Wrong

Qí Zǐfēng raised a hand to catch the longsword that flew like a streaking arrow.

He didn’t even glance at its appearance, merely finding it quite handy.

With a swift sword art, he swung a golden-glowing strike towards Lín Làngyáo.

Lín Làngyáo barely managed to parry the blow.

His Azure Cloud Sword vibrated so violently it nearly slipped from his grasp.

He stumbled back, appearing somewhat dishevelled, his spine hitting a tree trunk with a heavy thud.

Behind him, the forest was ravaged by the sword wind, sending broken branches and green leaves swirling through the air.

Witnessing the sudden outburst of fighting, the Heavenly Craft Pavilion disciples immediately scurried into the main hall to report the incident.

“Get up, keep going,” Qí Zǐfēng scoffed.

He approached, sword in hand, and lightly used the tip to lift Lín Làngyáo’s chin, preparing to savor the sight of fear in his opponent’s eyes.

Instead, he was met with a pair of piercing, jet-black eyes.

“If I were you, I would never stop to talk when my opponent still had the strength to retaliate,” Lín Làngyáo said, his head tilted back by the sword tip.

His words were still infuriatingly defiant, enough to make one die of anger without compensation.

Most galling of all, Qí Zǐfēng even detected a hint of pity in that gaze.

“Your sword heart is unstable, your strikes are too slow.

What are you hesitating for?

Is it because this isn’t your sword?”

Qí Zǐfēng’s grip on his sword trembled almost imperceptibly.

He had never imagined that his greatest secret would be so easily exposed by a stranger.

Qí Zǐfēng had once possessed his own treasured sword, forged from a piece of Profound Iron (TL Note: A type of rare, dark metal, often used in cultivation for crafting weapons and artifacts.) passed down through the Wuling Sword Sect.

It had accompanied him since he began cultivating Qi Refinement at eleven or twelve years old.

However, that sword was lost during his travels down the mountain.

Qí Zǐfēng had encountered a powerful demonic entity, and though he miraculously survived, his sword was broken in the demon’s hands.

From that day forward, Young Master Qi, once hailed as the Wuling Sword Sect’s favored son of heaven (TL Note: A term for a prodigy or exceptionally talented individual.), became utterly dejected.

The Sect Leader and his wife scoured the land, collecting all manner of precious swords and magical artifacts, yet none could catch Qí Zǐfēng’s eye.

Resigned, the Sect Leader and his wife sent him to the renowned artifact-forging sect, Heavenly Craft Pavilion, to try his luck.

Qí Zǐfēng had initially expected to leave disappointed once more, but then he suddenly caught sight of Lín Làngyáo’s sword, sparking his interest.

He hadn’t truly intended to seize another’s beloved possession; he merely wished to examine the sword closely.

Yet, Lín Làngyáo had spoken to him with such insolence, mocking him with the very thing that pained him most, and finally, he had exposed his secret with a single remark.

The more Qí Zǐfēng thought about it, the more wronged he felt, and the more wronged he felt, the more enraged he became.

If he hadn’t remembered he belonged to a reputable orthodox sect, he might have truly delivered a killing blow to Lín Làngyáo.

Lín Làngyáo, unaware of the turmoil in Qí Zǐfēng’s mind, seized the opportunity when he saw him distracted.

He exploded into action, delivering a swift kick to Qí Zǐfēng’s body and escaping from under his sword.

Qí Zǐfēng recoiled several steps, wincing in pain, his anger reignited.

He leaped forward, pointing his sword at Lín Làngyáo.

An ordinary person might have avoided the sharp edge at such a moment, but Lín Làngyáo was anything but ordinary.

He neither dodged nor retreated, his face as calm as still water, his robes fluttering like a swift wind and flashing lightning as he charged directly towards the sword.

His own sword was simultaneously pointed at Qí Zǐfēng.

If Qí Zǐfēng didn’t halt his momentum, both of them would undoubtedly be run through by each other’s blades.

Qí Zǐfēng’s pupils constricted.

As the gleaming sword light drew ever closer, Lín Làngyáo’s handsome face seemed to morph into the steaming black aura of a demonic entity.

The deep-seated fear hidden within the young man’s heart resurfaced.

Death seemed to already be tightening its grip around his throat—

Qí Zǐfēng squeezed his eyes shut.

At the very last moment, he forcibly changed direction, crashing heavily to the ground.

Seeing him avoid the blow, Lín Làngyáo took a few steps to steady himself, then returned his sword to its sheath.

He saw the young man sprawled clumsily on the ground, his sword having flown from his grasp, and a rare flicker of what might be called pity arose within him.

‘Should I go help him up?’ he wondered.

Suddenly, a cold voice sounded from above him.

“—He’s right.

What are you hesitating for?

What are you afraid of?

How can the esteemed Young Master of the Wuling Sword Sect be considered a true sword cultivator if he shies away from battle out of fear when facing an opponent?”

Accompanying the voice was an immensely oppressive aura of a powerful expert.

Lín Làngyáo suddenly felt his breath catch.

Anyone possessing such an aura had to be at least a Sect Elder-level existence.

Lín Làngyáo looked up and saw a black-robed man descend from the sky, cradling a sword.

He didn’t even spare a glance for the Young Master Qi who lay on the ground.

Those stern, handsome eyes were fixed directly on Lín Làngyáo.

“What is your name?” he asked with interest.

Lín Làngyáo did not reply, for he was pondering when the Wuling Sword Sect had acquired such a formidable figure.

Why had he never encountered him during his previous skirmishes?

If he had, perhaps they would have had a proper spar.

The black-robed man didn’t seem annoyed by his lack of response.

He spoke again, “I see you have excellent innate talent (TL Note: Literally ‘bone structure,’ referring to one’s natural aptitude for cultivation.) and are a true natural genius.

You dare to contend with someone in the Golden Core stage without any cultivation base yourself.

You are inherently suited to be a sword cultivator.

Are you… interested in learning sword cultivation with me?”

“…”

Qí Zǐfēng scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Uncle-Master Qiu!” he exclaimed.

The black-robed man finally looked at him, raising an eyebrow in a gesture that asked, “What is your objection?”

Qí Zǐfēng gritted his teeth.

“Uncle-Master, how can you take such a person as your disciple?”

“But I find him appealing,” the black-robed man replied.

Qí Zǐfēng felt as if he had just heard the most preposterous thing in the world, his face a mask of utter disbelief.

This was their sect’s most formidable guardian, the strongest sword cultivator among all.

Qiu Yan possessed extraordinary talent and unparalleled swordsmanship, perhaps even comparable to that individual on Qintian Peak—the reason for saying “comparable” was because Qiu Yan had been in secluded cultivation and had not had the opportunity to cross swords with that person.

His strength, throughout the entire cultivation world, could be said to be among the very best.

Qí Zǐfēng had admired this Uncle-Master since childhood.

The Sect Leader and his wife had subtly suggested to Qiu Yan more than once that he take Qí Zǐfēng as his disciple, but Qiu Yan had never agreed.

And now, he was actually going to take this unknown, obscure individual as his disciple?!

At this thought, Qí Zǐfēng couldn’t help but turn and glare furiously at Lín Làngyáo.

Lín Làngyáo, who had just been glared at… Lín Làngyáo was practically at his wit’s end with the people from this sword sect.

First, a “Young Master” wanted his sword, and now an “Uncle-Master” wanted to take him as a disciple.

It was truly baffling.

He had never encountered so many unreasonable people in his entire life as he had today.

“I already have a master,” Lín Làngyáo said, barely containing his temper.

“No matter,” the black-robed man said without hesitation.

“I am Qiu Yan of the Wuling Sword Sect.

If you trust me, joining the Wuling Sword Sect will be your best choice.

Looking across the cultivation world, no other sect is more suitable for sword cultivators than ours.

It’s not that I wish to criticize others, but I observe no trace of spiritual energy on your person.

You have yet to enter the Qi Refinement stage.

If you continue to be so unrestrained, wouldn’t that be misleading a disciple?”

At that moment, Lín Làngyáo had only one thought:

‘Damn it, why isn’t Wēn Cháoxuán here right now!

I really want to see his expression when someone accuses him of “misleading his disciple.”’

Lín Làngyáo wiped his face, managing not to burst out laughing on the spot, and said with a straight face, “Do you know who my master is?”

“Who?”

“Have you heard of Lín Làngyáo?”

Qiu Yan paused, frowning.

“Your master is Lín Làngyáo?”

“No…” Lín Làngyáo drawled slowly, as if to keep him in suspense.

“But my master… he taught Lín Làngyáo.”

Before Qiu Yan could fully process the meaning of his words, his expression suddenly turned stern as he looked towards the sky.

Almost simultaneously, Lín Làngyáo felt a familiar aura from the horizon.

Wēn Cháoxuán had arrived!

A distinct white glow, like a sudden flash of light, emerged from the faint cloud haze in the sunlight.

He approached rapidly, and soon he was close.

Wēn Cháoxuán seemed to be holding something in his hand, which he tossed in Lín Làngyáo’s direction.

Lín Làngyáo saw a black-and-white object fall before him.

Upon closer inspection, he realized it was an old man clad in a black-and-white Eight Trigrams Daoist robe.

Qiu Yan also recognized the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s Sect Leader.

He instantly shifted his stance, placing one hand on his sword, and sternly asked, “Who goes there!”

Wēn Cháoxuán did not reply.

He hovered in mid-air before them, holding a geomantic compass in one hand and drawing his Heavens-Bearing Sword from its sheath with the other.

The moment the Heavens-Bearing Sword was unsealed, it released an overwhelmingly powerful sword qi pressure.

All the upright longswords on the vast plaza in front of the main hall began to hum and tremble.

Qí Zǐfēng had never witnessed such a sight and watched the surrounding commotion with terror.

Qiu Yan’s face was extremely grim as he pressed down on his own sword, silently using his spiritual energy to counteract the opponent’s sword momentum.

Amidst this symphony of ten thousand trembling swords, only Lín Làngyáo’s Azure Cloud Sword remained quietly in its sheath, unaffected.

Lín Làngyáo kicked the sword that Qí Zǐfēng had dropped on the ground, sending it flying towards the stunned Young Master Qi.

“Hold onto your sword!”

The very next second after he spoke, Wēn Cháoxuán fully drew his sword.

The light bursting from the blade, accompanied by immense sword qi, caused all the immortal swords present to lose control.

The longswords, as if commanded, lifted from the ground and transformed into streaks of rainbow light, whistling through the air.

Wēn Cháoxuán then raised his sword and swung it, sending countless streaks of sword light pressing towards the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s Sect Leader.

The old man was terrified and knew he had nowhere to retreat.

He despairingly covered his head with his hands.

However, the imagined death did not arrive.

The longswords all plunged into the ground around him, forming a sword array that tightly trapped him.

Wēn Cháoxuán scoffed, then landed, sheathing his sword.

“Still running?”

The old man collapsed to the ground, his face pale after his narrow escape from death.

“Immortal Venerable, spare me, Immortal Venerable, spare me…” he pleaded.

Lín Làngyáo could tell at a glance that the old man must have done something to truly anger Wēn Cháoxuán, feeling a bit of schadenfreude.

“Serves you right for being so foolish.

Do you even know who you’re facing that you dared to run?”

However, no sooner had he finished speaking than he received a piercing glare from Wēn Cháoxuán.

“Where have you been running off to now?!”

“…I didn’t mean to,” Lín Làngyáo said, feeling greatly wronged.

It was clearly Wēn Cháoxuán who had pursued too quickly, causing him to get separated.

Wēn Cháoxuán closed his eyes for a moment, knowing deep down that Lín Làngyáo wasn’t truly at fault.

He had been anxious because he realized Lín Làngyáo was gone.

Wēn Cháoxuán quickly composed himself, wiped the divination result from his geomantic compass, and cast a new tracking divination.

“Grab the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s Sect Leader; let’s go find someone first…”

As he spoke, he glanced at the divination result, and his voice abruptly cut off—the tracking direction displayed on the compass was right here.

Wēn Cháoxuán instinctively took a step towards Lín Làngyáo, yet fate, as expected, showed no mercy.

The compass needle slowly spun around, then calmly pointed in the opposite direction.

Qí Zǐfēng was utterly bewildered by everything unfolding before him.

He then saw the terrifying white-robed sword cultivator turn around with a frosty expression, his eyes fixed on Qí Zǐfēng with complex, unreadable emotions.

“It’s you,” he said.

‘It’s me what?’ Qí Zǐfēng thought.

Wēn Cháoxuán remained silent.

At that moment, he had only one thought:

‘So, one hundred and sixty years ago, everything truly was wrong.’