Chapter 5: The Malevolent Wind

Chapter 5

That was a bit too modest.

Chu Yuzhou’s cultivation was at the early stage of the Transformation Spirit realm, while Yun Ran had already reached the peak of the Minor Completion realm, surpassing him by a full major level. Moreover, the two were not true disciples of the same sect, their spiritual energies stemming from different sources. It was perfectly normal for Chu Yuzhou to feel uncomfortable.

What was truly abnormal was Master Shen’s seeming nonchalance.

Shen Yihan was no fool; he clearly understood the situation and cast a glance at Yun Ran, only to see his friend ignoring him as if the protective aura just now had been a mere illusion.

Yun Ran was always like this, and Shen Yihan was already accustomed to it, giving it no further thought.

Helan Ting had been rid of the soul-devouring parasite, but he had yet to regain consciousness.

According to the dream’s unfolding, Yun Ran would have taken the youth back to his own peak to accept him as a disciple. But now, with Shen Yihan involved, he did not bring Helan Ting along when he departed. Instead, he temporarily entrusted him to Chu Yuzhou, the Sword Sect’s leader.

Chu Yuzhou found nothing amiss since, although Yun Ran had saved Helan Ting, it was effectively the Kunwu Sword Sect’s rescue. Chu Yuzhou was known to be solitary and without disciples, likely not very adept at caring for juniors. It made sense for young Master Helan to remain on his Qingsiao Peak.

Helan Ting, however, was reluctant.

Upon awakening, as Yun Ran and Shen Yihan prepared to leave, he hurried out of his room, calling after them, “Yun… Yun Zhenren!”

Hearing this, Yun Ran and Shen Yihan turned around and saw Helan Ting trailing behind. Having just rid himself of the soul parasite, his mind was not fully in control. His body, just traversed by the far stronger spiritual forces of several elders, was pale as death.

“Senior Yun… do you… do you no longer want me?”

Shen Yihan’s heart instantly alarmed. He thought, luckily he had arrived in time to stop this—otherwise, before even entering the sect, Helan Ting was already saying things like “You no longer want me?” What would be next—“Please Master, love me”?

Master Shen shuddered inwardly at his own wild and sudden thoughts.

All because Chang Ge Xiao was always out indulging in mischief, filling his head with all sorts of improper stories.

“Master Helan, it’s better for you to stay on Qingsiao Peak with Master Chu looking after you. Once the sects receive the news, they will find the true culprit and restore justice to your Helan family,” Shen Yihan said.

Helan Ting said nothing, only looking toward Yun Ran, clearly waiting for a direct reply.

Yun Ran said, “Take good care of yourself, Master Helan.”

At his words, the light in Helan Ting’s eyes dimmed. His lips trembled as he said after a long pause, “Thank you, Master Yun, for saving me. If I ever have the chance in the future… I will surely repay your kindness.”

Yun Ran merely nodded and said no more.

Watching from the side, Shen Yihan thought bitterly: You needn’t repay me in any way, just don’t collude with demonic cultivators to slander and frame him, causing him to be expelled from the sect and betrayed by all—that would be more than enough.

After bidding farewell to Helan Ting, the three—Yun Ran, Shen Yihan, and his disciple—left Qingsiao Peak together.

Since reaching the Minor Completion realm, Yun Ran could tread the void and ride the wind without needing his sword.

His lifelong spirit sword, “Hengwu,” had not been drawn for many years. Even in combat, he mostly wielded just a dust whisk, sparing Hengwu from wear.

Shen Yihan, still at the late Nascent Soul stage, relied on his magical instrument.

His instrument, called “Luan Yuan,” was actually an heirloom from his parents, composed of two parts: the “Luan” flute carved by his mother, and the “Yuan” sword forged by his father.

Combined, they formed a delicate and translucent purple jade flute-sword.

Although elegant and refined, capable of summoning spiritual melodies, it concealed a lethal edge.

Walking alongside Yun Ran—who soared on the wind—Shen Yihan wielded Luan Yuan. They maintained nearly the same pace, moving side by side through drifting breezes and scattered clouds.

Their leisurely pace allowed Yan Zixu, trailing behind, to breathe a sigh of relief—only by flying slowly could he barely keep up with Master Shen and Master Yun.

“I haven’t been to your sect in a long time, nor visited your master. Before going to your place, I should first pay him a visit,” Yun Ran said.

“That’s a good idea. My master recently asked about you and seemed quite concerned,” Shen Yihan replied.

Yun Ran’s teacher was one of the Seventeen Sword Lords, heir to the “Compassionate Grace Sword,” surnamed Mei, given name Jin.

The “Compassionate Grace Sword” lineage was as the name suggests—emphasizing mercy for all living beings and benevolence toward humanity.

The first Sword Lord who mastered this sword path sought to protect mortals, thus its sword intent was less about killing and more about kindness. Among the Seventeen Swords of Kunwu, its power ranked at the lower end.

Yun Ran was clearly the heir to the “Rising Sun Sword,” yet his own sword, Hengwu, bore none of the Rising Sun’s fierce and domineering intent. This was because Hengwu was bestowed upon him by Master Mei Jin before Yun Ran received the Rising Sun Sword inheritance.

“How has Uncle Mei been recently?”

“Everything is as usual. Master doesn’t like to go out and spends most of his time tending flowers and plants on Chuixiu Peak. But…”

“Still haven’t found a suitable junior disciple to his liking?” Shen Yihan smiled. “That’s perfect. The sect’s grand competition is coming soon. You can use that chance to select, and I can help Uncle Mei keep an eye out.”

Since Yun Ran inherited the Rising Sun Sword and established his own sect, Mei Jin had to find a new heir for the Compassionate Grace Sword. Though genial in appearance, Mei Jin was extremely discerning and had searched for centuries without success.

As they chatted, they arrived at Chuixiu Peak.

This peak was not imposing, but its location was splendid—facing the sun and receiving the best light in the Kunwu Mountains.

True to its name, the peak was adorned with graceful greenery and shade, evergreen throughout the seasons.

Mei Jin loved tending flowers and plants. In early spring, Chuixiu Peak was vibrant: every five steps, verdant greens glistened; every ten steps, brilliant purples and reds bloomed, full of life, lifting the spirit.

Mei Jin had already sensed their presence. Seeing Shen Yihan and his own disciple arrive together, he showed no surprise and smiled, “Thanks to you, child, if you hadn’t come, even I as master might not see my good disciple all year.”

Mei Jin’s appearance was unremarkable—ordinary features—but altogether formed a kindly and benevolent countenance. Though appearing just a little over thirty, his speech carried the warmth and gentleness of a venerable elder.

Yan Zixu had heard of Mei Jin.

He was said to be the former master’s maternal grandfather and an old friend of the late Sect Master Shen. The latter often brought his grandson to the sword sect to visit friends, which was how the master met young Yun Ran.

Mei Jin was unquestionably a respected elder, even to the current master.

As Yan Zixu pondered this, his master and Mei Jin chatted happily before pulling him over to introduce him with lavish praise, causing him considerable embarrassment.

Yun Ran watched Shen Yihan proudly praising his own disciple, but his eyes darkened slightly.

Mei Jin, perceptive and delicate, looked at his own disciple then back to Shen Yihan and Yan Zixu, smiling gently.

“He is indeed a rare and good child, yet still too young. He needs elder guidance and careful nurturing, much experience, so he may mature in time.”

“I’ve heard about your failure to breakthrough,” Yun Ran said to Shen Yihan. “Cultivation is like rowing against the current—the further you go, the harder it becomes. No progress means retreat. One failure should not dishearten you. Just keep trying. Your talent is not bad. Your earnest attempts at Transformation Spirit in just over a hundred years mean you still have a chance. Why lose heart?”

“Master’s words are right,” Shen Yihan replied.

Feeling their gaze upon him, Shen Yihan found it amusing yet vexing. He scratched his nose, about to explain, then thought better of it.

Though friends, their temperaments had always differed. Over the years as Yun Ran advanced astonishingly on the path, Shen Yihan remained a salted fish.

Under pressure from his senior uncle, Yun Ran, and others, his century-long secluded attempt had been disappointing, wasting precious years. He now regretted it deeply and felt it better to enjoy life rather than sit idly in his cave.

He understood this himself, but telling Yun Ran would surely confuse his stubborn friend, who might wrinkle his brow in frustration.

Moreover, he had glimpsed the future through a heavenly secret.

In that dream, he never appeared because he was in seclusion. When his friend was framed and betrayed, he could do nothing. Calculations showed that by then, he had probably given up and died in silence.

Now, returning to seclusion was impossible.

Better to use these last decades of life to help his friend.

In the end, Shen Yihan never explained, only laughed it off.

Yun Ran looked at him as if to say something but held back.

*

After returning from Chuixiu Peak, Shen Yihan intended to take Yan Zixu to visit Yun Ran’s Dengyang Peak. However, after leaving Mei Jin, the atmosphere between them turned awkward.

Yun Ran said nothing. Shen Yihan knew his friend could not understand why he gave up the breakthrough and thought it better to wait until Yun Ran came to terms himself.

So they did not go to Dengyang Peak, returning to the guesthouse with Yan Zixu.

Two days later came the grand competition among Kunwu Sword Sect’s peak disciples.

During these days, Yun Ran did not come to see him. Shen Yihan guessed his friend was still upset about his refusal to listen. Knowing Yun Ran, he probably had more plans to persuade him and was not giving up easily. Shen Yihan was in no hurry and simply waited to see how things unfolded.

Ultimately, Shen Yihan did not consider it a big deal. What truly concerned him was that dream.

The little boy who guided them up the mountain had promised to find someone for him. Sure enough, a Kunwu disciple came to see him the day before the competition.

“A cleaning disciple?”

“Yes,” the boy nodded. “I’ve already asked around. Among the competition candidates this year, only one named Xie Xiaofeng fits. He is currently cleaning the Sword Performance Hall, has no master, and is said to have signed up for the competition because the Sword Lords will choose heirs from the outstanding disciples.”

Kunwu Sword Sect had no division of inner and outer gates, only distinctions of having or lacking master’s lineage. Without a master, a disciple could not obtain cultivation resources allocated by the sect for each peak.

Though places like the Sword Scripture Pavilion, the Performance Hall, and Kunwu Sword Gorge were open to all disciples, without official resources, life was hard, forcing them to do odd jobs for pay.

Furthermore, though cultivation at later stages was mostly individual, having a master to guide one’s entry was still crucial. Especially with sword inheritance—a heavenly opportunity—many disciples were desperate to earn good standing in the competition.

Hearing this, Shen Yihan said nothing but his eyes grew cold and wary.

Xie Xiaofeng—

Should he call him Xie Xiaofeng, or the Demon Lord Feng Xie?

Who would have thought that Feng Xie, infamous over a thousand years ago for his atrocities—slaughtering entire cities to perform sacrificial rites and striking terror into the righteous world—would, after reincarnation, swallow his pride and lie low in the Kunwu Sword Sect for years as a mere cleaning disciple?

It seemed that using the “Rising Sun Sword” heir as a forge was indeed irresistibly attractive to such demonic cultivators…

He would find a way to meet this disciple first.