Chapter 129: The Sword Gifted at Nightfall!

Ji You had already shattered the Sword Forest by afternoon, and after spending much time in Elder Qi’s residence, it was now twilight.

The setting sun, sinking westward, dyed the layered clouds in brilliant hues, making the horizon extraordinarily magnificent and rendering the mountain peaks, sharp as sword blades, even more majestic.

The two wandered back and forth until they reached the area near the peak.

The golden light of sunset flowed like molten fire, breathtakingly beautiful.

Yet what puzzled Ji You was that this place felt utterly unfamiliar to him.

After all, when he had come from Lingjian Mountain, he had been taken straight to the heights of Xuanjian Peak and lodged in the courtyard Yan Shuyi used for quiet meditation; though he had never reached the summit, he was still familiar with the surrounding scenery.

But everything before him now was unknown.

Several grand halls atop it looked somewhat aged, surely not the Cloud-Crowned Palace he had gazed up at from below.

Most notably, the Cloud-Crowned Palace was vermilion, but the nearby halls were dark bluish-black.

Ji You set down the Little Mirror Master, who radiated solemn authority even when held in his arms, his hand still circling her slender waist, his expression momentarily bewildered.

“So this is what Xuanjian Peak looks like from above?”

“We got lost. This is Wenjian Peak.”

“?”

Ji You froze upon hearing this, thinking no wonder those halls looked so worn and lacked any aura of dominance.

So this wasn’t Xuanjian Peak at all—it was Wenjian Peak, the relatively downgraded of Lingjian’s Three Peaks?

He glanced down at the Little Mirror Master, her face cool and composed: “After descending from Tianjian Peak, weren’t we heading straight for Xuanjian Peak?”

Yan Shuyi narrowed her eyes: “We kept changing paths—I don’t know how we ended up on Wenjian Peak.”

“You can get lost in your own home? You’re kind of silly…”

“I usually fly through the air; I rarely walk, so not recognizing the way is normal. When we switched to the western side, perhaps at the corridor bridge, we already went wrong—and going further up only made it worse.”

Beneath the golden glow of sunset, the Little Mirror Master murmured softly, her eyelashes tinged with a radiant golden hue.

Her figure was naturally tall; now the mountain breeze lifted her noble Mirror Master’s immortal robe, making her ethereal and alluring, yet the way she narrowed her eyes gave her a strangely charming, cute air.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Yan Shuyi’s expression turned stern.

“You showed me the entire mountain range—this is more prestigious than me shattering the Sword Forest. It’s impossible to keep secret.”

“Then don’t say we got lost.”

The two turned back, climbed again to Xuanjian Peak, and headed toward the Cloud-Crowned Palace.

At the corridor bridge, a massive stone stele appeared before them, standing on the right side, inscribed with three large characters: Wenjian Peak.

Ji You silently thought—he hadn’t noticed it at all when they passed before.

He realized then: one had been focused on holding, the other on being held, and they’d both missed such a huge stone.

At that moment, he saw the proud Little Mirror Master pause ahead and glance back, her foot resting on the stone step of the corridor—only four inches high…

At You hour, the sun sank between the western mountains and cloud sea, its golden disc dimming.

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu stood on the porch before the Palace, gazing intently down the mountain.

They had waited outside the Sword Forest all day; when no one came, they returned, waited until sunset, and finally saw two figures emerging from the dense woods.

Leading the way was their cold, exquisite Mirror Master; following behind was Ji You, his white robes whiter than snow.

Ji You had spare clothes in his green jade gourd and had changed earlier, but he kept the soft sword robe instead of returning it.

Yan Shuyi had watched this unfold, yet she narrowed her eyes and said nothing.

Now Ding Yao watched the man in flowing white robes approach the mountain with calm composure, her expression growing deeply complex.

That morning, when she sent Ji You up the mountain, she had hoped the Tian Shu Academy would fall quickly, forcing him to slink down in shame and leave with his sect, never to be seen again.

Yet in just one day, everyone below the mountain was whispering his name.

Still, he looked utterly unconcerned, swinging a branch he’d picked up somewhere, gazing around the mountain as if unaware that his name had silenced countless disciples below.

As she thought this, the two passed the quiet courtyard below but did not enter—it was the Palace they headed toward.

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu exchanged glances, puzzled.

“Is the Mirror Master about to bring him into her private chambers?”

“Shh, Cui and Xing are still here…”

Yan Shuyi walked ahead, lost in thought, and at the stone steps, she instinctively lifted her arms, waiting to be carried.

Only when Zhuo Wanqiu called out “Mirror Master” did she snap back to herself, then stepped up to the Palace, lifting her robe.

She felt unusually foolish today, her mind sluggish—something that never happened before…

Yan Shuyi murmured softly, then gently slipped off her shoes and socks, revealing a pair of moon-white, delicate feet stepping onto the thick carpet, with Ji You following behind, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

Zhuo Wanqiu and Ding Yao found nothing strange, but Cui and Xing, the two maids, stared in shock as their Mirror Master removed her shoes so casually.

“Mirror Master…?”

“A Tian Shu Academy disciple shattered the Sword Forest, destroyed all seven swords, dared to demand that Lingjian Mountain compensate him with swords, and caused trouble on the mountain—I’m bringing him to pick out a few.”

Cui and Xing exchanged glances, thinking: What a bold Tian Shu disciple—to dare demand the Mirror Master’s precious hidden swords!

Zhuo Wanqiu, however, wore a peculiar expression, thinking: Your hidden swords are all famous blades—if you truly meant to compensate, just send a few. Why bring him here? This is clearly an excuse to let him wander through your chambers.

Ji You stepped inside silently, his gaze sweeping the surroundings.

The Palace carried a pleasant fragrance, faint like orchid grass—the same scent he’d noticed when holding her—though mixed with incense.

After glancing around, he stepped a few paces to the right, his eyes falling on the right hall, where behind a desk stood a large, ornate phoenix bed, richly adorned with pearls and jade.

Sleeps on a bed this big?

Must be a restless sleeper—probably kicks off the covers at night…

Ji You grew concerned, thinking: If Yan Shuyi really kicks around in her sleep, I might need to refine my body further.

Yan Shuyi watched him from ahead, her gaze drifting.

Then the two entered the back hall’s sword chamber, where countless famous swords stood arrayed on racks, their sheaths concealing their divine aura, yet still radiating sharpness.

Yan Shuyi walked ahead, taking swords from the racks and holding them before Ji You, as if judging their appearance.

Watching her serious expression, Ji You recalled the scene at Qionghua Pavilion.

He’s been kept by a wealthy woman again…

“This one looks good.”

“This one… is acceptable too.”

Yan Shuyi was absorbed in matching, her steps light as she took down sword after sword from the racks, nearly ready to bring out every hidden blade for him to try.

She handed the ones she deemed suitable to Zhuo Wanqiu, and had Ding Yao return the ones she didn’t—no matter if Ji You said “it’s fine.”

Gradually, Zhuo Wanqiu’s arms filled with more swords—far exceeding seven.

No wonder the Mirror Master loved hoarding swords—she was clearly saving them for her dowry.

Yan Shuyi now stood on tiptoe, her snow-pale, rosy soles stepping across the thick carpet, circling the racks, testing each sword until the final one—then her gaze caught a wooden box in the corner.

Inside the box lay another sword, brimming with spiritual energy—clearly no ordinary blade.

But as soon as Ding Yao saw this sword noticed, her expression changed instantly: “Mirror Master, this is the sword Master Shang gave you…”

Yan Shuyi immediately remembered—when she had gone down the mountain to meet Ji You, Ding Yao had brought this very sword.

“How convenient. Then this one it is.”

Ji You reached out and took the sword from the wooden box.

Ding Yao spoke up: “This sword has an extraordinary origin—there is no second like it in the world. Even if taken, it will be recognized, and will surely bring trouble upon the Mirror Master.”

“Then I’ll take it away and dispose of it. It can’t stay here.”

Ding Yao frowned at him: “You didn’t come to gift a sword, fine—but now you’re taking the Mirror Master’s hidden blades, even one given by another? Wanqiu said you never exploit the Mirror Master’s name for gain—I’m beginning to doubt it.”

Ji You had forgotten his original purpose while playing the “carrying stones” game with Yan Shuyi, but now he remembered: “Actually, I do have a sword I meant to gift you.”

Yan Shuyi turned to look at him, staring for a long moment before speaking: “Really?”

“Mm.”

“What kind? Let me see.”

Ding Yao watched the Little Mirror Master’s hopeful gaze and thought: Even if Ji You gives you a broken blade, you’ll treat it like a treasure.

Ji You did not draw any sword: “It’s not with me now. After nightfall, Mirror Master, use your Mirror to conceal the heavens—someone will deliver the sword.”

“What kind of sword?”

“One that’s powerful—so powerful it won’t make you go through such trouble again.”

Ji You tossed the sword given by the Wen Dao Sect’s heir in his hand: “I’ll go back, bathe, rest, and grill something in the courtyard tonight.”

Yan Shuyi’s cheek was pinched, and as she looked up, she saw him turn and leave.

Ding Yao stood frozen in place.

She had assumed Ji You would at least pretend to produce a sword, feigning a genuine gift.

Whether good or bad, the Mirror Master’s current foolishness would surely be fooled.

But she never imagined he’d just walk away—without even pretending.

The sun quickly sank; nightfall crept silently over the land, gradually covering the Qingyun Realm. From the Cloud-Crowned Palace, the distant Tianjian Peak faded into darkness.

Yan Shuyi had long used her Mirror to conceal the heavens; now she sat cross-legged in cultivation, yet every so often opened her eyes to gaze outside the hall.

But as stars emerged, only the wind remained—so her glances outside grew fewer and fewer.

Did Ji You truly intend to gift a sword—or was it just a joke?

Zhuo Wanqiu couldn’t guess, dared not speculate, but inwardly leaned toward no.

Because if it were true, why wait until night? Why send someone to deliver it?

This place isn’t open to just anyone—if there truly were a gift, one would need to report ahead and descend to meet the messenger.

Could Ji You really be this reckless—joking like this?

Zhuo Wanqiu slightly furrowed her brow, thinking that the Young Master truly loved hoarding swords—during the day, when Master Ji had offered to gift one, his eyes had lit up; if this were merely a joke, it would be hard to laugh off.

Yet she was cautious, and after nightfall, she said nothing more about the sword.

She reasoned that if there truly was no sword, the Young Master wouldn’t be too disappointed.

To this end, she had specifically ordered Cui’er to prepare dinner, thinking that if there really was no sword and the Young Master flew into a rage and refused to go to the Quiet Courtyard, she’d still have to eat.

Ding Yao, however, was different—she leaned against the doorframe, staring constantly toward the mountain path, her gaze filled with boundless coldness.

“I thought he’d just pull out any old sword and pretend he’d prepared it in advance to gift the Young Master—I even planned to mock him, wondering what kind of sword could compare to one gifted by the Dao Wendao Sect’s direct disciple—but he didn’t even produce a sword tassel, merely found an excuse to descend the mountain.”

“Ding Yao, Senior Sister, your tongue is too sharp…”

“I know you and the Young Master hold prejudices against me, but everything I do is for Xuanjian Peak. I know I’ve been arrogant in daily life, but since the Young Master treats me as a sister, I’ve never once thought of betraying her. My closeness to the Dao Wendao Sect stems from personal motives, but that’s only because he’s the best choice for the Young Master.”

Ding Yao, leaning against the doorframe, murmured: “The Young Master is human, a woman—sometimes she cannot see clearly, and it is our duty to help her see.”

Her voice was quiet, but to cultivators’ ears, it was crystal clear.

Yan Shuyi said nothing; seeing Cui’er enter with rice porridge and four small dishes, she rose and walked toward the dining table.

Yet just as she was about to sit, the wind around Xuanjian Peak suddenly howled. Ding Yao’s brow twitched—she was about to order the maid to close the door—when a sharp ringing sound pierced the air, and instant alarm surged through her heart.

“?”

“Such a powerful sword intent?!”

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu instantly tensed, when suddenly a fragrant breeze swept past them.

Yan Shuyi leapt from Tianque and stepped into the night, where the wind screamed like wailing cranes; her entire body began to radiate sword intent.

Upon the cliff stood an old man, his hair and beard streaked with white, yet his face was ruddy, showing no trace of frailty. He stood with hands clasped behind his back outside Tianque, his coarse, worn sleeves flapping in the wind like a gleaming blade standing proud against the endless night.

At this moment, Yan Shuyi had already drawn the Spirit Mirror; the small stone mirror floated in midair, reflecting her cold, exquisite beauty.

Tianjian Peak had long eyed Xuanjian Peak with suspicion, and with rumors of chaos spreading through the world, many malicious intentions could no longer be hidden.

Not long ago, someone had asked, while drunk, this question: if the wielder of a weapon dies, can anyone seize the unclaimed Heavenly Dao Sacred Artifact?

This question had not been raised for the first time.

Within the Seven Immortal Sects, some sought to seize the artifact; outside, powerful clans watched closely—let alone the demonic and barbarian tribes.

Yet previously, the Sacred Artifacts were always held by Linxian Realm masters—until the Spirit Mirror of Lingjian Mountain chose its own master: a Young Master not yet invincible under heaven.

At this moment, Zhuo Wanqiu and Ding Yao stared at the old man, overwhelmed by a crushing dread that surged toward them; their bodies trembled, as if icy cold crept up their spines, yet they still drew their swords, preparing to press forward against the wind.

But then, the white-haired sword master suddenly raised his hand—and before the three of them, he clasped his fists and bowed slightly toward Yan Shuyi beneath the Spirit Mirror.

Beneath the night, boundless sword winds swept over them. Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu, having descended the Tianque veranda, stood stunned, unable to make sense of what had just happened.

【I have a sword I wish to give you】

【After nightfall, someone will come bearing a sword】

【A sword that won’t burden you too much】

In that moment, the Young Master suddenly understood why Ji You had insisted on cutting through that forest of swords—and why he had made no struggle when the sword qi surged toward him.

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(End of Chapter)