Chapter 47#
Not Seeing the Mortal World#
In the previous few months, there were only two places on Tingyun Peak where Xiao Man had been active: the front terrace of the Dao hall and the study Shen Juan had specifically mentioned. He had never pushed open any other room doors to disturb.
Shen Jiankong led the way, taking Xiao Man through courtyards, along corridors, to the very last room. With a light flick of his sleeves, he opened the door and entered.
The space was somewhat narrow but empty, with only a single table.
Shen Jiankong picked up one of the two books on the table, turned around, and said to Xiao Man: “Your master told you just now that the Heartless Dao is long and difficult.”
“I once stepped onto this path, but I didn’t reach the end. I don’t know what will ultimately be encountered. All I can do is lead you through the door.”
“The Heartless Dao cultivates the heart. There is a trick, or a shortcut, which is to cultivate yourself into a sword and your heart into a sword heart.”
He didn’t speak fast, but his tone was cold and indifferent, giving Xiao Man no chance for sentiment, curiosity, or questions. After saying this, he handed the book forward. “This is the mental technique I used back then.”
Xiao Man said “Yes” and accepted the technique with both hands. Seeing the three words written on the cover, he was slightly stunned and couldn’t help but say: “Seeing the Mortal World (Jian Hongchen)?”
“First see the mortal world, then forget the emotions of the mortal world, and finally reach supreme emotionlessness,” Shen Jiankong explained before asking about other matters: “Your master uses a blade; he realized his blade techniques himself, and few in this world can match them. Do you want to switch to the path of the blade with him, or continue with the sword?”
“I want to continue with the sword,” Xiao Man replied without hesitation. He hadn’t been practicing the sword for long, but he had watched swords for a long time and had some realizations and confidence. There was no need to change.
Shen Jiankong said “Good” and handed the other book to Xiao Man: “This is a sword manual. The peak summit is suitable for practicing the sword, but what you need to practice now is the heart. Go to the northern side of the mountainside; there is a place suitable for you there.”
“Thank you for the guidance, Senior Uncle,” Xiao Man bowed to him.
Shen Jiankong was a man of few words; having finished, he turned and disappeared. Xiao Man left the room, returned to the corridor, found a spot sheltered from the snow to sit down, and opened the mental technique and the sword manual.
The two were a set, though the sword manual was nameless.
Xiao Man had been practicing Gushan’s basic mental technique for half a year, and this “Seeing the Mortal World” did not conflict with it. In fact, the introductory basic mental technique was also its foundation.
Although the mental technique was named “Seeing the Mortal World,” it had no worldly flavor when read, each word and sentence being cold and clear. Xiao Man glanced through it and went to the mountainside.
Jagged rocks stood here, with no vegetation. It was far from the mountain stream, with no place for birds to nest and beasts unwilling to approach. A thick layer of snow had accumulated on the ground and rocks. Entering this place, a sense of desolation inevitably arose in the heart.
Xiao Man breathed deeply and sat among these jagged rocks. Lowering his eyes, he opened the first page of “Seeing the Mortal World” and adjusted his breathing according to the words there.
The artistic conception of “Seeing the Mortal World” was extremely cold and sharp. It was as if the mortal world were over there; whether seen or not, my heart does not move, naturally becoming a realm of its own.
After an unknown amount of time—perhaps a cup of tea, a stick of incense, an hour, a day and night, or perhaps a long, long time—the sound of his breathing suddenly became hard to find among the mountains and rivers.
The long wind and white snow remained, and he merged with them.
The world and the rocks were eternal, and he was little different from them.
Yet at a certain moment, from the long wind and white snow, from the world and the rocks, he suddenly detached and distanced himself.
Xiao Man opened his eyes and stood up, performing the first move of the nameless sword technique.
Snow fell all over his body, but he could no longer feel it.
Time was passing, or not passing; whether fast or slow, hurried or gradual, there was no longer any difference.
The wind of Gushan rose and died, and snow fell rustlingly. When spring returned, it quietly melted, but on the mountainside of Tingyun Peak, snow fell continuously.
Xiao Man was constantly swinging his sword, swinging it toward the chaotic snow and the jagged rocks.
Sword marks grew more numerous, and the snow became heavier, filling his vision, turning into a heart of void, with all things becoming nothing.
In this way, he practiced for ten years.
When the last rock turned to powder and vanished in the mountain wind, he shook off the snow that had covered him for ten years. The plain white corners of his clothes were blown by the wind, and he was filled with a sense of cold and detachment.
In March, when the grass grows and the orioles fly, the mountain flowers were everywhere on Xueyi Peak. The ice on the surface of Luoyue Lake, which had been frozen all winter, finally melted. Qu Hanxing used his sword qi to blast a lot of fish onto the ground and collected them into a basket.
He intended to use part of them for dry braising, part for steaming and sweet and sour, part to give to Mo Juntian and Wei Chuyun, and the rest to his own master.
For some reason, Yan Wushu had suddenly become obsessed with cooking in recent years.
Rong Yuan said this was probably the master’s way of passing the time when bored.
Ten years had already passed. Rong Yuan had gone to Baihua Peak. In the Sword Testing Assembly several months ago, he successfully killed a beast and was taken in by Yan Wushu. He was now Qu Hanxing’s junior brother.
Qu Hanxing walked toward the mountainside Dao hall with the basket and happened to meet Yan Wushu coming back from outside.
He was holding a sword in his hand, encased in a scabbard. The blade couldn’t be seen, but the hilt and scabbard were extremely beautiful, both being a pure white without the slightest impurity, reflecting the cold sunlight. It made one feel it was cold and clear, yet very eye-catching and conspicuous.
“Master, isn’t this the sword you were drawing on a plan a few months ago? It’s finished so quickly?” Qu Hanxing’s eyes lit up and he walked over quickly.
“Shuxing Gallery invited a new sword smith, and the speed is much faster than before,” Yan Wushu said.
Qu Hanxing hung the basket on the crook of his arm, rubbed his hands, his smile bright and eager, his tone containing endless expectation: “Is it… for me?”
Yan Wushu stopped and looked at Qu Hanxing with a slightly surprised gaze, asking: “You don’t have a sword yet?”
That was a denial. Qu Hanxing’s expression immediately collapsed, looking extremely disappointed: “I’m still using the medium-grade sword given by the sect.”
“You’re going out for a trip in a while. Before you leave, remind me to write you a list of materials. You find them on the way and send them to Shuxing Gallery.” Yan Wushu patted his shoulder and walked into the Dao hall.
“Is this really not for me?” Qu Hanxing still hadn’t given up, following behind Yan Wushu like a tail. “Master, you have so many swords, why do you need a new one?”
Rong Yuan appeared silently beside Qu Hanxing and whispered: “It’s for His Highness.”
“Brother Man?” Qu Hanxing was startled, then sighed. “Master, you’re really good to him… But Brother Man is still in seclusion on Tingyun Peak.”
Yan Wushu glanced back at him: “He’ll be out of seclusion soon.”
“How do you know?” Qu Hanxing’s expression was as rich as ever. Hearing this, his face was full of pleasant surprise.
Yan Wushu naturally wouldn’t answer such a question. The one who spoke next was still Rong Yuan, his words carrying a bit of hesitation: “Of course it’s because Master… can calculate.”
When Rong Yuan was Yan Wushu’s sword boy, he had served Xiao Man for several years, so he was naturally clear about the relationship between the two. But Yan Wushu wouldn’t let him tell Qu Hanxing.
Because Yan Wushu was clear that Xiao Man could even directly push back the agreed-upon soul-binding ceremony and stay in seclusion for ten years, making it clear he didn’t want anything to do with him. If he told Xiao Man’s friends about this layer of connection, when Xiao Man came out of seclusion, he might come to his door with a sword to slit his throat.
According to his understanding, the little phoenix could truly do such a thing. When they first met, even though it was he who saved him, didn’t the little bean-sized Xiao Man still punch and kick him?
During these years, another layer had been added to the restrictions on Tingyun Peak. Yan Wushu wasn’t clear whether it was Shen Juan or Shen Jiankong who did it, but the result was the same: he could no longer perceive Xiao Man’s status through that premonition.
The little phoenix might still be angry, or perhaps his anger had subsided, but he still had to apologize and coax him back.
Yan Wushu gave a silent sigh, sat in the rocking chair, lowered his eyes, and began to calculate something.
Tingyun Peak.
Xiao Man crushed the last rock. The ten years of continuous wind and snow on the mountainside finally stopped at this moment. Xiao Man made a sword flourish and sheathed his sword.
Shen Juan arrived silently, stepped onto the snow, and examined Xiao Man carefully, saying: “You’ve slowed down your rate of advancement.”
In ten years, Xiao Man had broken through the Shouyi Realm long ago. Shen Juan thought he would break through several more layers and reach the Upper Guiyuan Realm in one go, but he didn’t.
Xiao Man bowed to Shen Juan: “To reply to Master, for me, there isn’t much difference between the Upper Guiyuan Realm and the Middle Guiyuan Realm.”
After a pause, he added: “Whether to advance at this time is also not important.”
The important thing was that the premonition in his heart remained and had not disappeared because he practiced the “Seeing the Mortal World” mental technique.
His Heartless Dao was not yet complete.
Xiao Man asked Shen Juan about the doubt in his heart. Shen Juan thought for a while and said: “Because your heart is still not quiet.”
“I thought it was already very quiet; in all these years, I’ve never thought about anything.” Xiao Man’s brow furrowed imperceptibly, unable to figure it out.
Shen Juan looked at Xiao Man, seemingly sighing but not quite. Finally, with a flick of his sleeves, he took him to the southern side of the mountainside, into a blooming peach blossom forest.
The peach blossoms were as bright as fire, and when the wind blew, it was like a light rain. The two walked slowly side by side. After a long while, Shen Juan said: “I can see that your desire to sever your fate with him is not entirely because that fate was decreed by the Heavenly Dao.”
“You stepped onto the Heartless Dao, and your initial thought was an obsession. This might be the source.”
Xiao Man was speechless for a moment.
Flower petals rose and fell in the wind, swirling past the corners of his clothes and shoulders. Not far away, the stream gurgled by, and the birds chirped melodiously and clearly.
Xiao Man hadn’t had such an experience for a long time. If it were before, he would have felt moved, but now, it was as if he hadn’t noticed at all.
His heart wasn’t quiet, the premonition wasn’t extinguished, and his path wasn’t complete. Even so, he was still on that path.
Since he began to forget emotions, spring and autumn, winter and summer, had no difference in his eyes.
They walked from one end of the peach blossom forest to the other. A mountain sparrow came to bring a fruit to Xiao Man. He still accepted it, but no longer rubbed its head. The sparrow chirped a few times, didn’t get what it wanted, and left in disappointment.
Watching this scene, Shen Juan’s heart felt extremely complex.
“You must resolve the obsession before you can truly step onto the Heartless Dao,” Shen Juan said.
Xiao Man looked at him: “How can it be resolved?”
“First see the mortal world, then forget the mortal world; first have emotions, then you can forget emotions.” Shen Juan smiled, raised his hand, and patted the top of Xiao Man’s head. “Little phoenix, go down the mountain into the human world.”
Xiao Man was a bit reluctant: “What am I going into the human world for?”
Shen Juan raised an eyebrow: “To participate in the Guangling Trial.”
“What is the Guangling Trial?”
“A grand competition for young cultivators from various sects.”
“Master’s explanation is indeed easy to understand.” Xiao Man nodded in realization.
“A lot of people from Gushan will go, but it hasn’t been decided yet who those people are,” Shen Juan said. “In an hour, they will have a discussion on Mingguang Peak. At that time, you will go on behalf of Tingyun Peak.”
“Me?” Xiao Man was stunned.
Shen Juan said as if it were a matter of course: “Your senior uncle and I never participate in these things. If you don’t go, I can’t let the monkeys or birds on Tingyun Peak go.”
Xiao Man: “…”
Had no one ever gone before? But as it was his master’s order, he didn’t dare disobey. Xiao Man could only ask: “What do I need to prepare?”
“Pick a sword of a slightly better grade.” Shen Juan smiled again, flicked his sleeves, and took Xiao Man to the Dao hall at the peak.
During these ten years Xiao Man practiced his sword on the mountainside, the arrangement of the Dao hall had changed slightly. On the eastern side against the wall, a weapon rack had been added, with blades, swords, spears, and bows, reflecting the sunlight that spilled into the hall, making one’s eyes dazzle.
How were these “of a slightly better grade”? Any one of them, if put outside, would be enough to buy a mid-sized sect.
After all, he was indeed the highest-ranking grandmaster of Gushan.
Shen Juan took down one of the swords and placed it in Xiao Man’s hand: “It’s called ‘Wind Stops Rain Clears’ (Fengzhi Yuqi). It’s a fairly standard sword and doesn’t conflict with the sword technique you practice.”
Xiao Man tried a sword flourish and shook his head.
Shen Juan took it back and took down another one: “This one is called ‘Brightened Forest’ (Mingmie Qinglin)…”
“This one’s name is ‘Heaven and Earth Sunset’ (Tiandi Riluo). Hmm… it comes from the same sword smith as the one Little Yan often uses, and its appearance is quite similar. Forget it, let’s not consider it.”
“This one…”
Shen Juan stuffed the swords into Xiao Man’s hand one by one. His intention was for him to try them all before making a choice.
But when Xiao Man held the sword that was entirely mysterious black, without any other color, and didn’t reflect even a speck of light, he made a decision: “I want this one.”
“Not trying the rest?” Shen Juan asked.
“No,” Xiao Man shook his head.
Xiao Man’s choice caused a bit of surprise to appear in Shen Juan’s eyes, which then turned into a look of reminiscence. He took the sword over, turned it gently, and said: “Its name is also ‘Seeing the Mortal World’. It’s the sword your senior uncle once used.”