Chapter 750

“Fine.” Li He nodded. “Actually, you didn’t need to talk about those poems.”

“I was trying to please you.” Pei Ye paused, then said seriously, “But Master, I truly do love the Dao of poetry…”

“Enough. Don’t say more.” Li He cut him off, gathering the bowls from the basin. “I’ll teach you one trick.”

Something had indeed changed—when they first met, this Sword Master had said, “I may not be able to give you much guidance,” yet now he agreed readily.

Pei Ye’s eyes lit up: “That’s too kind of you.”

Li He acted as if he hadn’t heard. “You’re at the Pulse Realm, right? Do you know any Qi techniques?”

Pei Ye thought a moment. “I know one technique: Sword Washes Water.”

Li He sat on his stool, watching him, gesturing for him to demonstrate.

Pei Ye drew Jade Tiger, frowned at the dishwater, turned, scooped a handful of clean water from the bucket, and splashed it onto the blade. Instantly, sharp sword intent sprouted where the water touched, like seeds watered.

Li He reached out, touched it—his fingertip split open with a neat, deep, razor-sharp cut.

“What kind of sword is this?”

“‘Sword Washes Water’ from ‘First Moon, Northern Rain.’” Pei Ye said. “A technique of Xiao Ma Sword.”

Li He nodded; the cut on his finger sealed shut. “Good. Your control over Qi is already exquisite. Now, follow my guidance—channel your Qi into this sword.”

Li He gripped—only with two fingers—his wrist, placing his hand on the hilt.

Pei Ye glanced at the man for confirmation, then began sending Qi into the sword. He had done this basic motion tens of thousands of times—it was as natural as stepping forward with his left foot.

Since the Four Lives, Qi could flow into any object in contact. Pei Ye’s first choice was always the sword in his hand.

But now he froze slightly—his outgoing Qi, filtered by Li He, split into countless thin threads, spreading through Jade Tiger.

This was the first time he’d touched his weapon this way. He looked up, curious, at the man.

“Every sword has its ‘breath.’” Li He said. “Feel this. First step: take the sword’s pulse.”

Pei Ye froze. Jade Tiger still felt cold and hard in his palm, but the filtered Qi threads now pulsed along its surface.

The man watched silently. Gradually, Pei Ye sensed countless tiny patterns within the blade.

All were marks left during forging—how many materials were used, how many processes endured. Now fused into one, the sword was balanced and complete, yet every hammer blow remained inside.

These were the sword’s meridians.

Li He said nothing, guiding

his Qi threads like silk into the blade, filling every complex meridian. For the first time, Pei Ye felt he had penetrated every microscopic part of the sword—its entire being laid bare to his perception.

“The Eastern Sea Forge’s ‘Cutting Sword Breath’—master smiths use this secret art to perceive every detail of a sword.” Li He said. “Now we’ve completed the second step: cover the meridians you sensed with your own Qi.”

Pei Ye nodded slowly. “And then?”

This was an entirely new realm.

“Then you’ll realize—the sword’s meridians form a separate circuit.”

Pei Ye froze. He truly felt it.

Like a human body, the sword’s meridians were a complex, complete network. Qi flowed through them, completing one cycle before returning to Pei Ye’s hand.

He hadn’t controlled this process—he merely let Qi flow out. Moments later, it circled back, flowing in again.

Yet he undeniably felt the sword had truly become one with him.

“Alright, now loosen your grip. Slowly stop actively sending Qi into the sword—but don’t block the channel.” Li He released his wrist, gently lifting the sword from his hand.

Then Pei Ye was stunned—the sword had fully left his grasp. He made no effort to control it, yet the flowing Qi remained between them.

The sword had become part of his Qi cycle.

Then Li He held the sword, looked at him, and said: “Stand up.”

Pei Ye rose from the stool.

“Turn around.”

Pei Ye turned.

Li He sheathed the sword, placed it behind him, adjusted the angle, then let go. The sword hovered silently, suspended just behind the boy’s waist.

Li He withdrew his hand, nodded in satisfaction.

Pei Ye stood still a moment, then turned his head blankly: “And then?”

“There’s no ‘then.’ It’s done.”

“What’s done?”

“This is done.” Li He lightly brushed the scabbard—the blade swayed like a roly-poly toy. “This is the small technique I taught you: Qi Art ‘Sword Tassel.’ It ties you like a flowing ribbon. It suspends the sword beside you, requiring no mental focus or control.”

Pei Ye stared silently at the man. “What’s the use of this…?”

“It serves an aesthetic purpose.” Li He said seriously. “It looks very elegant.”

Pei Ye fell silent for a long while. “I don’t want something so ornamental and useless.”

“Really? I thought you’d like it.”

“I don’t.”

Li He thought a moment. “Actually, it’s not entirely useless. Fundamentally, you’ve formed a deeper bond with your sword. At all times, you and your blade are one—no one can tamper with your sword… and drawing it will be faster. A single thought, and your sword unsheathes.”

“Is the Eastern Sea Forge’s Breath technique just for show?”

“No. Perceiving Sword Breath is a vital foundation. Later arts—‘Sword Command,’ ‘Sword Disassembly’—all grow from this.”

“Then I want to learn ‘Sword Command’ and ‘Sword Disassembly.’”

“I won’t teach them.”

“...”

Li He stood, fetched water, and watered the flowers. “These are Forge secrets—cannot be widely taught. You’ve learned ‘Sword Tassel,’ and your talent is high. The rest, you can figure out yourself.”

Pei Ye was curious. “How did you learn it?”

“I obtained a famed sword. The Eastern Sea Forge invited me. They wanted to examine it, so they gave me this secret art in return.”

Pei Ye noticed a word that caught his attention. He whispered: “Master, I’ll hold off on learning for now. May I ask you something?”

Pei Ye, drawn by the words, softly said, “Elder, I’ll hold off on learning for now—I have a question for you.”

“Can I see your famed sword?”

Li He turned from the flowerbed. The boy’s eyes fixed on him.

Li He turned back, sighed softly. “Your last-minute favors are rather excessive.”

Pei Ye paused. “After such a pleasant exchange of poetry and sword, we’ve truly lamented our late meeting. It’s only natural to exchange swords…”

“Enough.” Li He raised a hand. A sword shadow flew from the house and landed before Pei Ye. “If you want to look, look.”

Pei Ye lowered his bright eyes, studying the famed sword closely.

For the first time, he was this near to it. Now he could discern what the shifting bright and dim hues were.

The blade itself was dim. A spindle-shaped brightness grew from the hilt, flickering, swaying gently, as if brushed by invisible wind.

Where it touched, the dimness receded, yielding its ground. Where it withdrew, the dimness surged back. The two colors intertwined, growing upon the blade, creating a sword forever in motion.

Pei Ye stared at this scene a moment, then realized what it resembled—a candle flame.

A bright, flickering candle flame within darkness. The blade seemed to contain only this flame and its surrounding dimness, while beyond, in some unknown vastness, boundless shadow and mist churned endlessly.

Pei Ye froze, then cautiously reached out, brushing his fingers against its cold blade.

At that moment, he sensed its difference from Zhanxin Liuli . It lacked the lively spirit of Liuli —if Zhanxin Liuli was a playful fawn, this was a rare, motionless tortoise-snake.

He remembered how Liuli had dodged his first touch. This sword showed no reaction at all.

“Don’t let it cut you.” Li He finished watering, walked over. “It will take your lifespan.”

Pei Ye froze. “Without your command, will it still take the lifespan of anything it touches?”

“Yes. That’s not under my control.” Li He sat cross-legged beside him, placing the famed sword on his knees, gazing down. “It’s too thirsty. That’s its nature.”

“Yes. But it’s not under my control.” Li He sat cross-legged beside him, placing the famed sword upon his knees, lowering his gaze. “It’s too thirsty—that’s its instinct.”

“Are you curious about famed swords?”

“Your disciple is curious.”

Li He sighed softly. “‘Flying Light’—the Lifespan-Cutting Sword. Without it, I’d have been a rotting corpse long ago.”

Pei Ye stared. “What does that mean?”

Li He turned his head, his eyes like ancient pools. “‘Flying Light’ can sever human lifespan—and return it to its master.”

Pei Ye stared at those eyes. A chill crept slowly over his bones.

“The world knows only the former, rarely the latter.” Li He spoke calmly. “My lifespan should have ended at twenty-six. I am now thirty-five. Every day I’ve lived these nine years was borrowed from ‘Flying Light.’”

“The world knows only the former, not the latter.” Li He spoke calmly. “My natural lifespan should have ended at twenty-six; I am now thirty-five. Every day I’ve lived these past nine years comes from [Fei Guang].”

“My words at the start weren’t lies. I never truly studied swordsmanship. Only after obtaining this sword did I begin learning—just ten years now. Even today, half my fights rely on Flying Light’s power,” Li He said. “I found it in the imperial archives. An elder gave it to me. I recited a poem for it—‘The Sword Song of the Spring Bureau’s Corrector.’”

Li He looked at the boy. “After twenty-three, my body withered, my life drained. I hovered between life and death, each night dreaming of the Lord of Death. Since I took this sword, it’s been my second life—every second, every breath, borrowed from it.”

Li He gently stroked the blade. Under his touch, the once-still famed sword trembled softly, humming in quiet response.

“So I think—every famed sword is bound to its master’s fate.” He said. “Therefore, famed swords never change masters—until death parts them.”

“You ask about famed swords because you’re curious about this. But I cannot answer you. Sword quality, status, even realm and strength—none guarantee why a famed sword chooses a master. You have Immortal Hunting—you might understand some.” Li He glanced at the sleek black cat on Pei Ye’s shoulder. “I cannot tell you how to seek one. But if your fate holds a sword, it waits somewhere on this earth for you.”

“Your inquiry about famed swords likely stems from curiosity about this—but I cannot answer you. The quality of a sword, its status, even one’s realm or strength—none necessarily determine why a famed sword chooses a wielder. Since you have Immortal Hunting, you may understand some of it.” Li He glanced at the beautiful black cat on Pei Ye’s shoulder. “I cannot tell you how to seek it, but if a sword is destined for you, it is waiting for you somewhere upon this earth.”

The courtyard fell quiet. Pei Ye said: “Master, I think you and I are quite alike.”

“...” Li He stared at him, cutting him off. “I haven’t written poetry in a long time.”

“No.” Pei Ye said seriously. “I haven’t studied swordsmanship much either.”

“...” Li He laughed softly.

»

«…» Li He laughed.

"Since our conversation is done, and there's nothing else, let us part for now," he said.

Pei Ye rose and bowed. This visit had granted him sight of the Feiguang, instruction in the Jian Ying, and the true words of the Sword Master—truly not in vain.

Only the poetry exchange had gone awry; Pei Ye wished to make amends. After thinking, he said earnestly: "Elder, though in poetry I am but newly showing my edge, I shall persevere with unwavering resolve. These past days, whether in the Way of Poetry or the Way of the Sword, the one I most longed to meet was you. Today, my wish is fulfilled—I have no regrets even in death."

Li He fell silent for a moment: "Just speak normally. Don't keep using idioms."

He sighed softly: "Thank you for your admiration. I never expected you to seek me instead of the deeply accomplished Xianghuang Sword Master. We must be fated. Let us part for now."

But then he paused slightly, turning toward the door.

Pei Ye was about to raise his fist in farewell when the black cat gently prodded his neck.

He suddenly realized something and turned—there stood a woman in a wide-brimmed hat with hanging gauze, clad in a spring robe, her face obscured. Only her wide sleeves held a sword, its surface speckled like tears shed by a celestial being.

"You said these past days you weren't at the Sword Academy, but at the Tian Shan Villa—but neither place held you. Only after asking did I learn you came to the Wenxiang Hall," Li Tishui said. "The other day you spoke of admiring my bearing and seeking sword instruction—surely you had something to ask. Oh, Sword Master Li—what a coincidence."

"..."

"..."

In the small courtyard stood three silent figures: Li Tishui, the Xianghuang Sword Master, at the door; Li He, the Feiguang Sword Master, below the steps; and between them, Pei Ye.

"Sword Master Li, greetings," Li He said.

"Sword Master Li, greetings," Li Tishui said.

Pei Ye slowly raised his fist in salute, smiling: "Ha! So both elders share the surname Li. Since fate has brought us together, why not the three of us share a drink and discuss the Way of the Sword?"

The black cat, ashamed, buried its face against his neck.

No one spoke in the courtyard. After a moment, Li He said: "Not today, Young Master Pei. Farewell."

Pei Ye exhaled in relief, clasping his hands: "One word from you is worth ten thousand volumes. I take my leave now, reluctant to depart. When next I have new verses, I shall present them at your door, to hear your wise words once more."

Li He sighed and waved him off: "Just go."

Pei Ye bowed and stepped back, until the edge of a skirt caught his vision.

Li Tishui looked down at him. Pei Ye kept his head lowered, silently closed the courtyard door for Li He, then turned around.

"Sword Master Li, I’ve long admired you!" he said.