The Boy's Shout Outdid the Cicadas' Chirping

This left Su Ji completely dumbfounded.

He had just been spouting nonsense to liven up the atmosphere and give himself an out.

How could this guy take it seriously?

Breaking off the tip of someone's sword, to be honest, was already going too far.

Fortunately, the sword had drunk the blood of a Fire Flood Dragon and had been tainted with a trace of dragon aura from the Dragon Saliva Stone. Its power had increased rather than decreased. Even with a flaw, it was no lesser than before.

If he really cut it down with a single strike, it would be a total loss.

"Have you thought this through?" Su Ji's expression was a bit strange.

"I have." The Golden Core stall owner's voice was incomparably firm. His forehead rested on the cold crushed stones, without the slightest intention of lifting it.

"No regrets?"

"No regrets."

"Perhaps the path I spoke of is wrong? After all, it is merely my personal opinion."

Su Ji tried to salvage the situation one last time.

"Senior's path is absolutely not a mistake."

The Golden Core stall owner's voice carried a kind of absolute resolve—if a man hears the Dao in the morning, he may die in the evening without regret. "I beg Senior to grant my request!"

He kowtowed heavily once more.

Su Ji was out of options.

He sighed and drew the cyan Wind Chant Ancient Sword from his waist.

On the blade, cyan light flowed, exuding an aura of pure sharpness.

Feeling that aura, the Golden Core stall owner's body trembled slightly, but he still did not look up. He merely raised the broken sword in his hands even higher.

Su Ji said no more.

He raised his hand and brought the sword down.

"Clang!"

A crisp sound of clashing metal rang out.

The crimson dharma sword that had accompanied the Golden Core stall owner for a hundred and thirty-seven years snapped in response.

This time, it was completely broken into two halves.

The moment the sword broke, the Golden Core stall owner's entire body jolted violently.

He felt as if some invisible shackles on his body had also been severed along with this strike.

The massive mountain that had always been pressing down on his heart suddenly collapsed.

Everything suddenly became clear.

Cultivating the sword but not the heart!

Is it the person controlling the sword, or the sword controlling the person?

He slowly raised his head and looked at Su Ji. His eyes, which had been clouded with grief, were now unprecedentedly clear.

"Senior, this junior has one more question."

Su Ji looked at him somewhat helplessly, thinking to himself, are you ever going to finish?

"What do you think should be the end of cultivation?"

Hearing this, Su Ji fell silent for a moment.

He sheathed the Wind Chant Sword, stood with his hands behind his back, and slightly raised his head, his gaze falling on the distant skyline dyed golden by the setting sun.

An indescribable sense of vicissitudes and aloofness spontaneously arose from him.

"I wander through the wind, flowers, snow, and moon without questioning the heavens; the world knows not that I am the true immortal."

His voice was not loud, but it hit the Golden Core stall owner's heart like a heavy hammer.

He stared blankly at Su Ji's back, repeatedly chewing over those words in his mouth.

Wind, flowers, snow, and moon... without questioning the heavens...

The world knows not... that I am the true immortal...

It seemed as if he understood.

And yet, it seemed as if he understood nothing at all.

After a long time.

He slowly stood up and bowed deeply to Su Ji once more.

Then, without saying a word, he turned and left.

His back appeared somewhat more desolate than when he arrived, yet it also carried an indescribable sense of free-spiritedness.

Watching the Golden Core cultivator's receding back, Su Jiu finally walked up to Su Ji, her tone faint.

"Senior Brother, is it really okay for you to fool people like this?"

"How did I fool him?" Su Ji immediately retorted. "Everything I said was the absolute truth."

"You are only at the Foundation Establishment realm. What do you know about the end of the Dao..."

Su Jiu's words came to an abrupt halt.

Her pupils suddenly contracted.

In the distant sky, right where the Golden Core stall owner was about to disappear, a dazzling and eye-catching sword qi shot up into the heavens!

The sword qi was condensed and did not disperse, piercing straight through the clouds and stirring up a change in the wind and clouds.

Although it only flashed for a fleeting moment, the indomitable sharpness contained within it made even a Heavenly Palace Golden Core cultivator like Su Jiu feel a palpitation in her heart.

She looked in disbelief at the direction where the Golden Core stall owner had vanished, then turned her head to look at Su Ji, who had a calm and breezy expression on his face.

One dared to speak, and the other dared to believe?

He could achieve enlightenment just like that?

...

My name is Li Xianxian.

As you can see, I am a sword cultivator.

I was born into a down-and-out family of cultivators.

Legend has it that an ancestor of our family was a great cultivator at the first level of the Golden Core realm. He was skilled in using a fast sword and had drunk the blood of a great demon.

But as I said, we are down-and-out. Now, all that remains are incomplete sword manuals and a cultivation method that no one has been able to successfully practice.

The ancestral teachings state the hope that future generations can recreate the glory of our ancestors and drink the blood of a great demon once again.

My father was forced to practice the sword by my grandfather since childhood.

Because my grandfather was also forced to practice the sword by my great-grandfather.

My great-grandfather was also forced by...

Anyway, generation after generation has lived like this.

However, not a single person in any generation has ever succeeded.

That day, my grandfather stopped me with a serious face while I was playing in the mud.

He told me that I should recreate the glory of our ancestors and shoulder the heavy responsibility of the family.

On that same day, my father whittled a wooden sword for me.

He handed the family's inherited sword manual and cultivation method into my hands.

I then started blustering about, holding the wooden sword and swinging it wildly around the courtyard.

As a result, my grandfather contentedly returned to his armchair, squinting his eyes to bask in the sun.

However, my father would quietly lean into my ear and say, "Xianxian, if you can't figure out how to practice it, then don't."

"It's been passed down for dozens of generations anyway, and I've never seen anyone succeed."

"Your grandfather is old, and he can't keep an eye on you every day."

"Whatever you like to do, just go do it. Dad will help you fool that old man."

"Don't be like me. I lived half my life in a muddle, and when I looked back, I realized I missed out on too much because of the so-called ancestral teachings."

It was just that I was still young at the time.

I had absolutely no idea what my old man was rambling on about.

Do you know what it means for a wooden sword to be held in the hands of a young boy?

Let alone a wooden sword, even a willow branch, or an icicle hanging from the eaves...

As long as it is gripped in his hands...

Then he will feel as if he is the grandmaster of the sword Dao, the number one in the world.

Thus, a string of words that shouldn't have come from a young boy's mouth came out of mine: "Dad, I like practicing the sword. I feel like I was born to be the grandmaster of the sword Dao, the number one in the world."

At that moment, my squinting grandfather jumped up from his chair, dragged me along, and wanted to change my name in the family genealogy book, saying I should be called Li Yaozu.

That year, I was only six.

However, things went contrary to my wishes; it seemed I didn't have any talent.

The simplest first stance in the sword manual took me two and a half years to understand.

That was a whole year slower than my father, whom my grandfather scolded as rotten wood.

My grandfather's eyes gradually changed from their initial fiery expectation to something more complicated.

He no longer stared at me all day. He would only occasionally stop when passing by the courtyard, watch for a while, and then let out a faint sigh.

That sigh made me feel worse than any harsh reprimand.

My father, on the other hand, was very happy.

He would sneak me a piece of candy when my grandfather wasn't paying attention and lower his voice: "See? Dad told you that you weren't cut out for it."

"Come on, Dad will take you down to the river to catch fish. It's much more fun than this broken piece of wood."

But I didn't go.

I just stubbornly repeated the stances from the sword manual that I had already memorized by heart, over and over again.

I didn't even know who I was competing against.

Was I stubbornly competing against that incomplete sword manual, or against my grandfather's disappointed eyes, or perhaps, against the six-year-old me who had made such arrogant boasts?

Days passed by, one after another.

The wooden sword in my hand was replaced time and time again.

I practiced for two and a half years, and then another seven.

Such a speed of progress was at the level of being swept out the door, even in a declining noble clan like mine.

Grandfather had completely given up on me.

He no longer watched me practice my sword, and could not even be bothered to let out a sigh.

Only occasionally at the dinner table would he shoot me a faint glance, looking at me as if I were a stranger.

My father's persuasion also changed from the initial "Stop practicing."

It became "That is good enough."

"Li Xianxian, you are already sixteen. It is time to consider your own future."

"I think the daughter of Butcher Wang next door is quite nice. She has a big bottom and would be good at bearing children..."

Sixteen years old.

I had accomplished nothing.

I stood in the middle of the courtyard, gripping the third wooden sword my father had whittled for me, my heart filled with a blank sense of loss.

At that moment, I did not even know if I truly loved practicing the sword, or if I just had to prove myself, unwilling to let down the expectant look my grandfather had given me that day.

That afternoon was terribly muggy.

The cicadas in the trees chirped themselves hoarse, making one feel restless and irritable.

I closed my eyes, my mind a chaotic mess.

There was my father's face, bearing a hint of helplessness.

There were my grandfather's eyes, filled to the brim with disappointment.

And there was that phrase, "I was born to be the foremost in the Way of the Sword, the number one in the world."

I snapped my eyes open, a nameless fire surging in my heart. Using all the strength in my body, I fiercely slashed the wooden sword forward.

"Hum—"

A soft sound rang out.

A faint white streak of sword qi, about an inch long, flickered out from the tip of the sword.

The entire courtyard instantly fell silent.

Even the cicadas in the trees seemed as if they had been grabbed by the throat, losing all sound.

I stared blankly at that wisp of sword qi, feeling the faint power contained within it.

First came astonishment.

Then, an indescribable ecstasy, like a flash flood, instantly submerged me.

I succeeded!

I threw down the wooden sword, running wildly around the courtyard and laughing out loud. That pure joy was enough to drown out the cicada cries of the entire summer.

Only, thinking back on it now...

What I slashed out at that moment, was it truly sword qi, or just the spirited vigor of youth?

...