Chapter 121

Qing Zhouxue spent four years in seclusion, meditating and grappling with sword manuals, during which her master was absent.

When she closed her eyes, she saw a stretch of silver frost in her sea of consciousness. Throughout those four years, whenever she had free time, she molded that frost according to her will, and gradually, it began to take shape.

Fluttering snowflakes scattered unexpectedly, invisible blades slicing across the sky. Then they gathered again, wrapping around her like a galaxy, leaving no gaps.

Turning even sharper, they solidified into ice, weaving an impenetrable cage.

These were the three sword techniques Qing Zhouxue had comprehended. Perhaps due to her nature, most of her insights leaned toward restraint and defense rather than pure killing moves.

The handwriting in that incomplete manuscript was blurry; she had to calm her mind and read character by character. Some crucial parts were even missing, forcing her to guess and speculate.

【...When it comes to the superior path... north of the mountains, underground ice is hundreds of feet deep, my cave dwelling...】

Qing Zhouxue stared for a long time before barely making out that it suggested Ice Spiritual Root cultivators should practice in icy wastelands.

Taichu Realm was located in the southwest of the Nine Provinces, with a warm climate. Coupled with the undulating terrain, the four seasons were particularly distinct.

In winter, except for Heyi Peak, it never reached the point of being an icy wasteland. The peak was named "Heyi" because every year when the wind blew and whitened half the peak, the soft, white snow resembled a vast stretch of crane feathers.

But even though the peak received considerable rain and snow, the temperature was not particularly low. When it warmed up slightly, the snow and ice would melt.

It was incomparable to the bitter, year-round cold of Beiyuan Mountain.

In the future, that could indeed serve as a better cultivation site.

She set that matter aside for now, flipped forward a few chapters, and began to comprehend the sword techniques.

This Ice Spiritual Root cultivator was even sharper, more like a sword cultivator than she was. The sword moves left behind—by her or him—were without hesitation, with no defense, all lethal killing techniques.

Qing Zhouxue didn't intend to copy them outright. She frowned and examined for a moment, deciding to take the essence.

When she closed her eyes again, the wind and snow in her sea of consciousness dispersed, and she saw a woman who looked exactly like herself. She too was dressed in white, standing with a sword on her back, her brows and eyes as if frozen with frost and snow, walking slowly toward her.

Qing Zhouxue keenly sensed the drop in temperature. This was a precursor to an Ice Spiritual Root cultivator's attack, and she couldn't help but tense up entirely.

The next moment, that sword cultivator thrust her sword at her. Qing Zhouxue received the blow, but in her mind, it was clear—this was the first move recorded in that incomplete manuscript, named "Thousand Mountains, Ten Thousand Paths."

The gleam of this sword strike was cold. It looked ordinary, very much like the first move in "Returning to One," the kind any ordinary sword cultivator could use.

But soon Qing Zhouxue noticed a difference: her strike precisely pierced all the drifting snowflakes—yet those snowflakes clearly scattered from all directions.

How could this be? She had only seen a single strike; the woman's wrist hadn't moved at all.

While dodging, Qing Zhouxue tossed out a small ice ball as a test, but before it could get close to her, it was shredded into dust.

She froze in place and finally understood.

So it was that although it was only one strike, her sword moved so fast that the cold sword intent carved in all directions around her, and almost anything that came near would be annihilated in this wind and snow.

This was indeed impressive. A hint of admiration flashed in her eyes. No wonder it was called "Thousand Mountains, Ten Thousand Paths"—a name that sounded like it extinguished all life.

The remaining sword intent continued to ripple outward. Even from such a distance, several thin cuts opened on Qing Zhouxue's cheeks, which then healed immediately.

She guessed in her heart that this was very likely a sword manual left by a powerful Ice Spiritual Root cultivator.

Little did she know—

Years ago.

The Sect Leader held the sword manual, his brows slightly furrowed. "This manual left by an Ice Spiritual Root cultivator was actually found long ago. At the time, we made excuses that we didn't have it and didn't directly give it to Qing Zhouxue to practice; there were some unspeakable difficulties."

Yun Shuchen raised an eyebrow. "What difficulties? Don't tell me this manual could cause problems in practice."

"Do you remember Senior Shenshan Shu? The number one sword immortal of the Nine Provinces, the founder's close friend, who was once a prominent figure."

Yun Shuchen was stunned, then frowned. "Of course I remember. This book... was written by him? He had an Ice Spiritual Root?"

"That's right."

Yun Shuchen not only knew him but also knew his current whereabouts. Shenshan Shu was living in seclusion on the eastern coast, selling swords for a living. Back then, she had brought Qing Zhouxue to his shop and taken the most precious sword there—the Qingshuang Sword.

Looking at it that way, the fact that he had willingly broken the deal and gifted it again to Qing Zhouxue meant it was very likely his former personal sword.

Precisely because it was a life-bound sword, after years together, he had formed an attachment, so he wanted to find it a better home.

At the very least, it should go to someone equally fated with an Ice Spiritual Root.

"Back then, Senior Shenshan Shu cultivated the Emotionless Dao but ultimately failed to see through its mysteries. During his tribulation, his cultivation plummeted, and he never recovered."

A sword cultivator who could sell his own personal sword must have completely given up on the path of cultivation.

The Sect Leader sighed and clapped his hands. "It is precisely for this reason that the founder ordered the destruction of all texts on the Emotionless Dao within Taichu Realm. He believed this path stripped away humanity, and for later disciples, learning it brought more harm than good."

"Within this sword manual, there are also some remnants of the Emotionless Dao's cultivation philosophy. But I just flipped through it, and there isn't much."

Qing Zhouxue was Yun Shuchen's disciple, so the Sect Leader was seeking her opinion. Yun Shuchen frowned. "A sword manual left by such a mighty figure, and of the same Ice Spiritual Root lineage—there's likely only this one in the world. It would be a pity for her to miss it."

"Remove all of that."

Yun Shuchen finally compromised. "I'll trouble you, Senior Brother. Delete everything related to the Emotionless Dao. Just leave the sword techniques as hints. Qing'er is clever; she can integrate and comprehend on her own."

And so the sword manual was deleted and revised repeatedly. Through countless nights sustained by goji and chrysanthemum tea, the Sect Leader racked his brains, even knocking over a teacup and nearly drowning the book.

In the end, a "fragmented manuscript" that was beyond recognition fell into the hands of Junior Disciple Qing.

* * *

During these four years of seclusion, Qing Zhouxue cultivated and comprehended sword techniques. When the winter snow of the fourth year once again blew onto Heyi Peak, she finally stepped out of her room.

A Jin was lying in a pile of snow, whiskers and head dusted with white.

She didn't see her master.

"Today is the decennial inner sect selection," A Jin informed. "The master should be at the Main Peak right now, probably returning in the afternoon."

A decennial contest?

Qing Zhouxue was startled, then quickly realized.

It was the contest where she had formally entered the inner sect, but time had flown, and now it was ten years later.

She tidied up her room, then waited idly in the courtyard for Yun Shuchen.

"Senior Sister!"

A clear voice called from afar, unfamiliar yet familiar, carried to her ears by the wind.

Qing Zhouxue looked back and saw two figures slowly approaching through the snow in the distance.

One was slightly taller—her master. The other looked young, a maiden in appearance.

"Yu Ying?"

Qing Zhouxue recognized her. They hadn't seen each other in years; Yu Ying seemed to have grown a lot. She walked half a step behind Yun Shuchen but looked eager to rush forward and talk to Qing Zhouxue.

Qing Zhouxue's gaze slid past Yu Ying to the woman standing behind her.

"Master, she is—"

"Your junior sister."

Yun Shuchen gave Yu Ying a glance, said no more, and removed her outer robe. Qing Zhouxue stood frozen for a long moment after hearing those words, then instinctively reached out to take the robe. But Yu Ying was closer and, quicker, took it herself.

Qing Zhouxue's hand paused mid-air, and after a moment, she lowered it, feeling extremely awkward.

That evening's meal was livelier than usual.

Yu Ying had become much more outgoing over the years, chattering nonstop at Qing Zhouxue. Qing Zhouxue, however, had never been one to talk during meals, only nodding slightly to show she was listening.

Suddenly, Yun Shuchen picked up a glutinous rice ball and stuffed it into Yu Ying's mouth. "You're still growing; eat more."

The chatter ceased.

Qing Zhouxue stared at the rice ball. A vague memory surfaced of the time when she was blind from jumping off the cliff, and Yun Shuchen had personally fed her.

Her thoughts drifted unconsciously, but her master had never picked up food for her.

"She placed third in the inner sect contest—her aptitude is equally sharp and rare, a well-developed Five Spiritual Roots. The Sect Leader said there was no place for her to go except Heyi Peak." Yun Shuchen looked up at Qing Zhouxue and suddenly smiled. "I thought I'd never meet another disciple worthy of passing on my legacy."

Yu Ying, with the rice ball stuffed in her mouth for a good while, mumbled, "...I won't disappoint you, Master."

Qing Zhouxue hummed in acknowledgment and quietly continued eating. At Yun Shuchen's latter remark, her hand gripping the chopsticks tightened slightly.

Because she suddenly realized that no matter how hard she tried, even if she one day rivaled the sword immortals... others would never think she was Yun Shuchen's disciple—quite the opposite; they'd find it absurd.

Her spiritual roots were too few, and the Ice Spiritual Root was an extension of the Water Spiritual Root, not even within the Five Elements, essentially severing her from the formation lineage for life.

For master and disciple to be so distinct from each other was something of an oddity.

That night, Yu Ying wanted to stay in the room next to her senior sister's, and Yun Shuchen naturally agreed.

Qing Zhouxue watched her happily tidying up and couldn't bear to tell her new junior sister that she usually slept at their master's place.

Just as she was about to leave, the little junior sister seemed to kindly remind her, "Senior Sister, I think you're going the wrong way."

Qing Zhouxue's toes stopped, and she cast a dark look at Yu Ying. The girl's pure gaze defeated her; she sighed softly and turned back to the seclusion room. "Mm. I went the wrong way."

"Good night, Senior Sister."

The door on the left closed softly.

Qing Zhouxue lay in bed with her eyes open, holding her breath and listening. Faint breathing came from the next room, gradually steadying and evening out. Once Yu Ying was fast asleep, she rose again, closed the door, and headed straight to Yun Shuchen's room.

Her master must have been exhausted after a long day and probably went to bed early.

Qing Zhouxue, in her thin robe, walked to the door. The lamp was still on, seemingly left burning for her.