SFS Chapter 38 Killing Sword Seed
Chapter 38 Killing Sword Seed
"Oh? Is it the Abbot of Qingyang Temple?" The weasel's eyes darted around, and its high-pitched voice carried a hint of mockery.
Awei pressed her lips together, shielding her younger sister even more tightly, and forced herself to remain calm, saying, "That's right. The Abbot's power is profound; you mustn't be presumptuous."
The weasel raised a front paw, casually stroked a non-existent whisker near its mouth, and chuckled, "Do you know that the abbot and I have been close friends for many years?"
It took half a step forward, casting its shadow on the rough kitchen floor, and said in a low, seductive voice, "The abbot himself said that if you obey, all will be well. If you don't..."
It deliberately dragged out its words, its sharp teeth flashing a cold light in the remaining firelight of the stove, and a low growl came from its throat, "Even if I swallow you whole, he won't have much of a problem with that."
"You..." Awei's face turned even paler, her lips were pressed tightly together, and her nails were almost digging into her palms.
Behind her, Ah Ling had buried her face in her sister's back in fear, not daring to breathe.
Just as the weasel was about to scare the girl a couple more times, a lazy telepathic voice suddenly came from beside his ear. It was Chi Mingzi's voice: "You brat, you just learned the transformation technique and you're already trying to scare little girls? How pathetic."
Xu Changqing, who had transformed into a weasel, stiffened slightly. Then, his figure suddenly blurred, transforming into a pale yellow shadow, and with a whoosh, he darted out of the kitchen door, quickly heading towards the side room where Chi Mingzi lived along the shadows under the corridor.
In the kitchen, Awei and Aling looked at each other in bewilderment. The weasel had suddenly vanished, as if it had never been there at all.
Awei paused for a moment, then bent down to pick up the wooden basin and whispered a few words of comfort to her sister. But she had a vague feeling that something was wrong, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
The door to the side room was ajar.
The weasel slipped to the door, twisted its body, and the dark gold banner faded away like water, revealing Xu Changqing's true form.
He straightened his robes and pushed open the door to enter.
Chimingzi was lounging on the couch, legs crossed, holding a red gourd in his hand, sipping it intermittently.
Seeing Xu Changqing enter, he didn't even lift his eyelids, only letting out a snort through his nose: "You brat."
Xu Changqing turned around and bowed respectfully: "Master has discerning eyes. This disciple was merely testing it out and also to see how effective this transformation technique is."
Chi Mingzi then lifted his eyelids, his cloudy old eyes sweeping over Xu Changqing, his gaze seemingly able to penetrate flesh and see right to the core.
He clicked his tongue and nodded: "Your transformation technique is quite good. Your aura is well concealed, and your appearance changes quickly. If I hadn't already condensed my sword eye, it would be difficult to discern anything at first glance. It can be considered a superior technique among unorthodox methods."
He paused, tilted his head back, took a swig of wine, his Adam's apple bobbing. He casually wiped his mouth with his sleeve before slowly continuing, "However, these kinds of techniques that rely on appearances and external transformations are ultimately unorthodox. When encountering someone with profound cultivation and keen spiritual senses, their true nature can easily be exposed, and you will be controlled by them. Now that you have joined my Pure Yang Path, you should focus on internally cultivating sword light, tempering your spirit and soul, and forging an immaculate Dao heart. These kinds of transformation techniques should only be used as an aid, to deal with immediate emergencies. Do not become obsessed with them and neglect the essential for the trivial."
Xu Changqing's expression turned solemn. The Sword Eye was a supernatural power from the *Pure Yang Sword Dao Immortal Scripture*, comparable to the Buddhist Heavenly Eye, and a required skill for every Pure Yang Dao cultivator. He bowed and replied, "Disciple understands, and will remember Master's teachings."
"Good that you understand." Chi Mingzi waved his hand, hung the gourd on his waist, sat up from the couch, and his expression became more serious. "Starting tomorrow, I will formally teach you the method of sword forging. Swords are the extension of a sword cultivator's limbs, the entrustment of their life, and are of utmost importance. But before that, you must carefully and thoroughly understand the matter of condensing the sword seed. The sword seed in the dantian is the root of all sword light and swords. If the foundation is not stable, everything else is just empty talk. Today, you should carefully comprehend the scriptures. If you encounter any obstacles, feel free to ask me."
"Yes." Xu Changqing bowed again.
Chi Mingzi swayed as he stood up, strolled to the window, and gazed at the courtyard where dusk was gradually falling. He muttered to himself, "...Hehe, let's see how much you learn, kid."
Having said that, he didn't turn around, but simply waved his hand, signaling Xu Changqing to leave.
Xu Changqing left the room and gently closed the door.
The lanterns under the eaves have been extinguished, and dewdrops cling to the corners of the eaves. The morning light slants down from the courtyard, casting a pale golden glow on the bluestone slabs.
From the kitchen in the distance came the faint sound of bowls and plates clattering, mixed with Awei's soft words of comfort to Aling.
He took a deep breath of the crisp night air, pushed open the door to the quiet room, sat cross-legged on the futon, and closed his eyes to concentrate.
He cleared his mind of all distractions and focused his attention on his dantian.
Within the Qi Sea, the Killing Qi flows slowly like mercury and syrup. According to the Pure Yang Sword Dao Immortal Scripture, to condense a sword seed, one must use the mind as a guide and magic power as the material. In the center of the Qi Sea, one must be tempered and refined a thousand times, removing the dross and keeping the essence, to condense a sword seed that belongs only to oneself.
This process cannot be rushed or rushed; it requires patient refinement and repeated polishing.
Xu Changqing calmed his mind and spirit, guiding his thoughts like silk threads, probing into the sea of qi, slowly stirring the thick and solid killing qi.
As the sunlight outside the window gradually intensifies, the first rays of the sun break through the clouds, casting clear, bright spots of light through the windowpane onto the blue bricks.
The old pine needles in the courtyard still held the dew of the night, glistening in the morning light, and occasionally a bird would land on a branch, its song clear and melodious.
Within Xu Changqing's dantian, in the center of the churning sea of qi, a faint yet pure and refined crimson-gold light was quietly being nurtured under countless washes of magical power and tempering of the mind.
Though it is only as small as a mustard seed, it already reveals a magnificent spectacle that breaks through all the gloom and illuminates the world.
This golden light is a sword seed formed by Xu Changqing's mind and spirit combined with his own killing energy, and can be called the Killing Sword Seed.
He opened his eyes, a flash of crimson gold appearing briefly in them. He opened his palm, and a faint crimson gold sword light leaped from his fingertips, illuminating the walls of the quiet room slightly.
Xu Changqing lightly drew his sword across the bluestone ground, and with a soft hiss, a sword mark as thin as a hair and about an inch deep was left on the stone surface, the cut as smooth as a mirror.
"Not bad. Although it's far from tearing through the void like Master's sword light, it's already taking shape." He withdrew his finger, watching the wisp of crimson-gold light dance at his fingertip, and nodded slightly. "With further nurturing and tempering, it will surely become my main offensive move."
It was noon at this time, in Qingyang Village at the foot of the mountain.
The sun was scorching, and the heat was stifling. There wasn't a soul in sight on the village's dirt roads. Even the most vocal dogs, usually the fiercest barkers, lay panting under the shade of trees, only occasionally lifting their eyelids lazily.
Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, several children were chasing and playing, while women gathered by the well to wash clothes and chat.
Suddenly, a chilling cold seeped into the bones, making even the midday sun seem to dim.
The laughter and chatter by the well abruptly ceased. The women stopped what they were doing, the children shrank behind the adults, and everyone looked towards the village entrance with suspicion and uncertainty.
Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, the inexplicable chill came and went quickly.
Several children huddled behind the adults, peering out for a long time, but saw nothing but winding mountain paths and silent vegetation.
The women by the well looked at each other, whispered a few words, and gradually resumed their work, though they unconsciously lowered their voices, as if afraid of disturbing something they shouldn't.
Only the old locust tree at the village entrance suddenly stirred without any wind, making a "whoosh" sound from deep within its canopy.