You've only been cultivating for a few years, and you're already talking about cultivating

Chapter 118 The Fear of the "Sword"

After saying that, he turned around and went back to his room. The door closed behind him, and the hallway returned to silence.

The maid stood in the doorway, looked at the closed door, pursed her lips, then closed the door and turned back into the room.

The room was spacious, even larger than Qi Fei's room.

A chaise lounge was placed by the window, covered with a brocade quilt. A young woman was lounging on the chaise lounge, propping her head up with one hand.

She was wearing a moon-white gauze shirt with a low neckline, revealing a section of her fair neck and collarbone.

The maid walked to the bedside, put her hands on her hips, and said with a hint of helplessness, "Miss, they've already come to warn us."

"He's so stingy," Miss Wang complained, her voice tinged with a hint of coquettishness. "I just glanced at it, and he caught me."

She held a semi-transparent spider in her hand. The spider was completely transparent, about the size of a palm, with eight thin legs that moved gently in the air, appearing both real and unreal.

Just now, she tried to peep into the neighbor's house with this thing, but as soon as she reached it over, she was cut down by a sword light.

The maid looked at her speechlessly and said, "Doesn't that mean his cultivation is profound? In Nantianfang, there were too many people and the energy was too chaotic to tell. But it's different on the ship."

On this level of the ship, who isn't a cultivator?

There might be some hidden talents among them.

"Dragon Master, what do you suggest we do?"

5

Miss Wang turned to look at another woman in the room. The woman was even more beautiful than her and was lying on a soft couch, holding her pregnant belly.

Yes, for pregnancy.

Her belly was slightly protruding, as if she were several months pregnant.

"Qin'er, don't be silly," the man known as the Dragon Master said with his eyes slightly closed. "When we reach the corner of the sea and sky, my child will be chosen as the Divine Child. At that time, you will be blessed with wealth and honor, and even the Fangxian Gathering can be taken care of for you."

"Don't act recklessly now."

Miss Wang, or rather Wang Qin, knew what was important. For the Dragon Master, nothing was more important than having her child chosen as the Divine Child.

She could only say, utterly bored, "Okay."

After staring blankly for a while, she pulled a book from the bookshelf next to her, opened the first page, and a beam of light shot out from the page, condensing into a square stage about one foot in size in the air.

A storyteller stood in the center of the stage, dressed in a blue cloth robe, holding a folding fan in his hand, and bowed to the two people.

"Grannies, today we're going to talk about the story of how mortals on Mianlan Island became fish-men—"

This book, "Strange Tales of the Sea," was something she used to pass the time. It contained all sorts of strange tales from the sea, some true and some false, some half true and half false.

Between the imperceptible "name" and "reality," the "sword" silently observed everything. It wandered in the gap between reality and illusion, watched the lively scene between the master and servant for a while, then changed direction and drifted towards another room.

It flew through room after room, through wooden planks, through magic circles, and through walls and doors that the monks considered private.

In each room, there is a person sitting or lying down, and each person has their own story.

Some monks spent all their savings just to buy a ticket to the ship.

They sat in their cramped cabin, looking out at the sea. The light in their eyes was not the light of seeking enlightenment, but a fierce determination, like the desperate determination of a gambler betting their last chip.

They went to sea to take a gamble.

If you win, you'll enjoy wealth and honor, and return home in glory. If you lose, you'll simply end up as a fish's belly.

Some were boatmen on the ship.

Most of them were ordinary people, dressed in shorts and shirtless, moving back and forth in the ship's passageways, carrying ropes, moving cargo boxes, and wiping the deck.

Sweat streamed down their backs as they performed the most ordinary jobs for the meager wages.

They felt both awe and indifference towards the monks on the ship; awe for their magical power, indifference towards their lives. What did the monks' affairs have to do with them?

People's fates are not the same.

The middle deck of the ship housed non-monastic passengers.

Most of them were quite wealthy, dressed in silk, accompanied by servants, and their cabins were furnished with tea sets and calligraphy and paintings brought from home.

They weren't seeking enlightenment or risking their lives; they simply wanted to go to the other side of the South China Sea to do business, visit relatives, or simply see the outside world.

The tickets were expensive, and the cabins were booked through connections, but they were on the same ship as the monks, eating the same food, drinking the same water, and facing the same boundless sea.

They also felt superior to others, as if they were cultivators themselves.

When they disembark and meet their relatives and friends, they can boast that they traveled on the same ship as the monks.

Besides them, some people also sneaked up.

Those who were lucky blended in with the passengers and went unnoticed. Those who were unlucky were spotted by the ship's guards and taken to the lowest level of the cabin.

The lower level of the ship's cabin was not only a cargo hold, but also an altar.

The altar is located in the very center of the ship's cabin, made of famous bluestone, and carved with elements of the sea.

Around the altar were several small pools that connected to the seawater beneath the ship. Strangely, the seawater flowed silently within the pools, yet not a single drop overflowed the rim or seeped into the ship's cabin.

Those who illegally cross the border are taken to those pools. There is no trial, no defense, not even a superfluous word.

The guards each grabbed one of his arms, lifted him up, and tossed him into the churning sea like a bag of cargo.

The seawater swallowed him whole with a gurgling sound, without even a splash.

As "Sword" looked at these things, some familiar scenes surfaced in his mind, as if many, many years ago, he had also been on a boat like this, looking at all living beings like this.

It saw a large ship with white masts, sails billowing in the sea breeze, and warm sunlight shining on the deck.

It saw itself standing on the ship's side, holding onto the railing, looking at the distant sea.

Several female cultivators stood beside him, and they were smiling, their smiles were very beautiful.

I can't remember what I said, but I can recall the way I interrupted them, the playful tone...

She remembered the reproachful expressions of the female cultivators very clearly.

Then came more images. One after another, they came flooding out.

Some were drinking, some were admiring the moon, some were having late-night talks by candlelight in the cabin, and some more private, more enchanting scenes that should not be seen by outsiders surged up from the deepest part of their consciousness.

The sword sensed fear.

It swiftly returned to the gourd at Qi Fei's waist. Inside the gourd, the power left over from the Seven Illusion Sword Formation nourished it, making it feel as if it were a sword.

A conscious sword.

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