Front Line of the Beast Tide, Part 35

Not only was the Medical Alliance nearly wiped out, every force that came to assist suffered losses.

Even Sword Sect, despite being led by several young and powerful elders, lost twelve students on this mission.

Some fell on the beast tide front lines, some perished in the Eternal Night Forest, and two were assassinated by evil cultivators.

Revenge was taken swiftly; those two evil cultivators didn’t live long enough to enjoy their success. T

hey became ghosts beneath Sword Sect blades. One life for one life—fair and square. But the dead do not come back.

The bodies of the fallen students would be carried home together, buried at the foot of Sword Mountain, where they would listen day and night to the cold wind whistling over the peaks alongside all the living students—just as if they had never left.

Everyone knew that opportunity always walked hand-in-hand with danger, and there would always be some who drew the short straw and left first.

Yet every Sword Sect student present felt a hollow sorrow.

Those who had been friends, roommates, or teammates with the fallen could no longer maintain their composure. They lowered their heads, fighting back tears.

Sword Sect’s way of raising disciples was different from other sects.

Here, no one was judged by innate talent or family background. There were no inner sect, outer sect, or direct-disciple hierarchies to forcibly divide people into classes.

Whether you were a beggar, a farmer’s child, an ordinary city kid, or from a minor or major cultivation clan—everyone studied under the same teachers, practiced the same sword forms, and cultivated the same way.

Even the most gifted, most cherished genius had to live in the dorms, eat in the cafeteria, weed the spirit fields, sweep the pavilions, clean pill cauldrons, and shovel spirit beast manure. No exceptions.

Under this system, there was competition, yes—but far more than that, there was the slow accumulation of daily life together. Rivals, comrades, friends.

When someone you had lived with for over a decade suddenly left forever, how could you not grieve? These weren’t strangers. These were the people you’d bickered and laughed with, the ones you’d sworn to roam the jianghu with, swords on your backs.

Su Qing lowered her lashes, remembering what the Wine Elder had told her when she first entered the sect:

“Everyone who manages to graduate from Sword Sect reaches Nascent Soul. Of course—the prerequisite is staying alive long enough.”

On the long road of cultivation, when it comes to life and death, every person walks alone.

Still, optimism is most people’s default setting. After the tears, everyone gradually steadied themselves and began comforting one another:

“It’s alright. It’s just a matter of leaving sooner or later. We’ll meet again someday.”

Even cultivators who wrested fate from the heavens still had to face life and death, to taste the bitterness and joy of living, and the long peace of death. Perhaps precisely because of that, they faced such dilemmas more often than mortals ever did.

Deng Mingjian watched the scene and couldn’t help sighing,

“They’re still young. Their blood runs hot. They can still cry. Not like me—my body may still be young, but my heart is already old and withered.”

Having lived several centuries, even his flesh seemed to be slowly dying along with his soul, like an ancient tree root drained of moisture. He saw, but he no longer felt.

Lin Hebai rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why your heart demon tribulation never breaks and your cultivation is stuck. If your heart is already dead, how are you supposed to fight heart demons?”

They were colleagues, and though she didn’t particularly like him, she still kindly reminded him:

“In forty years it’ll be the century evaluation for Sword Sect instructors. If your cultivation doesn’t improve, it’s either promote or get kicked out.”

“Why bring up such a mood-killer?!”

You don’t slap a man in the face—why poke at someone’s sore spot the moment you open your mouth? Deng Mingjian very much wanted to flare up, but he only dared to feel embarrassed, not angry—because he couldn’t beat Lin Hebai. And Hu Sang had just returned from her mission; demon snakes were the pettiest creatures alive, and he didn’t want another enemy right now.

He had wind-lightning-fire variant triple spirit roots—a natural prodigy in odd arrays and techniques.

When he was young, major sects had courted him like carp crossing a river.

He had chosen the then-poor, master-less Sword Sect purely out of admiration for the legendary Carefree Immortal.

Lin Hebai had been in the same year—five-phase miscellaneous spirit roots of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, with almost completely ruined meridians. Only the heart meridian barely allowed spiritual energy to pass.

First year: he reached Foundation Establishment while she was still Qi Refining layer one.

Second year: he formed his core while she was still in Qi Refining and even had to repeat a year.

But by the third year, she had caught up at blinding speed. In the centuries after, a few of them kept rising, but progress grew harder and harder.

Only then did Deng Mingjian finally understand the Carefree Immortal’s words—why he had accepted even someone with Lin Hebai’s terrible aptitude.

The gap created by innate talent was not as insurmountable as the world believed.

At the highest levels, no matter how gifted you were, cultivation would eventually stall.

With enough resources and proper planning, aptitude stopped mattering.

What truly allowed someone to walk farther was the heart tempered in blood, sweat, and tears by those who started with nothing and poured their entire soul into cultivation.

Lin Hebai’s path had been difficult, but heart demons rarely troubled her.

Deng Mingjian would sourly joke, “No wonder she’s Body School—her brain is all muscle, she never thinks, so of course no heart demons.” In truth, he envied and admired her.

That was why, when outsiders marveled that Sword Sect produced such outstanding talents in just one school year, the instructors felt proud yet quietly burned with ambition: This is only the beginning. Given more time, even more children would shine. Sword Sect was not a place that poured all its resources into a handful of geniuses. Sword Sect was a place where ordinary people could rise through effort.

Xu Ruyi watched the two start bickering again and, being the good-tempered Talisman School elder she was, smoothly mediated:

“Have you finished your mission reports? We leave tomorrow. If the Sect Leader doesn’t see reports, he docks pay.”

Both instantly shut up.

Lin Hebai coughed twice. “No rush. We’ll write them on the spirit boat.”

That afternoon, Su Qing went to find Bayin.

Tomorrow the Sword Sect group would depart.

Most of her time in Yinlan City had been spent in the Eternal Night Forest, so she had almost nothing to pack. She went straight to Yan Yan’s military camp.

“What do you want with the kid? She’s an orphan—does she suddenly have blood sisters now? You two don’t even look alike! Let me tell you, that girl is clever and hardworking. Last year she took first place in the spear tournament and received a personal reward from the City Lord’s mansion. Anyone who takes first gets taken under the City Lord’s wing for early cultivation—she’s our future reserve talent!”

The guard at the youth barracks eyed Su Qing suspiciously, rattling on as if afraid she’d snatch the child the moment he blinked.

Su Qing touched her own face, thinking: Do I really look like a child trafficker?

But it was Governor Yan Yan’s personal order, so he still complied. He sent a soldier inside:

“Go find Noribayin. Someone’s here for her.”

Very quickly, the ground shook with rapid footsteps—the kid was sprinting.

She burst out like a cannonball, joy blooming on her face before her voice even arrived:

“Hard-as-iron—cough—Sister Su Qing!!”

Su Qing’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

Four and a half years had passed. Bayin was no longer little Bayin.

She had shot up into a tall, lean youth. Yan family army food was excellent, training brutal.

She was no longer the scrawny bag of bones from before, but she wasn’t plump either—just tight, springy muscle, like a young leopard.

The black birthmark at the corner of her eye was still there, but with her proud, upright bearing, it now looked more like a distinctive scar than something eerie.

Su Qing hadn’t felt the years pass, but seeing the once-tiny girl transformed into this spirited young soldier shocked her.

Time flew that fast?

She herself didn’t feel much different. But when those changes showed on a child, they were stark.

Good thing she cultivated immortality.

If she’d stayed in the modern world, she’d probably be a tired, jaded office worker by now instead of still living the college-girl life.

As they talked, the guard kept staring fixedly, terrified Su Qing would stuff the kid into a storage bag and run.

Su Qing was baffled. “Why is he looking at me like that? Did I offend him?”

She didn’t recall any history of child abduction.

Bayin blinked sheepishly. “Sister Mingshi came by once before…”

“She picked me up and tried to run off, saying she wanted me as her little junior sister at Red Leaf Sect and that she’d kick out her freeloading master, idiot senior brother, and lazy little junior brother to run errands.”

Of course Ye Mingshi had been joking, but the guard took it seriously and now treated every visitor like a potential kidnapper.

Bayin looked up. “Sister Mingshi told me a long time ago that you were fine—just injured and needed to recuperate quietly. Is your injury completely healed now?”

“All better. My cultivation even improved—it was a blessing in disguise.” Su Qing smiled. “Actually, I never saw Ye Mingshi. Do you know where she went?”

“Half a year ago, people from her sect came to get her.” Bayin gestured grandly. “A kind white-bearded old man, a kind big brother, a little brother who looked kinda sick but seemed nice, and a mule that looked like it held a deep grudge against the world—all came.”

Su Qing was puzzled. Was Red Leaf Sect’s recruitment requirement just “nice personality”? Because Ye Mingshi definitely wasn’t.

“Sister Mingshi said she thought her master didn’t accept her background and wanted to force her onto the human path, so he left first. Turns out he was just off earning travel money. She misunderstood them, but they never explained either, so she refused to admit she was wrong. Her solution: go back and spend all the money her master earned first.” Bayin was very perceptive. She tapped under her eyes mischievously. “She sounded super unwilling, but her eyes were smiling.”

Su Qing understood. So Ye Mingshi had safely left with Red Leaf Sect six months ago. Her master was Nascent Soul—she’d be fine.

As they spoke, a thin young woman carrying a medicine chest walked in with a small apprentice at her side.

She wore healer’s robes. Her braid should have been jet-black, but the ends were yellowish, as if she had endured some terrible ordeal.

She passed Su Qing without sparing a single extra glance—like a complete stranger—and was eagerly led by soldiers into another tent.

Bayin noticed Su Qing looking and explained, “That’s a healer sister from the Medical Alliance. For the past six months she’s been treating wounded soldiers here. The officers say that although her cultivation isn’t high, her acupuncture is superb—she’s a rare genius doctor.”

Perhaps because Su Qing stared a little too long, Bayin sensitively asked, “Sister Su Qing, do you know her?”

Su Qing withdrew her gaze, her eyes softening.

“Maybe. She looks a lot like a friend of mine. A comrade.”