The Unfeeling Heaven and Earth's Ultimate Severing Slash

"I understand," Ye Xuan nodded with a smile.

"I will figure out a way to fill the rice vat. Tomorrow, I'll go to the mountains to chop more wood, carry it to the town to sell, and buy some rice. There's no rush for the shoes; they can still be worn for another half a month. We can get a piglet, and I'll build the pigpen in the next couple of days. As for the private school..."

He thought for a moment. "Go ahead. Although five hundred copper coins isn't much, if we save it up, we can buy a few feet of floral cloth at the end of the year to make you a new dress."

"I don't want a new dress!" Ying'er quickly shook her head. "I have enough clothes to wear. It's you who needs it. The cotton in your winter jacket has clumped together and isn't warm anymore. It needs to be fluffed again..."

"Alright, whatever you say."

Ye Xuan agreed with a smile, reaching out to brush away a grain of rice stuck to the corner of her mouth.

Ying'er blushed again. She lowered her head and desperately shoveled porridge into her mouth to hide her embarrassment.

The sunlight fell upon the slightly red tips of her ears, coating them with a fuzzy golden edge.

Watching this scene, Ye Xuan suddenly felt an unparalleled sense of peace in his heart.

To enter the mortal world was to transcend it.

Only by experiencing emotion could one comprehend heartlessness.

Over the past ten years, aside from expelling toxins and solidifying his foundation, Ye Xuan had an even more important task to do...

Comprehending the Heaven and Earth Heartless Severing Sword.

This was the strongest sword strike of the Peerless Sword Emperor.

Heaven and Earth are heartless, treating all things as straw dogs.

This sword was also heartless, treating all living beings as straw dogs.

What a terrifying Way of the Sword this was.

But there was a fatal flaw in this sword technique...

It was too extreme.

The cultivation requirements in the incomplete manual were stated very clearly: "To cultivate this sword, one must first sever the seven emotions. To master this sword, one must extinguish the six desires. The heart must be like dead ashes, the will like withered wood. Treat family as nothing, and cast aside lovers like worn-out shoes. Only when the heart is completely empty can it accommodate this sword."

Simply put, it required you to become an emotionless killing machine.

At first glance, this seemed perfectly reasonable. It was the sword of heartlessness, after all; how could it be wielded without being heartless?

But over these ten years, Ye Xuan had gradually realized a truth:

This requirement itself was a massive trap.

If one blindly pursued slaughter and apathy, severing all emotions and turning oneself into an unfeeling stone, that was not true heartlessness; that was being soulless.

A soulless person could not swing a sword with a soul.

At most, he would merely become an appendage of the sword, a tool for slaughter, a walking sword corpse.

On the surface, he might appear cold, ruthless, and invulnerable to all evils.

In reality, he was just running away.

Fleeing from the pain brought by emotions, fleeing from the responsibilities of loving and being loved, fleeing from all the vulnerabilities and struggles one must face as a human being.

That was not true strength.

That was cowardice.

The reason Ye Xuan was able to comprehend this was precisely because he had Ying'er by his side.

If he had been cultivating bitterly alone in the deep mountains, facing only the clear breeze, bright moon, withered wood, and stubborn rocks every day, he might have truly walked the path of severing the seven emotions.

He would have become increasingly apathetic, increasingly reclusive, and increasingly like a sword that only knew how to kill.

Then, one day, he would find that although his sword moves were incomparably fierce, his sword intent was as hollow as an echoless abyss.

Because there would be nothing human within his sword.

A sword without a soul, no matter how sharp, was nothing more than a piece of scrap iron.

But Ying'er's existence made everything different.

Her daily calls of "Husband, time to eat!" reminded him of what it meant to care.

The corners of the quilt she quietly tucked in for him every winter night let him know what warmth was.

The admiration and worry in her eyes every time she watched him practice his swordplay made him understand what it meant to be cared about.

The way she clumsily and frantically brewed medicine when he was sick made him understand what heartache felt like.

These things, bit by bit, seeped into his heart like spring rain nourishing the earth.

They did not make him weak.

On the contrary, they made him even stronger.

Because true heartlessness was not about being devoid of affection and righteousness.

Rather, it was the supreme state of forgetting emotion. It was not a lack of emotion, but rather possessing the utmost emotion and true nature, which in turn allowed one to let go of it.

This was a sudden enlightenment Ye Xuan experienced late one night during his seventh year.

That night, Ying'er had a high fever. Even though she had done it on purpose, Ye Xuan still felt an unimaginable heartache.

The mountain village lacked doctors and medicine, and the nearest physician was in the town thirty miles away.

Ye Xuan could have used his spiritual power to reach the town in an instant and fetch a doctor, but he didn't.

He could only use the most foolish method.

He soaked a towel in cold water and repeatedly wiped her forehead and palms.

He rummaged through the medicine box at home, gathered a few fever-reducing herbs, and set up a small stove to brew them.

He held her in his arms, using his own body heat to keep her warm.

Feverish and delirious, Ying'er tossed and turned restlessly in his embrace, constantly murmuring, "Master... don't leave Ying'er behind... Ying'er is scared..."

In her dreams, she had reverted to that terrified and uneasy little maidservant from the past.

Ye Xuan held her tightly, whispering in her ear over and over again, "Don't be afraid, Ying'er, your husband is here. Your husband won't leave you."

He didn't close his eyes for the entire night.

Looking at the woman in his arms, her face flushed red from the high fever, he suddenly felt an unprecedented fear.

It wasn't the fear of facing a formidable enemy.

It wasn't the fear of hanging by a thread between life and death.

It was the fear of losing someone.

This fear was like an invisible hand, gripping his heart fiercely.

Right at that moment, he suddenly understood.

So, the true meaning of heartlessness was not to make you sever your emotions.

But rather to allow you, even after possessing the deepest of emotions, to still make the most rational judgments.

It wasn't about not loving.

It was because you loved so deeply that, in critical moments, you could temporarily seal this love away in the deepest part of your heart, turning it into the purest power and transforming it into the most heartless sword strike.

To sever all obstacles in order to protect the one you loved.

This was the true essence of the Heaven and Earth Heartless Severing Sword.

Heaven and Earth are heartless, hence they can nurture all living things.

A swordsman is heartless, hence he can protect the common people.

Looking at Ying'er before him, carefully calculating over a few copper coins, looking at her slightly furrowed brows due to the rising price of grain, looking at the shallow laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, and looking at the one or two stubborn white hairs at her temples.

Looking at this dilapidated yet cozy little courtyard, looking at the old apricot tree, the vegetable patch, the steaming pot of porridge, and the big yellow dog lying on the wall.

Looking at all these worldly matters that were as ordinary and insignificant as could be.

The sword intent in Ye Xuan's heart was just like the flames beneath this stove.

It seemed to be suppressed beneath a thick layer of ashes, without even a trace of a spark visible.

But beneath the ashes, those sealed embers were continuously burning in the most introverted and restrained manner.

"Ying'er."

Ye Xuan suddenly put down his bowl and chopsticks.

His voice was very light and calm, but Ying'er sharply detected an unusual trace of solemnity in it.

She put down her chopsticks and tilted her head to look at him. "What's wrong, husband?"

Ye Xuan did not speak immediately.

He quietly looked into Ying'er's eyes.

Those eyes were crystal clear, reflecting his image, as well as the blue sky overhead and the old apricot tree behind them.

Her gaze lacked the penetrating sharpness of a cultivator, and it lacked the overbearing pressure of a grand figure looking down upon the masses.

Her gaze contained only a pure, unreserved love for him.

Ye Xuan suddenly smiled, a trace of tenderness in his expression that even he himself didn't notice.

He reached out and grasped Ying'er's hand resting on the table.

Ying'er's hands were a bit rougher than before. Ten years of washing clothes, cooking, and doing needlework had left thin calluses on her fingertips, and there was a faint scar between her thumb and index finger from a kitchen knife cut.

But the warmth of these hands remained the same as always.

Warm, soft, and reassuring.

"Ying'er," Ye Xuan looked at her earnestly, speaking word by word, "if one day, we have to leave this place..."

He paused.

"Leave this village, leave this kind of life, and face the fierce storms outside. Those storms might be a hundred times, a thousand times more violent than you can imagine..."

His voice gradually lowered.

"Would you be afraid?"

Ying'er froze for a moment.

Her large eyes blinked, her eyelashes fluttering gently like butterfly wings.

Then, she put down the bowl in her hands.

She held Ye Xuan's hand in return, intertwining her fingers with his.

She looked up, meeting Ye Xuan's eyes directly.

"As long as I am with my husband," Ying'er said, her voice light but steady, without a single tremor.

"Whether it is hell or the underworld, Ying'er is not afraid."

"Besides..."

Ying'er's expression suddenly changed, shifting from her earlier solemnity to a playful, somewhat sly smile.

"My husband's sword will definitely protect Ying'er, right?"

When she smiled, her eyes curved into two crescent moons, the smile lines at the corners of her eyes clearly visible, and the dimples on her cheeks faintly discernible.

Ye Xuan smiled.

He smiled very lightly, very faintly, but the smile spread from the corners of his mouth to his eyes, and sank from his eyes deep into his heart.

"It will."

He said softly.

His right hand held Ying'er's hand, and his left hand unconsciously stroked the top of her head, gently rubbing her hair.

Ying'er naturally leaned against his shoulder and rubbed against it, like a kitten that had found the most comfortable spot.

"Then I can rest easy," she said in a muffled voice with a hint of a nasal tone, as if acting coquettishly.

The sunlight was warm.

The wind was gentle.

The birds in the old apricot tree were chirping merrily.

From afar came the scolding voice of Granny Wang chasing and beating Old Man Wang, while the neighbor's little grandson ran past on the village path, his laughter as crisp as silver bells.

Everything was so ordinary.

Everything was so beautiful.

Right at this moment...

Deep within Ye Xuan's sea of consciousness, a silent and massive change suddenly occurred.

In that vast and boundless spiritual world, a blurry mass of light and shadow that had always been suspended in the very center began to undergo a drastic transformation.

That was his Heart Sword.

Every true sword cultivator, after reaching a certain realm, would condense their own Heart Sword within their sea of consciousness.

The Heart Sword was the materialization of a sword cultivator's will of the Sword Dao, the truest power from the depths of the soul.

Ye Xuan's Heart Sword had begun to condense three years ago.

But it had always remained in a blurred, half-finished state.

That was because Ye Xuan's comprehension of the Heaven and Earth Heartless Severing Slash was still one final step away.

He had already understood the meaning of "heartless": to possess extreme emotion and nature, and thus be able to let go of emotion.

But between understanding and achieving, there lay an insurmountable chasm.

And now, Ye Xuan's state of mind had reached a perfect balance.

It was a wondrous state.

Two completely opposite things existed in his heart at the same time...

On one side was bottomless tenderness.

The love for Ying'er, the attachment to this mundane world, and the cherishing of these ten years of ordinary life.

On the other side was an unstoppable sword intent.

The determination and courage to sever everything in order to protect his loved one.

These two things did not contradict each other, nor did they repel each other.

They were like the Yin and Yang fish in a Tai Chi diagram, perfectly fitting together, you are in me, and I am in you, together forming a complete and perfect whole.

Because there is emotion, one can be heartless.

Being heartless is born from having emotion.

In this very instant, the Heaven and Earth Heartless Severing Slash reached great mastery!