Chapter Thirty-Two: Even Loneliness and Splendor Carry Meaning

Yet the meaning of a true inheritor was that Qingxuan’s lineage would continue.

By relying on one’s own power to enter Core Formation, one would inevitably develop a unique understanding of the Dao of Heaven and Earth. Most could build upon the sect’s techniques, renewing the old with the new and passing greater experience on to those who came after.

Among them were even more extraordinary prodigies who could, from the foundation laid by their predecessors, illuminate a different path and create another Dao art.

After all, there was no such thing as the best Dao art, only the most suitable one. Since every person’s circumstances were different, teaching had to be adapted to the student.

With Chen Jianmei’s successful Core Formation, the sect rang seven bells. If one attained the rank of Immortal True Person, there would be nine. And if some senior elder were to break free of this world and depart into the great expanse, the bells would sound forty-nine times in seven series of seven, a supreme and unparalleled honor.

In all these years, let alone nine bells, even seven had never been heard before.

It was truly the first time in a hundred years.

Many disciples did not understand what it meant and had to be instructed by older brothers or elders before they learned the significance.

Those seven bells also summoned everyone currently in Qingxuan to Mount Taiyi. Unless they were in secluded cultivation, in a critical moment of refining artifacts, or guarding an important place, all others had to come.

Shen Lian had been in the Qingxuan Hall all along. The first to arrive was the gray-robed elder, Ge Yuan, accompanied by a clear-eyed youth. It was the mysterious boy who had once ascended the mountain with Shen Lian and called himself Little Black.

Shen Lian remained intensely curious about him. He clearly saw the boy, yet could not sense him at all. When his spiritual awareness swept over that spot, it seemed as if nothing were there. Because of this, Ge Yuan even shot him a glare, which made Shen Lian’s heart turn cold.

After all, Ge Yuan’s cultivation was profound beyond measure, and as an elder who had entered Core Formation by his own efforts, the gulf between them was simply too vast.

Shen Lian could not help but mutter inwardly that if Little Black truly specialized in assassination, then any cultivator below Core Formation would surely have cause to suffer at his hands.

At their level, reliance on spiritual awareness was stronger than on the five senses.

If even his keen perception could not detect the boy, then for other cultivators below Core Formation it would be all but impossible to notice him.

The Qingxuan Hall seemed to adjust its space on its own. As more and more people entered, it did not grow cramped; it remained vast, empty, and distant. At the same time, rows of cushions appeared along both sides.

Only the elders with sufficiently deep cultivation could sit there. There were twelve elders in all, every one of them a cultivator above Core Formation. These people were the backbone of Qingxuan at present.

The elders at the head of the two rows had auras that were deep and unfathomable. Ge Yuan and Hong Qianya followed just behind them. Hong Qianya, upon seeing Shen Lian, also gave him a smile, and it seemed he still held Shen Lian in very high regard.

Qingxuan had one hundred and eight methods, yet only twelve elders were present. Even if a few had not arrived, it still showed that some Dao arts had no one cultivating them.

Although among the one hundred and eight methods there were some extremely powerful ones that could be practiced alongside several others, most people would only specialize in one. Human effort was limited, after all.

The one hundred and eight methods had not all been taught by Ancestor Yuan Qing when Qingxuan was founded. Rather, over the course of ten thousand years, the sect’s teachers and elders had forged them through hardship and labor.

There was no superiority or inferiority among Dao arts; what mattered was whether they suited oneself.

The more Dao arts one cultivated in parallel, the greater the chance of drawing broader insight from them, but that required tremendous talent and comprehension.

At the same time, when fighting in the heat of battle, the more techniques one practiced, the harder it was for others to guard against them.

The road of seeking the Dao was arduous and unpredictable. Without the means to secure one’s footing in the world, one might not even live long enough to reach the day of immortality.

Besides, even immortal cultivators were not eternal and indestructible.

Each elder had several disciples with them. Among the outer court, apart from Shen Lian and Lu Shouyi, the other eight were all under those elders’ tutelage, mingling with the other inner court disciples.

Yan Bugui was beside one of the two elders with the deepest and most elusive auras. The white-robed man who had once quarreled with Lu Shouyi stood nearby, and it seemed the two of them shared the same master.

That elder carried a huge vermilion gourd on his back, his expression half-drunk and half-sober, with an air of having come merely to make do.

Still, judging from his wine gourd, there was no mistake that he and Yan Bugui were master and disciple.

At the end, there remained one empty cushion of blue-violet color, distinct from the others. No one sat there, but a woman stood beside it.

She seemed very gentle and refined. Though not a peerless beauty, her temperament alone added a point to her appearance.

Shen Lian guessed that she was the senior sister from the outer court whom he had not yet met.

He had not taken a master, so Hong Qianya called him over. Zhang Ruoxu said nothing.

Naturally, Shen Lian would not stand beside Zhang Ruoxu; that would have been far too conspicuous. He went to Hong Qianya’s side instead.

Hong Qianya had three disciples beside him, all of Aperture Stirring cultivation, and they kept sneaking glances at Shen Lian, after all Hong Qianya often spoke of him.

But Shen Lian kept to himself and had also been out handling matters, so the three of them had never actually met him.

In the end, Lu Shouyi and the Child Jingqing stood on either side of Zhang Ruoxu. The hall was full of cultivators, so of course no one would behave like foolish peasants and gather together in noisy clamor.

Then a beam of sword light suddenly flashed before the hall, and vanished in an instant. Looking closely, one could see that at the entrance was clearly a Daoist, though he had not yet bound his hair into a Daoist knot.

The Daoist had sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, with a nose straight as a suspended gallbladder. He pressed one hand on a long sword and stepped through the doors. His bearing was graceful and refined, so much so that everyone in the hall could not help but exclaim at his immortal demeanor.

He was, of course, Chen Jianmei.

His expression cool and calm, he walked slowly before Zhang Ruoxu.

If anyone present closed their eyes, they would still feel the sharp edge of sword intent radiating from him. Though he did not deliberately release it, it was impossible to ignore.

It was as if he had spent half his life tempering a sword, only to reveal it to the world in a single day, shocking all beneath heaven.

Chen Jianmei bowed deeply. Over the years, there had been countless times when he wanted to go down the mountain to hone himself, seek opportunities, and break through, only to be stopped by Zhang Ruoxu.

For Zhang Ruoxu believed that before now, he had not yet reached the time to display his锋芒.

Countless nights passed in solitude, with only cold desolation for company.

The formless sword formula was one of Qingxuan’s one hundred and eight methods. Since its creation, aside from the elder who originally devised it, Chen Jianmei was the first person to cultivate it to the eighth level.

Let alone being unmatched below Core Formation, he could even slay ordinary cultivators below the fifth transformation of Core Formation without issue.

Yet none of this was known to others, because he had no interest in ordinary disciples. When he took things seriously, they could not even withstand a single sword strike.

And as for those elders, he had no possibility of challenging them.

For a sword cultivator, if he had no opponent of equal measure, loneliness was inevitable.

After half a lifetime tempering his blade, the achievement of this day was something no one but Chen Jianmei himself could truly feel deeply, and Zhang Ruoxu was no exception.

Zhang Ruoxu extended a hand and stroked Chen Jianmei’s crown, gathering his loose hair and binding it up into a Daoist knot. This act of binding the hair was itself an act of transmitting the teachings.

What was being passed on was the sect’s orthodoxy, the creed of Qingxuan.

At last, Zhang Ruoxu traced a mysterious talisman and pressed it to Chen Jianmei’s brow. It faintly took the shape of a sword, then vanished.

Once this was done, even Ancestor Yuan Qing, who had already broken through and departed this world, together with those Immortal True Persons who still survived, could sense that Qingxuan had gained another true inheritor.

At the same time, across the countless worlds, Ancestor Yuan Qing would send Chen Jianmei a wisp of the great Dao’s intent, belonging solely to him. So long as he did not reveal it of his own accord, no one else could know.

Thanks to user number one hundred eighty-six’s reward of five hundred eighty-eight, and to the generous gift from Master Demon, Ghost, and Serpent.