Chapter 285 – Departure - Part 1

At the summit of a high mountain outside the Holy Tree Temple, a white‑haired man sat cross‑legged, his hair in wild disarray.

In the yellow earth before him, a black sword and white sword were locked together, twin blades entwined. Faint arcs of lightning and wisps of baleful energy still crawled across the metal, flickering like aftershocks. No one had ever seen a spirit artifact come out of the forge looking like this before.

Were this an event being recounted in a teahouse, the storyteller would slam the table and proclaim theatrically,

“And so a great demonic blade was born! Heaven and Earth would not permit its existence! Why else would thunder fall from the sky? Why else would the earth’s baleful energy surge up? Surely Heaven meant to stop the smith and keep this demonic blade from entering the world!”

That said, stories were just stories. Heaven and Earth were indifferent; there was no such thing as

Heaven

forbidding anything. It was nothing more than a natural phenomenon no one yet understood.

Li Yuan only half-understood the principles behind what he’d just accomplished. Lifespan was an abstract thing. You stood motionless and somehow decades would slip away...where did they go? How did they vanish? A human being, like all things under Heaven, was born of a balance between Yin and Yang. Perhaps lifespan was the subtlest condensation of that balance.

When he had used the Ghost Hammer to pour vast stores of his years into the weapon, an immense

Yin-Yang annihilation

occurred, like an enormous cavity opening in the deep sea, drawing the surrounding water inexorably inward.

That, he guessed, was the source of the heavenly thunder and earth fog.

Li Yuan also found the limit of the blood crystal marrow—no more, no less than 500 years of lifespan. He had wanted to add more. The sharper the borrowed blade, the better for killing with a

borrowed knife.

Yet once those 500 years were spent, not another drop would go in. The Ghost Hammer felt like an old master blacksmith screaming a warning,

Sonny, any more than that and you’ll blow up the entire mountain!

Luckily, Li Yuan heeded the warning. He sensed the sword had reached an extreme; further gains would have to come from new materials. A blade infused with 30 years of life was already called a demonic blade. So what about a sword stuffed to the brim with 500 years of life, one that could summon heavenly thunder and earthly fog?

Li Yuan was curious.

And so was everyone else.

Gu Xuejian was no exception. The battle‑hardened swordswoman actually felt a quiver of nerves and excitement. She stepped up, wrapped her hand around the hilt, and instantly sensed a blood‑deep connection, along with many other feelings she had never known.

The sword bound itself to her by blood, by the weight of passing years, by the might of Heaven and Earth itself. Eyes closed, she felt its power for a very, very long time. Only then did she grasp the weapon’s terror.

When she opened her eyes they shone with joy and awe.

Ignoring the onlookers, she turned to Li Yuan and said, “I’ve heard a weapon domain is the realm every weaponsmith longs for. I don’t know what a true weapon domain looks like, but this sword already deserves the name.”

An elder behind her frowned. “Domain weapons are said to require a martial artist of fourth rank or higher. Deputy Gu...how can you wield one?”

Gu Xuejian glanced at the white‑haired man sitting with bowed head and said in a ringing voice, “Because this sword lets me break through—if only for a while—from peak fifth rank to fourth rank. And beyond that, it grants me an

extra

fourth rank domain!”

Silence blanketed the mountain.

What did it mean? The Holy Tree Temple now had a second fourth rank martial artist, and one holding a domain weapon!

Boasting? Exaggerating? Even her enemies knew Gu Xuejian was not that kind of woman.

The mountain wind parted the man’s white hair as his tired eyes fell on the swordswoman in white. Earlier, the numbers beside her read 2,588~6,636. It had barely risen since he first met her eight years ago, proof she had long been stuck at peak fifth rank.

Now, the moment she gripped the sword, Li Yuan saw those numbers swell to 2,588~23,100.

Li Yuan was aware of exactly what kind of masterpiece he had crafted—

The White Sword, charged with the pure Yang of heavenly thunder, could jolt the wielder past the ceiling of fifth rank, allowing Gu Xuejian to fight at fourth rank.

The Black Sword, heavy with the dense Yin of the earthly fog, unfolded a baleful formation. Anyone within a 30-meter radius would be invaded by noxious fumes—slowed, weakened, sapped of strength. It was the inverse of the Return-Willow Technique, which normally granted speed and agility.

To top it off, both swords were vampiric. Injecting lifespan had implanted something malignant; their thirst for blood was monstrous.

And so the twin swords lay there, still crackling with lightning and seething with fog, awaiting the first battle that would wet their blades.

Even a mere scratch from these blades was lethal. The instant red showed on the skin, the wound would gush with blood of its own accord, streaming toward the swords and flooding the wielder with boundless power.

The field of effect was only 30 meters—barey a hundred feet—but between powerhouses, that was plenty.

Strictly speaking, the eye‑popping peak of 23,100 showed up only when Gu Xuejian both reinforced her body with the heavenly thunder and empowered herself with the enemy’s blood.

And even the 23,100 figure didn’t capture the weapon’s full menace. It also continuously weakened the enemy. Her gain was their loss, raising the true balance still higher.

At this moment a strange emotion linked weaponsmith and wielder, like a father placing his daughter’s hand in those of another—expectation on one side, gratitude on the other.

Li Yuan and Gu Xuejian locked eyes; silence said more than words.

“Give her a name,” Gu Xuejian murmured.

“This sword belongs to you,” Li Yuan replied. “The name must echo your heart; any mismatch would be a flaw I dare not risk.”

“Sun and Moon Aloft, what do you think?”

Li Yuan froze. His daughter’s name was Li Sheng, the characters formed by jade beneath sun and moon. And to the public’s knowledge, she had passed away tragically, her life taken away too soon.

Sun and Moon Aloft

meant Gu Xuejian would carry that child of his to the mountain peak and let her overlook the world.

“It’s...a good name.” He drew a deep breath; tears streaked his weather‑worn face.

Gu Xuejian stepped close and smoothed a hand over his disheveled white hair. The moment she had grasped the sword she had felt its weight, and with it forged a bond no one else could fathom.

“I’ll be gone a while. Is there anything you’d have me do?” she asked gently. Then, as if to reassure him, she added, “I cherish Ping'an as my own; have no fear.”

Li Yuan glanced into the distance. “I have a maid, Yao Jue, who serves under Huayin. She’s a bright girl, gifted, yet still a maid.”

𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Gu Xuejian’s lips curved. This man could be courteous, grand, or—at times—fussier than a mother‑in‑law.

She turned, swept the crowd with her gaze, and called, “Miss Yao.”

At the very back a long‑legged maid hastily ducked out. For the first time every eye fell upon her.

Yao Jue’s heart hammered; her mind went blank. “G‑greetings, seniors...”

Gu Xuejian slipped off one of the wooden‑vine bangles from her wrists, caught Yao Jue’s hand, and clasped it on. “Fits nicely.”

“Deputy Gu...” The normally quick‑witted maid could only stammer.

“Strange,” Gu Xuejian mused, “I don’t recall any clan named Yao.”

“N‑no, my lady. I...I’m only a maid. I have no surname.”

“Then from today you are Gu Yaojue, my sworn sister.”

Yao Jue tried to kneel, but Gu Xuejian held her up. “From now on you will call yourself no one’s servant, and you will bow to no one.”

“Yes, Deputy...n-no, Elder Sister.”

“When I return, I’ll give you a proper look.” Gu Xuejian gripped Sun and Moon Aloft, turned to Li Yuan, and said simply, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he answered, just as sincerely.

Their eyes met one last time. White robes billowed, the red wine gourd at her hip dancing in the wind. She rose into the sky and streaked toward the front lines.

Across the vault of heaven, one lone figure flew.

This time she carried a confidence she had never known. Though the front had collapsed, she would turn the tide with a single hand.