My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Ye Qingfeng nodded, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Yun Songzi.

That gaze wasn't intense, but it sent a chill down Yun Songzi's spine.

He felt as if he had been placed on a scale, weighed from head to toe, inside and out, by those eyes.

Yun Songzi took a deep breath and suppressed the distracting thoughts in her mind.

He raised his right hand, brought his index and middle fingers together, and touched his brow. His gaze fell on a fist-sized stone in the corner of the yard.

The stone was something A-Luo had picked up from the stream to weigh down the pickled vegetable jar. It was round, bluish-gray, and covered with dried mud.

It lay at the base of the wall, huddled among a pile of junk, completely inconspicuous.

The stone moved.

It rolled over once, emerging from the pile of debris, making a crisp sound on the bluestone slab.

Then it slowly rose up, as if being supported by an invisible hand.

When it reached the height of a person, it stopped, hanging in mid-air, motionless.

In the sunlight, the bluish-gray stone cast a small shadow on the roots of the jujube tree, like a curled-up cat.

Yun Songzi withdrew her finger and looked at Ye Qingfeng.

His gaze was calm, but there was a hint of barely perceptible smugness in his eyes.

This isn't some great supernatural power, but it demonstrates his exquisite control over the power of his soul.

He wasn't showing off his strength, he was showing off his skill.

Everyone has strength, but to pick a stone out of a pile of debris and lift it steadily into the air without wobbling or shaking requires extremely precise control.

"Soul control over objects." Yun Songzi's voice was not loud, but it was very clear.

"I use my divine sense as my hand and all things as my tools. Wherever my divine soul goes, I can lift metal and stone, and turn grass and trees into weapons."

He paused, his gaze falling on Ye Qingfeng's face. "Do you know this technique?"

Ye Qingfeng glanced at the rock suspended in mid-air and smiled.

The smile was faint, like ripples spreading across water before settling back down.

He didn't speak, but simply looked away from the stone and into the house.

Yun Songzi followed his gaze.

It was a side room next to the main house. The door was closed, and the window was only slightly ajar. It was pitch black inside, and you couldn't see anything.

He didn't know what Ye Qingfeng was looking at.

Then he heard a clear chime.

"Clang—"

The sound came from inside the house; it wasn't loud, but it was clear and melodious, like the cry of a crane.

It drifted through the cracks in the window, through the twilight, through the branches of the jujube tree, and lingered in the courtyard.

Yun Songzi's heart skipped a beat. There was something in that voice, not the voice itself, but something hidden within it. Sharp, cold, like the first frost of winter.

The door was closed.

The windows were not open.

The sword flew out from under the door.

The azure blade traced a cold arc of light through the air.

It flew slowly and steadily, like a small boat gliding on a calm lake.

The blue light on the sword flowed erratically, casting a faint blue hue over the air in the courtyard.

It flew over the yard, over the jujube tree, over the rocking chair, and hovered steadily in front of Yun Songzi, the sword tip pointing down and the hilt up, less than a foot from his nose.

Yun Songzi did not move.

His gaze shifted from the sword to Ye Qingfeng.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed him.

Something flickered in those bright black eyes, like a raging storm or a bottomless pool.

"Sword control technique?" His voice was dry, as if he hadn't had water in a long time. "You're a sword cultivator?"

Ye Qingfeng did not answer.

He simply raised his hand and flicked the sword lightly.

"bite--"

The sword emitted a clear, melodious hum, like someone striking a chime bell in the distance.

The sound echoed in the air, circling and carrying far.

The sword spun in the air, its blue light flowing like a dance.

Then it flew back into the house with a "whoosh" and, with a "click," returned to its sheath.

The courtyard returned to quiet.

The jujube leaves were still rustling, and steam was still billowing from the teapot spout, as if nothing had happened.

Yun Songzi stared at the direction the sword had flown away, remaining silent for a long time.

His mind was in turmoil.

Sword control technique.

This is not controlling objects. Controlling objects is using divine sense as your hand to grab and take.

Sword control is different; it's about the unity of man and sword, where the sword is part of the man and the man is part of the sword.

This is something that has been lost for a long time.

There are no sword cultivators in the Ten Thousand Mountains, and they are rarely heard of even outside the region.

Ancient texts say that in ancient times there was a great master who attained enlightenment through the sword, breaking through all laws with a single strike.

He didn't believe it before, thinking it was just bragging.

Now he believes it.

He sensed the sword fly out.

It wasn't murderous intent, it was sword intent.

Something indescribable, like the winter wind; you can't see it, but you know it's there.

He took a deep breath to suppress the shock in his heart.

This doesn't mean anything.

While his sword control skills are impressive, his ability to manipulate objects with his soul is equally remarkable.

He hasn't lost yet.

He raised his right hand and made a vague grabbing motion towards the clump of weeds in the corner of the yard.

It was a clump of foxtail grass growing at the base of the wall, its fuzzy spikes swaying in the evening breeze, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

When Yun Songzi reached out to grab it, the clump of grass suddenly stopped moving.

It wasn't that it was blown still by the wind; it simply stopped moving on its own.

All the leaves and all the ears of grain were frozen in place, like a painting.

Then, it started to move.

It's not the kind of movement caused by the wind; it moves on its own.

The thickest foxtail grass bent over, as if bowing.

The ears of grain drooped down, fuzzy, brushing against the ground.

The other trees also bent down, straightened up, and bent down again.

They seemed to have come to life; they weren't grass, they were people.

They are bowing to the pine nuts.

Then the clumps of grass next to them also started to move.

The weeds in the corner were all moving, bending down and straightening up, bending down and straightening up, as if they were dancing.

Several blades of grass were even uprooted and wriggled on the ground.

After twisting, it returned to the original pit on its own.

Yun Songzi withdrew his hand and looked at Ye Qingfeng.

His gaze held a hint of provocation, as if to say: How about it?

"Possessed by a spirit." His voice was a little steadyer than before.

"I use my divine will as a guide and plants and trees as my body. Wherever my spirit goes, withered trees can come to life and stubborn rocks can speak."

He paused, then slightly raised his hand towards Ye Qingfeng, "Please."

Ye Qingfeng looked at the clump of foxtail grass that was still bowing and smiled.

The smile was as faint as before, but Yun Songzi felt that there was something more to it.

It wasn't mockery, but rather—he felt it was like an elder watching a younger person showing off their newly learned skills, finding it both amusing and laughable.

"I do not know this possession technique," Ye Qingfeng said.

Yun Songzi raised his eyebrows slightly.

will not?

He thought Ye Qingfeng would stubbornly say "yes," but to his surprise, he directly said "no."

This was beyond his expectations.