One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

But Nie Lingfeng was not fooled by the appearance of the illusory figure. His gaze calmly fell on the face, and his voice, though not loud, was clear and distinct: "You are not Zhang Sanfeng. You are the soul of Zhu Jiuyou."

Everyone in the valley was stunned for a moment. Lu Linglong withdrew her foot, which was about to take half a step forward. Zhang Chulan's hand, which was about to clap, froze in mid-air.

The figure remained silent for a moment, then chuckled. The facade of a seasoned, gentle man faded considerably, revealing a familiar, cold, and sharp undertone honed by time.

"You noticed."

"Your aura is exactly the same as the one inside the ice wall of Kunlun Mountain," Nie Lingfeng said. "Only you deliberately dimmed your soul fire, pretending to be Zhang Sanfeng's afterimage."

"Interesting." The dragon soul image nodded slowly, its voice emanating from its aged face, carrying a sense of incongruity. "You are far more perceptive than I imagined. Then you should also have guessed—why my soul resides within this sword."

"Zhang Sanfeng used the Zhenwu Sword as a sealing medium, sealing a part of your soul within the sword, employing a method of using one soul to control another." Nie Lingfeng's grip on the hilt remained firm, but his overall posture was relaxed, showing no sign of resistance. "Your main soul is within the ice walls of Kunlun Mountain, while your secondary soul resides within this sword. The two souls are mutually restraining; when the main soul tries to break free of the seal, it is held back by the secondary soul within the sword. This is likely the fundamental reason why your main soul has been unable to break free."

The image of the dragon soul floated above the True Martial Sword. The smile on that old Taoist face gradually faded, eventually replaced by a complex expression that mixed with fatigue and a certain ancient weariness.

"You've guessed pretty much right," it said. "That old Taoist Zhang Sanfeng did indeed use this method. My main soul was trapped in the Kunlun Mountains for four hundred years, and my divided soul was imprisoned in this sword for the same amount of time. The main soul accumulated four hundred years of anger, but the divided soul gradually calmed down under the influence of the sword's intent. The voice you saw in front of the ice wall was the main soul roaring; the one speaking to you now is the divided soul."

"So you helped us in Sword Valley to suppress the main soul?"

"Suppression is out of the question. I'm just trying to reason with you." The dragon soul's split soul tucked the illusory hands into its sleeves, then sat cross-legged three feet above the sword, its posture somewhat casual. "The main soul is completely consumed by hatred; nothing you say will change that. But I've been here with Zhang Sanfeng's sword intent for four hundred years. With time, I've come to understand things I couldn't understand before. Your disciple named Wang Ye—" It pointed vaguely in Wang Ye's direction, "I tested him when he gripped the sword just now. His temperament is good, but his skill level is still lacking. As for you…"

Its gaze returned to Nie Lingfeng, pausing for two beats.

"Those three things within you—Dragon Essence, Qilin Blood, and your original martial arts foundation—would have caused an explosion of conflict in anyone else. Yet you've managed to remain stable. Truly, it's the most resilient body I've seen in the last four hundred years."

"I accept the compliment." Nie Lingfeng held the True Martial Sword horizontally, his gaze falling on the bluish-gray blade. "But I have a question."

"explain."

"You just said you've been here for four hundred years and have figured some things out. If I use this sword now to reinforce the seal of Kunlun Mountain, your main soul will be forced back into the depths of the ice wall. The part of your consciousness that you cultivated with sword intent in Sword Valley will also be forced back along with your divided soul—" He looked up at the image, "Are you willing to accept this?"

The dragon soul fragment remained silent for a moment. A light flickered in its illusory eyes, whether a reflection of sword intent or something else was unknown.

"Whether I'm willing or not, I've been thinking about this for four hundred years, and I'm tired of it," it said. "The other half of my main soul is thinking about breaking the seal and taking revenge, while this half is thinking—if I really destroy those towns down the mountain and kill those people after breaking the seal, wouldn't that confirm Zhang Sanfeng's reason for sealing me in the first place? He sealed me because he was afraid I would lose control and hurt people. If the first thing I do after breaking the seal is to hurt people, then his worries will be justified. I've hated him for four hundred years, and I don't want him to be right."

Zhang Chulan listened to this from below the stone platform, his mouth agape for a long time before he could close it. He leaned close to Wang Zhenqiu's ear and whispered, "This dragon's ideological awareness is quite high."

"It's a dragon, its intelligence naturally far surpasses that of humans," Wang Zhenqiu said in a low voice, "but its intelligence drops when it gets emotional. This half of it was suppressed by sword intent for four hundred years; now that its emotions have calmed down and reason has prevailed, its speech is naturally different."

The conversation on the field was not over yet. Nie Lingfeng looked at the image of the dragon soul floating cross-legged in mid-air, remained silent for a moment, and then handed the hilt of the True Martial Sword to Wang Ye.

"Master Wang."

Wang Ye was taken aback.

"Keep this sword."

The valley fell silent for a moment. Zhang Chulan bit back the "why" that was about to escape his lips. Lu Linglong stood to the side, her gaze shifting between Wang Ye and the Zhenwu Sword, her lips moving but no words coming out.

"Brother Nie—" Wang Ye took a step forward, but didn't reach out to take it, "This sword recognizes you. Everyone saw you draw it just now. It chose you, not me."

"It chose me because the Dragon Essence and the Qilin Blood resonated naturally with it. That wasn't a choice of 'sword heart,' but an attraction at the energy level." Nie Lingfeng gripped the hilt, holding the blade flat in his hands, his gaze fixed on Wang Ye. "But you are a Wudang disciple. The Tai Chi swordplay you practice shares the same origin and lineage as this sword's intent. In my hands, it can unleash seventy percent of its power; in your hands—once your cultivation reaches another level—it can unleash its full potential."

He moved the sword forward another half a foot.

"Besides, I already have the Snow Drinking Saber and the Peerless Sword. Adding another True Martial Sword would just be another piece of metal to me. But for you, it's a heirloom of your Wudang sect, forged by your patriarch himself. It should be kept by the people of Wudang."

Wang Ye looked into Nie Lingfeng's eyes. There was no politeness, no hesitation, just a calm "I'm done speaking, you can take over now."

Wang Ye reached out and grasped the sword hilt.

This time, the sensation was completely different from before. Before, when he held the sword, the Zhenwu Sword felt resistant, cold, and heavy, pressing down on him; but this time, the moment the hilt touched his palm, a warm force flowed from the sword, slowly and smoothly surging into his dantian along his meridians, like a stream finding its old course. He could hear the sword emit an extremely faint hum—not a rejection, not a test, but a deep response, like something returning home finally arriving at its doorstep.

"I will not let it down," Wang said. His voice was not loud, but the ending was steady.

The dragon soul's fragment watched this scene from above, a faint, unfathomable expression appearing on its illusory old Taoist face: "If Zhang Sanfeng were still alive, he would probably think this outcome is acceptable."

Nie Lingfeng withdrew his hands after the handover and turned to look at the image floating in mid-air: "We'll go down the mountain now, back to Kunlun Mountain. We'll use the True Martial Sword to reactivate the sealing array's core on the ice wall. Your divided soul will follow this sword; at that time—will your main soul resist?"

"Yes," the dragon soul fragment answered without hesitation. "I've figured this out for one half, but the other half hasn't. When you reach the ice wall, you'll face not only an old sealing array, but also the struggle of a dragon that hasn't vented its power for four hundred years. It will speak to you, threaten you, shake you, and perhaps even try to attack you. But I won't stop it then, because my other half is already within this sword. The only thing that can stop the main soul is your own will."

Nie Lingfeng nodded. He didn't ask any more questions. He had said everything he needed to say.

He shifted his gaze from the dragon soul image and swept it around the group in the valley. Zhang Chulan had already straightened up, recovered from his earlier surprise, and was rubbing the dried mud under his nose with his thumb. Lu Linglong stood beside him, her expression no longer showing the frustration of "I failed to draw my sword," but something brighter—as if she had seen a distant goal, knowing she still had a long way to go, but no longer in a hurry. Lu Lin leaned against the rock wall, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on her sister's profile, the corners of her mouth relaxed slightly. Feng Baobao stood in the shadows towards the exit, her katana resting on her lap. She hadn't spoken a word from beginning to end, but her gaze followed the sword from Nie Lingfeng's hand to Wang Ye's, and then back to its original position.

The child in Chen Duo's arms had woken up sometime earlier. Xiao Yun lifted her head from Chen Duo's shoulder, rubbed her eyes, looked at the illusory white-haired figure in mid-air, and pointed with her little finger: "Grandpa."

The dragon soul's fragment lowered its head, looked at the tiny figure, paused for a moment, and then slowly chuckled. There was no heaviness in the laughter; it was simply a sound of surprise, as if it had been a very long time since it had heard such a small voice.

"Let's go." Nie Lingfeng turned and walked towards the valley entrance, his pace quickening compared to when he came. "The road is still long."

A mountain breeze blew in from a crevice at the other end of the valley, blurring the outline of the illusory dragon soul image, but it did not disappear immediately. It lingered above the sword for a moment, watching the figures of the group disappear one by one into the shadows at the entrance of the passage, then withdrew its gaze and closed its sleeves.

Sword Valley fell silent once more. The hole made by the sword on the stone platform remained in place, its edges smooth, like a tiny, deep pool that held the sunlight within, lingering there for a long time.