The searing pain churning through his sea of divine sense brought cold sweat to Qu Yong's temples. Through the haze, he glimpsed Yun Ying kneeling beside him, offering a water flask wreathed in the fragrance of Yu Zan Flowers unique to Jiangnan.
"Junior Brother Qu, are you all right?" Yun Ying's voice sounded beside his ear like a clear spring.
Qu Yong opened his eyes and found her watching him with concern. Her pale green skirt and jacket gleamed softly in the halo of the han white jade stele.
She held a celadon water flask in her hands. As she offered it, her sleeve slipped back slightly, revealing a stretch of fair wrist. The silver bells around it chimed softly, like orioles singing among willow branches.
"Thank you, Senior Sister Yun." Qu Yong accepted the flask, and the sweet fragrance of the clear water refreshed his spirits.
He looked up at the mural. The white-robed sword immortal's flexible sword still darted through Nine-Infant's poisonous flames, as though mocking his incompetence.
"Sword intent is difficult to comprehend, but there's no need to rush." Yun Ying spoke softly, her fingertips brushing the sword marks on the stele.
Her soft, delicate voice continued, "Every time I come here, I feel as though the sword immortal's eyes are trying to tell us something. Perhaps we should approach it from another angle."
Qu Yong paused at her words and turned his gaze back to the stele. This time, he no longer fixated on the paths of the sword moves, but focused instead on the sword immortal's eyes. They were as deep as an abyss, as though holding boundless wisdom and the weight of countless years.
Gradually, he felt a warm current rise from his dan foundation and flow along his meridians into every limb and