Chapter Forty-Nine: The Embryo of Sword Intent

The next morning, the master of Cangyun Sect stood atop the spire, dressed in a dark blue robe, letting the morning breeze stir the hem of his garment and his graying beard. His gaze stretched toward the direction of the Heart-Cleansing Hall, where everything appeared tranquil and harmonious.

"It’s time to bring those two youngsters back," he murmured softly. For the past half year, every morning he would stand at the highest point of Cangyun Sect, looking toward the Heart-Cleansing Hall, as if his eyes could pierce the distance and witness all that transpired atop that mountain.

Not only did he watch over Feng Chuxun, but he also kept a silent eye on Shen Qingyun—a youth who had triggered the Dao-Inquiry Bell to ring nine times, a feat so rare that even the master could not turn a blind eye, just as he had not, all those years ago.

...

"Want me to spar with you?" Shen Qingyun, rarely idle from cultivation, watched Feng Chuxun practicing his swordplay and felt a sudden itch himself. The way of the sword was always something that intrigued him. Had it not been for the Zhen Tian Halberd, perhaps he too would have chosen the path of the sword.

His friend, whom he spoke of, was known as the Sword Deity in the previous era, also ranking among the Great Emperors, and the Sword Deity’s Codex that Shen Qingyun practiced was of that friend’s creation.

Spells, divine abilities, source arts, codices—all these, and among them, the Sword Deity’s Codex was incomparably precious.

"Alright!" Feng Chuxun had been itching for a match for some time. If not for pondering the true path his sword should take, he would have challenged Shen Qingyun long ago, and there was no way Shen Qingyun would have enjoyed such peace for so long.

...

After the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Feng Chuxun leaned against the rockery, dazed.

He had thought that wielding sword intent would put him on equal footing with Shen Qingyun, but he was still too young. Shen Qingyun, without so much as using sword intent—merely relying on ordinary sword moves—had thoroughly suppressed him, even when he himself wielded sword intent. The blow to his confidence was almost too much to bear.

And after the match, Shen Qingyun did not miss the chance to mock him. "Even ten more like you, I could defeat them all the same!"

But after the taunt, he did not forget to offer advice. "Beyond the firmament lies the infinite. You are but a speck of sand among the multitudes. Now, you’re just a slightly larger grain."

Feng Chuxun understood well enough. This was a reminder that above sword intent, there must be something even more profound—perhaps the so-called sword heart, or something else entirely.

Shen Qingyun's friend, enlightened by a true master, had evolved the Commoner’s Sword into the Marquis Sword, and then ultimately into the Emperor’s Sword.

Now, his own Commoner’s Sword was also transforming into the Marquis Sword, and the catalyst for this transformation was Shen Qingyun himself. He was Feng Chuxun's benefactor—of this, he was certain.

"Hmm?" Feng Chuxun glanced down the mountain path to see a figure in dark blue approaching.

"So old, and yet even he’s being punished with seclusion?" the thought came unbidden, but it hardly concerned him. He picked up his sword and resumed his practice, seeking to merge with the sword and comprehend its intent. As Shen Qingyun had said, his sword intent was still but an embryo.

If Feng Chuxun could see the master of Cangyun Sect, then the master could certainly see him. The master noticed that not only did Feng Chuxun not approach to greet him, he simply continued his training. After a moment’s thought, the master realized that most disciples had never even seen him before; if Feng Chuxun had recognized him at a glance, that would be more suspicious.

Lost in a state of self-oblivion, Feng Chuxun knew only the sword. With the sword in hand, he could never forget his mother, could always recall how he had left the Feng clan, and could keep the flame of vengeance against his old family burning bright.

A flicker of surprise crossed the master’s eyes, his white beard trembling. This subtle yet marvelous aura—was it sword intent?

He was both familiar and unfamiliar with sword intent. In his youth, lauded as a genius within Cangyun Sect, he had ventured out to temper himself, only to find himself little more than a grain of sand in the vast world. He had once witnessed a genius from another family wield a sword imbued with a sinister aura that chilled the soul. He had been defeated by that sword, and only after seven days did he recover from the lingering dread. Later, he learned that this was the essence known as sword intent.

Upon returning to the sect, he buried himself in the scripture archives, scouring the texts for any mention of sword intent, and discovered that only true prodigies could comprehend it.

Afterwards, he never ventured out again, eventually inheriting the position of sect master. Over the long years, generation after generation of so-called geniuses emerged in Cangyun Sect, but only he knew that such disciples could only be considered prodigies within the five great sects and the Tianlan Dynasty. Any hope he once harbored had long since been doused by cold reality.

Yet now, within this disciple, he once again sensed that marvelous essence. Even if it was not as overwhelmingly sinister as that which he had once faced, the master’s excitement could not be concealed. At last, Cangyun Sect had produced a disciple worthy of the title “genius.”

Gradually, that wondrous aura began to expand, once perceptible only up close, but now repelling all within a certain range—including the master himself.

He could feel the repelling force, though it was weak, no more than a child trying to push a two-hundred-pound man. The master had never seen such a phenomenon before, nor had he read of it in the scriptures. For a moment, he was at a loss, and dared not force his way in. He could only retreat as the force compelled him, stopping only when it dissipated.

Looking back, he saw the three weathered characters of "Heart-Cleansing Hall" hanging overhead. The master glanced at Feng Chuxun, still lost in his own world, unsure when he would emerge, and unwilling to risk interrupting him—any mishap now would bring bitter regret.

So, he entered the Heart-Cleansing Hall, intending to seek out Shen Qingyun first.

Inside, Shen Qingyun had already sensed the presence of an unfamiliar aura, immediately alert, for it pressed down on him like a mountain, nearly suffocating him—a sign that its owner’s cultivation was vastly superior.

But what caught his attention even more was that Feng Chuxun had managed to condense the embryo of sword intent, formally stepping onto that path.

When he saw the master of Cangyun Sect enter, Shen Qingyun sat like a stone, but opened his eyes. With a touch of confusion and a hint of wryness in his voice, he mused, "Does Cangyun Sect really have disciples this old?"