Chapter Ten: The Sword Takes Form

Within the Nine Apertures Furnace, the celestial meteorite, under the influence of the Heart Seal, gradually assumed the shape of a sword. The essence blood, mingled with the spirit, enveloped this form. In an instant, a stream of sword energy spurted from his lips, causing the sword-shaped amalgam to quiver—this was the birth of the sword embryo.

Shangguan Chuanyun immediately spat two more mouthfuls of essence blood onto the sword embryo. His face turned deathly pale, the signs of excessive blood loss evident, yet when he sensed the sword embryo that now possessed the spark of life, joy welled within him. Through the furnace’s opening, the sword embryo could be seen pulsing rhythmically.

Next, purple-gold was fused into the structure, forming a mesh that shielded the sword embryo. Shangguan Chuanyun, seeing this, used his mind to inscribe patterns upon its surface, then fused the blood patterns in place. Veins, like living vessels, ran across the flying sword, throbbing like a heart as blood slowly filled the lines. After one complete cycle, the blood returned to the core of the sword embryo.

Layer by layer, he melded various metallic liquids onto the form, striking each layer with a spell. When the final layer was complete, the flying sword alternated in size several times before settling at three inches in length. It took on a spindle shape: thick in the middle, thin at the edges, and gleaming with silvery light.

Despite its slender appearance, there was a weightiness to it. With each breath Shangguan Chuanyun took, the flying sword seemed to inhale and exhale in unison, emanating a formidable, indomitable sword aura.

The alchemical flames shifted to a gentle simmer, tempering the sword, refining its solidity and vitality. When the flying sword stabilized, Shangguan Chuanyun withdrew the flames, opened the furnace, and guided the sword to emerge, where it hovered before him. Its formation was complete in the span of a heartbeat.

Gazing at the three-inch, silver-white, spindle-shaped sword blade radiating sword energy, Shangguan Chuanyun exhaled deeply.

“This flying sword is considered a preliminary success. It took me nearly two years, relying on my grandfather’s wealth and the influence of the Marquis of Wu’an to gather these materials. Without such support, it would have been impossible to amass all the necessary components; otherwise, I would have had to start with ordinary materials, and raising the sword to its current power would have cost even more time,” he mused inwardly.

“The next step is to nurture and refine it with spiritual herbs to enhance its might. I must also find a place rich in Geng Metal, to absorb its essence and transform the sword’s energy from postnatal to innate, further increasing its power.”

He then took up a two-foot-long box forged from black iron, inscribed with arcane patterns. This was the sword case he had crafted, made from black iron, gold, and jade, refined through ritual to enhance quality and maintain spiritual vitality. The case itself brimmed with spiritual energy, created from countless rare herbs fused with precious metals and jade—a special material designed solely for nurturing flying swords.

A newly formed flying sword, with its fierce aura, could slay ghosts, exterminate demons, and inflict spiritual wounds. Yet, until one’s cultivation advanced, the body could not house it internally. The sword must be stored in the sword case, both to nurture and suppress it. Only when one’s cultivation deepened and the inner elixir merged with the sword’s energy could the sword be internalized, becoming a sword pellet. Otherwise, the sword could harm not only enemies but its master as well.

Shangguan Chuanyun opened the sword case, guiding the flying sword to settle into the spindle-shaped recess, where sword and case became one. The sword now looked far more agile, and with a satisfied nod, he closed the case.

By then, dawn was breaking. Though his vitality was depleted and his face still pale, his spirits remained high. Slinging the sword case on his back and taking up his three-foot longsword, he stepped onto a high platform in the courtyard, gazing eastward as the first light crept across the horizon. There, he sat cross-legged, breathing naturally, quietly awaiting the new day.

Cultivating the Way of the Sword Immortal, Shangguan Chuanyun placed particular importance on the first ray of sunlight each morning. When the sun first rose, it cast forth a trace of purple qi from the east, bathing the land and nurturing all life. This qi, infused with boundless vitality and the laws of the Dao, could only be gathered in minuscule amounts daily. Yet, over time, it would accumulate and become the very essence of the Dao, cycling through his body each day, refining his physique, enhancing his cultivation, and elevating his innate potential.

Most crucially, he would store this wisp of purple qi within the flying sword, elevating its level and transforming its nature to the innate, using the sword to comprehend the Dao. This method was the core of the Sword Immortal’s path, never recorded in writing but transmitted orally, from mind to mind—the key to a Sword Immortal’s enlightenment.

As the first pale light spread across the eastern sky, Shangguan Chuanyun opened the sword case, instantly forgetting himself and all else. His mind was clear, united with his flying sword. Half-closing his eyes, he activated the art of “Qi Gazing,” looking to the horizon. There, a vast swath of purple qi gathered, poised to descend. “It’s almost here,” he thought, focusing his spirit and quietly preparing, waiting for the purple qi from the east to sweep across the land and nourish all creation.

Moments later, the sun leapt above the horizon, and the purple qi from the east poured over the world.

Shangguan Chuanyun activated his inner vision, welcoming the purple qi. A flash of violet light swept before his eyes, and then the purple qi outside vanished into the earth. He had already collected a wisp, merging it with the inch-long purple qi within his spiritual platform, allowing his spirit to meld with it. Once he had complete control, he guided the merged purple qi to circulate through his body, instantly invigorating his vitality. It lingered briefly in his inner elixir, which, with each breath, brimmed with violet mist, generating droplets of violet elixir that spread throughout his body, reshaping his physique. The purple qi then traversed his meridians and returned to the spiritual platform.

Nurturing the purple qi in his spiritual platform for a while, Shangguan Chuanyun opened his eyes. The purple qi flew from his body into the flying sword before him.

The sword, now fused with the purple qi, shimmered with silver and violet light, rising to float before his face. With every breath, the sword exhaled wisps of purple mist, flashing and pulsating gently. Then, with a sudden spark of understanding, Shangguan Chuanyun opened his eyes wide, his spirit guiding his gaze to communicate with the sword’s mysterious glow. At the first stir of intent, his gaze merged with the dawn’s first light at the moment of yang’s emergence, brimming with vitality that nourished all things.

The Way of the Flying Sword lies in the first stir of intent: when the eyes open, the sword flies; when the gaze withdraws, the sword returns. Its speed, responsive to thought, covers a hundred miles in the blink of an eye. The secret lies in nurturing the sword with the mind’s intent. Having finished his ritual, Shangguan Chuanyun returned the sword to its case, closed it, gathered his energy, and set aside his bow. Seeing that the morning had only just begun, he reflected that the flying sword, like the spirit, could shift at will. Suddenly, an insight dawned upon him.

“As it is written: ‘Those who serve the Dao are united with the Dao; those who serve virtue are united with virtue; those who serve loss are united with loss. To be united with the Dao, the Dao welcomes you; with virtue, virtue welcomes you; with loss, loss welcomes you.’ The key lies in what one uses to temper and refine. The essence of the flying sword is determined by its cultivation: the human body has countless treasures—form, essence, strength, qi, and spirit. Strength is most turbid, spirit is purest, formless, ever-changing, residing in the spiritual platform, the palace of mud, the abode of the Ninefold True Person; it is the Supreme One, master of myriad spirits, the origin of all within. This was never passed to common disciples, and only those of profound fortune received the true transmission. In my past life, the teachings were always veiled, indirect, left for me to ponder. Only after calamity did I grasp the true meaning and the foundation of the Sword Immortal’s path.”

He glanced at the black iron sword case before him, finally understanding why it must be forged from such metal.

“The flying sword of a Sword Immortal is controlled by the spirit, which shifts in an instant, boundless and wild. Without a resolute mind, one cannot control the sword. Each use is brief before it must be returned to the case. If the mind is not perfect, even a fleeting thought of killing can cause the sword to fly out on a murderous whim, turning it from the sword of enlightenment into a tool of slaughter, a weapon of madness. Cultivation is as arduous as scaling the heavens, and the Sword Immortal’s path demands even greater discipline of the mind. If the mind is incomplete, the sword cannot be controlled. Thus, sword cases are used—not only to nurture the sword but to suppress it and temper the spirit.”

For this reason, true Sword Immortals are rarely seen in the world—not because they shun the world, but because the world is far from them. The virtue required to hear the methods of the Sword Immortal is rare. Moreover, to enhance the flying sword’s might, to aid one’s understanding of the Dao and to cultivate the Golden Elixir of the Sword Immortal, one must seek rare spiritual items in desolate places. Thus, Sword Immortals seldom walk in bustling cities, preferring mountains, marshes, and wild forests to seek treasures of heaven and earth for their swords.

Hence, to common folk, Sword Immortals are but the stuff of legend. Even among cultivators, few have ever met one, giving rise to myriad tales, some claiming they care not for worldly affairs or partake in the dust of mortal life. This is simply because Sword Immortals focus solely on cultivating the heart, seldom distracted by other matters.

As the sky brightened, Shangguan Chuanyun slung the sword case on his back and made his way to the study. Since he had promised his father, he figured he might as well take a look. Entering the study, which stretched nearly a hundred meters, he mused to himself:

“The collection here must number in the tens of thousands. To truly study them would require immense effort. But reading can cultivate the mind, which aids in my practice. Though I have no need to pursue fame or titles, I can browse these volumes to refine my temperament.”

He began to browse the study’s vast shelves. The Marquis of Wu’an’s mansion held a library encompassing all subjects, and even Shangguan Chuanyun had to marvel at the family’s status and influence. In this world, books were a symbol of standing.

He selected a historical text. Such works were typically only found in great families; common scholars might own the Four Books and Five Classics, biographies, local tales, and collections of the strange and unusual. Poorer students often had to borrow books and copy them by hand themselves.

Historical records, like the Annals, were reserved for those with higher scholarly rank. But families of deep heritage, having accumulated for generations, were never short of such works.

From the history book, Shangguan Chuanyun learned that civilization here developed over ten thousand years ago, with early tales of battles against beasts and monsters. Over time, the worship of gods took root, followed by the flourishing of a hundred schools of thought, and eventually the rise of Confucianism as the dominant philosophy—much as in his previous life. Yet, in this world, ritual events were chronicled in history; even gods of plague and locusts had their entries.

This very year, a drought demon wreaked havoc in the southeastern province of Qingzhou. Not a drop of rain fell, water sources dried up, crops failed, and starvation was widespread. Even His Majesty had sent Shangguan Chuanyun’s father to suppress the drought demon, and dispatched imperial Daoist priests to aid in the effort.