Li Qing's Transformation

Thanks to Li Qing's painstaking efforts over the past year and more, Fang Xun's virtuous name had spread throughout East Mountain Town.

With Heaven-and-Earth Mystic Yellow Qi woven through the town, almost every corner lay within Li Shun's grasp.

Even Li Qing himself had become a source of Mystic Yellow Qi.

After all, Li Qing had heard the story of Fang Xun sacrificing his life to save the townspeople countless times—and had personally written and spread it. Over time, his admiration for Fang Xun had grown no weaker than that of any ordinary resident of East Mountain Town.

Of course, it was mostly respect and admiration.

It was not the "faith" the townspeople felt.

At that moment, Li Qing placed a stick of incense before the memorial tablet for Fang Xun in his home. After paying his respects, confusion washed over his face. As if he had lost his soul, he sat blankly on a bench, lost in thought.

Only after nearly half a day did he come to himself, as though waking from a dream.

He sighed, then rummaged through a corner of the house and pulled out a wooden stick covered in dust.

With the stick in hand, a trace of sharpness returned to his vacant eyes.

He first swung it through the air a few times, gradually growing excited.

Then he went into the courtyard and used the stick as a sword, performing a set of sword techniques.

His movements were awkward at first, but soon they became remarkably fluid.

It was as though Li Qing had practiced this swordplay more times than he could count.

His body moved like a gliding swan, and shadows of the sword drifted through the air.

His fierce sword momentum seemed to raise an invisible storm in the courtyard, sending furnishings