Chapter 121: Sending a Message by Flying Sword

In the world of cultivation, battles—especially those between high-level practitioners and their low-level counterparts—are often brutally simple. A figure who seems insurmountable in one's eyes might be crushed by a single finger the next moment; therein lies the allure of the path. One gazes up at the mountain, climbing without end.

Shen Yu watched this scene silently, then shifted his gaze to the man currently walking sideways through the fields. His primary reason for coming to watch was not the outcome, but to observe this middle-aged man’s mastery of the spear. Unexpectedly, Shen Yu saw none of the malice or cruelty rumored to have characterized the slaughter of a hundred thousand commoners and cultivators. The spear style was vast, mighty, and peerlessly radiant. In Shen Yu's estimation, one had to admire the marvels of an Innate Dao Body—the ability to comprehend any of the three thousand Great Daos at will. At this moment, the Way of the Spear had reached a terrifying realm within this middle-aged man.

"What a pity," Shen Yu said suddenly.

Qingshan, confused, asked, "What?"

Shen Yu did not answer, merely looking up at the sky with a slight frown. During his time in the village, he had already deduced certain things clearly. For instance, he had expected the female Blade Immortal from Broken Blade Mountain to send someone to hunt him down, or perhaps even come herself. Yet, she had not. Where had she gone? Suddenly, Shen Yu wished the flying sword could travel even faster.

...

A flying sword streaked across the clouds, ten thousand miles above. The small village was separated from the Dao Sect by an entire continent; at such a distance, let alone a message sent by sword, even a practitioner at the Spirit Wandering realm would struggle to project their yin spirit with such speed. This feat was owed to Shen Yu’s vast intent and peerless control. Of course, the primary factor was the sword’s own high degree of spirituality.

The wooden sword, Jingqing, had been brought out of Motian Cliff by Shen Yu, a relic left behind by a powerhouse who had ascended. It swept over the East Sea, kicking up waves of air, then soared across the hundred thousand mountains before arriving before that magnificent gateway.

The wooden sword plunged into the ground, emitting a series of resonant hums. Almost instantly, a lean Taoist appeared at the gates, retrieved the sword into his sleeve, and vanished.

At Yuan Sheng Hall, on Flying Peak, a snow-white spirit fox the size of a half-grown human was playing with an old dog in the clearing before the bamboo grove. A gentle girl in a green dress was watering spiritual herbs. The sun was pleasant, and a gentle breeze blew.

A scholar with a mild countenance sat on a stone chair atop the peak, holding a scroll in one hand. The breeze brushed his face, giving him an ethereal, transcendent air. This scholar, whose features were not particularly striking, had sat here for many years. There was a time when, bored, he had ventured out of the Dao Sect to travel, seeing the mountains and rivers, witnessing the joys and sorrows of the world, and taking certain actions. When he returned, he never again harbored thoughts of leaving.

Because the world was too dull. That was his perspective.

Upon returning to the Dao Sect, he had no other interests; daily life—watering flowers, reading, living like a crane among idle clouds—felt fulfilling enough. People often conflate indifference with heartlessness, but that is not the case. The heartless are not necessarily indifferent, and the indifferent are not necessarily heartless.

With a slight whistling sound cutting through the air, Elder Dao Fan of Yuan Sheng Hall appeared on the peak. A subtle ripple disturbed the air, and a brief, private discussion took place between the two, audible to no one else. Su Mo took hold of the sword, and a strand of divine consciousness passed into his heart.

"How is it?" Dao Fan asked, habitually squinting his eyes after a moment of silence.

"Junior brother is naturally cold and aloof; he would not be like this if the matter were not urgent," the mild man in white robes mused. "Furthermore, it involves the Yang family, so we should pay a visit to the Yang clan of the East Ancestral Continent."

Dao Fan’s expression remained calm, his voice cold as he stated, "Broken Blade Mountain has been growing increasingly rampant of late."

The message conveyed by the wooden sword was concise, explaining only the current plight of the Yang family. However, given the reach of the Dao Sect, they could naturally grasp the events that had transpired in Thousand Willow City of the East Ancestral Continent dozens of days prior.

"Our junior brother has stirred up quite a few major incidents during his time out," Su Mo remarked, looking toward the horizon with a faint smile. "I hear that female Blade Immortal struck three times. I wonder how our junior brother is faring."

Dao Fan replied directly, "I will go."

Su Mo shook his head.

Dao Fan paused, bewildered. "Why?"

As the Grand Elder of Yuan Sheng Hall and a pinnacle expert of the Tribulation realm among the upper three tiers, he possessed a dignity and presence unmatched in the Dao Sect. Yet, he held an inexplicable respect and faith in Su Mo. Some in the Dao Sect even joked behind his back that Dao Fan was merely a gatekeeper for Yuan Sheng Hall, wasting his cultivation, though he never took offense. Perhaps his perpetually stoic expression masked too much, leaving others unaware of the emotions hidden within.

"Zhang Zhi has been missing for a year. He hasn't returned, so he must be dead," Su Mo said after a brief silence. "I am uneasy about the Qinglü Hall, so I need you to keep a close watch there."

The two statements seemed unrelated, yet Dao Fan’s expression grew grave. The entire Dao Sect knew that Zhang Zhi held a grudge against Shen Yu. When Shen Yu had left, Zhang Zhi had immediately gone into seclusion on Zuowang Peak. While it had been kept very secret, careful investigation would reveal traces. Shen Yu was still alive, yet Zhang Zhi was dead. Curiously, the Master of Qinglü Hall, Xun Ju—a practitioner of unfathomable strength—had shown no reaction at all. The quieter he remained, the more fearful others became. Heaven knows what he might do.

Dao Fan whispered, "Then..."

Su Mo stood up and brushed the dust from his robes, smiling. "In that case, let me go."

Dao Fan bowed slightly. "That female Blade Immortal is reclusive and has a decent cultivation level; she is a domineering woman."

"When I traveled long ago, Master gave me two things. It seems they might come in handy now," Su Mo said as he returned to his quarters. He added softly, "Besides, Master always said that taking care of one's junior brother is a duty that goes without saying."