Chapter 388: When a Sword Spirit Meets a Sword Spirit

Wang Sheng had taken Mu Wanxuan out to relax, battled with Wang Xiaomiao in poetry to make Mu Wanxuan laugh, and deliberately revealed a trace of Heavenly Tribulation Sword Intent and Dual-Polarity Sword Intent while demonstrating sword techniques to Shu Sword Sect disciples. He had truly spared no effort; he had racked his brains and put his heart into helping his senior sister with her cultivation.

Unfortunately, he accidentally revealed too much. Not only were the Shu Sword Sect disciples stunned, but even several of the elders who had planned to stay in the main temple couldn't resist coming out to watch.

The performance deeply moved them. A few even gained new insights. The Shu Sword Sect would never let such a rare opportunity slip by. The group immediately surrounded Wang Sheng and his companions, escorting them into the main temple. Fei Lianzi quickly arranged a sparring match with Wang Sheng.

Since Fei Lianzi and Wang Sheng had long been close despite the age difference, Wang Sheng could not refuse. He crossed swords with Fei Lianzi and several elders before hundreds of disciples and sect members, engaging in formal matches.

He recalled sparring with the same elders back when he first entered the sect for the Seventy-Two Swords, tempering his own sword intent against theirs. That precious experience greatly deepened his understanding of the Dao of the Sword.

Now, Wang Sheng had surpassed the entire Shu Sword Sect in cultivation. He possessed profound insight into both the Heavenly Dao of the Sword and the Human Dao of the Sword. When sparring with the elders, he could clearly perceive flaws in their sword momentum and would even offer them guidance.

The sect had grown overly reliant on the Sword-Controlling Art, neglecting the subtleties of swordplay and sword momentum. The art was meant for combat and killing. To truly comprehend the Dao of the Sword, one still had to grip a sword, practice with it, and experience it directly. They then had to merge that understanding into their Dao.

The sect possessed several profound sword arts and techniques, including the Qing Feng Sun-Moon Transformation Sword Art. Though one of the most supreme techniques of the entire cultivation world, the elders of the sect still hadn't deeply grasped its essence.

Mu Wanxuan and Xiaomiao sat quietly to the side, watching the combatants leap and weave within the few square meters of space inside the hall. The dazzling sword radiance and intertwining phantasms of light were a marvel to behold.

As the saying went, experts saw the subtleties, while outsiders saw only the spectacle.

Mu Wanxuan felt that her junior brother's swordplay was even more captivating than when he meditated. Wang Xiaomiao, on the other hand, was simply filled with admiration. Her elder brother looked so powerful to her, and his attacks seemed filled with effortless grace. She could hardly resist the desire to pursue the Dao of the Sword herself.

Since these were only friendly matches, Wang Sheng naturally never sought to win decisively. Every match ended in a draw. He had not come to challenge the sect.

Later, Qing Long stepped forward to spar with Wang Sheng despite being a senior of the older generation. He lowered himself not only as a gesture of generosity that the entire sect could benefit from. Since he found few worthy opponents, his hands "itched" for a battle.

Wang Sheng would have declined, but he thought it would be good for Mu Wanxuan to witness the might of a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator. Hence, he readily agreed instead.

Nascent Soul Realm sword cultivators could not spar inside the cramped main temple, though. At Qing Long's suggestion, the two went out to the plaza before the temple and stood on two stone pillars.

The Shu Sword Sect disciples looked on nervously. They knew this was only a sparring match, yet they still anticipated a fierce battle between equals. Unfortunately for them, there would never be bloodshed in a proper sparring match.

The two flew across the air, unleashing their sword momentum. The Heavenly Ziwei Sword Art clashed against the Qing Feng Sun-Moon Transformation Sword Art. Stars quivered in daylight, breezes surged, and mountains and rivers seemingly manifested.

Even without the sharpness of a true battle, the collision still looked fierce. The principles of the Dao of the Sword that it revealed gave the onlookers great insights.

Even Qing Long, who had more experience, had personally taken the field. His deeper purpose was to correct the sect's over-reliance on the Sword-Controlling Art. Though it was certainly elegant, it was still only an art, and it had certain limitations in real combat.

After a hundred exchanges, the two sheathed their swords simultaneously. Wang Sheng offered a Daoist bow. "Thanks for your guidance, Senior."

Qing Long clasped his hands behind his back, smiled faintly, and sighed in admiration. Gazing at his junior brothers, junior sisters, disciples, and grand-disciples, his heart felt a trace of melancholy.

"In another three to five years, no sword cultivator will be able to match your swordsmanship."

"You flatter me, Senior," Wang Sheng replied, slightly embarrassed.

He was not being modest. A Nascent Soul Realm cultivator was hardly worthy of pride. Considering how strong he was now, he wouldn't even qualify as cannon fodder for an immortal sect in some remote region in the boundless starry heavens. At best, he could be taken as cannon fodder in training, but they would still forbid him from carrying the sect's banner out of fear of having him disgrace their main forces.

As he studied the young swordsman before him, Qing Long felt his own spirit stir. He laughed loudly, mounted his sword, and flew into the mountains behind the sect. From there, he announced that he was entering seclusion and that he shouldn't be disturbed except for matters of great importance.

Wang Sheng shouted, "Senior! I would like to teach my younger sister the Sword-Controlling Art!"

"Go ahead! Little Miao is the disciple of an immortal! Having her practice our arts would serve as proof that the immortals have recognized our sect!"

Qing Long laughed heartily as he vanished into the back mountains.

Yet where none could see, the old Daoist drew a sharp breath. The treasured sword in his hand shattered with a loud clang. Looking at his trembling right hand, he whispered, "Fei Yu only used a fraction of his strength. His Heavenly Ziwei Sword Art is truly formidable. His mastery of it far surpasses even Daoist Master Bu Yan."

He sighed, yet he faintly smiled in satisfaction. After staring blankly at the cave he often used for seclusion, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked inside.

Fearing Wang Sheng would leave, the elders quickly surrounded him. Several female elders entertained Wang Xiaomiao and Mu Wanxuan, while Fei Lianzi pulled Wang Sheng into the sect's main temple.

The elders sent disciples to order dishes from restaurants at the foot of the mountain. One even opened a jar of fine white liquor, which he had hidden away for more than a decade. He claimed that he wanted to test his drinking capacity against Wang Sheng.

In recent years, "immortal banquets" had become a trend across the Hua Republic's cultivation world. Such feasts could last several days and nights. Fortunately, cultivators had ways to take care of their livers with the Dao. An ordinary person would come out of a banquet half dead.

Wang Sheng's effortless maneuvering completely stunned Wang Xiaomiao, who had prepared herself to kowtow and beg for guidance.

They had come seeking favors, yet after sparring a few rounds with the elders, her brother had driven the sect master into seclusion, and she had been granted exclusive permission to practice the Sword-Controlling Art. The sect then insisted on feasting with her brother. At the banquet, the straightforward sword cultivators still praised her endlessly, even though they were unskilled in flattery.

This was far more comfortable than having their parents drag them along to New Year's visits.

Through this experience, Wang Xiaomiao began to understand why Shi Qianzhang and Liu Yunzhi loved to travel with her brother so much. No sails, no oars. They rode the waves he powered alone.

***

The feast lasted half a day. Once the moon shone and the stars dotted the sky, the elders returned to rest.

Sated from the food and wine, Fei Lianzi led Wang Sheng, Mu Wanxuan, and Wang Xiaomiao on a nighttime stroll around Mount Dajian. Two of Fei Lianzi's disciples, who were familiar with Wang Sheng, brought paper lanterns and accompanied them. The atmosphere felt almost otherworldly.

While wandering, they eventually reached the Sword Mound. Wang Sheng took the moment to tell Xiaomiao the history of the place, deeply moving her. Remembering something, he then walked to the edge, where several broken swords lay. He brought out a jug of wine and crouched down slowly.

"Little Miao, come here."

"Oh." Wang Xiaomiao obediently walked over. Mu Wanxuan also stepped closer behind him.

"Do you know who these swords once belonged to?" Wang Sheng asked.

Xiaomiao shook her head gently.

"A hundred years ago, Sakura Island brought chaos to our great Hua lands, seeking to seize our territory. Countless heroes rose to defend the land. Since the primal qi of heaven and earth had not yet returned back then, cultivation techniques were nothing but empty theories. The Sword Sect had only a few of the elder generation left.

All the young ones capable of wielding a sword descended the mountain and fought against the invaders' guns and cannons. In the end, only these broken swords returned. Too many perished."

Pouring the wine on the ground, Wang Sheng sighed.

"You once asked me why so many Daoist elders hate Sakura Island's cultivation world. That's because they had lived through that era and experienced its pain firsthand. We cultivators disdain harming mortals. That is why we have always held grudges against the cultivators of Sakura Island. Some enmities can never be forgotten."

"Brother, we studied that part of history in our textbooks," Xiaomiao whispered.

Mu Wanxuan, too, was lost in thought.

Fei Lianzi felt as though the words he had once told Wang Sheng were now being repeated before him.

"We cannot speak of vengeance now. Still, we have somewhat humiliated Sakura Island. If the fallen elders somehow learn about it, they'll likely rest easier. Still, it's not enough. In time, I'll return to Sakura Island again and shatter their new hope. That is the least I can do for those who came before."

Wang Sheng rose slowly. With a softer expression, he smiled warmly at his sister and his senior sister. The mountain breeze blew gently, carrying away the faint sorrow.

"Come. I'll take you to the formation spirit. We can't enter the Seventy-Two Swords, but we should still offer incense outside."

Holding a lantern nearby, Zi Ling covered her mouth as she laughed.

Fei Lianzi shook his head helplessly. "Fei Yu, paying respects to the formation spirit is important, but he hasn't passed away. Why would you offer incense?"

Recalling his pleasant days in the trial, Wang Sheng grinned. "I'm just kidding."

Standing before the mountain wall of the Seventy-Two Swords, Wang Sheng and his companions bowed together. At that moment, the sword on his back hummed softly and slid half a

cun

from its sheath.

"

Huh?

You're awake, Yaoyun?" Wang Sheng asked instinctively.

Fei Lianzi and his disciples froze, then stared as immortal light slowly gathered upon Wang Sheng's shoulder. For the first time in nine months, the tiny, three-

cun

-tall fairy appeared again.

"

Let's go in and have a look. There is a sword inside that bears a familiar aura.

"

Wang Sheng quickly replied, "We can't enter. This is the Sword Sect's trial grounds, protected by formations."

"

Then why not just break the formation?

" Yaoyun replied as though it were nothing.

Wang Sheng could only smile wryly. This was the Shu Sword Sect's most important sacred ground. Breaking its protective formation was out of the question.