"But the truly formidable ones never made a move. This disciple still has that much self-awareness."
"That is enough. Credit where credit is due."
Though Xuan Di still harbored some reservations, he could not deny Jiang Yang's contribution.
Jiang Yang was not the sort to let success go to his head either. He bowed and replied:
"You are right, True Person, but this disciple merely benefited from being a Sword Cultivator. I dare not claim the credit."
"You certainly are modest..."
Xuan Di was in a fairly good mood. He swept his sleeve upward and affirmed:
"Whatever the case, you have won honor for our Rain Xiang Mountain. Rest easy."
That sweep of his sleeve made it impossible for Jiang Yang to bend at the waist, so he could only say:
"It is all thanks to my master's teaching."
At those words, something seemed to occur to Xuan Di. He remained wistful for a long while before sighing softly:
"Yes, my senior brother is a Sword Immortal such as the world rarely sees. I am no match for him."
"A pity... he cultivated a tradition at the end of its road. The present state of yi wood is truly hard to bear..."
Xuan Di gazed into the distance, but his eyes rested on nothing, lost in thought.
Rain Xiang Mountain was, after all, descended from the Celestial River Tradition, an orthodox path of weak water. Naturally, it held that path supreme. Its Purple Mansion True Persons had cultivated weak water for generations, with those from the Dewlit Ancestral Court held in the highest regard.
Back then, Fushu Peak had withered away. It had survived only because it possessed one or two Purple Mansion inheritances of yi wood, yet no cultivator had ever attained Divine Powers. Its spirit vigor languished, its