Chapter 11: The Girl and the Flying Sword

A scholar, his temples dusted with the frost of years, led a youth in a green robe away from the village school, arriving beneath a towering memorial arch. The most learned teacher in the small town, his face etched with weariness, pointed to a plaque overhead. " 'Duty-bound, no yielding'. How do you interpret these four words?"

Zhao Yao, the young scholar, both student and attendant to the teacher, followed his gaze and looked up. Without hesitation, he replied, "Our Confucianism takes benevolence as its core teaching. The four words on the plaque are derived from 'In matters of benevolence, one should not yield even to one's teacher'. It means that we scholars should respect our teachers, but when it comes to matters of righteousness and morality, we need not be humble."

Master Qi asked, "Need not yield? What if we changed it to 'must not'?"

The youth, Zhao Yao, possessed a refined appearance. Unlike Song Jixin's aggressive and flamboyant nature, Zhao Yao's temperament was more gentle and reserved, like a newly bloomed lotus, naturally endearing. Faced with the teacher's question, laden with hidden meaning, the youth did not dare to be careless. He carefully considered it, believing the teacher was testing his knowledge, and how could he be casual? The middle-aged scholar smiled knowingly at the youth's cautious demeanor and patted his shoulder. "It was just a casual question, no need to be so tense. It seems I have been too restrictive of your nature, carving you too meticulously, making you live like a statue placed in the Wen Chang Pavilion, always serious, always adhering to rules and reason, aren't you tired? But looking at it now, it might be a good thing."

The youth was puzzled. The teacher had already led him to the other side, still looking up at the four-word plaque. The scholar's expression eased. For some reason, the usually stern teacher began to recount many interesting anecdotes and stories to his disciple. "The person who wrote 'Duty-bound, no yielding' was once the foremost calligrapher of the era, causing much debate, such as arguments over the structure and spiritual essence, praise and criticism over 'ancient simplicity' and 'modern beauty,' which remains unresolved to this day. Rhythm, law, intention, and style, the four essentials of calligraphy. For a thousand years, this person has won two crowns, leaving no room for other contemporary masters. As for 'Few words, naturalness', it's a bit more amusing. If you look closely, you should be able to see that although the four characters are similar in brushwork, structure, and spiritual essence, they were actually written separately by four great Daoist patriarchs from the ancestral temple. At the time, two old immortals even exchanged letters, arguing for a long time, both wanting to write the mysterious 'Few' character, unwilling to write the common 'Words' character..."

Then, the scholar led the youth to "Seek not without." He looked around, his gaze profound. "Originally, the village school where you studied will soon be closed down because there is no teacher, or simply demolished by several major families, to build small Daoist temples or erect a Buddha statue for worshippers to burn incense, with a Daoist or monk in charge. Year after year, until the sixty-year cycle is complete. During this period, they might 'change people' two or three times to avoid arousing suspicion among the townspeople. But in fact, it's just a crude cover-up. However, performing a small magical trick here, if placed outside, might be equivalent to a god striking a drum, spring thunder shaking the earth..."

Later, the teacher's voice became as thin as a mosquito's hum. Even if the young scholar Zhao Yao strained his ears, he couldn't hear clearly.

Master Qi sighed, his tone a little helpless and tired. "Many things should not be revealed according to the heavenly secrets. But now, it matters less and less. After all, we are scholars, and we must maintain a semblance of propriety. Moreover, if I, Qi Jingchun, take the lead in breaking the rules, it would be akin to embezzling, and it would be too unsightly."

Zhao Yao suddenly mustered his courage and said, "Teacher, I know you are not an ordinary person, and this town is not an ordinary place."

The scholar asked with amusement, "Oh? Tell me more."

Zhao Yao pointed to the imposing twelve-legged memorial arch. "This place, together with the Iron Lock Well in Apricot Blossom Lane, the covered bridge with two iron swords said to be hanging under the bridge, the old locust tree, the peach trees in Peach Leaf Lane, and the Spring Rain and Double Ninth Festival posters pasted on Fortune and Prosperity Street where my Zhao family lives every year, are all very strange."

The scholar interrupted the youth. "Strange? How are they strange? You grew up here and have never been outside. Have you seen the scenery outside the town? Without comparison, how can you say that?"

Zhao Yao said in a low voice, "I have long memorized the contents of your books. The peach blossoms in Peach Leaf Lane are very different from the descriptions in the poems in the books. Also, why do you only teach the three elementary texts, emphasizing literacy? After the elementary texts, what books should we read? What is the purpose of reading? What is the meaning of 'imperial examinations' in the books? What is 'being a peasant in the morning and ascending to the Emperor's court in the evening'? What is 'the Emperor values heroes and talents, teach them to write'? Although the two successive kiln construction officials never talk to others about the court, the capital, and the affairs of the world, but..."

The scholar smiled with satisfaction. "Enough, too much talk is not good."

Zhao Yao immediately stopped talking.

The scholar, calling himself Qi Jingchun, said softly, "Zhao Yao, from now on, you need to be careful in your words and actions. Remember that misfortune comes from the mouth. That's why most Confucian sages are tight-lipped. Gentlemen above sages are cautious when alone, maintaining themselves like flawless jade, fearing any imperfections. As for the saints, such as the masters of the seventy-two academies...these people, like the great Daoist patriarchs and Buddhist golden Arhats, can speak prophecies and their words become law. These people, along with the experts from the Hundred Schools of Thought, are generally called Land Immortals after reaching this realm, which can be considered as stepping through the doorway. However, these figures are all like dragons, some are high above, like the statues in Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, unreachable, and some are elusive, ordinary people cannot find them."

Zhao Yao listened in a daze, feeling as if he were floating in the clouds.

Zhao Yao couldn't help but ask, "Teacher, why are you telling me all this today?"

The scholar's face showed openness as he laughed, "You have a teacher, and I naturally have a teacher. And my teacher... it's better not to say. In short, I thought I could still live for several decades, but suddenly I discovered that some behind-the-scenes figures are unwilling to wait even that long. So this time I can't take you away from the town, you need to leave on your own. Some harmless truths should also be revealed to you, just treat it as listening to a story. I just hope you understand one thing: there is a sky beyond the sky, and there are people beyond people. No matter how 'blessed and fortunate' you, Zhao Yao, are, you must not be complacent and become lax."

The falling well water and the leaves leaving the locust tree are all premonitions.The scholar Qi Jingchun reminded, "Zhao Yao, do you remember the locust leaf I told you to keep?"

The young scholar nodded vigorously, "I've kept it safe with the seal you gifted me, Master."

"How could a leaf remain so lush, verdant, and fresh after leaving the branch? Among the thousands in this town, only a few are blessed with such 'protection.' You should often handle that leaf; it might lead to a future opportunity."

The Confucian scholar's gaze deepened. "Besides that, I've always had you perform good deeds and build connections in this town. Treat everyone with courtesy and sincerity. You'll slowly understand the mystery in all of this. Those seemingly insignificant trivial matters, like water dripping through stone, will ultimately bring benefits that might surpass even studying a local gazetteer."

The young man noticed a yellow bird perched on the stone beam, occasionally hopping and chirping.

The Confucian scholar stood with his hands behind his back, gazing up at the yellow bird with a solemn expression.

The young man couldn't detect anything unusual.

Suddenly, Qi Jingchun looked towards Mud Bottle Lane, his brow furrowing even more deeply.

The Confucian scholar sighed softly. "Hibernating creatures gradually hear the sounds of spring and emerge from the earth. But as a guest, to act so sneakily under the host's nose, employing such underhanded tricks, isn't that a bit presumptuous? Do you truly believe that with a self-serving half bowl of water, you can do as you please here?"

Zhao Yao was worried. "Master?"

The Confucian scholar waved his hand, indicating that the matter was unrelated to the young man. He then led him to the last plaque.

The young Zhao Yao halted abruptly, as if a hibernating creature suddenly struck by spring thunder, his eyes wide and vacant.

Not far away, a black-clad maiden wearing a veiled hat stood beneath the "Qi Chong Dou Niu" (Aspiration Reaching the Heavens) plaque. The veil concealed her face, but her figure was well-proportioned, neither too slender nor too plump. A long sword with a snow-white scabbard and a narrow saber with a green scabbard hung at her waist. She crossed her arms and tilted her head back.

The Confucian scholar found it amusing and cleared his throat lightly.

The young man remained completely oblivious, failing to heed his master's reminder of "do not look upon what is improper."

The Confucian scholar smiled knowingly, refraining from further disruptive coughs, allowing the young man to gaze dreamily at the maiden.

The maiden seemed completely unaware of the young man's gaze.

She appeared to particularly admire the four characters of "Qi Chong Dou Niu." Unlike the solemn and dignified regular script of the other three plaques, this one was uniquely written in a running script, its spirit bordering on unrestrained audacity.

She liked it!

The young man suddenly awoke, realizing his master had tapped him on the shoulder. He smiled and said, "Zhao Yao, you should return to the academy and bring your things home."

The young man blushed, lowered his head, and followed his master back to the academy.

Only then did the maiden slowly release her fingers from the hilt of her blade.

In the distance, the Confucian scholar teased, "Zhao Yao, ah, Zhao Yao, I saved your life, you know."

The young man was shocked. "Master?"

The Confucian scholar hesitated for a moment, then said seriously, "In the future, when you see her, you must take a detour."

The gentle and refined scholar was somewhat surprised and disappointed. "Master, why is that?"

Qi Jingchun thought for a moment and delivered a definitive statement, "She is incomparably sharp, destined to be a sword without a sheath."

The young man was about to speak but stopped.

The middle-aged Confucian scholar smiled. "Of course, if it's just secretly liking someone, even Daoist ancestors and Buddhas can't stop you. Even we scholars, with our many rules, our great sage only cautioned us against 'improper speech, sight, hearing, and action,' not 'improper thoughts.'"

At that moment, the young man seemed possessed, blurting out, "She smells so good!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the young man was dumbfounded.

The Confucian scholar had a headache, not because he was angry, but because the situation was tricky. He said in a deep voice, "Zhao Yao, turn around!"

The young man instinctively turned his back to his master.

Beneath the memorial archway, the maiden turned her head, her murderous intent soaring.

First, she lowered her hands, her thumbs each pressing against the hilt of her sword and saber.

Then, she began a short sprint, about four or five steps, her limbs suddenly exerting force. The three-foot long sword with the snow-white scabbard and the slender saber with the green scabbard were the first to be drawn, angled upwards and forwards. At the same time, her body leaped into the air, her hands quickly gripping the blades. Without a word, she brought them down in a head-on strike!

Between the black-clad maiden and the master and student from the town, two not-so-thick arms stretched and burst forth, creating two arcs of brilliant light.

Neither supernatural power nor sorcery.

Pure speed!

The Confucian scholar looked relaxed, showing no intention of dodging, and simply stamped his foot lightly.

A ripple of energy burst outwards.

The next moment, the maiden's body tensed, her killing intent intensifying.

Her originally unstoppable sword and saber not only completely missed their target, but she herself was standing where she had been when the blades were drawn.

The Confucian scholar smiled. "Not bad, a lion uses its full strength even to hunt a rabbit. But all things considered, my disciple did offend you, but surely it doesn't warrant death, does it?"

The maiden deliberately made her voice sound mature and deep, slowly sheathing her sword, changing to a single-handed grip on her saber, and pointing the tip directly at the Confucian scholar. "What you 'think' is your business, I don't care."

The maiden took a step forward. "What I do is my business. Of course, you can... try to stop me!"

She charged forward swiftly.

The ground beneath her feet caved in, leaving two small pits.

The Confucian scholar held one hand behind his back and made a fist with the other, placing it in front of his abdomen, and laughed: "In the military way, unexcelled swiftness breaks all. Unfortunately in this world, though on the eve of collapse, so long as before that happens, even ten Immortals joining hands to break the formation is like ants trying to topple a tree. What more you?"

The maiden reappeared ten steps to the scholar's left.

She considered it slightly, and closed her eyes.

The Confucian scholar shook his head and smiled. "Not some sort of illusion, in this world, similar to the buddhist idea of little-thousand worlds, in this place, I am..."

"Eh?"

He suddenly cried out in surprise and stopped his words, instantly appearing beside the maiden to probe, lightly grasping the tip of the blade with two fingers.

He asked: "Who taught you the swordplay and saber arts?"

The maiden did not open her eyes, and with her left hand grasped the hilt of her just-sheathed sword, a cold light sweeping at the Confucian scholar's waist, attempting to cut him in half.

The Confucian scholar pinched the tip of the blade with two fingers and cried: "Retreat!"A series of crashing sounds erupted from the ground, dust billowing into the air. Moments later, the figure of a veiled maiden emerged, her feet planted firmly, one slightly ahead of the other. A furrow, as if plowed, stretched from her feet to the scholar's presence.

The maiden's hands were a bloody mess.

Her blade had been drawn, as had her sword, yet she had been reduced to having her weapons disarmed barehanded.

Moreover, she knew full well that her opponent, apart from manipulating the very "fabric" of this world, had consistently suppressed his strength to match her own.

This was a matter of inferior skill, not insufficient cultivation.

She seemed to teeter on the brink of a violent outburst.

Perhaps unknowingly, the light around her was visibly distorting.

The academy teacher, ever the paragon of reason, offered well-intentioned advice, "It is best you refrain from comparing yourself to me for now. It could impede your martial Dao. Ascending the path of martial arts requires gradual progression; it is of utmost importance."

His posture was peculiar, one hand holding the sword tip, the other grasping the blade horizontally.

He suddenly chuckled, mimicking the maiden's tone, speaking with an "old-before-her-time" air, "Whether you heed my words is your choice, but whether I speak them is mine."

The maiden remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a low voice, "I am grateful for the lesson."

The scholar nodded with a smile. Not an arrogant and overbearing woman, which was good. He gently tossed the blade back to the maiden, saying, "Your saber, returned."

He lowered his gaze to the longsword trembling in his fingertips.

A fledgling phoenix outshining its older counterpart.

The scholar lamented, "This sword is of remarkably fine quality, but it still falls short of perfection. It can barely bear the weight of two words, let alone more. Otherwise, with your talent and inherent gifts, not all four words, but three, would certainly have been within your grasp..."

As he sighed, he casually raised his hand and softly commanded, "Decree!"

Two blinding orbs of light shot forth from the plaque bearing the inscription "Qi Chong Dou Niu" (Energy Piercing the Dipper Constellation).

With two swift flicks of his sleeve, the scholar embedded them into the longsword.

The imposing aura of the characters "Qi" and "Niu" on the plaque remained.

But "Chong" and "Dou" seemed like a dying old man on his sickbed, whose final burst of vitality had faded away, leaving him utterly devoid of spirit.

The scholar casually flicked his wrist, and in the blink of an eye, the longsword returned to its sheath. Because it was sheathed, no one could yet perceive the two streams of energy coursing like dragons along the blade.

What followed stunned even the seasoned Qi Jingchun.

The maiden slowly removed the scabbard, casually tossing it to the side, where it plunged diagonally into the loamy earth. Behind the veil of her hat, her eyes shone with unwavering resolve. "This is not the sword Dao I seek."

The scholar glanced at the discarded sword, a long-lost sense of gravity settling within him. He couldn't help but ask a question he had a right to know, "Do you know who I am?"

The maiden nodded, then shook her head. "I heard that every sixty-year cycle, one of the Three Teachings' Sages would come here to oversee the operation of a grand formation. It has been going on for thousands of years. From time to time, people leave this place either possessing extraordinary treasures or experiencing rapid advancements in their cultivation. So I wanted to come and see. When I saw you, I knew who you were. Otherwise, when I attacked, I wouldn't have been so direct."

Qi Jingchun pressed, "Then do you know what you just gave up?"

The maiden remained silent.

Within the scabbard on the ground, the longsword trembled incessantly, like a breathtaking beauty wailing in sorrow, desperately pleading for her lover to return to her side.

The young scholar had long since turned his head, cautiously gazing at the maiden in the distance.

The scholar was undeniably erudite, yet he was at a complete loss. He couldn't very well force the sword, imbued with such immense fortune, upon the maiden. Finally, he offered a word of advice, "It would be best if you took that sword. The town will soon become very...unstable. Having something to defend yourself with is always a good thing."

The maiden said nothing, and simply turned and left.

Still unwilling to take the sword.

Qi Jingchun felt somewhat helpless. He waved his sleeve, driving the sword into the high reaches of a memorial archway stone pillar. If anyone were to forcibly remove it, it would inevitably alert him, the one sitting at the core of the formation, just as the "Storyteller's" two attempts, one overt and one covert, had not escaped the academy teacher's distant gaze.

Personally escorting Zhao Yao all the way from the academy to the Zhao family's grand residence on Fortune and Prosperity Street, the middle-aged scholar walked slowly. With each step he took, faint, almost imperceptible, flashes of light would emanate from the depths of the imposing mansions lining the street.

Qi Jingchun murmured, "Curious, truly curious. Where did this little girl come from? Could she be a disciple of a celestial family from beyond this continent?"

After returning to the academy, he sat at his desk. Upon it lay a jade tablet, about a foot and two inches long, with the four sacred mountains carved into its corners, symbolizing stability in all directions. The front was inscribed with dense, meticulously written seal characters, no fewer than a hundred.

According to Confucian rites, originally, only the emperor of a nation could hold the Zhen Gui (Tablet of Tranquility).

This tablet served to demonstrate the profound significance of this small town.

Flipping it over, the back of the jade tablet bore only two carved characters.

The strokes were rigorous and masterful.

Remarkably bold in structure and perpetually significant.

Also on the desk was a recently arrived secret letter.

The scholar, with his temples frosted white, had reddened eyes, "Teacher, your student is incompetent, only able to watch helplessly as you suffer such humiliation..."

The scholar gazed out the window, showing little sorrow or joy, only a hint of loneliness. "Qi Jingchun has failed his teacher, clinging to life for a century, only to await death."

When Song Jixin took an object from the inner room and placed it on the table, Fu Nanhua couldn't hide the elation on his face, no matter how hard he tried.

It was an unremarkable little pot, with the signature "Mountain Goblin" on its base.

Song Jixin placed his hands together on the table, leaning forward, and asked with a smile, "How much is this pot worth?"

The young city lord of Old Dragon City reluctantly tore his gaze from the little pot, raised his head, and said honestly, "Sold in a mortal dynasty, it wouldn't be worth an ounce of silver. But if you leave it to me to sell, it could buy back an entire city."

Song Jixin asked, "Tens of thousands of people?"

Fu Nanhua held up three fingers.

Song Jixin ohhed, curled his lip and said, "Oh, so it's three hundred thousand."

Fu Nanhua was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

He originally thought Song Jixin would say thirty thousand people.

Over in Apricot Blossom Lane, a simple-minded man squatted beside the Iron Chain Well, staring at the iron chain tied to the base of the pulley.

As if struggling with how to move it.A girl, cloaked in black and veiled, her aura icily aloof, wandered aimlessly through the small town. Her only adornment was the narrow, green-sheathed blade at her hip, her hands crudely wrapped in strips of cloth.

As she stepped into an unknown alleyway...

*Swoosh!* Something shot through the air, halting obediently behind her, humming softly.

The girl furrowed her brow, not even deigning to turn around. She spat a single word through gritted teeth, "Scram!"

*Swoosh!* Again.

The "flying sword," which had unsheathed and soared to her, trembled and retreated back into its scabbard in fright.

A proud maiden.

An obedient flying sword.