I Seek Not Immortality Pills, Only the Opening of the Spear Dao

When the spear tip left Zhou Qiubai's throat, it stirred a faint breeze that brushed the loose strands of hair before his forehead.

"You were right." Yang Guyun admitted calmly. "I do have attachments."

He did not say what those attachments were, and Zhou Qiubai did not ask.

Some things did not need to be spelled out.

"What about the third move?" Zhou Qiubai asked curiously.

Yang Guyun shook his head. "The third move, No Return, is only in its infancy for now."

He looked at Zhou Qiubai. "Have you seen enough?"

"I have." Zhou Qiubai nodded and said sincerely, "Your spear is excellent. The No Return Spear Technique is even better."

The corner of Yang Guyun's mouth seemed to lift in the faintest smile, so slight it was nearly impossible to notice.

"Then what about your sword?"

Zhou Qiubai smiled as well.

He raised a hand and lightly rested it on the hilt of the White Clothes Sword at his waist.

"My sword does not leave its sheath easily," he said. "But the moonlight is good tonight, and your spear is worthy enough."

He took three steps back, widening the distance between himself and Yang Guyun.

His right hand remained on the hilt. With that opening stance alone, his entire aura changed at once.

The bright-smiling youth from before vanished, replaced by a swordsman as calm and deep as an autumn pool.

His white clothes fluttered without wind beneath the moon, while sword qi flowed faintly around him. Though that sword qi was extremely thin, it made the very air around them razor-sharp.

Yang Guyun felt it.

"I will only draw one sword." Zhou Qiubai spoke. "The opening move of the Qiuming Eighteen Styles—Dawn Wind and Waning Moon."

As his words fell, the sword left its sheath.

It was merely a simple motion: drawing the sword, then thrusting forward.

The blade of the White Clothes Sword was so thin that it was nearly transparent in the moonlight, its graceful curve like a crescent moon.

As the sword tip thrust out, it brought forth an exceedingly faint breeze.

The wind carried the chill of autumn leaves and the lonely clarity of a waning moon.

Yang Guyun's pupils abruptly shrank to pinpoints.

In his eyes, that sword was clearly incredibly slow—slow enough that he could plainly see every slight tremor of the blade and every inch of the sword tip's path.

Yet he discovered that he could not evade it.

It was not a matter of speed.

That sword...

It was not aimed at his body, but at the nodes of his aura.

Like a dawn wind brushing across one's face, it was everywhere and could not be resisted.

His spear did not even know where to block.

Yang Guyun retreated sharply.

This was the first time he had retreated tonight, and one of the rare times since taking up the spear that he had been forced back before even making a move.

That sword was like wind and moon, leaving no trace to follow.

At last, when he had taken seven steps back, Yang Guyun let out a long howl and resolutely stopped retreating.

The Returnless Spear turned into a black bolt of lightning and shot forward.

He was not intercepting that sword. Instead, he met offense with offense, the spear tip aimed directly at Zhou Qiubai's sword-holding wrist.

The spear struck out.

Sword and spear crossed beneath the moonlight.

There was no sound of impact.

The instant Zhou Qiubai's sword tip lightly touched the cloth over Yang Guyun's chest, it tapped gently before withdrawing.

Yang Guyun's spear tip, meanwhile, came to an abrupt stop three inches from Zhou Qiubai's wrist.

The two stood facing each other in silence.

Only after a long while did Zhou Qiubai return his sword to his waist.

"Fine sword." Rare emotion tinged his voice. "Autumn leaves rustle, heaven and earth lie desolate. Such an artistic conception should not appear at your age."

The first two words did not really need to be said.

Zhou Qiubai sheathed his sword as well and smiled. "Your spear is fine too."

Then he burst into laughter. "All right, enough flattering each other."

The two returned to sit beside the campfire, and the atmosphere became even more natural than before.

After that silent exchange, a certain tacit understanding had quietly formed between them.

It was the wordless acknowledgment shared between martial artists.

Zhou Qiubai leaned lazily against the cave wall, his gaze fixed on the flickering campfire.

He suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a hint of teasing. "When you ran away from home, didn't your clan send anyone after you?"

"They did." Yang Guyun's reply was simple and direct. "They didn't find me."

"The Breaking Clan is highly skilled at making medicine. Their tracking skills should be decent too, shouldn't they?" Zhou Qiubai raised his brows, seemingly joking.

How could they possibly have failed to find him? They probably knew his destination and simply could not be bothered to interfere.

"I used a few methods." Yang Guyun's voice was low, but Zhou Qiubai could sense the unquestionable resolve within it.

"Do you think it was worth it?" Zhou Qiubai asked curiously.

Yang Guyun raised his head. The firelight flickered in his deep, pool-like eyes. "Was your sword worth giving up a peaceful life and wandering the martial world alone?"

He answered with a question.

Zhou Qiubai smiled lightly and replied without hesitation, "Of course it was."

"Then we are actually the same." Yang Guyun withdrew his gaze and said faintly, "For this, any price is worth paying."

Zhou Qiubai did not press further.

He knew that some choices could not be measured by whether they were worth it. Asking further would only seem profane.

So he changed the subject. "That thing of yours... is it a Storage Soul Tool?"

Zhou Qiubai pointed at the inconspicuous black jade pendant at Yang Guyun's waist.

Yang Guyun was carefully wiping down his spear. Hearing this, he looked up and raised a brow slightly. "What about it?"

"How much space does it have?" Zhou Qiubai asked curiously.

"A little over three cubic feet." Yang Guyun answered concisely.

Zhou Qiubai's eyes immediately lit up. "Then can you let me take a look?"

Yang Guyun removed the jade pendant and handed it to him.

The jade felt warm and smooth in his hand. Delicate cloud patterns were carved across its surface, and a Space Stone the size of a grain of rice was embedded in its center.

As Zhou Qiubai played with the jade pendant, an idea suddenly occurred to him. He looked at Yang Guyun. "Brother Yang, I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Speak." Yang Guyun looked entirely calm.

"I have some things that are inconvenient to carry." Zhou Qiubai chose his words carefully, sounding a little hesitant. "Could I... store them with you for the time being?"

Yang Guyun silently watched him without answering. Zhou Qiubai was not in a hurry and waited for him to think it over.

After quite a while, Yang Guyun finally spoke. "What things?"

Zhou Qiubai pulled out a bundle from the very bottom of his pack and unwrapped it layer by layer.

When the Spirit Bone of the Swift Wind Falcon revealed its true form, the air in the cave seemed to freeze for an instant.

"A Spirit Bone?" A trace of shock entered his voice. "Where did you get it?"

You're not absorbing it?

Carrying something like this everywhere... this guy is ruthless.

"Star Dou Forest." Zhou Qiubai answered frankly. "I have no intention of absorbing it. I only want to sell it for money. But carrying it on me is far too dangerous, so..."

He paused, meeting Yang Guyun's gaze directly. "Do you dare take it?"

The question was both direct and clever.

Yang Guyun stared at the Spirit Bone for a long time. Just as Zhou Qiubai thought he would refuse, Yang Guyun suddenly smiled.

It was not that faint, restrained smile, but a genuine one. The corners of his lips lifted, and a trace of amusement sparkled in his eyes.

"You aren't afraid I'll keep it for myself?" he asked.

Zhou Qiubai smiled as well. "If you wanted to take it, you would have done so just now. Besides..."

He pointed at his ear. "My hearing is fairly good. Your heartbeat is steady and your breathing calm. Clearly, you do not care about it at all."