Chapter 83: Premeditation

Zhou Shuo stood with hands folded in the peach garden, watching a cold light flash through the warm wind and thrust straight at him; his eyes did not blink, letting the cold light grow larger in his pupils, and when the cold light neared his face, his mind stirred and a white blade of light shot out from behind him.

With a clear metallic ring, sparks seemed about to spray into his pupils; Zhou Shuo's face remained motionless as he silently directed his will, fully controlling the white blade of light to push the incoming cold light away, then lift it upward to try to flick it off, but the cold light instead flicked sideways, pressing and sweeping the white blade, attempting to reverse‑bind it.

With a screech, in an instant the two beams of light tangled together in midair, sparks flying at their junction; after about ten breaths they were evenly matched, and under the will of their masters the beams simultaneously pushed each other apart—the cold light darted aside and plunged into the peach blossom forest, while the white blade pursued it.

The two beams chased each other through the peach forest; each time they leapt over a branch they lifted a shower of red petals, the chopped petals scattering continuously from the air like a rain‑blossom shower, in which the beams sometimes clashed and scattered countless sparks, sometimes glided and twined, writhing like aerial dragons.

With a crisp clang, the two beams fiercely struck each other as a final blow; sparks flew as they each recoiled, the white blade landing in Zhou Shuo's hand and becoming a three‑foot sword, while the cold light fell into the hand of Chan Yinsha standing far away, also a three‑foot sword but of different make—Zhou Shuo's sword is square‑sectioned with a ridged spine, whereas Chan Yinsha's sword has a flat spine and a blood groove running along it.

"How is it?" Zhou Shuo took the sword in his hand, lightly stroking the blade that still trembled from the collision, flawless without a nick or scratch, and walked over to Chan Yinsha, who held the sword in her palm, admiring it lovingly.

"Fine sword, thank you." Chan Yinsha lifted her head to look at the fellow walking up beneath the trees, smiled faintly, very satisfied—aside from being satisfied, she could find no other feeling.

"Does this sword have a name?" Chan Yinsha suddenly asked, saying this sword could match the two fine swords of the Fangxian Dao—Yang Yuan and Dan Ding—and therefore deserved its own name.

"None, you pick one!" Zhou Shuo raised his sword horizontally; the sword's name—this he had truly never considered.

"You said this sword has spirit, will harmonize with its wielder, improve with cultivation, and can unite with the body; before I didn't believe it, but now I do—'accumulated clouds become the heavens, firm breath held, tread as soft as silk, able to bear ten thousand jun,' so let's call this sword Chengxiao." Chan Yinsha played with the sword in her hand, her wrist trembling slightly as the tip of the Chengxiao sword hissed in the air.

"A fine name." Zhou Shuo raised his brows slightly; the sword still needs nurturing, as the saying goes, accumulated clouds become the heavens, while a person is vigorous breath and heroic vigor; once this sword technique is mastered to a supple wrist, even against any opponent he can dismantle them, killing intent laid bare—truly worthy of the title Silver Shark King who roams the seas.

"Does your sword have a name?" Chan Yinsha gazed at the sword in Zhou Shuo's hand.

"Let's just call it the Changxia sword!" Zhou Shuo flourished the blade with a light‑lu swing; "Qinglu" and "Changxia" are ancient terms for swords, he could think of nothing better, so he'll make do with that.

"Wearing the Changxia's lush beauty, crowning the lofty clouds that cut through, adorned with the bright moon and precious jade—your name is rather simple." Chan Yinsha teased lightly; although the world's setting differs, the cultural background is largely the same, and in this world Changxia is also an alternate name for a sword, but this naming is too plain.

"That's it—what's the word? Yunmeng and Daqian have shown no movement so far." Zhou Shuo, hearing Chan Yinsha launch into poetry, felt a slight headache, quickly changed the subject; he despised such things, feeling like an illiterate, but let's talk business—it's almost been a month and Yunmeng and the Qian state have still shown no stir.

"Lately there's been some movement—the three major sea garrisons of Qian state, Zhenhai, Dinghai, and Pinghai, have sent ships to sea; their aim doesn't seem to be the usual seasonal sortie against Yunmeng, but to go somewhere else, while Yunmeng normally would dispatch ships at this time to hunt sharks and raid, yet this time they have delayed launching." Chan Yinsha, hearing Zhou Shuo bring up the matter, recalled the important affair.

"That seems right." Zhou Shuo, hearing Chan Yinsha's words, narrowed his eyes, calculated the timing—the plot should match, and Daqian and Yunmeng have also received news of the Qiankun pouch.

"Zhou Shuo, you—when do you plan for us to set out for Manghuang?" Chan Yinsha looked at Zhou Shuo, eyes narrowed in thought, opened her mouth but swallowed the question about how he obtained the Qiankun pouch intel, instead asking when they would go to Manghuang to seize the treasure.

"Not now; we'll wait until Daqian and Yunmeng send out troops, then we'll go fish in troubled waters." Zhou Shuo shook his head.

"Why don't we strike before Daqian and Yunmeng move?" Chan Yinsha expressed confusion—why not act ahead of them instead of waiting for them to move together.

"Because the news of the Qiankun pouch was deliberately leaked; if we rush there now, it's no different than lambs entering a tiger's den." Zhou Shuo lifted his gaze to the sky.

"Who?" Chan Yinsha watched Zhou Shuo gazing upward, her brows jumping; his meaning was that the two of them joining forces to go to Manghuang would be like sending sheep into a tiger's mouth—isn't that a bit exaggerated?

"Mengshenji." Zhou Shuo lowered his gaze to Chan Yinsha, slowly uttering a name; frankly, after the twists and turns of seeking the Present Tathagata Sutra, he went back and studied the text carefully—this plot to seize the Qiankun pouch makes Hongyi appear the biggest winner, but in fact the whole scheme is a trap laid by Mengshenji; he spread the rumor of the Qiankun pouch to lure all the world's masters.

"Ta…" Chan Yinsha opened her mouth slightly, unable to finish the name; the Supreme Dao Sect Leader Mengshenji, one of the eight great demon immortals of the world, she has her own pride, but even so she does not consider herself a match for Mengshenji—the Supreme Dao Sect Master who assassinated two emperors, moreover a cultivator who attained ghost‑immortal status, wielding countless powers, a single command from him could mobilize millions of troops; if it's that fellow, then the two of us are truly lambs.

"We must wait until the young elites of Yunmeng and Daqian gather, letting them scatter the attention of all factions, then we two can go fish in troubled waters." Zhou Shuo raised his sword horizontally, lightly stroked the blade, fixed his gaze on Chan Yinsha, his eyes solemn.

"I'll follow you, but I have a question!" Chan Yinsha looked at the solemn fellow, slightly lowering her brows; this idea is indeed thorough and safe, but how does this fellow know so much—he possesses the Present Tathagata Sutra, knows the whereabouts of the Qiankun pouch, and even understands the moves of the Supreme Dao Sect Master, the hidden‑head‑revealing‑tail divine dragon.

"Ask away!" Zhou Shuo looked at Chan Yinsha with downcast eyes, lifted his shoulders slightly.

"Are you a ghost‑immortal reborn?" Chan Yinsha considered a possibility, lifted her gaze; if he were a ghost‑immortal, it wouldn't be strange.

"No." Zhou Shuo looked at the girl probing his origins, shook his head bluntly—he truly isn't a ghost‑immortal; as for knowing all this so easily, it's naturally because he's a transmigrator; last time he went to find the Present Tathagata Sutra he went through many twists, this time he naturally wants to sort things out a bit more.

"All right." Chan Yinsha pressed her fingers to her brow, swallowed the rest of her words; although she is a demon immortal, she understands worldly affairs—since Zhou Shuo doesn't want to speak of it, no amount of questioning will help; better to keep our friendship here, after all her most valuable asset, the God Thunder Dao cultivation method, has already been exchanged away, and there's nothing else worth scheming over.

"Wait a moment! By the way, I have a hunch that the Past Amitabha Sutra should have appeared in the world." Zhou Shuo watched Chan Yinsha reaching to press her brow, his eyebrows twitched, and he shifted the topic.

"Past Amitabha Sutra?" Chan Yinsha lowered her hand from her brow, her face lit with astonishment; the three supreme scriptures of Dachan Si, the secret of mortal cultivation in the Present Tathagata Sutra she has already studied, and this scripture for training soul‑path arts, the Past Amitabha Sutra, has actually appeared in the world!

"Mm." Zhou Shuo glanced askance, nodded his head; the last time he saw Hongyi, though his soul cultivation was low, he was truly immovable, having already practiced the Past Amitabha Sutra.

"Can you know where the scripture is?" Chan Yinsha asked involuntarily; if the Present Tathagata Sutra is a considerable fortune for her, then the Past Amitabha Sutra, if obtainable, she would seize it even by force.

"I don't know, just a vague presentiment." Zhou Shuo turned his head toward the sea; this feeling is not idle talk—it's real, possibly due to his cultivation of the Present Tathagata Sutra, enabling him to sense Hongyi's presence.

"A presentiment?" Chan Yinsha lifted her gaze.

"Is the White‑clad one around? Lend her to me—I want to go play on the sea!" Zhou Shuo looked toward the sea and asked Chan Yinsha.

"She's nearby; let's go together!" Chan Yinsha watched Zhou Shuo suddenly wanting to borrow a shark, nodded, and spoke up to test—she didn't understand why he suddenly wanted to borrow a shark to go to sea, but following along to see was fine.

"Then let's go together!" Zhou Shuo indicated he didn't mind.

Having decided to go to sea together, they no longer needed the shark; Zhou Shuo and Chan Yinsha stored their long swords, then simultaneously projected their soul‑escape, turning into a gust of dark wind that lifted each other's bodies, swooping over the ten‑thousand‑li peach forest and Peach God Harbor, and flew out to sea.

The myriad‑li sea waves continually shrank beneath them; after flying several hundred li, Zhou Shuo confirmed his premonition—on the distant sea a squadron was cutting through the waves, flying the banner of the Jinghai army from Daqian's five major sea garrisons, but besides Daqian's large and small gun‑boat warships, the fleet also carried the iron‑clad steamships unique to the Yao Chi Sect.