Chapter 2387: The Aloof Sword Cultivator and His Bound Sword Spirit 31

True Person Ling Xu finally broke free completely from that veil of mist that clouded his mind, recalling how he had listened partially and believed partially, how he had been harsh on his most outstanding disciple, and how step by step he had pushed No-come Peak toward the abyss...

He looked toward Xie Qingmo behind Jin Chen.

"Qingmo... it's the master's mistake, Master..."

Xie Qingmo stood behind Jin Chen, unconsciously rubbing the sword hilt in his hand.

"True Person, you're being too serious; the past is past, no need to mention it again."

True Person Ling Xu couldn't help but be overwhelmed with grief, still wanting to say something, but Jin Chen had already pulled Xie Qingmo away.

"Xie Qingmo, let's go; I'm very tired."

Just now, Jin Chen forcibly set up a sword-intent barrier isolating the outside world, and also contended with the Heavenly Dao Protagonist, tearing apart the divine gold fragments alive, and now he finally showed some fatigue.

Xie Qingmo suddenly saw a damp spot spreading on the dark-colored fabric of Jin Chen's left shoulder; if not looked at closely, it almost blended with the clothing color.

"Jin Chen!" Xie Qingmo's heart tightened; he stepped forward, his long fingers trembling slightly, and lightly pressed that dark spot, "Are you hurt?"

Jin Chen was moving his shoulder; hearing this, he froze for a moment, instinctively raising his hand to press it as well—the slight sting from that superficial wound was truly insignificant to him.

But when he lifted his eyes and met Xie Qingmo's gaze filled with worry...

"Hiss."

Jin Chen immediately sucked in a breath of cold air, leaned into Xie Qingmo's embrace, forehead resting against Xie Qingmo's neck, drawing in the fresh, clean scent on his body.

"Yes... Xie Qingmo, it really hurts."

Xie Qingmo felt his heart panic, instinctively embracing him; his fingertips touching that damp spot felt hotter than a branding iron.

He furrowed his brows, "Don't move around, let me take a look."

Coincidentally, a medical cultivator disciple from Crimson Cloud Peak was drawn over by the commotion nearby.

That medical cultivator disciple recognized Xie Qingmo, and held even greater reverence for this sword spirit who could take human form, quickly stepping forward respectfully: "May I examine you, Sword Spirit?"

Xie Qingmo slightly turned sideways, making some space for Jin Chen, who was leaning in his embrace.

That medical cultivator disciple carefully guided a gentle healing Spiritual Power, attempting to probe into the wound on Jin Chen's shoulder.

However, as soon that Spiritual Power touched Jin Chen's wound, it dissipated into nothing, not even healing that superficial injury in the slightest.

The medical cultivator disciple's forehead beaded with sweat; he tried several more times, all to no avail.

He embarrassedly withdrew his hand and respectfully told Xie Qingmo, "Sword Spirit, your constitution is special—not a flesh-and-blood body; the healing methods of us cultivators... seem ineffective on you."

"Perhaps... perhaps we should consult a Weapon Peak master; I've heard that the ancient ancestor who secluded himself at Weapon Peak for many years just emerged from retreat, and he is widely knowledgeable—maybe..."

Xie Qingmo didn't hesitate further, embracing the still "weak" murmuring Jin Chen in his arms, and gave a slight nod to the medical cultivator disciple: "Thank you."

Immediately, he lowered his voice and said, "Let's go to Weapon Peak to have a look."

Jin Chen thought for a moment, sat up straight, "Actually, it's not necessary..."

"Alright, alright, let's go."

Seeing Xie Qingmo genuinely worried, Jin Chen immediately cooperated, rubbing his face again against Xie Qingmo's neck.

Inside a room deep in Weapon Peak, filled with various oddly shaped parts and semi-finished magical devices.

With white hair and beard, wearing a gray robe stained with oil and sparks, a few smudges of black-gray on his face, the old man was squatting, buttocks raised, at a person-high forge, pounding something, while muttering complaints about the furnace temperature being insufficient.

"Junior Xie Qingmo, I pay my respects to Master Lu."

Xie Qingmo stood at the doorway, bowing respectfully to that busy back.

His clear, cold voice stood out especially clearly in this noisy environment.

The old man heard the voice, slowly straightened his waist, and turned around.

He narrowed his eyes, reddened from the forge's smoke, sized up Xie Qingmo and the Jin Chen beside him a few times, his white eyebrows twitching.

"Oh, I know you. The recently notorious genius sword cultivator, Xie Qingmo, right? What do you want from me, old man?"

"First, let me say I haven't taken on big jobs lately; I just came out of seclusion and am exhausted!"

Xie Qingmo presented the Chen Sword with both hands, "My sword is damaged; please, Master, take a look."

"Tsk, a sword?" Master Lu took the Chen Sword; his motion wasn't slow.

He squinted with his presbyopic eyes, his rough fingers rubbing back and forth over the chilling sword blade, examining it repeatedly, his brows furrowing tighter.

"Where? Where is it damaged? To me, old man, it looks fine—are you just messing with me, kid?"

Xie Qingmo stepped forward and pointed to the small dark dent near the guard on the sword's spine.

"Here."

Master Lu leaned in close, almost putting his nose to the blade, squinting and staring for a long time.

He suddenly lifted his head, eyes wide open, staring at Xie Qingmo, "Just this? The size of a sesame seed or mung bean! Is such minor damage worth you running over to find, you sword cultivators..."

Master Lu's beard bristled with anger as he was about to toss the sword back.

Xie Qingmo waved his hand, placing the imposing high-grade spirit stones on the wood table piled with tools.

Master Lu: "..."

Master Lu's half-spoken curse got stuck in his throat.

He stared at those few spirit stones, his beard no longer bristling; he cleared his throat, picked up the Chen Sword again, brought it to his eyes, and examined that tiny dent carefully, nodding solemnly.

"Hmm... hmm! I was blind just now; this is an ancient spirit sword, its body naturally perfect—any slightest flaw could affect its innate spirituality and even endanger the sword spirit's safety! No carelessness! No carelessness!"

While saying that, he swept those few spirit stones on the table into his oily sleeve.

"Thank you, Master." Xie Qingmo nodded.

Master Lu immediately turned and rummaged through the tool pile, clinking and clanking.

He took out several small, precise tools to repair the dent, muttering, "These young people really treasure their swords."

Jin Chen closed his eyes, lazily leaning in Xie Qingmo's embrace, feigning sleep, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.

The repair process was quick; for someone of Master Lu's caliber, it was indeed just a trivial effort.

He returned the perfectly restored Chen Sword to Xie Qingmo, "All good, not a single difference—ensure your sword spirit is comfortable and at ease."

"Thank you, Grand Master." Xie Qingmo took the sword, bowed again, and left the workshop filled with the smell of metal together with Jin Chen.

Watching the white and black figures disappear at the doorway, Grand Master Lu scratched his greasy, tangled white hair, his face full of bewilderment and confusion.

He stepped out of the workshop and happened to see several Weapon Peak disciples sorting ore in the courtyard, unable to help shouting: "Hey, what's going on with this world? Those sword cultivators all guard their swords as if they were eyeballs."

One disciple raised his head and asked curiously, "Master, who are you talking about?"

"Who else could it be? Wu Lai… oh, the sword cultivator from Tian Shan Peak, Xie Qingmo!" Grand Master Lu muttered displeased, "His sword is indeed a fine sword, and the sword spirit is rare, but that wound…"

Before he could finish speaking, those disciples' expressions turned to understanding, and they all burst out laughing.

"Oh, it's Junior Brother Qingmo!"

"Then it's no surprise!"

"Master, you've been in seclusion too long to know, but that junior brother's attachment to his life-bound sword and sword spirit—tsk tsk—is famous… hard to part with."

The disciples chattered away, accustomed to it.

Grand Master Lu scratched his thinning head in bewilderment, watching the direction Xie Qingmo had gone, hands behind his back, muttering how strange and marvelous it was, then ducked back into his pile of tools.