9 Intimate Friends

Shen Yihan regretted his carelessness, but he knew it was already too late.

In the presence of so many disciples of the Kunwu Sword Sect, Mei Jin had already officially taken Xie Xiaofeng as his disciple.

...He could not exactly force Uncle Mei to go back on his word.

Moreover, Xie Xiaofeng had not yet revealed any flaws. To anyone watching, he appeared to be nothing more than a young disciple with exceptional talent. Even if there were some issues, he was perhaps just a bit arrogant and unyielding in victory—but then again, what is youth without a touch of madness? It could hardly be considered a major event.

Only Shen Yihan knew the truth: Uncle Mei had taken this disciple to pass on the "Sword of Benevolence," which sought to "show compassion to all living beings and love the world from above," yet he had ended up taking in a demon. This was truly...

He suddenly realized that the course of events had begun to diverge from what he had seen in his dream.

And all of this was because of him.

He knew that Yun Ran’s background was tangled. Having been orphaned from a young age, he was brought back to the Kunwu Sword Sect by his master, Mei Jin, who raised him personally and taught him the ways of cultivation. If anything were to happen to Mei Jin... Yun Ran, who regarded him as a father, would surely never know a moment’s peace.

...This development was not necessarily better than what he had seen in his dream.

It turned out that even if a mortal were lucky enough to glimpse the secrets of heaven and attempt to alter established destiny, it was not nearly as simple as it seemed.

*

Since Master Mei had taken a new disciple, he naturally had to call for his eldest disciple, Yun Ran, so the two "brothers" could meet—even though, in truth, the two had nearly become master and disciple themselves just moments ago.

Shen Yihan was wary of Xie Xiaofeng and could not rest easy letting Yun Ran go alone. After giving a few instructions to Yan Zixu to lead the disciples of the Miaoyin Sect back to the guest quarters, he followed Yun Ran.

There was more than just Mei Jin on the viewing platform; there was also a young sword cultivator in green robes, likely the one known as the Sword Lord of Changchun. There were others with varying levels of cultivation, and only one among them possessed a realm Shen Yihan could not discern—presumably, someone above him.

Though he had visited the Sword Sect to see his friend in the past, he rarely interacted with Yun Ran's peers and could not immediately identify who these people were. He only recognized the disciples who had brought Xie Xiaofeng up; they wore the attire of the Kunwu Sword Sect's Discipline Hall. Sure enough, upon seeing Yun Ran, those disciples immediately bowed and said, "Master Yun."

Mei Jin was beaming as he spoke with Xie Xiaofeng. Seeing Yun Ran arrive, he beckoned him over. "Ran'er, come here."

Before Yun Ran could step forward, the white-clad sword cultivator whose realm Shen Yihan could not discern spoke with a mocking smile, "Junior Brother Mei, you aren't even picky about taking in what your own disciple discarded? You truly aren't choosy. Aren't you afraid others will laugh at you, a master with no sense of propriety?"

The moment this man spoke, Shen Yihan remembered who he was.

This person seemed to be the very same Sword Lord Tiantong who had been at odds with the master-disciple pair of Mei Jin and Yun Ran for hundreds of years. Yun Ran’s inheritance of the Dengyang Sword had, in a way, been inextricably linked to this man.

Shen Yihan thought to himself, "How is this old fossil still not dead?"

Sword Lord Changchun smiled faintly. "Senior Lu, that is incorrect. Master Yun already explained that he did not take this young disciple only because their sword intents were incompatible; how can you say he was ‘discarded’? Besides, didn't you, Senior Lu, have the intention to take him in just now? It is only that the boy had already made up his mind to apprentice under Senior Mei."

Sword Lord Changchun was a rising star who had only formed his Nascent Soul in the last hundred years. Although he was the master of a peak, his status in the Kunwu Sword Sect was far below that of the various Sword Lords. While Chu Yuzhou and Yun Ran, or Tiantong and Mei Jin, could address each other as peers, he could only call them "Senior."

Sword Lord Tiantong sneered, "What place is this for you to interject?"

Hearing this, Sword Lord Changchun did not get angry; he simply offered a faint smile and fell silent.

Mei Jin sighed helplessly. "Tiantong, have you not had enough fun showing off your prestige? This is the seating area of Changchun Peak. To charge into someone else’s seat and forbid them from speaking—what kind of logic is that?"

Sword Lord Tiantong was about to retort when he suddenly felt a wave of sword pressure rushing toward him. His expression changed instantly. Without moving his feet, he bent his body backward, performing a "bridge of iron" to evade it. Even so, he could not withstand the force and staggered back several steps before finding his footing.

Yun Ran’s expression remained indifferent. "Sword Lord Lu, please return."

Shen Yihan had not felt his friend’s sword intent for a long time. Even though it had been just a fleeting moment, it left him deeply astonished—

Yun Ran was improving far too quickly.

Although he had been recognized as the "number one sword in the world" for a hundred years, that title owed something to the decline of talent in the cultivation world, where few sword cultivators beyond the Mahayana stage remained. Yet, Yun Ran was capable of challenging those who were an entire major realm higher than him, and his combat power was no match for theirs. It was easy to imagine that once he broke through to the Mahayana stage, he would be even stronger.

However, to force a Sword Lord of similar cultivation to embarrass himself in front of everyone using only sword pressure—that was something the Yun Ran of a hundred years ago could never have achieved. Moreover, Yun Ran hadn't even moved the horsetail whisk tucked in his arm.

Sword Lord Tiantong’s face turned ghastly. He glared at Yun Ran, then shot a fierce look at Mei Jin.

"Fine! If you are so capable, then see if your disciple can carry you to ascension in the future!"

With that, he turned around and flew off on his sword, seething with rage.

Shen Yihan watched, dumbstruck. Seeing him depart in a panicked retreat despite his initial bluster, he asked in surprise, "Uncle Mei, are you just going to let him leave like that?"

Mei Jin replied helplessly, "What else? He didn't actually do anything."

"You sword cultivators are truly strange..." the Sect Master muttered. "You fight to the death one day and sit together to watch the tournament the next... Even after such a scene, you still maintain the pretense of being harmonious fellow disciples."

"Sword Lord Tiantong has always been this way," Sword Lord Changchun said with a smile. "Besides, he is only posturing. He dares not truly cross swords with Master Yun. He is no longer Master Yun’s match, and even if he suffered a setback, he would have no ground to stand on when complaining to the Sect Leader."

Shen Yihan: "..."

The world of sword cultivators was truly simple: might makes right.

Mei Jin said, "Xiaofeng, greet your Senior Brother."

Only then did Shen Yihan remember he had come with Yun Ran to see Xie Xiaofeng. Xie Xiaofeng had been standing to the side, silent regarding the friction between the "elders." Now, granted permission by Mei Jin, he lowered his head with feigned docility. "Greetings, Senior Brother."

Yun Ran nodded.

Xie Xiaofeng looked up, his eyes filled with admiration. "That move Senior Brother used just now was so impressive! I have admired you for a long time. In the future, would you be willing to teach me?"

Shen Yihan felt nauseous listening to this. Watching this person act made him feel deeply uncomfortable, but he was constrained by the sect’s rules and could not reveal to Yun Ran right then and there that this person was a demon. He could only curse inwardly, "Demon cultivators are truly hypocritical!" He didn't even realize he was grinding his teeth.

Yun Ran turned his head to look at him. "...What is it?"

Shen Yihan was baffled. "What do you mean, ‘what is it’?"

Master Mei, unaware of what was happening between his disciples, finished speaking with Sword Lord Changchun and turned back with a smile. "Ran'er, Changchun and I will take your junior brother to the Hall of Affairs to record his name as a disciple of Chuixiu Peak. Didn't you say you had something for Xiaohan after the tournament today?"

*

Shen Yihan was very curious about what Yun Ran wanted to give him. However, he asked the entire way, and by the time they reached Dengyang Peak, he still had no answer.

Since the lineage of the Dengyang Sword had gone extinct, the peak had been left vacant for many years. It was only after Yun Ran became the successor of the Dengyang lineage that he moved from his master’s Chuixiu Peak to live here alone.

Dengyang Peak was tall and straight, piercing into the clouds. The mountain was sparse in vegetation and filled with jagged rocks. If one had to call it scenery, perhaps it was only the maple forest next to Yun Ran’s cave dwelling, which turned a brilliant, golden yellow in autumn. Apart from Yun Ran, only a few cleaning acolytes lived on the peak, but they stayed at the foot of the mountain and never came up to disturb him.

Shen Yihan had visited Yun Ran’s residence many times and was very familiar with it. Cultivators usually lived in cave dwellings because they were better at gathering spiritual energy. The dwelling on Dengyang Peak was large, but living alone, it inevitably felt very empty.

Whenever Shen Yihan visited in the past, finding the dwelling lacking in human warmth, he had moved things over as if he were moving house: rosewood treasure cabinets, double-sided water-embroidered screens, purple-gold sword racks commissioned from master craftsmen to maintain spiritual swords... and even golden birdcages for keeping spirit beasts... In short, everything—useful or useless, spiritual or mundane—was mixed together.

Many of these were things Sect Master Shen cherished; he had felt like he was cutting off a piece of his own flesh to give them away. Only later did he realize that his friend truly had little use for them.

The treasure cabinet—his friend did not like collecting trinkets like he did. The screen—living alone in this cave, it served no purpose as a partition, and it looked unsightly standing there bare. The sword rack—Master Yun had only one sword, Hengwu, which he hadn't drawn from its sheath in decades. The golden birdcage—that was even more abstract; it was impossible to imagine what kind of spirit beast could share a home with Yun Ran, a man whose sword was stained with countless demonic souls, and still be able to eat and sleep...

The treasures Sect Master Shen had painfully parted with had become a pile of junk on Dengyang Peak, and yet Yun Ran would not allow him to take them back.

"Once you give it to me, it is mine," Master Yun would say.

Shen Yihan: "..."

And so, the former treasures of the Sect Master were left to gather dust in the cave, making him feel a deep sense of regret every time he saw them.

Looking at his friend, who flipped through his storage bag only to find two sets of spare clothes and a few bottles of healing pills... Shen Yihan found it hard to imagine what Yun Ran could possibly have that required such a solemn presentation.

Could it be another treasure of heaven and earth?

Shen Yihan entered the cave and saw nothing. Not to mention novel items, the place was exactly as it had been decades ago; even the decorations hadn't changed.

"What exactly do you want to give me..."

"Sit."

Shen Yihan looked down and realized that Yun Ran had somehow prepared two meditation cushions in the center of the cave, right at their feet. Yun Ran sat down in a cross-legged position first. Shen Yihan was confused, but he had no choice but to sit down with him.

Immediately after, he saw Yun Ran form a seal, close his eyes, and chant something. A drop of blood-red light, as if dripping with fresh blood, slowly emerged from the vermillion mark between Yun Ran’s brows and flew toward Shen Yihan.

Shen Yihan’s pupils constricted as he felt something enter his consciousness—

It was a tiny seed.

In the blink of an eye, Shen Yihan felt as if he had experienced a thousand changes of heart: the ignorance of first entering the Dao, the trepidation of holding Hengwu for the first time, the joy of comprehending sword intent... the relief of avenging a great hatred, the arrogance of overcoming the strong with the weak, the lonely courage in the face of desperation, and the enlightenment of finding life within death...

Shen Yihan’s body began to tremble uncontrollably. He was not bearing memories, but something vast, something a hundred times more complex than mere memory. His consciousness had never received such a massive amount of information—it was a shock, and even more, a torment.

A painful groan escaped Shen Yihan’s throat. He uncontrollably tried to form a seal to force that small "seed" out of his mind.

But Yun Ran gripped his hands tightly.

"Don't," he said, looking at Shen Yihan. "You must watch carefully."

Amidst the intense pain, Shen Yihan looked into a pair of dark, deep eyes and finally understood:

That was Yun Ran’s Dao of the Sword—a cold, silent sword heart that had been tempered for a thousand years.