Chapter Nineteen: A Terrifying Talent for the Sword

Chapter Nineteen: The Terrifying Talent in Swordsmanship

Upon hearing the name, Fang Junmei’s eyebrows twitched slightly, as if sensing trouble ahead.

At this moment, Linghu Jinjiu’s expression grew peculiar, and he spoke in a hushed tone, “This sword technique was acquired by our eldest brother during his travels through the cultivation world and later passed to us. Once performed, it rains like the ghostly showers of the Yellow Springs, incredibly swift and unorthodox. The method is exceptionally profound, consisting of thirteen moves. The final move is so enigmatic that none of us, including our eldest brother, have ever comprehended it. He once said that to execute it, one must grasp a hint of the Dao of Space.”

Fang Junmei acknowledged this, a wave stirring within his heart. The Dao of Space—just hearing about it felt unfathomable.

Linghu Jinjiu finished speaking and drew out a blank jade slip. With his spiritual sense, he etched golden marks upon it.

After a brief hesitation, Fang Junmei finally asked, “Third brother, what kind of person is our eldest brother? Why did he leave the Immovable Peak?”

“We’ll talk about it when there’s time,” Linghu Jinjiu replied casually. His voice and expression betrayed little emotion, unlike Fan Lanzhou’s intense feelings toward the subject.

Fang Junmei wisely refrained from pressing further.

After half a cup of tea’s time, Linghu Jinjiu finished inscribing the marks and handed the jade slip to Fang Junmei. “Once you’ve memorized it, erase the sword technique. Don’t let it fall into other hands. Junior brother, it’s up to you to comprehend it.”

Linghu Jinjiu seemed in a hurry today, offering little guidance—perhaps he was unsettled by Fan Lanzhou’s earlier words.

Fang Junmei accepted the jade slip, thanked him, and departed.

—

He returned to cultivation.

Finding an open patch atop the mountain, Fang Junmei seated himself upon the grass and began to study.

The sword techniques of immortals had much in common with the sword arts of the mortal world: for instance, spiritual sword energy replaced inner force. Yet spiritual sword energy was far more mysterious, and thus the immortal techniques surpassed the mortal arts in both power and intricacy.

Fang Junmei absorbed the material swiftly. In the time it took for a cup of tea, he erased the marks from the jade slip and closed his eyes to begin his comprehension.

He meditated for eight days and nights.

Not until his stomach clamored did Fang Junmei finally awaken. Though he’d reached the fourth stage of Qi Attraction, he hadn’t fully mastered fasting and still needed sustenance. Hastily, he took one of the food pills Linghu Jinjiu had given him.

Only four food pills remained; after they were gone, Fang Junmei would have to find food for himself.

After eating, he continued his meditations.

Another two days and nights passed before Fang Junmei finally drew his peachwood sword and began practicing the Yellow Springs Ghost Rain Sword Technique.

As he performed it, cold light flashed across the mountaintop, sword rays falling like rain.

A new door to swordsmanship opened before Fang Junmei.

The first move: Wind Rises in the Yellow Springs.

The second move: Sword Rain Whispering.

The third move: Shadows Follow.

—

The eighth move: Phantom’s Elusive Manifestation.

Fang Junmei practiced until he reached the eighth move before halting; beyond that, he could not proceed. By then, a third of his sword spiritual energy from a year’s hard cultivation was already depleted.

“This sword technique is definitely extraordinary. With my current power, if I fight others, I must make it quick and decisive,” Fang Junmei said, sitting heavily on the grass and wiping sweat from his brow.

He was unaware that his terrifying talent in swordsmanship had already alarmed two others, who, sensing the unusual winds atop the mountain, looked on with stunned, numb disbelief.

Is this guy even human?

Was the Yellow Springs Ghost Rain Sword Technique really so easy to master?

Linghu Jinjiu’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground. He himself had only comprehended three moves in a month back then, and had never expected Fang Junmei to grasp much on his own—he’d already planned to take some time to instruct him and display his seniority.

“After the eldest brother, it seems Immovable Peak is about to produce another monster…” Linghu Jinjiu muttered to himself after a long pause.

—

After catching his breath, Fang Junmei ran through the first eight moves twice more. Comprehension was only the beginning; true proficiency came from relentless practice, a truth Fang Junmei understood better than anyone.

Three repetitions later, he returned to his hut, drew water from the well and drank deeply, then went inside to restore his spiritual power.

Once his power was replenished, he resumed practice, taking on the appearance of an obsessed swordsman.

This cycle continued until his food pills were gone and hunger grew unbearable. Only then did Fang Junmei decide to descend to the mid and lower slopes of Immovable Peak in search of sustenance.

—

Below Immovable Peak, the mountain ridges were vast and lush.

Wild fruit abounded, but it couldn’t stave off hunger. After eating a few, Fang Junmei caught a wild pheasant, plucked it by a stream, and roasted it.

The wild pheasants of Peach Blossom Haven were much larger than those of mortal forests, rich in fat and meat. In no time, the aroma wafted through the air, oil drops sizzling enticingly on the grass.

Rarely relaxed, Fang Junmei lay on his back, gazing at the drifting white clouds, his thoughts wandering.

He had crossed oceans.

Traversed seas.

Climbed Mount Luofu.

Entered the Peach Haven Sword Sect and apprenticed to a sleeping living corpse.

His experiences over the past two years were nothing short of legendary.

Did those in his hometown still remember him? Where had Senior Brother Leng Qianqiu led Sword North Mountain City? Was Junior Sister Shu Chuchu still holding firm in the city?

Would he ever return to that mountain city?

—

When would he catch up to time, realize the dreams lost to the passing years?

—

“Burned!”

Lost in thought, the scent of char drifted up. Fang Junmei cried out, sat up, and pulled the now-blackened pheasant from the fire.

The skin was charred, but the meat inside remained tender. Fang Junmei made do, eating most of the bird until he was finally full.

If he hurried back to the peak, it would waste time, and he’d only need to descend again for food. So Fang Junmei simply stayed by the stream and practiced his sword.

He continued onward, practicing as he walked, heading for the Steward Peak.

The forest belonged entirely to Immovable Peak, undisturbed by other disciples. When Fang Junmei encountered small demon beasts, he used them to practice the Yellow Springs Ghost Rain Sword Technique, growing ever more proficient.

One day, leaving Immovable Peak’s territory, Fang Junmei walked along a mountain stone path. According to the map jade slip Linghu Jinjiu had given him, he was approaching the area where outer disciples gathered, called Starfall Plain. At its center lay Steward Peak.

Houses became more frequent among the trees, and cultivators more numerous.

Among the outer disciples were many who had entered early and cultivated well. Several soared overhead with a howl, inspiring envy in Fang Junmei’s heart. But unless he reached the Dust Floating stage, he could not yet tread the air. That was the meaning of Dust Floating—floating above the dust.

Many disciples passing by showed surprise upon seeing Fang Junmei.

“Isn’t that Fang Junmei who joined last year? How has he cultivated so quickly?” someone whispered.

“What’s so amazing? Surely he learned a superior entry technique and got a pile of sword spirit stones from his senior brother. If it were me, I’d cultivate just as fast,” another replied sourly.

Inner disciples were the elite of the sect, supported by elders. Normally, no one dared gossip, but the Recluse Daoist remained asleep and Immovable Peak seemed poised for a new master.

As he walked, the murmurs never ceased.

Fang Junmei paid them no mind; his gaze was calm and undisturbed.

He was not one to be underestimated. His cultivation might lag for now, but his character, forged through trials in the mortal world, was in no way inferior. To stoop to petty quarrels with shallow souls would only tarnish his spirit.

Yet some would inevitably mistake his composure for weakness.

Whoosh!

A figure dropped from the branch of a large tree ahead, landing gracefully in the center of the path, blocking Fang Junmei’s way.

“Brother Fang, I hear your swordsmanship is extraordinary—that you can easily spot the flaws in others’ sword arts. How about giving me a few pointers?” the newcomer said with a calm and elegant voice after landing.