I made the entire cultivation world cry

Chapter 700 Dream (Seeking Monthly Tickets)
A century has passed in the blink of an eye.

The once fragmented land of Beixuan has struggled to regain its vitality.

Although the spiritual energy is still thin, far less abundant than in the past and incomparable to that of the Eastern Continent, new green shoots have emerged from the scorched soil, and scattered mortal villages and towns dot this land that has endured many vicissitudes like stars.

The Xuan Ying Sword Sect, towering deep in the snow-capped mountains of the Northern Region, has become the only immortal sect in the Northern Xuan, like an inextinguishable beacon.

On this day, thirteen-year-old Aqing wrapped herself tightly in her thin, old cotton-padded jacket, her face red from the cold, and her breath instantly froze.

A sword was tightly bound to her back with coarse cloth strips. The hilt was made of rotten wood, the scabbard was made of scrap iron, and the blade was made from an iron bar picked up from some abandoned mine and ground down, barely giving it the shape of a sword.

She trudged through the snow, her steps uneven, climbing towards the snow-capped mountain peak where clouds swirled and palaces loomed in the distance.

The cold wind made it almost impossible for her to open her eyes, but her clear black and white eyes shone with a resolute light that was beyond her years.

Finally, when she used her last bit of strength to climb over a steep snow slope, the ancient and magnificent mountain gate square of the Xuan Ying Sword Sect came into view.

The square was already packed with people, a sea of ​​black, numbering over a thousand.

From richly dressed scions of noble families to peasant boys in coarse linen clothes, all sorts of people gather here, all hoping to pass the entrance test of the Xuan Ying Sword Sect and enter the immortal realm.

Ah Qing, panting heavily, looked around and found an old pine tree that could provide some shelter from the cold wind. Clutching her shabby iron sword, she slid down against the trunk to rest for a while and regain her strength.

A cool, soft little thing gently landed on her head. Aqing was startled and saw a ball of snow the size of a fist reaching out two chubby hands, ruffling her hair.

Snowballs have no facial features, but exude a pure, icy aura. Their clumsy yet adorable movements make them the most common type of little spirit in this snowy region.

Go away!

Aqing waved her hand, and the little snow demon lightly jumped away, landing on the snow beside her. It hopped a few times, seemingly expressing its dissatisfaction, before turning into a wisp of cold air and disappearing into the snow.

At this moment, a middle-aged cultivator dressed in the Xuan Ying Sword Sect's Taoist robe, with a long sword hanging at his waist, stood on the stone steps of the mountain gate, his gaze sweeping across the entire area.

"The Xuan Ying Sword Sect opens its gates today to welcome new blood. For a century, we have upheld the sword as our highest virtue! This selection process will not consider background, spiritual roots, or cultivation level! Only the sword in hand will determine the hero! All those with ambition may step onto the stage! The lot-drawing tube is here. Draw lots to determine your opponent. The selection will end when the opponent is chosen. The one who wins ten consecutive matches will be admitted as an outer disciple of the Xuan Ying Sword Sect!"

The crowd erupted in excitement, with countless eyes focused on the massive, makeshift training platforms in the center of the square.

Aqing's drowsiness vanished instantly, her heart pounding. She rubbed her frozen hands vigorously and joined the queue for the lottery.

When A-Qing first stood on the martial arts stage, the rusty sword in her hand stood out from the gleaming weapons of those around her, attracting many glances that were either disdainful or curious.

Her opponent was a burly young man who was half a head taller than her, wielding a heavy broadsword and looking disdainful.

But as soon as the battle began, the contemptuous gazes turned into astonishment.

Aqing's swordsmanship was simple to the point of being unadorned, even carrying a strange composure. There were no fancy moves, only precision. Her footwork was even more unpredictable. Her seemingly casual shifting and sliding steps always managed to narrowly avoid the opponent's powerful and heavy slashes at the last second.

The rusty iron sword seemed to come alive in her hands, like a nimble snake, always able to pierce from incredible angles, precisely striking the flaws in the opponent's moves.

In the first match, after three moves, the burly young man experienced a sharp pain in his wrist, causing his greatsword to slip from his hand, his face filled with disbelief.

In the second match, her opponent was a fast swordsman whose sword flashed like rain. Ah Qing remained calm and composed, her rusty iron sword drawing short, sharp trajectories. After ten moves, her opponent was struck in the chest by a sword and staggered backward.

The third match... the fourth match... the fifth match... Ah Qing won six, seven, eight, and nine matches in a row with her rusty iron sword!
The crowd grew larger and larger, with gasps of amazement rising and falling.

In the final match, A-Qing faced a truly formidable opponent.

The opponent was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen years old, with steady movements and sharp eyes like an eagle.

He studied A-Qing's previous battles and immediately launched a fierce and relentless attack. His longsword transformed into a continuous blue light and shadow, its force heavy and swift, firmly pressing A-Qing against the edge of the arena, making her almost unable to breathe.

With each parry, Ah Qing's arm went numb from the impact, her footwork was locked, and she could only dodge and parry with difficulty in a small area, constantly in danger.

Sweat soaked through Aqing's thin clothes, which were then frozen into thin ice by the cold wind, making it bitterly cold.

Ah-Ching gritted her teeth, but her eyes grew even clearer.

Just as the opponent delivered a powerful chop, his body leaned slightly forward due to the force, and his arm retracted, a glint of light flashed in A-Qing's eyes!

Having been on the defensive, she suddenly activated her strange footwork, delivering a swift straight thrust in the direction of the opponent's sword's return!
The iron sword pierced the air, emitting an extremely clear and long sound, a sharp cry that seemed to penetrate the soul, like the long cry of a crane.

The tip of the sword stopped steadily half an inch in front of the opponent's throat.

The entire arena fell silent; the opponent stood frozen in place.

"Concession!"

Ah-Qing, panting heavily, bowed her head and clasped her hands. When she looked up again, the person in front of her was no longer the boy, but a woman dressed in white, with a cold face and an aura as heavy and icy as a snow mountain.

"Greetings, Master!"

The Xuan Ying Sword Sect disciples standing nearby all bowed their heads in respect.

A century has passed, but it has not left many marks on Jiang Yurong's face. Only her eyes, which once held a touch of gentleness, now possess a deep, stillness and a sharpness born of hardship.

Her gaze was fixed intently on A-Qing.

"Your swordsmanship, and your footwork... who did you learn them from?"

Aqing's face turned deathly pale instantly, and the arm holding the rusty iron sword trembled slightly. The sect leader in front of her was a celestial being she looked up to, and his gaze made her feel as if he had seen through her from the inside out.

She suppressed the urge to back away, straightened her back, and answered truthfully, "Reporting to the Sect Master, this swordsmanship and footwork... I learned them in my dream!"

Jiang Yurong frowned sharply, and A-Qing trembled, afraid of angering Jiang Yurong, and hurriedly explained.

Nowadays, Beixuan only has one immortal sect, Xuanying Sword Sect. The path to immortality is difficult for mortals, and many people value the inheritance of cultivation techniques. Stealing others' sword techniques is a serious crime.

"It's true. There's an unnamed little temple behind our village. Whenever I sleep there, I always dream of a female immortal. She taught me swordsmanship and movement techniques, and she also told me to come here to seek immortality. She also said... that if anyone asks, I should answer truthfully."

Jiang Yurong's pupils trembled slightly. She immediately picked up A-Qing and asked her to take her to find the nameless little temple.

(End of this chapter)