Sword Sect Outer Sect

Chapter 328 The Returnee

However, before Song Yan could recover from her surprise, the man's aura suddenly changed as soon as he finished speaking.

An extremely natural sharpness spread out without warning, disturbing the bamboo leaves around the small building, causing them to rustle and move without wind.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a flying sword.

The flying sword was about a foot long and two fingers wide, and was surrounded by a moon-white spiritual light.

He held the man in mid-air in his hands, and the man lowered his head.

Because his facial features were completely blurred, Song Yan couldn't see the expression on the man's face.

Perhaps it was seeing the object that reminded him of his mother.

Recalling the storyteller's tale, if Wu Daoxuan's friend, who was skilled in swordsmanship, was the same person as the man before him, then his mother must have already passed away.

After bowing his head for a moment, the senior swordsman casually flicked his wrist, and the flying sword flew out in front of him.

Like a swimming fish, it swirled and flowed around him.

Within the bamboo grove courtyard, sword energy surged.

hum-

Song Yan was somewhat taken aback.

The opponent did not use any sword techniques; he simply activated a little sword energy to control the flying sword.

But he vaguely sensed that the other party's sword control technique was far smoother and more natural than his own.

The sword intent is vibrant and ever-flowing.

Wielding the sword is as effortless as using one's own arm or fingers, without any hindrance or obstruction.

Wu Daoxuan's eyes lit up slightly. He had previously focused his paintings on the leisurely posture of old friends drinking and chatting.

However, at this moment, as soon as the flying sword appeared, the exquisite sword control technique and the state of perfect harmony between man and sword ignited his artistic inspiration.

"Ho."

Wu Daoxuan couldn't help but exhale.

He suddenly pressed down on the brush tip that had been hovering, and without hesitation, he heavily applied a stroke of ink with a dynamic and spiritual quality to the blank space of the painting.

The paintbrush suddenly became incredibly agile in his hands, saturated with thick ink, its strokes flowing like dragons and snakes, the previous meticulous care gone.

The ink splashed and spread on the rice paper, instantly forming a free-flowing, unrestrained sword shadow.

Although this sword shadow is merely an ink wash painting, it strangely possesses the charm of a flying sword swirling and flowing, emitting sword light.

Song Yan was at a loss for where to look.

Soon, the circling flying sword slowly returned and stopped in front of the figure.

The man extended his finger and lightly brushed it across the sword, the movement incredibly natural.

"It's really strange. This sword is only a mid-grade spiritual weapon, but after all these years, it's still the one that feels most comfortable to use."

"Back when I first joined the sect, I thought it was shabby..."

Wu Daoxuan was still writing when he responded to his friend, "As the saying goes, no one knows a child better than their mother."

“Your mother must have known many of your habits, and she deliberately sculpted the sword when it was forged, so that you could use it comfortably.”

The figure nodded, seemingly agreeing with what Wu Daoxuan said.

"indeed."

"I used this flying sword until I reached the Golden Core stage before I replaced it."

He said, "It can still be used, but I'm worried that it might be accidentally destroyed in a life-or-death battle."

"Even if my mother were still alive, she wouldn't be able to play a second game."

"What's the name of this sword?"

“A native of Jin Gui”.

A brief silence fell over the small building, broken only by the sound of bamboo leaves rustling in the wind.

Wu Daoxuan's brushstrokes also slowed down.

“My mother was just a rogue cultivator with no particular talent, and my father died young. All her thoughts were on me.”

"At that time, the rumors of the 'Great Jin' were still prevalent in the cultivation world."

This wasn't the first time Song Yan had heard the term "Great Jin".

Completely different from the borderland immortal dynasties of Sanjin we knew before, Dajin refers to an ancient immortal dynasty in this mortal realm whose existence is unknown.

Song Yan first encountered this term in the book "Complete Record of the Immortals' Customs and Things".

Legend has it that before the Tang Dynasty, there was a prosperous celestial dynasty in the human world, called the Great Jin.

No one knows where it is, nor does anyone know if it actually exists in the world.

Some say that the entire Jin Dynasty ascended to the celestial realm.

Some say that the Great Jin Dynasty offended the immortal and was thus wiped out.

In short, it disappeared completely, leaving almost nothing behind.

Thus, it became like a mysterious symbol in the world of cultivation, occasionally mentioned but no one knew what it actually looked like.

"For your mother, her child followed a strange cultivator to a secluded sect."

"It's like going to the lost Immortal Kingdom of Jin, not knowing when I'll be able to return..."

The figure stood silently for a moment, its blurry form appearing even more indistinct in the light filtering through the bamboo.

After a moment, he nodded and finally spoke again: "I don't know when I will return from this trip to the Tang Dynasty."

"Why don't you leave this sword here? It will save it from wandering around with me any longer."

Wu Daoxuan did not answer immediately, but asked instead, "Why not put him in the Xiangyang Valley you mentioned?"

The figure shook his head: "That place is suitable for comprehending the way of the sword, but not for retirement."

"The scenery here is much better."

With a flick of the wrist, the flying sword transformed into a streak of light and disappeared into the bamboo forest.

Wu Daoxuan nodded: "Alright."

The figure seemed relieved at that moment, stood up, and walked outside.

"Thank you, I'm leaving."

"Are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Wu Daoxuan suddenly stopped writing, turned his gaze to the back of the person.

He pointed to the blurry outline in the painting and said, "I haven't even finished this painting yet."

The figure walked to the edge of the courtyard gate and paused slightly upon hearing Wu Daoxuan's faint, lonely sigh.

He didn't turn around, but looked up at the sky outside the small building where the clouds were rolling and the blue-gray clouds were swirling. Suddenly, he let out a clear laugh.

"Ha ha ha ha……"

Strangely, his laughter sounded like raindrops pattering through the trees.

"My illusory body and the brushstrokes will eventually turn to dust as the world turns."

"Just know that this thing is no other thing, and don't ask whether people today are the same as people in the past."

After reciting the poem, the blurry figure stopped without pausing, took a step forward, and disappeared into the gray-blue clouds.

Only the echo of laughter seemed to linger in the wind.

Wu Daoxuan's hand, holding the paintbrush, paused in mid-air. He slowly lowered his head, his gaze falling on the unfinished scroll on the stone table.

"..."

It's unbelievable.

This Nascent Soul cultivator, who had already achieved sainthood in the art of painting and whose brushstrokes could move heaven and earth, now felt a sense of helplessness as he looked at the unfinished portrait in the scroll, unable to put pen to paper.

After a long silence, he finally sighed softly, loosened his wrist, and gently placed the paintbrush, which was full of thick ink, on the brush rest, without putting it down again.

It's not that I'm out of ideas, but I know that my current state of mind is so desolate and sorrowful that it's really hard for me to put pen to paper.

He suddenly gave a bitter laugh.

"I don't know how to paint people like you who risk their lives for the sake of all cultivators in the world..." If Wu Daoxuan, who considered himself the best in the world, were sitting here a thousand years ago, he might have painted it on the spot.

"Let's leave it to the younger generation."

Then, Wu Daoxuan's figure spread out like ink in a painting, gradually disappearing into the courtyard without a trace, leaving only a gentle breeze in the courtyard.

The vast world of the painting fell silent for a moment.

The courtyard where people had been chatting and laughing just moments before was now empty except for Song Yan.

He took a few steps forward and came to the painting table. It was indeed the same painting that had been seen in the outside world.

It seems that these paintings are works that Wu Daozi did not fully complete, leaving them for later generations to develop freely.

All you need to do is put your brush on the painting and leave the scene; that's considered "submitting the work."

However, looking at the painting on the table, he had no intention whatsoever of picking up a brush to complete it.

The art of painting was like a heavenly book to him.

The spirit and charm of that senior artist were so great that even the Sage of Painting felt he could hardly put brush to paper. What could his meager skills possibly add?
Forcing someone to draw on your work would be disrespectful.

His mind was already firmly drawn to another goal.

He raised his head and scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes.

Beyond this courtyard lies a corner of the bamboo forest, a scene that appears only briefly in the painting.

At this moment, the entire bamboo forest was in front of him, but it was just ordinary bamboo.

However, he was not in a hurry to leave.

The sky behind the small building was indeed shrouded in a strange cloud, seemingly there but not quite.

The clouds were neither gray nor white, but rather had a strange bluish-gray hue, resembling mountain mists and fog.

It swirls and turns in the air, silently, vaguely forming a vortex.

Song Yan strode towards the depths of the bamboo forest behind the courtyard.

The stone path stretches out beneath your feet, passing through clusters of wildflowers and around a small, clear spring, before the view suddenly opens up.

A verdant green filled the field of vision, and a bamboo forest, completely different from the one in front, came into view.

Song Yan's residence was in the Earth-character 21 Cave of Dongyuan Sect, which was also a small courtyard in a bamboo forest.

But the bamboo before them was completely different from ordinary spiritual bamboo; it was bluish-gray in color, somber and cold.

Bamboo leaves are narrow and long, as thin as cicada wings.

Upon closer inspection, faint, cloud-like patterns can be seen on the bamboo leaves and nodes.

Cloud Abyss Sword Bamboo.

Only now, having fully confirmed what was before him, did Song Yan's suppressed excitement truly erupt.

He took a deep breath, calmed himself down, and looked around the entire bamboo forest.

Because what he saw was not just the Cloud Abyss Sword Bamboo.

In the heart of this Cloud Abyss Bamboo Forest, on a small open space, the rising and falling of bluish-gray clouds is particularly noticeable.

At the heart of the swirling clouds, a moon-white flying sword was prominently displayed.

The flying sword has an ancient and unadorned design, and its entire body is filled with a warm, moon-white spiritual light.

It was the flying sword that the swordsman's mother had forged for him, Jin Guiren.

A bold idea popped into my head.

Dao Zi Mo Ling himself said that the opportunities and chances obtained from this painting are entirely up to the individual.

Doesn't that mean that this flying sword left behind by our predecessor can also be considered an opportunity in this world of painting, and can be taken away?
Thinking of this, Song Yan's breathing quickened.

His heart surged violently, and he slowly walked forward, stopping three feet away from the flying sword.

Up close, the moon-white aura flowing from the sword appears even more serene and pure. For some reason, even without anyone wielding it, its sharpness is enough to make one's heart tremble.

However, his cultivation had been sealed at this moment, and he could not mobilize even a trace of spiritual power.

Song Yan simply stretched out his right hand, grasped the hilt of the sword, and tried to pull it out.

However, the moment his palm touched the hilt of the sword, the sensation suddenly disappeared.

The part of the sword hilt that touched the palm rippled outwards like water.

He stared in astonishment as the sword hilt instantly transformed into a flowing stream of ink.

The ink that was scattered by his grip did not splatter; it simply flowed and diffused along the path of his clenched hand.

He withdrew his hand, and the surging ink redissolved, returning to its original state.

The hilt of the sword reappeared intact.

The entire flying sword remained as serene as if bathed in moonlight.

"hiss……"

Song Yan stared at his palm, which was completely free of ink residue, and then looked at the unmoving Jin Guiren sword. A chill involuntarily rose up from there.

"not good……"

Could it be that this bamboo forest, the flying sword, and the entire world in the painting are all illusions created by Senior Wu using his unparalleled painting skills and ink-wash techniques?
If that's the case, then the Cloud Abyss Sword Bamboo that he's been searching for... isn't it also fake?
At this moment, Song Yan's heart sank to the bottom.

He quickly walked to the edge of the bamboo grove, stretched out his right hand, and gently passed through it.

As expected, the originally incredibly resilient bamboo turned into an inky black stain when touched lightly by his hand, and returned to its original state only after his hand left.

"Ugh……"

A huge sense of loss washed over me instantly.

However, just as his mind was in turmoil...

"Susu..."

A soft sound reached Song Yan's ears, like grains of sand rolling down a stone slab.

Song Yan jolted awake from her despondency.

A sense of unease and surprise washed over him: "What was that sound?"

He looked around but saw nothing unusual.

Is even this sound an illusion?
Upon closer inspection, a faint spiritual light seemed to emanate from the ground of the small bamboo grove that he had disturbed with his hand.

"what?"

Song Yan stepped forward and examined it closely.

This object, however, made him catch his breath.

A small cluster of dark brown spirit seeds lay quietly on the ground, with distinct edges and the size of a grain of rice.

These spirit seeds have a peculiar luster on their surface, and one can vaguely see the swirling clouds around them, exuding a very unique herbal scent and a sharp edge.

Bamboo rice from Yunyuan Sword Bamboo.

Really? Or fake?
Song Yan reached out and picked it up from the ground.

It feels slightly cool to the touch, with a firm yet moist texture, and its vitality and spirit are incredibly real, not illusory.

it is true.

This is how the same thing?

The bamboo forest and the flying sword were clearly both illusions of ink that vanished.

Why would real bamboo rice fall from a fake bamboo forest?
But now that things have taken a turn for the better, and there is a faint sense of elation at having regained what was lost, who would bother to investigate further?

Furthermore, if one could understand the methods of a Nascent Soul cultivator, then he wouldn't be a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

He then tried it on the surrounding bamboo groves one by one and found that there was no need to disturb them roughly. Just gently shaking the bamboo would give a chance for bamboo grains to fall.

After a flurry of activity, a total of eleven clusters of bamboo rice were obtained.

That's enough, Xiao Song is very satisfied.

After all, whether there's enough nectar to ripen all of these is a problem.

(End of this chapter)