My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

The gate to A Luo's courtyard was ajar.

The clan elder didn't knock; he simply pushed the door open.

In the courtyard, the shadow of the jujube tree was stretched long by the sunlight, extending from the base of the wall all the way to the gate, and it was laden with jujubes.

Dates? Where would you find dates this season?

A person was lying on the rocking chair, wearing a faded gray Taoist robe, his eyes half-closed, as if he were dozing off.

Beside him was another person, with white hair and beard, wearing a gray-white robe, sitting in a strange chair.

This person also seemed to have never been seen before.

The chair seemed to have grown out of the ground, with branches woven into the backrest and armrests, enveloping him completely.

A teapot and teacups sat on the stone table, the spout of the teapot still emitting thin, white steam.

The clan elders didn't have time to think about these oddities in detail.

He rushed to the rocking chair, bent down, and his voice trembled.

"Taoist Master! A bear demon has appeared at the entrance of the village. It's as tall as a three-story building and has at least a hundred years of cultivation!"

The guards couldn't hold them off any longer, and Martial Saint Lin... was nowhere to be found again. This old man begs the Daoist Master to intervene and save the ginseng-gathering village!

His knees bent, and he was about to kneel down.

A hand supported his arm. The hand wasn't heavy, but the elder couldn't kneel down.

He looked up and saw that Ye Qingfeng had already sat up and was looking at him.

Those eyes were calm, without panic, hesitation, or even much emotion.

"Old man, there's no need for that. I already know about this matter," Ye Qingfeng said in a calm voice. "I have already sent my disciple over there."

The clan elder was stunned.

Did they send disciples?

He remembered the young man following behind the Taoist priest, surnamed Lü, who was very talkative and didn't seem to have much ability.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Can that young man do it?", but swallowed the words back.

Since the Taoist priest said so, he must have his reasons.

He's lived most of his life, so he has that much insight.

Ye Qingfeng leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips: "He must be at the village gate by now. We can take a look from here."

The elder was taken aback again. Observe from here? How could he? The village gate was several alleys away, at least half a mile away. He didn't have eyes that could see a thousand miles, how could he possibly see anything?

"Master Daoist," the clan elder said cautiously, "I am foolish and ignorant. How could I possibly see the scene at the village gate from here? I do not possess the extraordinary abilities of you, Master Daoist."

Yun Songzi glanced at the clan elder and chuckled softly.

This person is truly unaware of the descent of immortals; how could he not know such a mere mirror image technique?

Ye Qingfeng smiled but did not answer.

He raised his right hand, spread his five fingers, and gently grasped at the void.

The teapot on the stone table moved.

A thin stream of water flowed from the spout, like a transparent ribbon, swirling and coalescing in the air, gradually transforming into a fist-sized ball of water.

The water sphere hovered in mid-air, neither falling nor scattering, its surface trembling slightly, as if something was being nurtured inside.

The clan elder stared wide-eyed, and Zhao Dazhu stared wide-eyed as well.

The water sphere began to change.

Its surface cleared from chaos, as if someone had wiped away a layer of fog inside.

First came the blurry light and shadow, then the outline, and then the details.

The elder saw an alley, a bluestone road, wooden doors closed on both sides of the road, and the village gate.

They saw a huge black bear outside the village gate, five people covered in wounds, and a young man.

The young man held a deep blue sword in his hand and stood in front of the bear demon.

The elder's mouth opened and couldn't close.

Zhao Dazhu's mouth was also open, unable to close.

They stared at the image appearing within the water sphere, as if they were dreaming.

The scene was crystal clear, clearer than a mirror, and more real than seeing it with one's own eyes.

They could see the bloodshot in the bear demon's eyes, the wrinkles in the young man's clothes, and the dust kicked up by the pebbles on the ground.

"This...this..." the elder murmured, unable to speak.

Ye Qingfeng did not explain, but instead looked at Lü Yang in the water mirror.

Seeing the subtle meaning in his every move, I couldn't help but stroke my chin.

Is this the talent of the Pure Yang Sword Immortal?

......

The bear demon grew increasingly agitated.

It fought for so long, yet it couldn't do anything to a young man who looked like he hadn't even grown any hair yet.

Its attacks became increasingly fierce and increasingly chaotic.

Instead of slapping with its claws, it rammed its entire body into Lü Yang, trying to crush him.

Lu Yang dodged, but the bear demon's momentum didn't stop; it crashed headfirst into the mountain wall to the left of the village gate.

The cracks in the mountain wall widened again, and loose rocks tumbled down, crashing to the ground and onto the mountain itself.

It didn't care, turned around, and charged at Lü Yang again.

Lü Yang was dodging and retreating.

His sword techniques were still the same, but he was thinking about other things.

He wanted to string these sword moves together, not to use them one by one, but to connect them like a river flowing down from the mountain, without stopping or stopping.

His hands were moving, his sword was moving, and his mind was working.

Those sword techniques spun in his mind, faster and faster, smoother and smoother.

He felt like he had touched something, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew it was there, and he could grab it if he took one more step forward.

The bear demon charged again.

This time, it didn't crash into him; instead, it opened its mouth wide and bit down at Lü Yang.

Lu Yang dodged to the side, the tip of his sword grazing the bear demon's chin, leaving another bloody mark.

What he didn't realize was that the sword was no longer guiding his actions, but was merely silently providing the power to swing it.

Those moves were all executed by Lü Yang himself.

The bear demon roared in pain, took two steps back, and gasped for breath.

Its eyes turned even redder, and the bloodline trembled wildly in its pupils.

Its body began to heat up, and a thin layer of heat rose from its fur.

It's going to fight desperately.

Lü Yang sensed it.

He gripped the sword hilt, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

The sword techniques spun in his mind, faster and faster, and then suddenly stopped.

It didn't stop; it merged together.

Each move, like beads strung together, becomes a line, a very thin line, extending from his mind to his hands, to his sword.

He got it.

It's not about learning, it's about understanding.

A sword is not for cutting, it's for walking.

Take a path, a path that only a sword can traverse.

Suddenly, the moves of the Qingping Sword Technique began to extend and evolve in his mind.

In the end, it turned into a sword.

Zhao Tieshan's heart sank when he saw Lü Yang close his eyes.

The bear demon was charging towards him. Closing his eyes at this critical moment was tantamount to courting death.

He tried to shout, but it felt like something was blocking his throat, and he couldn't make a sound.

The four martial artists at the Blood Exchange Realm also saw it, and their faces turned pale.

Those people peeking through the cracks in the doors in the village covered their mouths, turned their heads away, and closed their eyes.

The bear demon was getting closer and closer.

Five zhang, three zhang, one zhang.

Lü Yang opened his eyes.

His eyes were bright, brighter than the sun in the sky, with a hint of pure yang energy faintly visible in his pupils.