The eighteenth day was merely the day Bi Xingjian arrived. Jiang Yang had already spent a full forty-nine days immersed in the Sword Dao.
Jiang Yang did not ask what had brought him here. Instead, he extended a hand in invitation.
"This isn't the place to talk. Come with me, senior brother."
"Mm..."
Bi Xingjian answered in a low voice and walked back alongside Jiang Yang.
Before he knew it, he had fallen half a step behind, his mind filled with that crystalline sword light. He, too, was a cultivator who had developed Sword Qi, so he naturally understood what it meant.
At that moment, an indescribable envy welled up in Bi Xingjian's heart. Though he usually remained as unruffled as a light breeze beneath drifting clouds, that did not mean he had never wished to advance further. Was it that he simply did not want to?
He had likewise been taught the Sword Canon and entrusted with his master's high hopes, yet he could barely advance an inch along the Sword Dao. An immense gulf lay before him. Once, he had been unable to understand his master's sword; now, he could not even understand his youngest junior brother's.
"Have a seat, senior brother."
Jiang Yang smiled as he invited Bi Xingjian to sit, then brewed him a cup of clear tea.
They were fellow disciples, after all, and Jiang Yang was his junior brother. This was a good thing no matter how he looked at it. Bi Xingjian gathered his scattered thoughts and began to feel happy for him again.
"Mm."
He nodded, sat down, and accepted the tea.
Using tea in place of wine, Jiang Yang offered an apology.
"I became so absorbed in my practice that I kept you waiting, senior brother. The fault was mine."
"Oh..."