Sword Immortal Arts

"All my life, I have longed to lie in a land of tenderness; ten fathoms of soft red dust bind my heart; a beauty takes pity on me in fragrant waters.

"If Heaven denies me this wish, wind and clouds shall change color, and my sword shall soar. A man's spirit ranges across the four corners of the earth!"

Tang Changsheng read it, and his expression changed drastically. He stumbled back several steps despite himself and nearly knocked over the gauze-screened cabinet.

The ink on the wall seemed to surge and fly like swords. Every character, every stroke became a blade, slashing and stabbing through the air toward him.

Before such Sword Qi, he had no power to defend himself. In an instant, it felt as though he had been killed a thousand times over!

"This is a sword immortal's art!" Tang Changsheng cried, drenched in cold sweat.

Master Chengyang and the others were startled. They had expected Tang Changsheng to be scared out of his wits and make a complete fool of himself.

Who would have thought that, disheveled as he looked, Tang Changsheng could still barely stay on his feet? Their surprise deepened, and the looks they gave him grew even more guarded.

They did not know that Tang Changsheng had seen something similar at the General's Temple.

What he had seen there could not compare with the menacing strokes and overflowing Sword Qi before him. But he had seen it before, and that gave him some resistance. Even so, he felt an indescribable discomfort.

No one could feel themselves killed a thousand times over in an instant and still look well!

He forced a smile. "True Person Yun Muyu is remarkable indeed. This poem is not for the likes of us to read!"

The others stared in uncertainty. They had never expected Tang Changsheng to struggle free of the sword intent on his own.

They had all looked at it themselves, but usually in a group of friends or family. Someone had to stand guard and wake them the moment anything went wrong.

Otherwise, they might sink into it and be unable to pull themselves free. Some might even go mad; others had been frightened to death on the spot!

Of course, that applied to cultivators. Ordinary people, with their mortal eyes, could not see the sword intent at all!

Master Chengyang had meant to teach Tang Changsheng a harsh lesson, to frighten him so badly he soiled himself, then let him slink away, too ashamed to remain at Primordial Yang Abbey. Instead, Tang Changsheng had fought his way out on his own.

For a moment, Master Chengyang and the others said nothing!

Just then, a commotion rose from downstairs. Xin Chengying strode up with two others. Seeing Tang Changsheng unharmed, he breathed a sigh of relief, then snapped, "What nonsense... Did you think you could look at sword immortal Yun Muyu's writing?"

He wanted to scold Master Chengyang and the others, but he was easygoing by nature and never put on airs. In short, he was the sort who was too kind for his own good.

He got only halfway through before noticing that, although Tang Changsheng was pale, his mind did not seem badly shaken. Xin Chengying sighed and let the matter drop.

"Go back for now," he said with another sigh.

At that, Master Chengyang and the others scattered like birds and beasts, as though granted a pardon. No one mentioned drinking again.

Tang Changsheng's face was still pale, and a faint chill lingered throughout his body.

He managed a smile. "Thank you for your concern, Senior Brother Xin."

Xin Chengying sighed. "So you knew they meant you harm. Why did you still..."

Tang Changsheng smiled. "Senior Brother Xin knew their character was poor too, didn't he?"

Xin Chengying frowned, shook his head, and said no more.

He knew perfectly well what sort of people had been recruited into the outer court. Unfortunately, he had no better solution.

His master's line had no established foundation and had risen to prominence almost overnight, leaving them short of people. Recruitment was the only clumsy method available to them.

The result was an unavoidable mix of good and bad!

To put it bluntly, they had taken in plenty of petty crooks and scoundrels. Not one genuinely capable cultivator devoted to quiet practice had come to their door.

Otherwise, they would not have placed such importance on Tang Changsheng.

Hearing Tang Changsheng say it aloud left Xin Chengying dispirited. "Come on. We'll talk when we get back."

Tang Changsheng had expected Xin Chengying to give him some answer in the end. Instead, the matter simply came to nothing!

No wonder Primordial Yang Abbey can't attract real masters devoted to quiet practice, he thought. The place is full of ghosts and monsters like these. Bad coin drives out good—there's not a word of that saying that isn't true!

If this goes on, Primordial Yang Abbey may... He shook his head.

Tang Changsheng began to think of leaving. He really had intended to seek guidance from True Person Lü Yuanhua at Primordial Yang Abbey...

For the time being, though, he did not know how to get back. He could only settle in for now. He stopped meeting outside visitors and devoted each day to training.

He felt that the reason he had embarrassed himself time and again was simply that his skills were lacking!

That night, he lit his Heavenly Heart once more. The circle of light it cast was called the Spirit Terrace.

Without turning the light inward, a person could not see the true nature of the Sea of Consciousness. People were born in a muddle and died in a muddle. From birth to death, they had no control, drifting with the current...

Cultivators were different. The first and most important step was to light their own Heavenly Heart and form a Spirit Terrace. Only then could they begin to take hold of their fate.

This was the most vital step in orthodox cultivation!

Deviant arts might offer all manner of ways to cultivate power and gain supernatural abilities. But without a sound Heavenly Heart or an established Spirit Terrace, no one could be called a true cultivator.

Since Tang Changsheng had lit his Heavenly Heart the first time, a second time had followed. On that occasion, he had sat quietly for over two hours, finally cleared away every stray thought, and entered meditation. His Heavenly Heart had then lit again on its own.

After several days of practice, he had gradually grown proficient.

He was in especially good form today. In just over an hour of sitting, he lit his Heavenly Heart again.

A point of light no larger than a mung bean glimmered within his Sea of Consciousness.

The light was like moonlight, utterly free of dust and gentle as water. Bathed in its glow, he felt a comfort beyond words...

Then, out of nowhere, an unseen force made Tang Changsheng's heart race and threw his blood and qi into disorder. His once-lucid state of mind dissolved into chaos.

His Heavenly Heart went dark. Tang Changsheng jolted out of that state.

What happened? His heart thudded wildly.

Outside the window, sand and stones suddenly whipped through the air. Tree shadows swayed across the pane like countless grasping ghost claws!

Wind whistled through the crack beneath the door, and the flickering lamp nearly went out. The air seemed to drop several degrees at once, raising goosebumps on Tang Changsheng's skin.

This is bad. Is there a ghost?