Page 5

When had Pei Ji's swordsmanship advanced to this level?

The question landed hollowly in Nie Zhi's heart. Amid the night slowly spreading around him, he heard a faint, barely audible laugh.

The last traces of sunset mingled with the moonlight. A chaotic play of light and shadow flowed down like a stream, outlining the sharp features of the young man before him.

Pei Ji's dark eyes brimmed with crimson light. The corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest curve, but his gaze was as cold as the north wind over an icy river, utterly devoid of warmth.

His tone was mild, touched with a hint of laziness and mockery. The teardrop mole beneath his eye looked like dried blood, making Nie Zhi's spine grow cold despite himself. "Draw your sword."

What was happening with the male lead had absolutely nothing to do with Ning Ning right now.

If he wanted to fill his harem, let him. If he wanted to enter a secret realm, let him. She couldn't care less.

The only thing Ning Ning cared about was that she could finally walk on the ground again! And not just walk—even flying through the sky on a sword was a piece of cake!

In her previous life, she had been tormented by illness until she could barely endure it. When she was gravely ill, she had been left with only a breath of life and not even the strength to get out of bed. All she could do was lie quietly and wait to die.

Now that she thought about it, it had been a very long time since she'd been able to walk freely.

She was so, so, so happy!

Ning Ning practically jogged out of the disciple dormitory and into an open area on the mountainside. Relying on her memories, she formed a hand seal.

A flash of swordlight glimmered at her waist, and the long sword sprang from its sheath, hovering horizontally in midair.

The sword was called Star Trace. Its blade was slender and thin, light as a swallow, and gleamed faintly beneath the moonlight.

Several small, exquisite Guanghan Ghost Pearls adorned its hilt. They shone with spiritual light, sparkling brilliantly at a glance—there was indeed a hint of starlight to them.

The original owner had cherished this sword dearly. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that in the eyes of every Sword Cultivator, their own sword was a peerless treasure.

Where the person was, the sword was; the sword was all, and the self was one with the sword.

Whether cleaving mountains and rivers, shattering the earth and piercing the heavens, or traversing the mysterious realms of the heavens, fame was nothing but an external trifle. All that mattered was one person and one sword.

What did they need money for? A sword was enough. What did they need fame for? A sword was enough. What did they need a wife for? A sword was enough.

Or rather, the sword was their wife.

My wife is way too pretty! Don't worry, my precious Star Trace. Mom will definitely buy you the prettiest clothes and make you the most beautiful baby in the whole sect!

Ning Ning made this solemn vow, then climbed onto the blade, still a little unpracticed. With a faint ring of the sword, she rode the qi up into the sky.

The last trace of sunset was swallowed by night, leaving only the glowing moon overhead. Thin clouds, like cotton wadding soaked in ink, drifted softly across the black dome of the sky, unable to hide the moon's brilliant radiance.

Ning Ning looked down and couldn't help but fall silent in amazement.

The Xuanxu Sword Sect, where she was, stood within the Kunwu Mountains, one of the seven blessed grotto-heavens brimming with spiritual energy. As the saying went, "The celestial forms shine in the clear heavens, where palaces rise; the hidden essence gathers in the depths, opening grotto-heavens in famed mountains."

At the very center, Taixuan Main Peak soared from the earth toward the clouds. Lingxiao, Kaiyang, Yuheng, and Tianhe Peaks stood nearby, while the other, smaller peaks rose in layer upon layer, their verdant slopes cloaked in shadow.

The peaks rose in varied grandeur, distant winds and mists twining together. White Mist gathered and scattered among the mountains, veiling them like a gauzy, ethereal curtain. Now soaked in the moon's pearly light, it seemed all the more serene and otherworldly.

Looking closer, she could make out buildings scattered like stars across a chessboard. The Sword Casting Platform, Sword Formation, Star Gazing Platform, and academy blazed with lights, connected by stone stairways and plank roads. From her distant perch on the sword, it was as if she had entered a celestial paradise beyond the mortal world.

It was a truly beautiful sight.

So Ning Ning swore she absolutely hadn't meant to make her stomach growl.

When her empty stomach complained for the third time, Ning Ning finally arrived at the dining hall.

The original owner had missed the sect's scheduled dinner time just to pick a fight with Pei Ji. Ning Ning couldn't help thinking that she'd clearly managed to hurt the enemy by eight hundred while costing herself a thousand. What was revenge compared to a meal?

The dining hall's stores were as empty as her stomach. Perhaps the female cultivator in charge of cooking felt sorry for the young girl, because she took a skinned goose carcass from a cupboard.

Then, with a twist of both hands, she split the goose cleanly in half and handed one piece to Ning Ning.

A truly crispy goose, taken apart.

But why were you so good at that?!

"Since the beginning of this month, you're the seventh disciple to come begging for food. Supplies are running low, so make it last, little friend."

The female cultivator tore the goose apart and shut the cupboard in one fluid motion, speaking with practiced ease. "There's still hope in life. Don't do anything rash just because you're temporarily short on money. As long as you're alive, those worldly possessions will come sooner or later."

Ning Ning: ?

Wait, had she misunderstood something? And why was she the seventh person to come begging for food? Did everyone in this sect have a bad habit of being late for dinner? And what did this have to do with money? Were there really people who couldn't afford to eat? No way, right? No way, no way?

Full of questions, Ning Ning blurted out, "The seventh?"

The female cultivator sighed wistfully. "There used to be even more. Surely you know what our sect is like, little friend?" ...She really didn't!

In the end, the female cultivator never explained what she meant. Ning Ning returned to her little courtyard with the goose in hand, still utterly confused.

Unexpectedly, the original owner's room was surprisingly neat and bright. There were no gold, silver, or bronze utensils dazzling enough to blind her.

There was naturally no cooking pot here, and she had no way of finding firewood for grilling, either. Ning Ning looked around the room from top to bottom, troubled, until her gaze finally settled on the Alchemy Furnace in the corner.

That was perfect!

An alchemy furnace used spiritual energy as its fuel, so it could be lit without firewood. And its shape was oddly similar to a pressure cooker, making it an ideal vessel for roasting goose. She really was a clever little thing.

—Of course, the above was extremely dangerous. Pressure cooker, clever little thing—those were all complete nonsense on her part.

If the ancestors of the Xuanxu Sect knew someone had roasted a goose in an alchemy vessel, they might fly straight down from the immortal realm in such a rage that they'd outdo the Seventh Fairy searching for Dong Yong.