My Taoist buddy has practiced surrogacy

Chapter 1473 Discovery
Through the gap in her veil, she saw the figure approaching in the candlelight, not the gentle and refined young man she had imagined, but a middle-aged prince with graying temples. The nuptial wine burned through her body, and she suddenly remembered the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, when Zhou Xing recited "Guan Ju" to her under the peach tree. At that time, the young man's eyes reflected the falling petals, like a pool of water adorned with scattered gold.

The deep courtyards of the Prince Ning's mansion resembled an ancient well, with new charcoal only delivered by palace servants on the first and fifteenth of each month. Ling Xue habitually exchanged her saved silver for writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, practicing calligraphy and copying ancient dynasty inscriptions in her study in the west wing. One snowy morning, she opened the window and found a man in black robes standing among the branches of an ancient locust tree in the courtyard, his shoulders covered in snow like an ink painting. The man was Zhou Xing, who had just been pardoned and returned to the capital. He was gazing up at the bronze wind chimes hanging from the eaves, his gaze piercing through the layers of rooftops and reaching straight to the heavens.

"Greetings, Princess." Zhou Xing bowed with clasped hands, revealing half of an old arrow wound on his sleeve. Ling Xue noticed a worn-down wolf-tooth token hanging at his waist, a unique token of the Northern Frontier military camp. From then on, on the first and fifteenth of each lunar month, she would use the excuse of grinding ink to dismiss her maids, secretly slipping a copied military treatise into the visitor's sleeve. Once, he caught her in the act, and the two remained silent for a long time across the bookshelf. Finally, Zhou Xing took out half a broken jade pendant from his robes and placed it on the table: "This is all I have."

The Lantern Festival market was bustling with activity. Ling Xue, wearing a veil, blended into the crowd. Suddenly, Zhou Xing galloped past on horseback, his spear deflecting the scimitar of an attacker. In the firelight, the scar on his brow bone gleamed a dark red, making him appear like a war god reborn from the ashes. On the way home in the carriage, she unfolded the note he had given her. It read in haste, "Meet me at the drill ground tomorrow at dawn," the ink spreading like a tear stain.

On the day Zhou Xing volunteered to lead the expedition, Ling Xue hid in the corner tower, watching the Xuanjia Iron Cavalry trample the morning frost. As battle reports arrived like snowflakes, she began to study sand table simulation techniques. One night, she received a blood-stained letter from home, with only eight crooked characters on the plain paper: "Do not worry, wait for me to break through the enemy lines and return." The phoenix-feathered arrow that was included with the letter pierced her fingertip, and the crimson blood seeped into the pattern of the goose feather.

Three years later, in the triumphant return procession, Zhou Xing, with a newly added arrow scar on his left cheek, smiled more radiantly than the rising sun. At the victory banquet, the moment the emperor's decree of marriage was issued, the glass cup in Ling Xue's hand shattered to the ground. She felt no pain as shards of porcelain pierced her palm; she stared intently at the woman bowing beside the throne—the Prime Minister's eldest daughter, her phoenix coronet and wedding gown already prepared.

As willow catkins drifted around the palace walls, Ling Xue arranged to meet Zhou Xing by the Taiye Pond. She spread a meticulously drawn map of the border defenses on the white marble railing: "General, would you be willing to exchange this merit for a decree of separation?" A spring breeze lifted a corner of the silk, revealing a letter of severance hidden beneath. Zhou Xing crumpled the apricot blossom branch in his hand, petals fluttering onto the shimmering water: "And what if I say no?"

That very night, news arrived that the barbarians had once again breached the gates. Zhou Xing sneaked into a secret chamber of the Jingguo Mansion. In the flickering candlelight, Ling Xue pointed to a vital supply route marked on a map: "If this route is cut off, the enemy army will be thrown into chaos." He suddenly grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the spot where his heart was pounding: "Do you know how much infamy you'll suffer for doing this?" A clap of thunder suddenly sounded outside the window, casting their shadows like paper cutouts pasted onto the screen.

Eagles circled overhead, and Ling Xue, clad in military attire, stood atop the watchtower. Following Zhou Xing's instructions, she twirled the command flag, instantly transforming the supply train behind her into a mobile Great Wall. As a hail of arrows rained down, she pulled her cloak over a wounded soldier beside her, but a stray arrow pierced her back. Her last sight before losing consciousness was Zhou Xing's bloodshot eyes as he roared towards her, and the countless fragments of his command flag flying through the air.

The air inside the military doctor's tent was filled with the scent of medicine. Zhou Xing's trembling hands applied medicine to the unconscious Ling Xue. The deputy general, who had followed him for many years, had never seen his commander so distraught. He saw him biting the blood-stained bandage and chewing it fiercely, as if that would tear the blade that had pierced his lover's body to pieces. That night, he had single-handedly stormed into the enemy camp and set fire to the entire encampment. When he returned at dawn carrying the enemy chieftain's head, blood was still dripping from the gaps in his armor.

At the triumphant ceremony, Zhou Xing refused to be awarded alone, insisting that Ling Xue stand with him before the emperor. As the old eunuch beside the dragon throne hesitated, holding the imperial sword, Ling Xue suddenly drew her sword and cut off her waist-length hair: "This subject wishes to use this to demonstrate her resolve." The severed hair fluttered in the wind like a black waterfall, causing all the civil and military officials to change color upon hearing it.

The emperor finally granted the request to restore Zhou Xing's title of Duke of Jingguo, but imposed a harsh condition—Zhou Xing must marry the prime minister's daughter as his principal wife. On their wedding day, Ling Xue, dressed in a plain-colored ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), poured wine for the newlyweds, a short blade concealed in her sleeve. The moment the bridal veil was lifted, the groom suddenly put his arm around her shoulder: "Your Majesty, please forgive me, but this humble general already has a wife." Amidst the uproar, he tore open his official robes, revealing a hideous scar on his chest: "This will forever bear someone's name."

On their wedding night, Zhou Xing placed the tiger tally into Ling Xue's palm: "From now on, the 500,000-strong army will be at your command, Madam." The bright moon hung high outside the window, illuminating the two precious swords placed side by side on the table—one engraved with "Serve the country with utmost loyalty," and the other with "Follow me through life and death."

Ten years later, outside Yanmen Pass, the white-haired old general strolled hand in hand with his wife atop the city wall. Ling Xue pointed to the new recruits training in the distance and laughed, "Look at that kid wielding a gun, he looks just like you when you were young." Zhou Xing suddenly coughed violently, and the blood-red plum blossoms blooming on his handkerchief were breathtaking.

On his deathbed, he held his wife's hand and murmured repeatedly, "I'm sorry I couldn't take you to see the misty rain of Jiangnan." Ling Xue fed him warm medicine, saying, "Silly boy, isn't the beautiful land we've been protecting the most enduring poem?" As dusk settled, the last rays of the setting sun shone through the gaps in the tent and onto their clasped hands, just like the golden light of their first meeting on the training ground.

On the day the joint burial mausoleum was completed, people were surprised to find that there were no words of praise on the tombstone, only two lines of poetry: "If only the Flying General of Longcheng were here, the barbarian horses would not dare to cross Yinshan." Every year during the Qingming Festival, young generals would come to pay their respects. What they did not know was that deep inside the tomb, there was a half-piece of jade and a phoenix feather arrow placed side by side.

The Xuanxiao Sect's annual disciple recruitment ceremony was in full swing. The square was bustling with people, and many newly initiated disciples, filled with awe and anticipation, all turned their gazes to the sword pavilion displaying various spiritual swords. As is customary, each disciple had to choose their own natal sword, a significant starting point for their cultivation journey.

Zhou Xing, as the sect's number one prodigy, possessed exceptional talent and natural gifts, making him the focus of everyone's attention. When he approached the sword formation, the surrounding chatter instantly fell silent. Everyone held their breath, eager to see what choice this prodigy would make. However, to everyone's astonishment, Zhou Xing bypassed the top-tier spiritual swords that radiated dazzling light and overflowing spiritual energy, heading straight for a lone, broken sword stuck in a corner—Ling Xue. This broken sword was riddled with cracks, its tip broken off, looking utterly dilapidated, a stark contrast to the surrounding ornate and exquisite swords. The moment Zhou Xing grasped the hilt, something strange happened. A chilling aura suddenly swept over, the surrounding air seemingly freezing instantly. Then, snowflakes appeared out of thin air, fluttering down. The snowflakes swirled rapidly around Zhou Xing and the broken sword, forming a huge vortex. Amidst flashes of light, a phantom figure gradually solidified.

It was a woman dressed in a plain white dress, her face exquisitely beautiful yet exuding a cold and aloof air; she was Ling Xue's sword spirit. She frowned slightly, a hint of doubt and wariness flashing in her eyes as she gazed at the young man before her: "Why did you choose me? I am nothing but a broken, discarded sword." Zhou Xing sensed the powerful sword intent emanating from her and the hidden pain of her past, a strange trust welling up within him. He said firmly, "I feel you are extraordinary. Even if you are a broken sword, I believe you possess untapped power."

At the same time, a long-buried memory flooded Zhou Xing's mind like a tidal wave. In the scene, a celestial being, clad in pristine white robes and possessing an otherworldly air, flew through the mountains on a sword, his movements light and graceful, like a deity descended to earth. Suddenly, however, dark clouds filled the sky, lightning flashed, and thick bolts of thunder struck the celestial being and his sword. The immense impact shattered the sword, dimming its light, and it finally fell to the mortal realm. This was the calamity that befell Ling Xue's former master—that mysterious celestial being. And now, this once glorious celestial sword was nothing more than a broken, forgotten blade.

Zhou Xing took Ling Xue back to his residence and began trying to communicate and work things out with her. Initially, Ling Xue was very resistant to Zhou Xing; her sword energy often went out of control, the sharp blade flashing wildly through the room, leaving tables, chairs, doors, and windows riddled with holes. Zhou Xing, however, neither avoided her nor yielded, patiently calming her agitated emotions time and time again. Whenever Ling Xue was caught up in painful memories due to past traumas, Zhou Xing would quietly sit beside her, offering comfort with gentle words.

As time went by, a subtle connection gradually developed between the two. By chance, Zhou Xing discovered fragments of his former owner's unique sword technique remaining on Ling Xue's body. These fragmented memories were scattered and disorganized like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but through Zhou Xing's unremitting efforts, he slowly pieced them together and began to practice this ancient sword technique.

During the cultivation process, a miraculous event occurred once again. Whenever Zhou Xing used this sword technique, his consciousness would enter a special space, resonating with Ling Xue's consciousness. They seemed to travel through time, returning to that night a thousand years ago, witnessing firsthand the tragic scene of the banished immortal suffering divine punishment. Amidst the billowing smoke, the banished immortal tightly gripped his broken immortal sword, his eyes resolute yet helpless, muttering to himself, "Heaven's way is unjust..." That tragic image was deeply imprinted in Zhou Xing's heart, strengthening his resolve to help Ling Xue restore her former glory.

When the other disciples in the sect learned that Zhou Xing had chosen the broken sword, they all cast mocking glances at him. They gossiped behind his back, thinking he was asking for trouble, abandoning a perfectly good spiritual sword to pick up a piece of junk. Ignoring the ridicule of his fellow disciples, Zhou Xing continued his diligent daily training. Ling Xue, gradually moved by his determination, also began to actively cooperate with his training.

Soon after, the sect organized an important collective activity—exploring the Ancient Sword Tomb. This was a place brimming with danger and opportunity, said to contain the remains of many ancient powerhouses and the precious treasures they left behind. For young cultivators like Zhou Xing, this was undoubtedly a golden opportunity to enhance their strength and acquire fortuitous encounters.

Soon after entering the Sword Tomb, the group found themselves in a series of predicaments. Various traps and mechanisms appeared one after another, and ferocious guardian beasts lurked in the air. Just as they were proceeding cautiously, a powerful formation was suddenly triggered, and countless sharp blades shot out from all directions, forming an impenetrable net. The disciples panicked and scattered in all directions, screams echoing throughout the scene.

At this critical moment, Ling Xue, who had been silent all along, suddenly burst forth with dazzling light. She transformed into a streak of light, swiftly shielding Zhou Xing from the deadly attacks with her crippled body. Each impact caused her body to tremble violently, but she remained steadfast in her post, showing no sign of retreat. Under her protection, Zhou Xing was unharmed, while the other disciples seized the opportunity to find a breakthrough and escape the danger zone.

Having survived this life-or-death ordeal, Zhou Xing and Ling Xue's understanding deepened even further. They continued their exploration deep within the Sword Tomb, finally arriving before an ancient altar. At the center of the altar sat a stone radiating a mysterious aura—the Sky-Mending Stone. Legend had it that this stone possessed the power to heal all things, and perhaps it could be used to mend the cracks in Ling Xue's body.

Without hesitation, Zhou Xing walked towards the Heaven-Mending Stone, attempting to use it to heal Ling Xue's wounds. However, the instant he touched the stone, a powerful and malevolent force suddenly surged forth, engulfing them in a dark space. Here, they encountered an enemy who was the embodiment of a demon, a powerful and unpredictable opponent who forced them into a series of defeats.

At the critical moment, Ling Xue displayed unprecedented courage and determination. She burned her soul power, unleashing the forbidden sword technique "Lone Shadow on the Cold River." In an instant, the entire space was enveloped in a chilling aura, and a dazzling sword light pierced the darkness, striking directly at the enemy's core. With a deafening roar, the enemy collapsed to the ground, vanishing into a wisp of smoke. But the price was heavy; after using this move, Ling Xue fell into a long slumber.

While Ling Xue slept, Zhou Xing decided to delve deeper into her past. He perused numerous ancient texts and consulted many reclusive masters, finally uncovering a long-buried secret. It turned out that the banished immortal was no ordinary cultivator; rather, he had angered the forces of the upper realm by prying into heavenly secrets, thus incurring such severe punishment. His swordsmanship was too defiant, arousing the wrath of the Heavenly Dao, and was therefore condemned to heavenly punishment and cast into the cycle of reincarnation.

As his natal sword, Lingxue was naturally implicated as well. In that disaster, she not only suffered severe damage herself but also carried the unfinished wishes and mission of her former master. After learning the truth, Zhou Xing felt a great responsibility and secretly vowed to help Lingxue fulfill this last wish, while also clearing the name of the banished immortal.

To help Ling Xue recover as quickly as possible, Zhou Xing searched far and wide for rare materials and elixirs. He traversed mountains and rivers, enduring hardships and even venturing into dangerous forbidden areas. During this process, he met some like-minded friends who were moved by his perseverance and offered their help.