With every step forward in cultivation, the senses grew sharper, control over the body stronger, and true qi more substantial.
Liu Xiaolou tapped lightly with the tip of his toe and landed easily on the treetop, three zhang high. He leapt back and forth among the tall bamboo, then sat cross-legged on a cluster of green branches, steady and secure.
He remembered last year at Red Conch Manor, when he had seen Yun Ao sitting in meditation on the crown of a tree. Back then he had been full of envy. But today, at last, he could do the same.
It wasn’t so difficult after all. By the fifth level of Qi Refinement, one could manage it.
Suddenly, across the bamboo grove, a white figure appeared. It was Big White, who had flown up as well, balancing on a single bamboo leaf with one claw, tilting his head to study him.
Liu Xiaolou couldn’t help but laugh. “You rascal, trying to show off in front of me?”
He plucked a bamboo leaf and flicked it with his fingers. It shot across and struck Big White, sending him tumbling down as he flapped and squawked.
By the mid-stage of Qi Refinement, the greatest mark of progress was the ability to project true qi beyond the body. Through the channeling of a magical tool, you could shape qi into form. That was the very sword light Liu Xiaolou had long pursued.
Channeling his true qi into the Three-Mystery Sword, he filled the hollow stillness of the blade. With a thought, the qi that had always refused to flow outward suddenly broke free, streaming from the sword’s tip and taking form just beyond it. An inch-long projection.
Though thinner than the blade and not nearly as wide, it was, at last, a sword light.
Liu Xiaolou was overjoyed. Forcing down his excitement, he spun the sword in a quick flourish, only to freeze in surprise.
This inch of sword light was utterly unlike the sharp, rigid lights he had seen from other sects' magical weapons. It wasn’t just narrow, it was soft, swaying like a blade of grass in the wind.
Stunned, he tried extending it toward an old bamboo stalk as thick as a bowl. The inch-long light met the bamboo and immediately bent back, curling away as if powerless.
“This…”
Steadying himself, Liu Xiaolou tried again. He whipped the blade in a swift arc, and this time it bit true. The light sliced clean through the thick bamboo with a single stroke.
So the edge was sharp enough. The short length was no problem either. The flaw lay in its thickness and rigidity.
What could that mean? He puzzled over it again and again, unable to understand. In the end he told himself it must be because the sword light was still in its earliest form, not yet fully shaped. Even so, doubt lingered in his heart. He could only guess that with deeper cultivation and constant practice, the light would grow longer, harder, and stronger.
There was another matter. The Three-Mystery Sword itself.
This sword had been passed down from his master, the only flying sword of the Sanxuan Sect. Yet ever since Liu Xiaolou inherited it, he had always felt its power was lacking, nothing remarkable. He had originally planned to replace it once he reached the mid-stage of Qi Refinement, when he could begin cultivating sword light.
But today, when his true qi flowed out through the blade, he had suddenly sensed its hidden marvels. It felt as though this sword had been refined precisely for the True Mysteries Scripture. When the light extended, that effortless smoothness, that striking harmony, pierced straight into his heart.
No wonder his master had entrusted it to him. No wonder it was the sole artifact passed down in their sect.
So he gave up the thought of changing swords and decided to keep using it, to see where it might lead.
After entering the fifth level of Qi Refinement, his next task was to open the seventh meridian.
The fifth layer of the True Mysteries Scripture cultivated the Foot Faint Yin Meridian, with fourteen acupoints on one side. Nine fewer than the previous Hand Lesser Yang Meridian he had trained at the fourth level.
But the difficulty of cultivation was never measured by how many acupoints there were. Everything depended on fate and opportunity.
For now, Liu Xiaolou began at the Dadun acupoint, striking at the first gate of the fifth layer. As for returning to Shenwu Mountain, he pushed the thought aside. He was already more than half a month late. What did it matter if he was half a month later still?
What truly mattered was cultivation.
Twelve days later, the moment the Dadun acupoint opened, a wind chime rang.
“Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.”
The chime swayed lightly beneath the eaves. Liu Xiaolou dressed, fixed his gaze on the courtyard beyond, and before long heard footsteps approaching. The visitor turned out to be Tan Bajhang.
Since returning to Wulong Mountain, Liu Xiaolou had rarely interacted with Tan Bajhang, Zuo Gaofeng, or Dragon Mountain Wanderer. They had exchanged greetings, of course, but he had spent nearly all his time studying formations with Green Bamboo and practicing dual cultivation with her. With such company at his side, the others had no wish to intrude.
Tan Bajhang had come by twice before, but he had mistaken Green Bamboo for Su Xi. That had greatly displeased Green Bamboo, nearly to the point of open conflict, so he hadn’t dared visit again.
“Xiaolou, Xiaolou!” Tan Bajhang called as he reached the courtyard, peering toward the thatched hut and pointing at it.
“What, already?” Tan Bajhang looked surprised.
“She’s gone,” Liu Xiaolou repeated with a nod.
Tan Bajhang sighed. “Well, I suppose so. Your homecoming is near, it makes sense she’d leave. Xiaolou, you’re fortunate indeed. Just be careful not to let the Su family find out. But don’t worry, we brothers would never breathe a word. Just keep your own guard up.”
Liu Xiaolou gave a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Brother Tan, what brings you here so late at night? Is something urgent?”
Tan Bajhang shook the wooden token in his hand. “War’s about to break out. A few stewards from Zhanglong Sect came today, issuing orders to every mountain. I came especially to see you, Xiaolou. If you’ve got nothing pressing, you’d best head back to Shenwu Mountain early.”
Liu Xiaolou froze. “Orders? War with who?”
“Gengsang Cave,” Tan Bajang said. “They’ve stirred up trouble again this year. Word is, two months ago they sent men into western Xian, plotting to assassinate several of our inner disciples. Zang Qianli, Qu Xuan, and others were all on their list. Of course, their plot failed. Zhanglong Sect caught wind of it, hunted down several of their people, and even captured their ringleader alive. A man called Ning Sangzi. He happens to be the nephew of Gengsang Cave’s own master, Ning. They demanded we release him. We refused. And so here they come.”
Gengsang Cave was a sect from Badong, entrenched in the blessed land of Ganshan, west of Xiang. For centuries they had clashed with Zhanglong Sect. Only seven years ago, the two sides had fought a full-scale war, and now it seemed the conflict was rising again.
Hearing this, Liu Xiaolou felt a spark of realization. Most likely, what he had reported on Zhanglong Mountain more than a month ago had been Gengsang Cave’s doing. He just hadn’t known it at the time.
“Who delivered the orders?” he asked.
“Steward Luo, an inner sect steward. Family name Mo. Have you heard of him?”
“Seven years ago, when we fought Gengsang Cave, it was he who brought my master the call to arms. I haven’t seen him since. Back then he was at the tenth layer. And now?”
“Anyway, without ever forming a Foundation, that shameless bastard can hand out all the orders he likes; he’ll never reach Foundation Establishment in this lifetime!”
“I wonder when he’s going up to Qianzhu Ridge?”
“He won’t be going there. Don’t worry, Xiaolou. When I took my orders, I asked him about you. He said since you’re the Su family’s son-in-law from Shenwu Mountain, half a Su family member, Zhanglong Sect won’t be issuing you any orders.”
“Is that so?”
“So, Xiaolou, if I don’t make it back, I’d ask you to visit my home now and then. Help me show a bit of filial respect before my father.”