Chapter 518: The Sword That Slays Ghosts: Lady Li the Sixth!

In an instant, the tranquil character "Yuan" deep within his heart-sea seemed stirred by some unseen call, ready to burst forth with dazzling radiance.

At the same time, a roar like a dragon and a growl like a tiger echoed within his body; the "Zhan Gui Jian" formed from the "Yuan" character subtly exuded an indescribable sharpness, as if poised to erupt from his flesh and sever every wraith and demon in the world.

The clear qi in his chest reappeared, tightly enveloping the "Yuan" character in his heart-sea.

As the clear qi circled around it, the glow of the "Yuan" character gradually dimmed, finally sinking into utter darkness.

Prompt: "Chest Holds Still Qi" talent triggered!

All of this unfolded within the span of a single thought, yet his gaze had already quietly turned toward the center of the lake.

Figures on the boat were blurred, and the woman wearing the conical hat seemed to be gazing from afar.

Soon after, the large boat anchored in the lake began drifting toward the shore.

At the shore, Madam Xie Lao, accompanied by the household, welcomed Xie Hong as he entered the Xie Hong Yuan.

A scene of pure joy and festivity!

Sima Ting and Xie Ying were also preparing to go.

Xie Ying said to you: "Brother Guan, let's go pay our respects to Second Uncle!"

Know that today, only the most prominent figures of the Xie family and other great clans were permitted to enter the Xie Hong Yuan; Xie Ying had no such privilege—but with Sima Ting, the Military Governor, accompanying her, everything changed.

Sima Ting gave you a slight nod.

You bowed sincerely.

Lu Ya, as she left, told you everything that had transpired with Wu Tong in the Hongjing Yuan.

You finally exhaled a sigh of relief—Wu Tong had suffered no mishap.

You watched Sima Ting and his party depart, lost in thought.

Xie Renfeng of the Second Courtyard!

He sought Wu Tong on behalf of Zhao Yang of the Zhao family—you could not help but recall the water ghost you had seen on the lake; the two must be deeply connected.

Zhao Yang of the Zhao family? You recalled the pale-faced boy with the venomous gaze you had seen in the pavilion.

You narrowed your eyes slightly.

You had not left the pavilion—your status naturally granted you no right to enter the main hall of the Hongjing Yuan.

Only the favored sons and daughters of the household were granted such honor.

Other ladies within the courtyard, though barred from entering the Hongjing Yuan, were still required to wait respectfully outside.

Your gaze swept across the shimmering lake, where the young ladies and gentlemen all seemed to have relaxed; some laughed and chatted, others whispered privately.

With the elders absent, everyone had grown a little less restrained.

Whether lady or young master, they were usually bound by strict etiquette and rarely moved about freely, for all were unmarried maidens and youths.

But today was different—the household was hosting a gathering, and many young lords and ladies from other families had come, all of their own generation, conversing merrily.

Soon, those who had merely lingered by the lakeside pavilion began visiting one another, moving about.

Some gathered in groups of three or five, laughing and joking; others paired off, strolling along the lakeside paths.

Aside from Xie Yuan, you knew no one in the Xie household, and outsiders even less so—you had no need to seek rejection by clinging to cold shoulders.

You only needed to wait for the banquet to end, then find Xie Yuan and retrieve Wu Tong—you already had an idea of where he would go afterward.

You leisurely brewed a pot of fine tea beside the warming stove, self-sufficient, savoring the quiet.

This spot, on the eastern shore of the lake, was a place of honor reserved for Sima Ting, rarely disturbed—truly a serene retreat.

You settled your mind and spirit, carefully contemplating the "Zhan Gui Jian" within your heart-sea, rereading its inscriptions repeatedly.

The characters had no discernible structure—they seemed haphazardly stitched together, even interspersed with stories, nothing like a proper sword scripture should be.

It began:

"With sword in hand, demons weep in the mortal world; righteous qi scorns the lofty swan."

"The essence of the sword lies not in technique, but in intent…"

"One night, I slept in an ancient mountain temple; dimly, I saw a single ghostly lantern, revealing a peach-blossom face. No sword in hand—I made the sword gesture, drew a thread of sword intent, and quelled a haunted mountain temple."

"Unbeknownst, at midnight the ghost gate opened; stars summoned ghosts to feast on cups and plates; mountain demons gorged on flesh, and chilling cold spread across the hills."

"Then came the twisted, frantic sound of a pipa, as if calling upon the gods of heaven and the spirits of the netherworld to drink human blood and devour human livers."

"In furious rage, I stepped through the ghost gate, descended into the underworld, and returned only after three days and three nights—thus I attained this Zhan Gui Jian."

"Master this sword, and all evil ghosts under heaven shall be cut down!"

You pondered quietly—was this the origin of the Zhan Gui Jian? But did the netherworld truly exist?

Had his mother's soul fallen into that underworld?

Yet you shook your head—this was impossible. The so-called ghost gate was likely no more than another faction, like the demons of Jiannan.

Hundreds of years ago, for reasons unknown, demons, ghosts, and monsters suddenly emerged from heaven and earth!

To this day, it remains a mystery.

You finished reading the entire text and found it resembled a random diary entry—no trace of sword techniques to be found.

Only when you had read every character did the "Yuan" character begin to shift, transforming into a human form, beginning to dance with a sword.

Golden light blazed forth—you fixed your gaze intently.

Yet it was utterly unlike before—as if thick fog had rolled in and then vanished, you now stood within another realm entirely.

Was this a sense of true immersion?

You looked up again and found yourself inside an ancient mountain shrine, the bright moon hanging high, its clear radiance spilling like water across the land.

Outside the shrine, terrifying ghosts gathered—female spirits in red-and-white bridal robes, ghostly officials in blue-and-white robes, and actors draped in vast imperial robes, each form grotesque, each aura terrifying.

You were a detached observer, yet still felt the suffocating pressure—these ghosts' power far surpassed that of the personal guards you had seen beside Sima Ting.

Black ghostly qi slithered like earthworms along the temple's cracks, slowly creeping inward.

The moon was fully obscured; heaven and earth plunged into darkness.

Then, ghostly shadows roared forward like a tidal wave.

A figure appeared calmly, a long sword at his waist—he gently pushed open the creaking temple door.

You tried to make out his face, but could not—he remained blurred, indistinct.

He drew his sword slowly.

All ended.

Heaven and earth held only a gentle, luminous swordlight.

A swordbeam, as radiant as the moon, burst forth, cleaving the high moon itself; the towering ghosts dissolved into smoke beneath its glow, their faces still frozen in disbelief.

Your eyes held nothing else—only this soul-shaking sword intent, lingering long after.

You slowly returned to yourself, yet remained trapped in the awe-inspiring sword intent, unable to break free.

The still qi in your chest reappeared, helping you gradually escape this "dream."

So this was the true essence of the Zhan Gui Jian—the "Yuan" character had taken human form, dancing out sword techniques that sent shivers through the soul.

You carefully absorbed it—sword intent erupted from the "Yuan" character like a torrent, striking your body, stirring your blood and qi.

In your mind, you replayed the terrifying vision of that single swordstroke, beginning with the faintest thread of sword intent.

The sword intent glowed—clear, cold, like moonlight appearing in your heart-sea.

As the glow of that sword intent merged with the intent bursting from the "Yuan" character, it grew ever clearer.

Your blood qi began to drain; your spirit grew dizzy.

Simultaneously, you felt your skin, tendons, bones, even your blood, being refined by some strange force.

Making them hotter and hotter!

One breath, two breaths, three breaths… only eight breaths!

You could no longer hold on!

You felt as if your entire body burned in fire—sweat drenched your back, beads of perspiration coated your brow.

You exhaled a deep, foul breath; the fog of exhaustion clouding your mind began to clear under the nourishment of the clear qi in your chest.

Extremely draining on the spirit!

You realized this cultivation had not only advanced your spirit—it had subtly improved your physical constitution. You wondered: did the Zhan Gui Jian also refine the body and blood qi?

You marveled inwardly—this Zhan Gui Jian left by Second Master was truly extraordinary; this was likely a rare stroke of fortune. Compared to spirit cultivation techniques and martial scriptures, it might be even more precious.

In such a short time, it had cultivated both spirit and body simultaneously.

Dual cultivation of martial arts and spirit?

Suddenly, you felt a revelation—recalling the figure's swordstroke, you dipped your finger in tea and slowly wrote the character "Jian" on the table.

You recalled the feeling, your hand moving slowly.

You possessed the "Spirit in the Brush" talent—the sword intent was replicated.

So potent was this intent that even the table seemed unable to bear it, trembling faintly.

Fortunately, you had written only in tea water—before you could finish the character "Zhan," the moisture evaporated, and the sword intent dissolved.

Your eyes brightened—you realized that since writing the "Zhan" character in tea, your understanding of the sword intent had deepened; you could now roughly outline its shape within your heart-sea.

Clearly, combining writing with contemplation aided your comprehension of the Zhan Gui Jian!

At this rate, perhaps within months, you could fully replicate this sword intent.

You had no intention of trying again immediately—this method drained the spirit too severely.

You would resume your exploration after returning to your small courtyard, once your spirit had recovered.

At this moment!

You caught the sound of footsteps along the path outside the pavilion.

You looked up.

Two women walked slowly along a path of broken stones and moss.

"This place is quite peaceful—outside is far too noisy!"

"Miss, look! It seems someone arrived here before us."

"Indeed, seems like another soul seeking quiet."

From their attire, they appeared to be a maid and her young mistress.

The young mistress looked about sixteen, dressed in a blue imperial-style gown with a light winter coat over it, standing graceful and poised.

In her hand she held a scroll, her features finely drawn, her phoenix eyes soft and gentle.

The maid had a pleasing face, round cheeks with dimples, her bamboo chest strapped to her back, breathing heavily—she seemed sweetly clumsy.

The maid followed the lady in the imperial gown toward you, her eyes filled with curiosity.

The lady in the imperial gown smiled gently: "Young master, may I ask if this pavilion is occupied?"

"Could we trouble you for a moment's rest here?"

You rose and bowed in return, your gaze lingering on her as you speculated about her identity.

Her appearance did not suggest she was from the Xie Fu—otherwise she would not have asked a Shuzi like you—but anyone who came here must be of one of the Nine Surnames.

Moreover, she carried the air of a noble lady, her beauty refined, every gesture exuding the grace of a great family—not from some minor household.

You noticed in her a quality similar to Zhang Yuzhi's.

The maid also looked up at you, surprise flickering in her eyes.

You had no servants with you, and your clothing was far too plain—nothing like the Gongzixiaojie she was used to.

Yet your bearing was extraordinary: your black hair neat, your brows elegant, your eyes calm as stars, yet alive with spirit.

Your tone was gentle, lending you an air of quiet refinement, reminiscent of Master Yu.

Master Yu was a tutor at the academy.

You smiled and replied: "Miss, you are too kind—this pavilion has no owner. Please make yourself at home."

You moved aside to give them ample space, making no move to engage in conversation, keeping a respectful distance.

The maid promptly set the bamboo chest on the table, her movements practiced and smooth.

The lady in the imperial gown glanced at you once more, then bowed gracefully, smoothing her gown before sitting.

She placed her scroll gently on the table, as if the world around her did not exist, lost entirely in her reading.

The maid complained: "Miss, we barely had any time at the Xie Fu today—why bring so many books? We'll never finish them!"

The bamboo chest, it turned out, was filled entirely with books.

The lady did not look up, turning the pages as if already absorbed, oblivious to all else.

When the maid noticed the teapot, she glanced at you again; you gave a slight nod, and she lifted the teapot from the warming brazier, took a cup from the bamboo chest, and poured tea for her mistress.

"Miss, I know—you're afraid Master Xie Yuan is… ugly, with sores on his feet, a thunder-god face, and his head covered in lice!"

She laughed merrily at her own words.

"If he's too awful to look at, might as well read a book, right, Miss?"

You were slightly startled—could this lady be from the Li family, the one arranged to meet Xie Yuan?

(End of chapter)