Chapter 258: With Chopsticks Dueling Swords, Astonishing All

If only an old friend could share a cup with me.

Indeed, if an old friend were here, wouldn't any wine taste rich and fragrant?

Hearing Daoist Zhan Tao's words, everyone fell silent in unison. At this moment, everyone's emotion was the same, though each carried a different old friend in their heart.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan thought of Wang Miaoyuan, that Daoist brother who loved wine most—he himself had feigned the life of a hermit and a wild scholar, but Wang Miaoyuan was truly unbound.

"Ding!"

A crisp sound jolted the slightly intoxicated guests from their memories.

All turned to look, and saw Daoist Tuo Yan tapping a jade cup with a bamboo chopstick.

"I say, Zhan Tao, today is a joyous occasion welcoming new guests—why must you bring up an old friend sharing a cup? An old friend sharing a cup is indeed fine, but isn't making new friends a joy too? You're ruining the mood—drink three cups as punishment!"

Daoist Tuo Yan tapped the jade cup, glancing sideways at Zhan Tao, her expression carefree and exuberant—the most unrestrained and unbounded presence at the banquet, her boldness even surpassing that of men.

Daoist Zhan Tao suddenly came to his senses, bowing repeatedly to Cheng Cheng Xinzhan in apology, then reaching for his own cup to drink and make amends.

"Wait."

Daoist Tuo Yan spoke again, eyes twinkling with mischief, smiling,

"Zhan Tao can't make amends with pear wine—here, use my fireberry wine."

Daoist Zhan Tao grimaced but took the wine flask offered by Daoist Tuo Yan and filled his cup.

After three cups, Daoist Zhan Tao's face was flushed red.

Everyone burst into laughter, and the banquet's mood shifted from gloom to merriment.

Daoist Zhou Zhou Yue kindly poured Daoist Zhan Tao a cup of "Huanhua Xiang."

"According to our Xuanmen customs, drinking must be accompanied by swordplay for amusement—does Yunlai have any interest?"

Daoist Tuo Yan turned again to Cheng Cheng Xinzhan.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan nodded with a smile,

"Of course I'll follow local custom—what are the rules?"

Daoist Tuo Yan laughed, plucked two lychee leaves from the fruit platter before her, handed one to Cheng Cheng Xinzhan, placed the other on her own shoulder, then tapped the rim of her cup with the bamboo chopstick and said,

"Simple enough: I'll challenge Yunlai. We each place a leaf on our shoulder, stay perfectly still, and whoever's leaf falls loses. No other methods allowed—only the bamboo chopstick as a flying sword, dueling on this table."

"If the opponent's chopstick-sword damages your leaf, you lose. If your own chopstick-sword is damaged, you lose. If any sword qi escapes and harms a fruit or cup on the table, you lose. How?"

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan took the leaf, placed it on his shoulder, and nodded,

"Indeed simple."

Daoist Tuo Yan smiled, released her grip, and the bamboo chopstick floated midair. She brushed her fingers over it, coating it in orange-red aurora.

So she cultivated the Way of Sword Aurora.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan stirred his mind, and a bamboo chopstick before him rose on its own. He flicked his finger, and a streak of crimson firelight settled upon it—enveloping the chopstick without harming it.

Bamboo chopsticks are fragile, unfit as blades—they cannot strike or defend. Thus, "dueling with chopsticks as swords" is truly a contest of spiritual power: depth and purity.

And dueling on this tiny table demands exquisite control of the primordial spirit over objects.

The rules of chopstick swordplay are simple, yet the restrictions are many—actually wielding it is far from easy.

"Wonderful! Aurora sword versus fire sword—this will be a dazzling blur of light and motion. We're in for a treat. But remember, swordplay ends at the point—don't harm harmony."

Daoist Daoist Mingding said.

Both nodded, speaking in unison,

"Naturally."

Then they locked eyes.

"After you."

"After you."

Instantly, Daoist Tuo Yan's chopstick blazed with aurora, like the rising sun—its motion swift as aurora itself, transforming into a long, radiant arc streaking toward Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's shoulder.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan stirred his mind, and his chopstick burst into flame, heat surging, then forming a line of fire to meet the aurora.

"Whoo—"

The two swords met—not with metallic clang, but with a howl like wind through fire, exploding into sparks and glowing embers.

The aurora sword surged and swept, wide and bold—sometimes scattering into rolling auroras, sometimes swelling into falling meteors of flame, each strike heavy and forceful, stirring oceans and overturning rivers.

The fire sword drifted unpredictably, like a deer's antler hanging on a branch—sometimes trailing three zhang behind as a crimson dragon, sometimes condensing into a single point like a thunderbolt pellet, every move fluid, controlled, effortless.

As swordlight crossed, one hard, one soft, one heavy, one light—aurora and fire intertwined, painting the air with dazzling hues, leaving spectators breathless.

The flying swords moved swiftly—eighty rounds passed in the blink of an eye.

The onlookers, including Daoist Tuo Yan herself, were utterly astonished by Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's performance.

Controlling flying swords was the hallmark of Shu's Xuanmen—every cultivator's first act wasn't absorbing qi, but choosing a flying sword. The first breath nourished the body; the second nourished the sword. By the time one gained magic power and mental focus, the object they summoned was always a sword.

The longer one cultivated, the longer one had wielded the sword—hence the sword intent could pierce the heavens, and control became as natural as moving one's own arm.

Yet this Daoist from the East—how could his sword control be so mysterious and profound?

Among them, Daoists Daoist Mingding, Daoist Tanbai, and Hu Qing were even more stunned. Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's use of fire magic to control the sword didn't surprise them—they'd seen his two attendants, one bearing a fire gourd, the other a water sword, so they'd guessed his elemental affinity favored water and fire.

But precisely because he had an attendant bearing a magic sword, they naturally assumed he excelled in sword-art. They never imagined his flying sword skill was this high.

Daoist Tuo Yan herself grew visibly excited. She formed a sword seal, commanding the chopstick as a blade—it traced a circle in the air, leaving eight lingering afterimages. But the afterimages didn't fade—they joined the original chopstick in attack. Nine auroras surged like waves, layer upon layer.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan took notice, his thoughts racing, considering how to respond.

His current flying sword cultivation came almost entirely from the Sword-Throwing Mountain's sword scripture. Though he'd read texts from Jùqū and San Yuan Mountains, Shangqing Sect didn't specialize in sword weapons, and Wanshou Palace only excelled in magic sword and body sword.

Yet Sword-Throwing Mountain was quite renowned in Eastern Daoism, for the East primarily focused on talismans, internal alchemy, thunder arts, and visualization—swordcraft was merely a branch of magic treasure arts, mostly emphasizing magic sword and body sword. Flying swords were rarely cultivated, and many sects, hostile to Western Shu Xuanmen, despised and rejected flying swords entirely.

Mount Sanqing, however, was an exceptionally open sect—not a rigid conservative—but taught that all methods should be mutually studied.

Originally, the Stone Forest lineage cultivated body sword; later, Sword-Throwing Mountain was established to cultivate magic sword. When flying sword arts flourished under Western Shu Xuanmen, Sword-Throwing Mountain began studying flying sword techniques. Thus, in Eastern Daoism, Sword-Throwing Mountain of Mount Sanqing led in flying sword skill.

So in Shu, if one spoke of Eastern flying swords, the first name that came to mind would be Mount Sanqing.

The flying sword art of Mount Sanqing had distinct characteristics: in sword-nourishing, it often fused with internal alchemy and the Five Thunder arts—either blending lead and mercury with gangsha to circulate qi through the microcosmic orbit to nourish the sword, or generating thunder to amplify the sword's power with its light and sound.

In sword forms, unlike the straightforward, mountain-splitting thrusts of Xuanmen flying swords, Sanqing's were more agile and ethereal—emphasizing sword following the mind, effortless control, movements as light as startled swans, like snow dancing in a whirlwind. The foundational scripture of Sword-Throwing Mountain was called "Hunyuan Fei Qi," treating the sword as a kind of "Qi."

Earlier exchanges were casual—any agile style would merely seem relaxed, holding back. Now, with serious intent, if he still used that style, suspicion would arise.

Or perhaps Daoist Tuo Yan was deliberately testing his origins?

Yet reflecting on his sword path, Cheng Cheng Xinzhan had been undeniably fortunate.

In his early cultivation, he was merely a provisional disciple recruited from the mortal world outside the mountain—no family wealth, most of his energy spent on breath absorption and visualization. Free time went to cultivating low-cost talismans and spells.

As for swordcraft, his first initiation came from the old abbot of Yulin Pavilion, just before his first descent from the mountain.

And the sword art he first encountered on the mountain wasn't Sword-Throwing Mountain's—it was the sword art he learned in the Miao lands, at the Green Dragon Cave.

So his swordcraft never bore the imprint of Sword-Throwing Mountain.

When he returned from his first journey, his true essence pierced his meridians, and he studied the Five Thunder Transforming Essence method at Mount Shuji Mountain—still no time to learn Sword-Throwing Mountain's scripture.

Then he investigated the decline of spring thunder in Qingzhou, traveled to Huangshan to examine the earth veins—and there, he obtained the scripture that most profoundly shaped his sword cultivation.

The "Iron Cane Li's Scripture on the Swift Fire Sword."

A celestial scripture.

Mount Sanqing had no shortage of celestial scriptures, but its flying sword techniques were exceedingly rare.

And who was Iron Cane Li?

The immortal's Dao name was Li Ningyang—he was a famed sword immortal of Ba State during the Pre-Qin era, said to have received guidance from Laozi, eventually becoming the foremost of the Eight Immortals.

Iron Cane Li's sword art was transmitted in both East and West.

As an immortal born in ancient Ba, who cultivated in Shu, he was the pillar of flying sword arts. Moreover, his tale of his primordial spirit leaving his body, taking refuge in a beggar, and ascending to immortality was widely sung in Western Shu—a perfect illustration of the Shu Xuanmen belief that "the body is false, the primordial spirit is true."

In the East, his fame was immense. Legend says the Pure Yang Immortal Lü Dongbin once received instruction from Iron Cane Li. Though born in Ba, he later established his Daoist seat in Luzhou within Qingzhou, teaching and expounding the Dao.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan had previously suspected that Master Master Canxia's immortal lineage might have originated from Luzhou.

Thus, one could see how precious the "Swift Fire Sword Scripture" truly was.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan first encountered body sword through Master Abbot Zhenwei, first learned magic sword through transforming essence and summoning thunder—but his true enlightenment in flying sword came from this celestial scripture.

So he was fortunate: when he first stepped onto the flying sword path, his sword was the immortal's sword, "Taodu," and his scripture was the immortal's scripture, "Li Huo."

That's why his flying sword skill was so profound.

After returning from the Baiyujing Sword Duel, the Sect Master ordered him to sit in on Sword-Throwing Mountain's teachings, study all sword scriptures, and cultivate the "Hunyuan Fei Qi" technique—his sword path thus became orthodox and mature.

Yet his flying sword style was never confined by Sword-Throwing Mountain's methods—he synthesized and integrated them, becoming flexible, capable of softness and hardness, slowness and speed.

So now, as Daoist Tuo Yan pressed her attack, his mind raced—and he decided on a response: shift from "Hunyuan Fei Qi" to "Li Huo Jiji."

Moreover, since acquiring the "Li Huo Scripture," he had rarely used it, mostly contemplating and refining it internally, using the celestial scripture as a guide to draw analogies—only truly deploying it during the Baiyujing Sword Duel and the Thunderstorm Sea battle against demons.

The latter need not be explained—demons didn't recognize celestial scriptures, and wouldn't come ashore. The former, during the duel, only the Mount Emei Seven Cultivators' swords clashed directly with his—perhaps they sensed the technique's profundity. As for observers via the Pearl Tower Master's mirror, without firsthand experience and amid the chaotic battle with multiple flying swords crossing, they could discern nothing.

Also, the "Li Huo Jiji" method aligned with the prevailing Shu flying sword style—so if Daoist Tuo Yan hoped to deduce his origins from this, she would surely be disappointed.

And his sudden shift in style would surely shock her.

Of course, this was merely a banquet amusement—no need to unleash the scripture's true essence; merely hinting at the swift sword rhythm would suffice.

As Cheng Cheng Xinzhan made this decision, his chopstick instantly accelerated, vanishing into the void, then reappearing elsewhere—like thunder piercing clouds, swift beyond measure, flickering east, then west, dizzying and impossible to defend against.

Daoist Tuo Yan was stunned—she never expected Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's flying sword style to shift so rapidly, so utterly different.

But by nature, this woman was fiercely competitive—she preferred strong wine and fierce swords; whether slaying demons or sparring at banquets, she refused to lose.

So she unleashed her full strength—the chopstick split into light and shadow, multiplying from nine to eighty-one, then to seven hundred twenty-nine—until the chopstick's form vanished entirely, replaced by a skyward flood of aurora, as if the heavens had collapsed.

Seeing this, Cheng Cheng Xinzhan altered his sword seal—the firelight grew even swifter and more elusive, like stars hidden in mist, faintly visible yet impossible to track. Like a nimble fish swimming against the aurora tide, the aurora water never touched the firelight.

The starfire pierced through the aurora sea—just as the aurora was about to engulf Cheng Cheng Xinzhan, the starfire slipped past Daoist Tuo Yan's shoulder, cleanly severing her leaf into two halves.

The two halves of Daoist Tuo Yan's leaf drifted down through the air. Only after the aurora shattered Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's leaf did they slowly settle onto the wine table before her, landing beside the cup.

Everyone at the table sat dumbfounded. When Daoist Tuo Yan saw her leaf halves fall, her heart jolted—the scattered aurora, after shattering Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's leaf, reformed into its original shape, revealing the bamboo chopstick wrapped in spiritual power. Now uncontrolled, it tumbled toward the mountain rock behind Cheng Cheng Xinzhan, leaving a small hole, its depth lost within the stone.

The fire spark controlled by Cheng Cheng Xinzhan, after slicing through the fruit leaf on Wu Mei's shoulder, transformed back into a bamboo chopstick and floated gently back to the porcelain plate before him, settling beside the other chopstick.

Everyone stared at Cheng Cheng Xinzhan, as if trying to find flowers on his face.

He had actually won.

It was this Daoist from the East who had won—he had actually defeated Wu Mei, the Female Flying Bear!

In Zhan Zhan Biyun's eyes, beyond astonishment and admiration, a hint of confusion arose:

This elusive, swift sword technique—he felt he had seen it before.

(End of Chapter)