Zhu Xian: They've all been reborn

"The Sect Leader said," Chang Shu said respectfully, "In previous 'Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournaments,' each of the Qingyun Sect's peaks sent four people, and our main branch, Tongtian Peak, sent four more, making a total of thirty-two. They drew lots to determine the winners, and this process continued for five rounds until a champion was chosen. However, the Sect Leader believes that the original purpose of the 'Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournament' is to test the disciples, discover the potential talents of each peak, and hone their cultivation. But our Qingyun Sect now has nearly a thousand disciples, among whom young talents emerge in every generation. If each peak only sends four people for this grand competition, which only happens once every sixty years, it would be a pity to miss out on such a great talent, and it would also be difficult to fully demonstrate the current glory of Qingyun."

He paused, and seeing that Tian Buyi was listening, continued, "Therefore, the Sect Leader proposed that in the next 'Seven Sects Martial Arts Tournament,' each of the seven sects should send nine disciples, and our sect should send one more, making a total of sixty-four. The matches will be drawn by lot based on this number, with six rounds in total. This way, more disciples will have the opportunity to compete and showcase their talents, and it will also more comprehensively test the spirit of the new generation of Qingyun Sect. What does Uncle Tian think?"

The hall fell silent for a moment. Tian Buyi stroked his chin, deep in thought.

Nine people from each side? Dazhu Peak... he silently calculated.

Song Daren, Jade Purity Level 5, is stable.

Tian Ling'er, Jade Purity Level 5, no problem either.

He Dazhi, Jade Purity Level 4, so-so.

Jiang Xiaochuan, Jade Purity Level 4, Snow River Sword is not bad, but in actual combat... sigh.

Lin Jingyu, at the fourth level of Jade Purity, with the Dragon Slayer in hand, is a promising prospect.

Du Bishu has just entered the fourth level and hasn't found a magic weapon yet.

Wu Dayi, Zheng Dali, and Lü Daxin are still circling around on the third floor.

Zhang Xiaofan... if this kid goes all out during the martial arts competition, maybe he can even get close to the second level?

Nine people... that's enough to get everyone together, but their strength... Tian Buyi was a little worried, but since the sect leader made the suggestion and it was for the sect's sake, he naturally couldn't object.

"Senior Brother Sect Leader, your considerations are thorough, and this proposal is excellent." Tian Buyi nodded. "Our Great Bamboo Peak has no objections and will certainly obey orders to select disciples to participate."

Chang Shu breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "Uncle Tian is very understanding. Then this disciple will report back to the Sect Leader in this way."

After seeing Chang Shu off, Tian Buyi stood at the entrance of Shoujing Hall, gazing at the undulating mountains in the distance, his brows furrowed into a knot on his chubby face.

Nine people... He turned around and looked towards the back mountain, where sword light could be faintly seen flashing. It was Jiang Xiaochuan sparring with Lu Xueqi.

Looking into the kitchen, smoke was rising from the chimneys, indicating that Zhang Xiaofan was probably preparing dinner.

Looking into the courtyard, Lin Jingyu was solemnly wiping the Dragon-Slaying Sword.

He sighed and muttered, "Two more years... you bastards, you'd better train like crazy!"

Behind Tongtian Peak is the Ancestral Temple.

The fallen leaves had accumulated into a thick layer, making a rustling sound when stepped on.

Cangsong held the almost bald broom and mechanically swept, stroke by stroke.

His hair was completely white, piled up on his head like tangled weeds. His face was deeply wrinkled, as if carved by a knife and axe. His eyes were vacant, and only occasionally, when he glanced at the tightly closed doors of the ancestral hall, would a fleeting, extremely complex and indescribable emotion flash across his face.

Pain, regret, confusion, and a deep-seated fear that even he himself was unwilling to acknowledge.

The gate opens occasionally.

Sometimes it was Dao Xuan Zhenren who would come in, stand quietly for a moment before the ancestral tablets, look at the sweeping pine tree, and leave without saying a word. Sometimes it was Shuiyue.

The moonlight is appearing more and more frequently.

At first, I just stood at a distance and watched, but later I would come closer and watch the pine trees sweep the ground, still without saying a word, with indifferent eyes.

Later, she would sometimes bring a pot of coarse tea and two rough porcelain bowls, place them on the stone steps in front of the ancestral hall, sit down, and slowly drink it. She no longer called it Cangsong.

At first, Cangsong ignored it. Later, after Shuiyue finished her tea, she suddenly whispered, "This tea is the kind of coarse mountain tea that Brother Wan used to drink. He said it has a smoky flavor."

Cangsong abruptly stopped sweeping the ground, his hunched back trembling violently.

Shuiyue didn't look at him again, got up and left.

Since then, Shuiyue would sometimes bring an extra bowl when she came.

She poured two bowls of tea, drank one herself, and placed the other on the stone steps beside her.

Cangsong still didn't drink, but when he swept the floor, his eyes would always involuntarily drift towards the rough porcelain bowl.

Some time later, when Shuiyue came, Wan Jianyi would occasionally come out of the ancestral hall.

He was still wearing that gray robe, the empty left sleeve fluttering in the wind, and carrying a bucket on his right arm as he went to the mountain spring to fetch water.

He walked slowly, but his back was ramrod straight. When he saw Shuiyue, he would nod slightly. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were no longer purely desolate; they seemed to have gained a faint, living quality.

When Shuiyue saw him, the ice on her cold face would melt for a moment. She would take the bucket of water from his hand (even if it was very light) and help him carry it to the eaves of the ancestral hall.

The two didn't talk much, and when they did exchange a few words, it was usually about which roof tiles in the ancestral hall needed cleaning or which section of the wall had too much moss.

The voices were all calm, like old friends who had known each other for many years, or like people gazing at each other from afar across an invisible, wide river.

Cangsong hid in the shadow of the distant pillars, watching. He watched Shuiyue hand Wan Jianyi the old handkerchief to wipe his sweat (although Wan Jianyi rarely sweated), and watched Wan Jianyi point out to Shuiyue a newly blooming, inconspicuous wildflower in the corner of the wall.

Looking at the calm, even somewhat distant, yet inexplicably harmonious atmosphere between them.

At times like these, Cangsong felt as if a dull knife was slowly cutting into his heart.

He was in so much pain he could hardly breathe, yet he also possessed a self-destructive, twisted clarity.

What was the purpose of his hundred years of service?

His betrayals, his hurts, his pursuits... all seem like a huge, absurd joke, and the only onlooker is himself.

Shuiyue seemed to be aware of all this, but she didn't care. She just came more often.

Sometimes, after instructing the disciples of Xiaozhu Peak on their cultivation, he would stroll over.

Sitting on the stone steps, drinking a bowl of coarse tea, watching the mountain scenery for a while, occasionally exchanging a few words with Wan Jianyi, or simply spending some time quietly with him.

The disciples of Xiaozhu Peak noticed that their master seemed less strict, or rather, less "cold."

Although his teaching remained meticulous, the frost that had remained between his brows for years seemed to have thinned a little.

However, Master Shuiyue seems to be becoming increasingly lenient towards her exceptionally talented senior sister, Lu Xueqi.

What needed to be taught was taught almost entirely a few years ago.

Lu Xueqi's cultivation has improved so rapidly that even Shuiyue is secretly astonished. She can grasp many sword techniques and Taoist arts with ease and master them with a single practice. She can even draw inferences from one instance to another and offer insights that Shuiyue has to ponder.

Sometimes, when Shuiyue watched her practice swordsmanship, the stunning sword light and the calm and profound demeanor would make her momentarily disoriented, as if she were not seeing her teenage disciple, but a sword immortal who had already reached the pinnacle of skill.

There's nothing more they can teach.

Shuiyue knew in her heart that this child now had to walk her own path.

As for her frequent trips to Dazhu Peak in search of that disciple named Jiang Xiaochuan...

Shuiyue saw this and was initially worried, but when she thought of the old figure silently sweeping the floor in front of the ancestral hall, and the feelings in her heart that had been suppressed for a hundred years and had nowhere to go, her worry faded and turned into a barely audible sigh.

Children and grandchildren have their own blessings to enjoy.

As long as her faith remains pure and she doesn't stray onto the wrong path, let her be.

On the back hill, in an open space beside a bamboo grove.

Lu Xueqi had just finished demonstrating a variation of her sword technique; the sword flashed like a bolt of lightning, instantly severing a thick bamboo stalk three zhang away, leaving a smooth, mirror-like cut. She sheathed her sword, her breathing steady, and looked at Jiang Xiaochuan: "Did you see that?"

Jiang Xiaochuan nodded blankly, with only one thought in his mind: Is this really something a human can train for?

"Give it a try." Lu Xueqi stepped aside.

Jiang Xiaochuan gripped Xuechuan tightly, focused his mind, recalled the essence of the sword strike just now, and unleashed a powerful slash!

The sword light was bright and fast, but compared to Lu Xueqi's effortless and natural sword strike, it seemed a bit deliberate and hesitant.

The sword energy swept past, severing two thin bamboo stalks. The third one was only cut halfway in, hanging crookedly.

He lowered his sword with some annoyance.

Lu Xueqi walked over, said nothing, but simply raised her hand and gently wiped away the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead with her sleeve.

Her fingertips brushed against his skin unintentionally, feeling slightly cool.

Jiang Xiaochuan stiffened, but did not dodge as he had done before.

In the last two years, he seems to have... gotten used to it.

I've grown accustomed to her sudden approach, and to the subtle, irresistible tenderness beneath her cool exterior.

He simply lowered his head, looking at the tips of his shoes, his ears feeling a little hot.

"No rush." ​​Lu Xueqi's voice rang out from above, still cool and aloof, yet seemingly carrying a faint hint of a smile. "There are still two years left."

Jiang Xiaochuan knew she was referring to the Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournament. He hummed in agreement and then asked abruptly, "Junior Sister Lu, will you participate?"

"Of course," Lu Xueqi said. "Master said that each side should send nine people. Xiaozhu Peak has one spot for me."

"Oh..." Jiang Xiaochuan imagined Lu Xueqi on the stage, the Tianya Sword flashing, and the thousands of disciples below silent... It must be very shocking.

He thought of himself again and felt a little uneasy. "I...I don't know if I'll be chosen..."

"You can." Lu Xueqi's tone was firm.

She paused, looked at him, and said very seriously, "I will be watching you from the audience."

Jiang Xiaochuan's heart skipped a beat. He looked up and met her deep gaze. Her gaze was clear and firm, reflecting his own small, somewhat flustered self. He suddenly felt that perhaps… perhaps he really should try harder. Not for any martial arts competition ranking, but simply… not wanting to disappoint her.

"Mm." He nodded emphatically, gripping the Snow River sword tightly. A slight coolness emanated from the blade, which gradually calmed his restless heart.

The wind rustled through the bamboo forest, carrying the distant sound of Tian Ling'er calling "Xiao Chuan," clear and slightly anxious, as if she were searching for him again.

Lu Xueqi looked up at the source of the sound, her eyes calm and unwavering, but the faint smile on her lips had quietly disappeared.

Jiang Xiaochuan scratched his head, looked at Lu Xueqi, then at the direction the voice came from, feeling utterly overwhelmed.

When will this ever end?

The little white dog, who was sunbathing on the nearby bluestone, twitched its ears, lifted its eyelids, glanced at him, and then lazily closed them again. The tip of its tail swayed leisurely.

It's still early, silly boy.