Chapter 271: Cabinet of Hidden Swords

Stepping out from the serene, elegant doors of Listening Snow Pavilion, Wang Ping's emotions surged tumultuously, unable to calm himself.

Lingxu Secret Realm, Myriad Methods Pool, Origin Law Fragments—these terms spoken by the Qingyu Great Expert were each an opportunity.

He drew a deep breath, and the freezing cold air flooded his lungs, yet it could not extinguish his burning heart.

Having just stepped a few paces outside the pavilion, a young cultivator clad in the Qingyu Palace's standard azure robe, with a composed countenance and eyes bright as stars, his body faintly flowing with pure sword intent, was already waiting quietly beneath an ancient snow‑proud pine by the roadside.

Upon seeing Wang Ping, he immediately stepped forward, bowed respectfully, his movements smooth and natural, his tone reverent, carrying the crisp decisiveness peculiar to sword cultivators:

"Disciple Mu Chen, acting on the Patriarch's orders, has been waiting here for you, Uncle Wang, for quite a while.

The Patriarch instructed that if Uncle Wang has leisure, not minding the palace's simplicity, you may let me accompany you for a casual tour."

Mu Chen? Wang Ping's eyes flickered as he gave the youth a once‑over.

His aura was condensed and profound; he had already reached Mid Golden Core cultivation, with an exceptionally solid foundation, his clear eyes holding the sharpness and focus distinctive of sword cultivators—clearly a valued, meticulously nurtured second‑generation true disciple of the Qingyu Great Expert.

His addressing me as "Uncle" stems naturally from the fact that his master, Dean Jiang Mingyuan, and the Qingyu Great Expert are peers in friendship.

"Thank you for your trouble, Junior Nephew Mu." Wang Ping gave a slight nod, his tone calm.

He was indeed curious about the famed sword cultivator holy land of the Northern Region—Qingyu Palace—and wished to witness its unique character.

"Uncle, please follow me this way."

Mu Chen stepped aside, made a gesturing invitation, then led the way ahead, his steps unhurried yet steady, displaying good breeding and respect for his elders.

The two walked slowly along the bluestone path blanketed in crystal‑white snow.

Mu Chen spoke propriety, fulfilling his duty of guidance without being overly talkative, merely pointing out the scenery along the way in a steady, clear voice.

Qingyu Palace occupies a vast area; although called a "palace," it is not the magnificent, tiered complex of halls ordinary people imagine, but rather a mountain‑side retreat that clings to towering snow peaks and grows naturally with the terrain.

The buildings chiefly use locally quarried jade‑green stone and cold stone as main materials, their style simple yet grand, foregoing intricate carvings in favor of harmonizing with the surroundings.

The warm smoothness of the jade and the stark chill of the cold stone intertwine perfectly with the surrounding snowy vistas, icy streams, and towering snow bamboo, together exuding a cool, aloof, unyielding sword‑dao essence.

Walking among them, Wang Ping could clearly sense a faint yet omnipresent sharpness lingering in the air.

This is not the deliberate emission of any single person, but the result of countless resolute cultivators who have long studied the sword here, comprehending, practicing, and living by it.

Their sword intent and qi imperceptibly permeated the locale's spiritual qi, forming Qingyu Palace's unique "field."

Occasionally, one can hear a couple of clear, lingering sword notes drifting from mist‑enshrouded valleys afar, or sense a sudden surge of icy, sky‑rushing sword intent erupting from a seemingly tranquil cavern.

Passing a vast ice lake, its surface smooth as a mirror, ripple‑less, clearly reflecting the towering snow peaks, azure sky, and drifting clouds and birds—a scene of extraordinary grandeur.

Mu Chen promptly said: "Uncle Wang, this is the famed Sword Heart Lake of the palace. The water is exceptionally clear, able to subtly reveal the distracting thoughts and flaws within a cultivator's sword heart."

Consequently, many senior brothers and sisters often sit in quiet contemplation by the lake, using it to temper their sword hearts, seeking lucidity and transparency that mirrors themselves.

Wang Ping halted by the lake, focusing his gaze; the surface was like a polished mirror, reflecting not only external objects but also faintly capturing his own spirit and breath, causing imperceptible ripples.

He secretly thought this place truly is a treasure for tempering one's state of mind.

Continuing onward, they passed a peculiar bamboo grove whose stalks were not the usual verdant green but exhibited a metallic blue‑gray hue, glinting with a cold hardness under the snowy light.

The leaves were narrow and long, their edges not rounded but naturally sharp like countless miniature jade swords.

When the biting mountain wind swept through the bamboo grove, the sound was no ordinary rustle but a continuous, faint yet distinct metallic friction, like myriad tiny swords lightly clashing.

"This is Sword‑Spine Bamboo," Mu Chen explained. "Its texture is hard; ordinary magical implements cannot mar it, comparable to fine steel.

The leaves innately contain a thread of pure metallic sharpness; disciples of the palace carefully gather them to aid in cultivating certain metal‑type sword arts, enhancing sharpness.

Or they serve as auxiliary material for forging sword tassels, sheaths, and other fittings of flying swords, which can nurture the blade."

Wang Ping gave a slight nod, reached out and lightly touched a drooping Sword‑Spine bamboo leaf; his fingertip felt a clear sting, as if truly nicked by a tiny blade.

He inwardly praised, Qingyu Palace truly deserves its reputation as the famed sword cultivator holy land of the spiritual realm—every blade of grass, every tree, every mountain and stream seems to have been steeped and reshaped by countless sword cultivators' intent, intimately tied to the Way of the Sword; long‑term practice here, through constant exposure, must greatly benefit one's comprehension and progress in sword dao.

As they passed through an open training field naturally encircled by dense Sword‑Spine bamboo, Wang Ping's gaze inadvertently swept the perimeter.

There, a middle‑aged cultivator in a blue robe, his aura deep, was lecturing dozens of disciples, all attentive; among them a familiar figure leapt into view—none other than Jin Aoxing.

Wang Ping also saw Jin Aoxing, but his glance merely swept past, with no pause, his steps unimpeded as he followed Mu Chen forward.

He and Jin Aoxing had only a passing acquaintance; his assistance had been merely incidental, so there was no need for further entanglement.

Guiding Wang Ping, Mu Chen soon arrived before a tower of archaic appearance, its entire body cast from a single piece of an unknown dark‑blue‑tinged metal.

The tower is not tall—only three stories—but at first glance it seems less a building and more a sheathed immortal sword that has gathered all its sharpness within.

Its surface is etched with countless minute, profound runes imbued with Daoic resonance; these runes are not static but slowly flow, within them faintly flashing the radiance of extremely pure sword qi, guarding this important heritage site of Qingyu Palace.

"Uncle Wang, this is my Qingyu Palace's Cabinet of Hidden Swords."

Mu Chen halted before the tower, his expression betraying pride and reverence that he could not conceal.

"Within are stored the myriad sword arts, dao techniques, cultivation insights gathered, created, and perfected by generations of the palace's forefathers, together with various wondrous records related to the sword dao."

"The Patriarch has just issued a decree permitting Uncle Wang to enter the Cabinet of Hidden Swords and freely select any dao technique or sword‑law inheritance therein."

Upon hearing this, Wang Ping's heart stirred involuntarily.

The Cabinet of Hidden Swords of Qingyu Palace, with its abundant collection and high rank, is renowned throughout the Northern Region.

This generous gift is clearly not merely the personal benevolence of the Qingyu elders; it undoubtedly also considers the face of Master Jiang Mingyuan.

This is both an opportunity and a favor. He naturally would not decline with false modesty, clasping his hands solemnly he said:

"Many thanks for the Qingyu elders' generous gift; Wang Ping is deeply grateful. Thank you, Junior Nephew Mu, for guiding the way."

Mu Chen added no further words, producing an antiquely shaped token that radiated fierce sword intent, and gave it a light sway before the massive dark‑metal gate of the Cabinet of Hidden Swords.

A faint beam shot from the token, sinking into an obscure rune on the door.

The next moment, the heavy gate slid open silently inward, revealing a passage barely wide enough for one person, somewhat deep and secluded; the breath issuing from within was even more ancient and solemn.

"Uncle, please go in; I'll wait outside. Inside the cabinet there are its own restrictions and a guiding spiritual light—you just need to follow your inner intuition and the light's guidance forward."

"The limit is one hour; when it arrives, whether or not you have made a choice, the cabinet's restriction will automatically escort you out."