Chapter 29: The Sword Manor That Guards the Way

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Song Yan sat cross-legged within the cavern, his fingers tightly interlaced, a faint pale glow emanating from his entire body. Spiritual energy gathered around him, condensing within into a sharp blade of light.

He drew a deep breath, no longer hesitating, and drove his spiritual power forward. In an instant, he severed the three spiritual roots at his dantian, plunging the energy deep into its core.

A muffled groan escaped him as his internal energies turned tumultuous, blood beginning to bead from every pore of his skin. The veins in his arms bulged, blood flowing freely. His jet-black hair gradually faded to a lifeless yellow. His vitality was gravely diminished; his life now hung by a thread.

From his dantian came a sound like the shattering of porcelain. What remained of his spiritual power turned to a white mist, streaming out from his seven apertures.

Song Yan slowly opened his eyes. Once gentle, his gaze was now dull, as lifeless as cold iron.

His foundation was utterly destroyed.

Strangely, the sharp force he had used to cut his spiritual roots did not dissipate, but remained embedded deep within his dantian.

Song Yan formed a peculiar sword gesture, spiritual light bursting from his fingertips. That remnant power tore open a sesame-sized fissure within the now-empty sea of his dantian.

A tidal wave of pain crashed over him. Song Yan clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain conscious. Should he faint now, and the force within his dantian fade away...

It would mean all his efforts were in vain, and cultivation would forever be lost to him.

The rift at first was like a sword mark, greedily devouring every last drop of blood essence and spiritual energy within his dantian.

Gradually, a space took shape, slightly wider than the original sword scar, resembling a green leaf.

Thus, the initial form of the Sword Mansion was forged.

Biting the tip of his tongue, Song Yan drew out a thread of vital blood. The drop of blood, quivering, hovered within the Sword Mansion at his dantian.

Suddenly, the dissipating spiritual energy reversed course, even pulling in the spiritual essence from the surrounding mountains, forming a palm-sized vortex above Song Yan’s head.

A faint hum sounded from within his dantian after who knows how long, and only then did the vortex finally come to rest.

Looking inward, he saw a thin golden shell, the size of a bodhi seed, floating serenely within the Sword Mansion.

A surge of joy rose in Song Yan’s heart, but he did not let his guard down.

“One more step,” he murmured.

He swallowed an energy-nourishing pill he had prepared in advance, threads of spiritual power being absorbed into the golden shell.

Yet after only a few breaths, the power was depleted.

“Still not enough…”

For the sword seed, the energy from the pill was simply too slow.

He had no choice but to take out a Yellow Sprout Pill, swallowing it while gripping two spirit stones in his hands.

Pure, surging spiritual power from his energy sea mingled with the energy drawn from the spirit stones, flowing into the golden shell above the Sword Mansion.

Fine, mysterious patterns along the rim of the shell slowly lit up.

The sword seed began to contract, shrinking from the size of a bodhi seed to that of a lotus seed.

Song Yan took another Yellow Sprout Pill. The spiritual energy within his dantian surged violently, drawn into the golden lotus as if by a vortex.

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In just a few breaths, scarcely a tenth of his spiritual energy remained.

Fortunately, at that moment, change finally occurred.

Around the lotus seed, strange sword-shaped currents of spiritual energy unfurled like cicada wings, forming a unique lotus-like shape.

Thus was the forging of the Sword Mansion and the planting of the sword seed truly complete.

Song Yan opened his eyes, dazed as if waking from a dream.

…

On the nineteenth day of the fifth month, the sky was clear and bright.

Xiao He sat not far from Song Yan’s temporary cave dwelling, weaving something out of grass rope in her hands.

This craft, her grandfather had taught her. Song Yan had never been interested, but she loved it.

The chaotic strands of grass, when combined and interwoven, became something so delicate and orderly in the end.

When she first saw it, Xiao He had been deeply fascinated by the dexterity of human hands.

So whenever Yan Yan was away, she would pass the time each day by making these grass ropes. Sadly, her skill never quite reached her grandfather’s level.

“Oh no, that’s not right…”

From time to time, she would pick up her handiwork, scrutinize it, then frown in dissatisfaction, pulling and reshaping it.

“There!”

She placed the odd grass creation on the ground. Beside it, neatly arranged, were all sorts of strange grass-woven “objects.”

This was the eighth one.

Having set them out, Xiao He began to inspect her work with grave seriousness, starting from the first, muttering to herself all the while.

“Day one, nothing happened! I ate a little field mouse.”

“Day two, there was a huge cloud in the sky, just like Grandpa’s medicine basket!”

“No field mouse today…”

“Day three…”

Xiao He wanted to tell Yan Yan everything that had happened each day when he emerged from his retreat.

But she was forgetful.

There had always been so many interesting things, but by the time Yan Yan came to play with her, she’d already forgotten them.

She’d cried out of frustration many times because of this.

She also worried that Yan Yan might be gone for many days again, like before.

So she came up with a clever solution: make a grass rope every day, so when she saw it, she’d remember.

“Day six… Hmm? What was this one for…”

“What was it again…”

Oh no, Xiao He had forgotten what that grass rope was supposed to represent!

It had only happened two days ago!

“Think hard, think hard…”

“What was it…”

Her little face flushed with anxiety.

A familiar voice called from above and behind her: “It looks like a little frog.”

“Ah! That’s right! It’s the little frog!”

Her eyes lit up, and only then did she realize someone was behind her. She turned to see Song Yan watching her with a gentle smile.

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She became a little embarrassed.

“Hehe… On the fifth day, I met a little frog.”

“And where’s the frog?”

“Ah—” Xiao He opened her mouth, pointed, then patted her belly. “I ate it.”

Song Yan could only laugh helplessly, his heart aching a little.

This child took things so literally—he’d told her to guard the cave entrance, and she truly hadn’t left her post for a moment.

“Yan Yan, have you recovered?”

Song Yan nodded. “More or less.”

Xiao He sniffed, noticing that the spiritual energy around him was greatly diminished.

But that didn’t matter, as long as he was all right.

This time, Yan Yan hadn’t been away for long at all!

Xiao He slipped into his sleeve in her serpent form.

“…Aren’t you keeping these grass ropes?”

“No need!”

Song Yan studied the grass ropes scattered on the ground with interest, then gathered them all into his storage pouch.

“What a pity.”

“It’s nothing. There are still five hundred and forty-two grass ropes in the cave on Little Lone Mountain…”

“You’ve made that many?”

“Of course!”

…

To forge the Sword Mansion and plant the sword seed had taken three full days.

But to re-cultivate the first layer of Qi Refinement took only five.

Song Yan had his own reasons for rebuilding his cultivation.

He still had no idea where this place was, and the journey back to his sect might be long and arduous. Without even the most basic spiritual energy, he’d be at the mercy of any wandering rogue cultivators and might lose his life.

Besides, most cultivators who fell from grace due to injury would still retain some of their power. If all spiritual energy vanished, it would only make things look suspicious.

Moreover, his original spiritual roots were gone, replaced now by the golden lotus brimming with sword energy.

He continued to use his old cultivation method, the Qi Condensation Scroll. On careful inspection, the rate at which he absorbed spiritual energy seemed even a bit slower than before.

However, the spiritual energy he cultivated now was denser, and with every soft chime from the lotus, it gradually transformed into sword energy around it.

This sword seed could also be refined and strengthened.

The general teachings mentioned that supreme spiritual objects, insights into the sword’s true essence, and life-bound flying swords could all enhance the grade of the sword seed.

Drawing a deep breath, Song Yan stepped out of the mountain’s depths.