Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

The winter snow at the Star Sword Sect always carries a sense of reassuring tranquility.

Long icicles hung from the eaves of Puhuitang, like strings of transparent crystals. Su Qingwan sat by the window, stringing together last year's Soul-Gathering Flower seeds into a bracelet. Sunlight streamed through the icicles, casting dappled patterns of light on her hair. Wang Xiaohu squatted by the stove, adding charcoal. The water in the kettle gurgled, and the steam blurred the icicles on the windowpane.

“Aman wrote that a heavy snow fell in Hundred Herbs Valley, and all the Soul-Gathering Flower seeds planted by the three teenagers have sprouted.” Su Qingwan placed the strung bracelet on the table. The red string and black seeds were particularly eye-catching in the snow. “She said that the children are more talkative now and can even sing to the seedlings in the herb garden.”

Wang Xiaohu nodded with a smile: "You must have been taught by Aying, right? He always says that plants grow faster when they listen to music."

Ah Ying is now practically the manager of Pu Hui Tang. Not only does she manage the herb garden impeccably, but she has also learned some medical skills from Su Qingwan and can occasionally help treat minor illnesses. However, she remains quiet by nature and often squats by the sword tomb, staring blankly at the Demon-Suppressing Sword when she has nothing to do. No one knows what she is thinking.

“Oh right, Li Gou Dan said that Qing Shi Town is going to hold a ‘New Year’s Market’ and invited us to go.” Su Qingwan picked up the bracelet and put it on Wang Xiaohu’s wrist. “We can go buy some sugar figurines for Xiao Shitou. He’s been asking for them for a while now.”

The New Year's market was held at the threshing ground in Qingshi Town. The snow had been swept to both sides, and the exposed yellow earth was filled with stalls: selling Spring Festival couplets, frying oil cakes, making dough figurines... The shouts mixed with the laughter of children, creating a warm and lively atmosphere in the cold air.

Li Gou Dan, wearing a newly made cotton-padded coat, was helping his wife set up the cured meat stall. When he saw them coming, he called out from afar, "Brother Xiao Hu! Come and try my family's newly cured fish!"

Little Stone, like a wildcat let loose, dragged A-Ying towards the dough figurine stall, clutching the copper coins Su Qingwan had given him, his eyes shining like two black grapes.

“Look at that child,” Su Qingwan said with a smile, shaking her head, but her gaze followed Xiao Shitou’s figure. “He was so timid last time he came, but now he’s become the king of the kids in town.”

Wang Xiaohu gazed at the stage not far away, where the storyteller was enthusiastically recounting a new chapter of "The Legend of the Starry Night Swordsmen," saying that they had subdued a giant clam that could spit out pearls in the East Sea, drawing cheers from the audience. "This storyteller certainly knows how to make things up," he muttered. "When did we ever go to the East Sea?"

“I’ve been there,” Su Qingwan said, linking her arm with his, her voice tinged with amusement. “When we went to Penglai Island, we passed through the East China Sea, didn’t we? Maybe they mistook the Sea-Stabilizing Needle for a giant clam.”

The two strolled slowly along the stalls, buying some red paper and ink sticks, and also picking out a new medicine spatula for Aying. When they reached the sugar painting stall on the street corner, they bumped into Xiaoshitou holding up a tiger sugar painting, standing on tiptoe to show it to Aying. Aying had a faint smile on her lips, holding a rabbit sugar painting in her hand, which was obviously bought for Xiaoshitou.

"Brother Ying, doesn't this tiger look like Brother Tiger?" Little Stone asked, holding up a sugar painting, his forehead covered in sweat.

Aying nodded and handed him the sugar rabbit painting: "Eat it quickly, it won't look good if it melts."

Watching this scene, Wang Xiaohu suddenly recalled his first meeting with Aying. He was like a frightened little animal, his eyes full of wariness. But now, he could naturally buy sugar paintings for the child, and listen to Xiao Shitou's crazy talk with a smile. Even the gloom between his brows had been softened by the passage of time.

"Time flies," Su Qingwan said softly. "It seems like I just met him in Black Sand City yesterday, and today he's already become a capable adult."

From the other side of the threshing ground came the sound of gongs and drums; it was the arrival of the dragon dance troupe. Twelve colorful dragons tumbled in the snow, the gold powder on their scales shimmering in the sunlight, drawing the children to run after them. Little Stone pulled Aying along, their tiger sugar paintings dangling in their hands, leaving crumbs along the way.

Li Gou Dan approached unnoticed, holding two strings of candied hawthorns: "Want a taste? They're made by Grandpa Zhang in town, really sweet and sour." Looking at the dragon dance troupe, he suddenly remarked, "Little Tiger, do you think we're living like this, turning our lives into a story?"

Wang Xiaohu took a bite of the candied hawthorn, the sourness of the hawthorn mingling with the sweetness of the rock sugar, spreading across his tongue. He recalled the sword fights of those years, the hum of the seven divine swords, and the countless nights they fought side by side—those thrills he once thought would be unforgettable had now transformed into the sweetness in his mouth, into the laughter of those around him, and into the lively atmosphere of this New Year's market.

"Yes." He looked at Su Qingwan's nose, which was red from the cold, and reached out to brush the snowflakes off her shoulder. "It's the best story."

On the return journey, the setting sun bathed the mountain road in a golden-red hue. Little Stone lay asleep on the horse's back, still clutching a half-eaten sugar stick in his hand. Aying walked quietly beside him, carrying a bundle of New Year's goods, occasionally glancing up at the sunset on the horizon.

"Aying," Wang Xiaohu suddenly spoke up, "would you like to go back to Black Sand City for a visit after spring?"

Aying paused, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes, before finally nodding gently: "Yes." He paused again, then added, "I want to visit my mother's grave and tell her... I'm doing well now."

Su Qingwan took a cloth bag out of her bag and handed it to him: "These are newly harvested Soul-Gathering Flower seeds. Take them and scatter them in front of the grave. Maybe they will grow into flowers next year."

Ah Ying took the cloth bag, clutching it tightly with her fingertips as if she were holding some precious treasure.

When they returned to the Star Sword Sect, dusk had already fallen. The disciples were putting up Spring Festival couplets; the bright red paper against the white snow looked especially festive. Wang Xiaohu hung the preserved fish he had bought under the eaves, while Su Qingwan went to the kitchen to cook ginger soup to warm the shivering children.

Aying, carrying a bundle, walked into the herb garden, squatted down in the clearing where the Soul-Gathering Flower was growing, and carefully scattered some flower seeds on the soil. Moonlight fell on him, and his movements were as devout as if he were performing a ritual.

Wang Xiaohu stood under the eaves watching him, and suddenly understood that the so-called Jianghu (martial arts world) is never a road that can only rush forward. It can be about taking a detour and returning to the starting point; it can be about stopping and planting a flower; it can be about letting go of hatred and picking up warmth.

Like Ah Ying, who was once trapped in the shadows of the past, he is now able to sow the seeds of the future with his own hands.

On New Year's Eve, the festive fire was lit again. Li Gou Dan arrived with his whole family, and A Man and three teenagers also came from Baiyao Valley, filling the small Puhui Hall to capacity. For the first time, A Ying took the initiative to toast everyone, thanking them for letting him know that life could be lived this way.

Wang Xiaohu looked at the people in front of him: Li Gou Dan, whose face was flushed from drinking; Su Qing Wan, who was smiling and handing out candy to everyone; A Man, who was surrounded by children; and A Ying, who was standing in the firelight with bright eyes... Each of them carried the scars of the past, but on this land, they all grew new hope.

"Come on, cheers!" Wang Xiaohu raised his glass, the wine reflecting the flickering firelight. "May the Soul-Gathering Flower bloom even better next year!"

"Cheers!" The cheers, mingled with the crackling of firewood, carried far through the snowy night. Wang Xiaohu knew this story would continue. Next spring, the cherry blossoms would bloom, the cicadas would sing, the chestnuts would ripen, and the winter snow would fall. They would stay here, watching the people around them grow old and new life slowly grow.

There are no earth-shattering legends, only the peaceful stability of daily life; no tense duels, only the gentle companionship of a flowing stream. And this, perhaps, is the ultimate meaning of the seven divine swords protecting the world—not to keep the martial world forever filled with swords and shadows, but to allow everyone who has walked through the martial world to find a place where they can put their hearts at ease and live life the way they like.

The bonfire burned ever brighter, illuminating everyone's smiling faces and the Demon-Suppressing Sword atop the Sword Tomb. The illusory images of seven divine swords gently flowed across the blade, as tender as a halo, seemingly guarding this hard-won peace and blessing the story yet to be continued.

As spring breezes painted the stone steps of the Starry Sky Sword Sect green, Ah Ying, carrying a medicine basket, embarked on her journey to Black Sand City.

The basket contained newly harvested Soul-Gathering Flower seeds, as well as a calming sachet that Su Qingwan had specially prepared for him. Wang Xiaohu and Su Qingwan saw him off at the mountain gate, where Xiao Shitou chased after him, carrying a plush tiger doll, insisting on giving it to him: "Brother Ying, take this with you, it'll be like we're with you!"

Aying took the doll, her fingertips touching the rough stitches, and her eyes welled up slightly. She bowed deeply to the crowd, turned and stepped onto the mountain path, her figure gradually disappearing into the morning mist.

“He’ll be alright.” Su Qingwan looked in his direction and said softly, “Aman said that the wasteland in Black Sand City is now full of sunflowers, golden and beautiful.”

Wang Xiaohu nodded and took her hand. The warmth of her palm brought him peace of mind. He knew that Aying's trip was not for revenge, but for reconciliation—reconciliation with her past self, and reconciliation with the land that had left her with pain.

Three days after A-Ying left, news came from Hundred Herbs Valley that the Soul-Gathering Flowers planted by the three boys had finally bloomed. A-Man sent a painting, which depicted a sea of ​​purple flowers, with three boys dressed in coarse cloth standing in the flower field, smiling broadly, and wisps of smoke rising from the medicine hut behind them.

“Look,” Su Qingwan said, pasting the painting on the wall of Puhuitang, “they have really grown up.”

Little Stone stood on tiptoe to look at the painting, then suddenly pointed at one of the boys and said, "This older brother looks like Uncle Li Gou Dan when he smiles!"

Everyone laughed. Sunlight streamed through the window and shone on the painting, making the purple petals seem to tremble gently, as if one could smell a faint floral fragrance.

In mid-April, Li Gou Dan from Qing Shi Town sent a letter through someone, saying that the town's school needed a teacher to teach herbal medicine and asking if A Ying would be willing to go after returning. "The children all like him, saying that his eyes light up when he talks about herbs, and he's even more enthusiastic than a storyteller."

When Wang Xiaohu read the letter to Su Qingwan, she was replanting Soul-Gathering Flowers in the herb garden. The newly sown seeds had just sprouted, their tender green leaves curled at the edges, like a group of curious little heads. "Aying will definitely be willing," she said with a smile. "He said last time that he wanted to teach the children to recognize herbs and let them know that plants also have spirits."

Life flowed like the gentle stream of Puhuitang, peaceful and long. Wang Xiaohu taught his disciples swordsmanship every day, while Su Qingwan was busy researching new prescriptions. Occasionally, she would play the pipa, the music drifting through the valley and attracting birds to perch on the windowsill to listen. Little Stone followed the "Compendium of Herbs" left by Aying to identify herbs, often mistaking dandelions for bitter lettuce, which made everyone laugh.

One early morning in early May, familiar footsteps finally echoed along the mountain path. Ah Ying had returned.

He was a bit darker and thinner, but his eyes were brighter than before. His medicine basket didn't contain many herbs, just a small cloth bag. Upon seeing Wang Xiaohu and Su Qingwan, he took out a handful of dried sunflower seeds from the bag and handed them over: "These are sunflower seeds from Black Sand City. They can be pressed for oil or roasted and eaten."

“A soul-gathering flower has grown in front of my mother’s grave,” he said softly, a faint smile on his lips. “I scattered the remaining seeds there, and it should bloom in abundance next year.”

He also said that Black Sand City is doing well now. The remnants of the Shadow Soul Masters from back then have long since disappeared, and the people have started planting sunflowers and are living a peaceful life. An old man remembered him and held his hand, saying, "Good child, it's good that you've made it through. Don't always remember the suffering of the past."

“I want to go back to Qingshi Town to teach.” Aying looked at the sea of ​​clouds in the distance, her voice firm. “Uncle Li Gou Dan said the school is short of teachers. I want to teach the children to recognize herbs, and I also want to teach them… how to live well.”

Wang Xiaohu patted him on the shoulder, his thousand words condensed into one sentence: "Okay."

Aying stayed at the Starry Sword Sect for a few days, carefully instructing Xiaoshitou on the affairs of the herb garden. He also learned several new medicinal formulas from Su Qingwan before heading to Qingshi Town with a simple bag. Before leaving, he gave everyone a gift: a newly polished medicine shovel for Wang Xiaohu, a pipa plectrum made from a sunflower stalk for Su Qingwan, and a hand-drawn herb illustration book for Xiaoshitou, complete with the story of each herb.

"I'll come back when the Soul-Gathering Flower blooms." He stood at the mountain gate, waving to the crowd. Sunlight fell on his face, and he smiled like a sunflower.

In late summer and early autumn, the Soul-Gathering Flowers bloomed once again throughout the herb garden. Ah Ying had truly returned, bringing with her a group of children from Qing Shi Town. The children, dressed in newly made cloth shirts, gazed at the herb garden with curious eyes, chattering and asking all sorts of questions. Ah Ying patiently answered them one by one, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze.

Li Gou Dan also arrived, carrying a huge sack filled with newly harvested cotton from the town: "Miss Su said she wanted to make new cotton wadding, so I brought you the best of it, it's very soft!"

Aman and three boys arrived from Hundred Herbs Valley, carrying newly brewed Soul-Gathering Flower Wine in their hands, their smiles open and bright. "Brother Aying, we also want to learn teaching from you," one of the boys said. "After we finish harvesting the herbs in Hundred Herbs Valley, we'll come to Qing Shi Town to find you."

The training ground bustled with activity once more. Children ran around the Soul-Gathering Flower field, Li Gou Dan and Wang Xiao Hu sparred in swordsmanship, and Su Qing Wan's pipa music mingled with A Man's singing, like a gentle melody. A Ying stood by the flower field, watching all this, and suddenly bent down to pick a Soul-Gathering Flower, pinning it to her lapel—just like she had done at last year's flower festival.

As the sun set, the evening glow painted the sky crimson. Wang Xiaohu sat before the Sword Tomb, watching the seven illusory figures swirling on the Demon-Suppressing Sword. He suddenly understood that the so-called divine sword, the so-called legend, was never meant to make one person shine brightly, but to allow more people to live their own lives in the light.

Like Ah Ying, who was once a child in the shadows, but has now become a light that illuminates others; like those three teenagers, who were once trapped in hatred, but can now laugh as they brew wine and admire flowers; like Little Stone, who will slowly grow up on this land and tell these stories to people much later.

Su Qingwan walked over and sat down beside him, holding a petal of the Soul-Gathering Flower in her hand. "What are you thinking about?"

“I’m thinking about what to write for next year’s Spring Festival couplets.” Wang Xiaohu held her hand, his palm still warm. “Perhaps we could write ‘Flowers bloom and fade as usual, people gather and disperse as fate.’”

Su Qingwan smiled and leaned on his shoulder. The sounds of laughter, music, and singing in the distance mingled together, flowing gently in the twilight. (End of Chapter)