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

It took three whole days for the light to gradually fade.

The gourd's color also changed; it was no longer black, but a seven-colored gourd.

The sword flew through the air and plunged into the mouth of the gourd, disappearing without a sound.

At this point, the initial refinement of the "Sword-Nourishing Gourd" was completed. The rest was to keep it by one's side and nurture it with magic power every day, so that it would become more and more in harmony with one's mind and spirit.

Qi Fei picked up the gourd, and with a thought, the seven-colored light on the gourd slowly faded, turning it into an ordinary red gourd.

With another thought, it turned into a yellow gourd again.

With another thought, it transformed into a green gourd.

This gourd can switch between seven colors at will, according to his wishes.

Qi Fei, suddenly seized by a playful impulse, tossed the gourd back and forth in his palm.

The gourd changes color from yellow to green, then blue, then purple, just like a color-changing RGB light.

He was having a great time when suddenly a beam of light emerged from the gourd's mouth, extending more than three feet upwards. From within the light, eyebrows and eyes appeared—it was a "sword".

"Man," the sword said, "I have used the 'Seven Illusions Sword Formation' to refine this gourd with you. Now, I can go out with you and see this world."

Qi Fei looked at the ball of light, then at the gourd in his hand, and then at the Dao Ming Sword technique he had been practicing recently. A strange expression appeared on his face.

Okay, okay, I can cosplay Lu Ya Dao Ren now.

"What's wrong?" Jian asked, noticing Qi Fei's strange expression.

"It's nothing." Qi Fei put away the gourd and tied it to his waist. "What will happen to the Seven Illusion Sword Formation after you leave?"

"I am the Seven Illusion Sword Formation, and the Seven Illusion Sword Formation is me," the sword said matter-of-factly. "If I go with you, the Seven Illusion Sword Formation will naturally disappear from this place."

Qi Fei had already realized that he was in a very narrow cave.

There was only a patch of mud in front of him, no stone wall with the inscription "Dao Ming Sword" or any stone wall with the discussion between the two schools of sword cultivators.

The entire Daoming Cave is also an illusion created by the "Seven Illusion Sword Formation".

True and false, false and true.

Although the illusion is false, the Dao Ming Sword is real, the issues being debated by the two factions of sword cultivators on those stone walls are real, and the "sword" itself is real.

It is indeed a sword with its own consciousness.

Qi Fei walked out of the cave, where the mist in the mountains was dissipating.

The hazy, indistinct white mist that shrouded Nanshan Mountain year-round seemed to be peeled away layer by layer by an invisible hand, becoming thinner and thinner until it finally disappeared completely into the mountain wind.

Sunlight poured down from the clouds, shining on the bare stone walls, on the jagged rocks, and on the withered yellow grass.

Without the fog, Nanshan is just an ordinary mountain among the endless mountains on the border of the Great Yan.

Those who had once ventured into the pillar of light were now appearing in twos and threes among the mountains.

They opened their eyes in a daze and found themselves standing on real land, having somehow escaped the illusion.

Some people collapsed to the ground, some looked around blankly, some cried their hearts out, and some laughed foolishly.

In a short time, all sorts of people were in different states of mind.

Tong Daoren squatted under an old tree, reaching out to touch the rough bark, then grabbing a handful of soil and squeezing it in his hand, feeling the real, rough, and damp texture.

No more axes slipped from his waist, no more fairies emerged from the pond, and no more braised ducks chased him all over the mountains.

He raised his head, looked at the azure sky above, and murmured, "I'm out... I'm finally out."

God knows what kind of torment he suffered in that illusion.

Ruyan, on the other hand, looked like she wanted more.

She stood on a rock, glanced back in the direction of Nanshan, and muttered, "Just a little bit more... Damn it, just a little bit more and I'll get what I want."

She still fondly remembers that world with handsome men, white foxes, and braised duck.

Zhu Yixin, on the other hand, was a completely different person.

His eyes were bloodshot as he ran back and forth in the valley, sometimes roaring to the sky, sometimes pounding his chest and stamping his feet: "I'm going to become an immortal! I'm going to become an immortal!"

His voice echoed through the mountains, startling a flock of birds.

"I've already reached the Mahayana stage! I'm about to undergo my tribulation! I've gone through so many tribulations, how could this happen? How could this happen?"

He knelt before a rock, his hands braced against the ground, his fingernails digging into the soil, his voice hoarse as if squeezed from his throat:

"I don't believe it... I don't believe it! I'm a Mahayana cultivator! I'm a Mahayana cultivator!"

The immense contrast between his past as a powerful, resilient, and all-powerful Mahayana-stage ancestor and his current status as an ordinary cultivator who hadn't even entered the gate of cultivation drove him almost insane.

If no one acknowledges your efforts, it's all an illusion.

Sometimes, illusion doesn't cause pain; instead, it can be intoxicating.

But the truth is often the sharpest knife, causing immense pain.

Some people remained silent.

The Daoist Jujube stood alone on the hillside, holding his jujube wood walking stick. He looked around, found a relatively flat spot, and stuck the walking stick into the ground.

The walking stick took root and sprouted, growing into a jujube tree as thick as a bowl in no time. The branches and leaves rustled in the wind, as if whispering something.

The Daoist Jujube sat down against the tree trunk and looked up at the sky.

He just leaned there, motionless, lost in thought.

Qi Fei ignored the people in the mountains; he had an extremely important matter to attend to.

eat.

People are iron rice is steel.

Even those seeking immortality and enlightenment need to fill their stomachs.

He jogged down the mountain and headed straight for Nanshan Town, where he casually ordered two bowls of noodles.

He ate voraciously, wolfing down his food in a flash.

Anyone who has eaten dry rations for ten days straight would find a hot, soupy meal the most delicious thing in the world.

He was engrossed in finishing his second bowl of noodles when a shadow loomed over him.

Someone sat down opposite him.

Qi Fei looked up and saw it was Butterfly Prince.

The man was still the same, dressed in fine clothes, with a handsome face, and holding his signature folding fan. However, the ease he had shown when they first met was gone, replaced by a hint of inquiry.

"Have you received the inheritance from the Sword Immortal's Mansion?" Butterfly Prince asked bluntly.

Qi Fei raised an eyebrow, his chopsticks hovering in mid-air: "The legacy of the Sword Immortal's Mansion? What's that?"

The Butterfly Prince looked at him, seemingly trying to find some flaw in his face.

"It's all over Nanshan Town," he said. "Everyone's saying that Ghost Mountain is like this now because someone stole the inheritance of the Sword Immortal's Mansion."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Qi Fei's face.

"You think that person is me?" Qi Fei asked.

"That's right." Butterfly Prince's answer was crisp and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

Of all the people he had ever met, Qi Fei was the most mysterious.

If anyone can take away the inheritance of the Sword Immortal's Mansion, it must be Qi Fei.