At those words, Jiang Yang lowered his head with a smile. That certainly sounded like Senior Brother Bi. He could only speak up in support:
"Senior Brother has always kept his talents hidden and his edge sheathed. He dislikes conflict."
Seeing that Chu Qingjian had already begun practicing her secret art and made ample preparations, Xuan Guang grew concerned about the future of his remaining disciple.
"I no longer hold any hopes for his cultivation of the Sword Dao. But seeking divine powers has always been the threshold to immortality in the mystic path. One moment of laxity can leave you barred outside."
"All one's cultivation surges out of the qi sea, lifting the immortal foundation into rising sun. Boundless illusions and countless demonic obstacles await. How can someone working behind closed doors hope to cross them?"
The immortal foundation bound together a cultivator's life and cultivation. Once it left the qi sea, it rose every moment, able to ascend but never descend. Failure usually meant instant death, with no room for reprieve.
Over hundreds and thousands of years, disciples under Rain Xiang Mountain had been as numerous as carp crossing a river. What sort of outstanding talents had it not seen?
Yet those capable of reaching the pinnacle of divine powers never numbered more than the fingers of one hand. Time and fate—it could only draw a sigh.
"The Great Dao is fraught with peril. I hope this war will let him understand heaven and earth and behold all living beings, giving him a better chance of reaching that pinnacle."
As a Sword Immortal, Xuan Guang had always opposed working behind closed doors. As a disciple, Bi Xingjian was more than satisfactory in his dealings with both seniors and juniors. Only his habit of remaining holed up in the