Xiang Yang, still unaware that he had already drawn the intense attention of the demonic sects, cast aside mortal distractions and wandered among famous mountains and great rivers. He gazed up at the ever-changing clouds in the sky and looked down upon the earth's riot of purple and crimson, meditating upon his heart and elevating his blade path.
After his battle with Sword Obsessed, he seemed to have advanced into another strange realm. His opponent's unique understanding of the sword had benefited him immensely and allowed him to comprehend a higher level of the blade path.
Unfortunately, knowing was easy, doing was hard. Understanding alone was useless; only achieving it counted as success.
"Right now, I have only cultivated the realm where man is the blade and the blade is man. It can also be called having no blade in one's hand, yet a blade in one's heart. If I take another step forward, it should be Forgetful Blade—no blade in hand, no blade in heart; no blade, no self, leaving no trace to follow: a transcendent blade path.
"Yet gaining a blade is not easy, and gaining the Dao is even harder. Forgetful Blade, Forgetful Blade—it sounds simple enough, but how could it be so easily achieved?"
Within a secluded valley of exquisite scenery, alive with birdsong and fragrant blossoms, Xiang Yang wore a bamboo hat and tight black clothes that outlined his sturdy, imposing frame. Que Xie still hung at his waist, its edge as sharp as ever, man and blade seemingly fused as one.
He sat quietly beside a small deep pool in the valley, holding a fishing rod and fishing without moving.
A breeze swept over him, lifting the black veil before his bamboo hat and revealing a face with taut features and a puzzled expression.