Chapter Eleven: The Sword Is Bestowed, Envoys from the Imperial Court Arrive
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A rumble echoed!
The "Outer Scenery Scripture of the Yellow Court" emitted a radiant light as its pages slowly turned.
Just as his mind entered the scripture, Xuanming heard a thunderous roar beside his ear and witnessed a terrifying scene.
Above the vast sky, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.
The chaotic tide began to surge back against the newborn heaven and earth.
The world's membrane was compressed and distorted, cracking under pressure.
The nascent realm faced an extinction-level catastrophe as chaos collided with heaven and earth, spawning apocalyptic thunderbolts.
Electric serpents danced, purple thunder roared.
Mountains crumbled, the earth split, rivers reversed their flow.
The Eight True Spirits reappeared, each merging with earth, wind, water, fire respectively, sacrificing themselves to mend the world's embryonic membrane.
Once heaven and earth stabilized, the rampaging thunder was enveloped by the world’s innate will.
After countless ages, five deities emerged, each surrounded by thunder in black, white, red, cyan, and yellow hues.
They roamed the five directions, organizing the five elements.
With their aid, heaven and earth aligned, yin and yang divided, the sun and moon were born, the five elements rotated, and the mountains and rivers gained spirit.
The earth produced fertile soil, carrying the weight of virtue.
Grass and trees broke through the soil, sprouting green.
Rivers surged endlessly, vast airs swept the land.
Heaven and earth acquired color, vibrant and splendid.
The world renewed all phenomena, nurturing new gods.
The Eight True Spirits manifested again, descending to guard the eight directions of heaven and earth according to the Bagua.
The sun and moon competed in brilliance, yin and yang harmonized.
The primordial collision of yin and yang energies birthed twelve deities—six yang and six yin—engaged in mutual generation and restraint.
The twelve gods ascended to the heavens, each hiding away, regulating the pure and turbid energies of heaven and earth, and managing the cosmic yin-yang mechanisms.
Heaven and earth became increasingly spiritual and vigorous.
Xuanming watched this evolution for as long as it unfolded.
On this day, heaven and earth trembled.
The celestial sphere was filled with stars, one after another, revolving around the sun and moon—three hundred and sixty in total.
The twelve deities and the five thunder gods manifested, illustrating the principles of yin-yang and the five elements, immersing Xuanming deeply.
———
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
The rooster’s crow roused Xuanming.
Through the window, he saw the faint light of dawn.
He rose from his bed and stepped outside. Following his usual habit, he sat cross-legged atop a tree branch, gathering the purple morning aura. After finishing his early meal, Xuanming, unlike before, did not head to the Scripture Pavilion but remained at the Inquiry Dao Courtyard.
Beneath a sturdy old pine, an elderly white-haired Taoist sat cross-legged.
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With eyes closed and focused, he deeply contemplated the insights gained from last night’s scripture viewing.
Entering the "Outer Scenery Jade Scripture of the Yellow Court" once more and witnessing the evolution of heaven and earth anew, he comprehended many principles. As before, he experienced three realizations. Besides perfecting the "Primordial Qi Technique" to the Qi Refinement stage, he also grasped two powerful new arts.
Yet he did not rush to cultivate them.
The path of cultivation is founded on the Dao.
Compared to divine powers and techniques, Xuanming valued understanding the principles and cultivation methods more; these were the foundation of his pursuit of Dao and longevity.
As the sun rose and moon set, beyond accumulating magical power, Xuanming spent three consecutive days digesting the principles, transforming them into his own.
On the fourth day, as the morning sun rose, after gathering the purple aura, he was about to practice the new art when he suddenly noticed Chang’anzi peering suspiciously outside the courtyard.
“You brat, what are you sneaking around for?” he called out.
“Get inside quickly.”
At these words, Chang’anzi promptly scampered into the yard. Bowing respectfully, his eyes gleamed, hesitating to speak but clearly urging Xuanming to ask.
Having lived together for six years, Xuanming was used to this reaction whenever his clever junior apprentice had news. But he had no intention of spoiling him.
The more Chang’anzi acted like this, the less Xuanming inquired.
Raising his hand, he summoned the peachwood sword trembling on the table. It flew out of the cottage and landed in his hand. He began to practice the Bagua Sword Technique.
The sword followed the heart’s will, as if an extension of his arm.
With seamless transitions, the sword moves were natural and fluid.
The Bagua Sword Technique flowed through his hands like clouds and water, each move brimming with Dao resonance, undergoing a transformative rebirth as if the lifeless weapon had become sentient—full of spirit.
Indeed, it was so.
Through observing the Eight True Spirits’ evolution of the Bagua and then returning to reality to digest his insights, Xuanming gained deeper understanding of the profound mysteries of the Bagua.
The sword technique rose accordingly, undergoing a qualitative leap. It became not only more perfected and closer to the Dao, with multiplied power, but also filled with subtle and wondrous principles. If arranged into a Bagua sword formation, it would be unpredictable and ever-changing.
Should he face a strong foe comparable to the snake demon again, handling it would be far less troublesome than that night.
Again and again, Xuanming practiced tirelessly. Chang’anzi, once a third-stage Jing cultivation expert, though now fallen to the first stage, still had keen insight.
Even without using magical power, he sensed the difference in the sword technique, his face shedding some levity for solemnity, unwittingly becoming engrossed.
Only when Xuanming lightly tapped Chang’anzi’s forehead with the peachwood sword did the latter awaken, wincing in pain.
Rubbing his forehead, surprised and admiring, Chang’anzi looked at Xuanming.
The Bagua Sword Technique is the foundational sword art of the Quest for Truth Sect.
The more foundational it is, the fewer flaws it has.
Having cultivated the Bagua Sword Technique himself and achieving great proficiency even compared to the elders of the Inquiry Dao, Chang’anzi understood how powerful the perfected sword art transmitted by his senior uncle was, and how rare it was to perfect it.
Though the moves only slightly changed, the overall spirit and Dao resonance surged severalfold, making it a world apart.
It could easily serve as the sect’s signature sword art.
Even within the Taoist Purple Mist Sect, a major sect, it would rank as a superior technique.
“Senior Uncle, this—”
Xuanming waved his hand, cutting off Chang’anzi’s words.
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“Some things are better understood in the heart.”
He had no intention of revealing the new Bagua Sword Technique widely—not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t.
This sword art contained profound Dao truths and could only be cultivated after perfecting the old Bagua Sword Technique.
In the entire Quest for Truth Sect, only Chang’anzi qualified.
In the past, senior brother Xuanye was the most skilled in the Bagua Sword Technique.
Since his unexpected demise, Chang’anzi had practiced this sword art day after day—and only this one.
After years of dedication, he had long since perfected it.
After entering the Dao, Xuanming once saw him perform it in the neighboring courtyard. Each move bore his own style.
———
Chang’anzi was clever.
How could he not know that senior uncle was deliberately teaching such a refined sword art?
A warm current passed through his heart as he respectfully bowed, “Disciple thanks senior uncle for the instruction.”
Xuanming waved his hand dismissively.
“No need for that.”
“You have taken good care of the old Taoist these past years.”
“I’m merely returning the favor.”
Sheathing the peachwood sword, Xuanming prepared to enter the house.
Chang’anzi turned to leave but suddenly remembered his purpose. He hurried back to Xuanming’s side, eyes bright, and eagerly spoke:
“Senior uncle, someone has come down the mountain.”
“The imperial envoy sent to aid disaster relief has personally come to visit you, the sect master, to commend the Quest for Truth Sect on behalf of the court.”
“Guess what else they brought besides yellow and white items and medicines?”
Seeing Chang’anzi grin mischievously, deliberately teasing and smug, Xuanming felt a bit itchy to give him a playful tap. Considering Chang’anzi’s identity, it made sense for a senior uncle to tease his junior nephew.
Wait—that identity.
Thinking of Chang’anzi’s other role, Xuanming’s eyes brightened as he lightly slapped his forehead.
“You brat, deliberately dangling a carrot before senior uncle.”
“If there’s a next time, I’ll toss you onto Maiden Peak and leave you to Changning’s care.”
No sooner had he spoken than a melodious voice came from outside.
“Senior uncle, what am I entrusted with?”