Chapter 11

Just then, unable to resist, Qing Zhouxue reached out and touched the column of water. Yun Shuchen was shaping it into a flying bird, and the instant her hand made contact, it froze solid into an ice sculpture.

The ice sculpture fell and shattered into pieces.

Qing Zhouxue stared at the broken bird on the ground, a flicker of regret crossing her eyes.

Yun Shuchen snapped her fingers, and the ice fragments dissolved as if boiled in hot water, then seeped into the cracks in the ground as cold water. She looked up at the sky and frowned slightly. "What is that?"

Two shadows circled overhead, refusing to descend. Qing Zhouxue spotted them too—two majestic golden eagles.

They belonged to Ruan Mingzhu.

The foreign girl who had attended classes with her at the outer sect had once shown her these two eaglets. She'd brought them back from a cage at the market.

She'd said they were pitiful creatures and shouldn't be caged—that people from the Central Plains didn't know how to raise eagles.

Later, the two eagles had grown quite clever under her care, delivering messages and hunting small rabbits to bring back without any trouble.

"They're looking for you," Yun Shuchen said with a soft sigh. "I'll move a little farther away—they might come down then."

Elder Yun drifted off gracefully.

The golden eagles, indeed guided by their wild instincts, had judged Yun Shuchen a threat and so hesitated to land. As soon as she left, one landed swiftly on Qing Zhouxue's arm, while the other perched on a tree branch.

Qing Zhouxue lifted her arm—it was heavy. A letter was tied to the eagle's leg. She opened it and found Ruan Mingzhu's not-quite-polished handwriting.

Of course, compared to a few years ago when she couldn't even write, it had improved considerably.

"Qing Zhouxue, you haven't come lately. Good thing you didn't—it's really boring. He's started reviewing the earlier lessons."

"Where do you live exactly? If you're free, I'd like to come visit."

Qing Zhouxue wrote a reply—of course, that wouldn't be possible.

Heyi Peak was part of the inner sect and was Elder Yun's residence. Although she was only lodging there, she hadn't become so bold as to think of bringing people in for fun—she knew Yun Shuchen valued peace and quiet.

As she wrote, she couldn't help glancing at Yun Shuchen. The elder was in the distance, trimming excess branches from a potted plant with a pair of scissors, looking perfectly serene.

As Qing Zhouxue sprawled over the stone table in the front courtyard to write the final lines, the two golden eagles suddenly flapped their wings and took off.

Yun Shuchen walked over, glanced at the eagles that had flown off at the first sign of trouble, and sat down across from her. "Something just came to mind, and since it concerns you, I thought I'd discuss it with you."

Qing Zhouxue set down her brush and unconsciously straightened up a bit.

"The Sect Leader made a good point the other day—your Spirit Root is singular, which suits you for a sword sect that breaks all techniques with a single sword. He invited you to learn swordsmanship. Would you be interested?"

"Does Elder wish me to learn?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"This is your own path; whether you learn or not is entirely up to you."

"However," she continued, "when the inner sect competition comes around, you'll certainly have to face real weapons. Learning some swordsmanship can't hurt. Why not give it a try? If you don't like it, you can stop."

Since she put it that way, Qing Zhouxue nodded in agreement without any objection—she rarely had objections to Elder Yun's suggestions.

The next day, she set foot in the Sword Pavilion for the first time. It wasn't far from the Sect Leader's hall; both were on the Main Peak.

Compared to Heyi Peak's sparse population, this place had far more people; compared to the chaotic mix of the outer sect, it was a bit more tranquil.

She watched several youths twirling and leaping with their swords, their movements fluid and dashing. One of them caught sight of Qing Zhouxue, executed a sideways somersault, and landed before her with robes fluttering, sword tip pointing at the ground.

"You're the girl Master said would come to learn swordsmanship, aren't you?"

Qing Zhouxue stared at the gleaming longsword in his hand and hummed in acknowledgment.

"I'm the Sect Leader's second disciple, Chen Lianqing. Master is busy with sect affairs right now, but he told me this morning that you were coming, so I'm to teach you the basics."

Chen Lianqing handed her a wooden sword and took one for himself, setting aside the silver sword to avoid hurting anyone.

"This is the first move of the 'Guiyi'—it's called 'Light Clouds Emerging from the Gorge.' Master once said that this single thrust reveals a sword cultivator's level with near certainty."

"A sword is sharp, but you can't thrust with too much force, or you'll lose your balance. Like a wisp of cloud drifting out of a cave, the momentum goes forward, but the strength blends hardness with softness."

Qing Zhouxue pressed her lower lip slightly and, holding the wooden sword, pushed her hand forward. But before the thrust was complete, Chen Lianqing's sword knocked hers aside with a sudden flick.

She stumbled a few steps and had to plant the sword tip on the ground to steady herself.

He raised an eyebrow sternly and said seriously, "Your stance is a bit unsteady. Go home and practice holding a horse stance every day."

"Hahaha..."

Suddenly, a hearty laugh came from afar. The tree shadows swayed, and before anyone was visible, a pale yellow wine gourd descended. The gourd moved, then shook, as if fishing.

A drunken young sword cultivator leaned back against a tree trunk, looking down at Qing Zhouxue from above. A blade of grass dangled from his mouth, and he smirked. "Hah, the peerless genius who's got the old Sect Leader muttering about her all day. I thought you'd be something special. This is boring."

"Shut up, Senior Brother!" Chen Lianqing frowned. "Go drink your wine and sleep." The junior disciple reprimanded his senior with a bit of the Sect Leader's authority.

"Ah," the other said, unbothered. He hooked the gourd up, tilted it over, and a drop of wine nearly landed on Qing Zhouxue's head. He chuckled. "It's gone."

Chen Lianqing quickly pulled Qing Zhouxue away, as if dodging bad luck, and warned her, "From now on, don't pay any attention to that drunkard either."

Qing Zhouxue practiced the move "Light Clouds Emerging from the Gorge" all morning. Her posture was proper, and she looked the part. She lowered her center of gravity, making her stance much steadier than at the beginning.

Chen Lianqing was fairly satisfied with her.

Over the next few days, she arrived at the Sword Pavilion on time every day. When the Sect Leader had free time, he would come to teach her as well. But teaching such simple techniques didn't require his expertise, so for the most part, Senior Brother Chen handled it.

One day, she was still waiting for him in the usual spot, but instead of Chen Lianqing, a different, more unfamiliar face appeared.

His eyelids drooped as he looked at her lackadaisically, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Pretty girl, I've watched you train with that guy for a few days. Any improvement?"

It was the senior brother who had been asleep in the tree that day, though now he was at the foot of the tree, his expression still suggesting he hadn't sobered up.

Qing Zhouxue frowned, but he explained, "Today it's Chen Lianqing's turn to be on duty at the outer sect, so you might have a different teacher. Like me—your dear Senior Brother Xiao Hong."

"What's with that look? I've got at least a few more years of skill than him."

"Come on, pretty girl, show me the sword style you've learned." He sat cross-legged to the side, uncorked his wine gourd, and took a sip.

Qing Zhouxue nodded and used the introductory sword style of the Sword Pavilion—the *Guiyi*. Perhaps the founder had considered beginners' attention spans when compiling this manual, making it short enough not to dampen enthusiasm, so it only contained seven moves. Compared to other manuals that had thirty-six or even forty-eight moves, it was quite accessible.

As for why it was called *Guiyi*, Qing Zhouxue only gradually understood the essence after years of practice: the world's sword techniques were many and varied, but all derived from a few basic moves. The so-called 'great Tao is simple'—at its end, it all converges to unity.

After she finished executing the seven moves, she was slightly sweaty but not too tired.

Xiao Hong suddenly stood up. "Do you think you're good?"

Qing Zhouxue thought for a moment. "There shouldn't be any mistakes."

"Hah," he sneered. "Indeed, no mistakes. But pretty girl, what I'm about to say might be a bit harsh—what you're doing is all fancy footwork. You might as well go dance. I heard you haven't taken a master yet, right? You'd be beaten flat in the inner sect competition."

"Your master," Qing Zhouxue said, lowering her gaze thoughtfully, "didn't he teach you the same way back then?"

"True," Xiao Hong laughed. "But I think that old man's swordsmanship might be first-rate, but that doesn't mean he's much good at teaching others."

His words were quite arrogant; maybe his drinking had emboldened him to the point of criticizing the Sect Leader himself.

Qing Zhouxue stood with her sword behind her back. "Then what do you suggest I do?"

Xiao Hong tossed her a longsword. "Stop using that wooden sword; it's so petty. Are you afraid of cutting up that pretty little face?"

He himself drew the spirit sword from his waist and pointed it at her. "I'll give you ten moves, and we'll fight without using cultivation. If you can hit me, you've mastered it."

Qing Zhouxue nodded, saluted with her sword, and thrust at him. Xiao Hong counted under his breath as he dodged left and right with the agility of a monkey. When he reached ten, he twisted his body and drew his sword, meeting hers with a resounding clang.

Qing Zhouxue couldn't help but step back a few paces, her tiger's mouth numb from the impact.

Xiao Hong was almost eighteen by now, about four years older than her, and nearly grown into a man's frame. Even though he held back his strength intentionally, his force was still much greater than hers.

Qing Zhouxue's sword moves were indeed neat—she had a good memory, even more standard than Xiao Hong's.

But against absolute power, technique was meaningless.

When he thrust again, Qing Zhouxue could only dodge. Xiao Hong eventually discarded the longsword altogether and fought her using just the scabbard.

Qing Zhouxue rolled on the ground a few times, seized an opening, and rose, but the scabbard whistled toward her head. Sensing danger instinctively, she raised her sword horizontally to block, but the force was too great; her wrist went numb, and the scabbard struck her solidly, forcing her to let go of her sword.

In just a few moves, the victory was decided.

She knelt on the ground clutching her right hand, trembling with pain; her white robes were now covered in dust.

Xiao Hong crossed his arms. "If this were a real fight, your hand would be gone."

He uninterestingly took the wine gourd from his waist, tipped it toward his mouth, and found it empty again. He then hauled her up by the arm. "Remember how you got beaten, so next time you won't be. Now, you can go back and cry to your Elder Yun."