Sword hummed twice and suddenly gave up all resistance. But Yun Shuchen didn't relax her grip. In an instant, a flash of white light appeared, and the sword slashed straight toward her cheek.

Qing Zhouxue didn't react in time, but Yun Shuchen dodged her head at the last moment. A lock of hair by her temple was cleanly severed by the blade, nearly grazing her face. Her figure shifted, and she turned and gripped the sword firmly in her hand.

While sidestepping, Yun Shuchen raised her other hand, two fingers catching the lock of hair as it slowly drifted down.

She held the frost-covered sword, lowered her gaze to examine it for a moment, let out a cold snort, then tossed it back to Qing Zhouxue. "It's only an artifact spirit, yet it has quite an ego."

Qing Zhouxue caught it. She could faintly sense the Qingshuang Sword's trembling, as if it were complaining to her about the misdeeds of this woman before her.

Yun Shuchen didn't even spare it a glance. She conjured a water mirror and frowned as she examined herself. Her fingertip lifted, brushing over the spot where the hair had been cut. "This lock is shorter now. It looks very uneven. Later, I won't be able to comb it up."

Her master was lost in her own worries, then she lifted her eyes, dark and brooding, and stared right at her. Qing Zhouxue mused for a moment. "It's not noticeable."

"But it looks uncomfortable to me."

Qing Zhouxue silently dispersed the water mirror. "Master, just don't look at it. Or should I cut another lock on the right?"

"No. What a rubbish idea."

She turned and went back into her room. Qing Zhouxue stayed where she was for a moment, then, hesitating, followed her. She watched as Yun Shuchen let down her long hair, letting it all fall over her back. A wooden comb drifted over and settled into Qing Zhouxue's hand.

Yun Shuchen looked at the mirror. "Hold it."

Qing Zhouxue knelt behind her, picked up a lock, held it in her hand, and combed from top to bottom. At that moment, she heard Yun Shuchen sigh. "Do you remember when you were fourteen, you still didn't know how to comb your hair?"

"I remember." Qing Zhouxue smoothed Yun Shuchen's hair. "You always helped me, Master."

Perhaps the fact that Qing Zhouxue could go out looking decent when she was young was mostly thanks to her master. In her spare time, Yun Shuchen would find something to do, and that something always ended up being her only prospective disciple. Sometimes she'd insist on changing her into new clothes, other times she'd braid her hair in trendy little pigtails.

"Did you know how to do these things when you were young, Master?"

"No." Yun Shuchen gazed at the mirror. "A very long time ago, it was my mother—my mother who enjoyed fussing over these things. Later, when I lived with your master's wife, she took care of it."

"And then later," she lowered her eyes, a hint of darkness flickering in them, "I took charge of Heyi Peak and lived alone. Naturally, I had to learn myself."

Qing Zhouxue was focused on combing her hair and missed the fleeting change in her expression. When she looked up again, Yun Shuchen smiled. "Those insights on Dual Cultivation you've been studying recently—bring them along tonight, hmm?"

Qing Zhouxue's hand paused slightly. "Why does Master suddenly want to look at that?"

"Qing'er is, after all, my disciple."

She closed her eyes matter-of-factly and said lightly, "Can't your master take a look at the homework you've done?"