The night was deep and silent, the valley filled only with the sound of wind rustling through bamboo leaves.
Fang Xuan sat cross-legged on the newly tidied bamboo bed, slowly circulating his spirit power according to his cultivation method.
This was the first time he had properly practiced his original body's technique since transmigrating, mainly to familiarize himself with the way spirit power flowed through this body and to see if he could absorb a bit of the world's spiritual energy at night.
The result was... mediocre.
After all, he was already at the Half-Step Void Core, so such basic qi-guiding methods had an almost negligible effect on his cultivation growth, serving more to calm his mind.
【Zishi has arrived! Beginning the daily mission settlement and reward distribution...】
Fang Xuan immediately opened his eyes, feeling a sense of anticipation.
【Settlement complete.】
【Analysis of today's training behavior:】
【1. Successfully received items gifted by the master and expressed gratitude and appreciation, conforming to the etiquette of a loyal subordinate receiving the master’s favor.】
【2. Successfully obtained permission to reside in close proximity to the master, creating a more convenient environment for service.】
【Overall Rating: Today’s training progress has advanced slowly, but basic environmental construction is acceptable.】
【Based on the training value conversion rate, reward issued: 0.02 fragments of a spirit bun.】
【Please reflect on today's performance, host, and continue to work hard tomorrow to strive for deeper interaction and service!】
Fang Xuan: "..."
He stared at the pathetic crumbs of the bun in his consciousness space, which were even fewer than yesterday.
He felt a tightness in his chest...
0.02 fragments of a bun?
Was there any point in living like this? He couldn't go on.
0.02... it wouldn't even get stuck in his teeth.
He sighed and resignedly withdrew the bun crumbs from the system space, tossing them into his mouth.
Well, it was still that same pure spirit power, just in too small a quantity.
It felt like taking a sip of plain water diluted with spiritual energy; his cultivation didn't budge an inch.
"Forget it, even mosquito legs are still meat..."
He comforted himself, treating it as a late-night snack.
He let out a wide yawn as drowsiness washed over him.
"It’s a long and difficult path... sleep first, fight again tomorrow."
He muttered to himself and soon drifted off to sleep.
In his dreams, countless plump, white spirit buns swirled around him.
Ning Xian stood to the side, holding a whip and watching coldly... it was all a mess.
.......
The next morning.
Fang Xuan got up groggily and pushed open the window.
The morning light was faint, and the mist in the valley had not yet dissipated.
On the open ground not far away, Ning Xian was already up and practicing her sword.
Fang Xuan rose and washed up.
He splashed his face with icy stream water, fully waking himself up.
He didn't bother Ning Xian, instead walking to an open spot in the bamboo forest a bit further from the bamboo hut.
The pitch-black ancient sword now lay quietly in his hand.
He hadn't had a chance to test it properly since getting it. After all, it was a top-tier holy weapon; it would be a lie to say he wasn't excited. Now was the perfect time.
He first recalled the sword techniques from his original body's memory that the direct descendants of the Fang family were required to learn.
Taking a deep breath, Fang Xuan gripped the hilt and slowly injected his spirit power.
By the time he forced himself through a complete set of sword forms, beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. The sword was too heavy.
"As expected..."
Fang Xuan withdrew his sword momentum and gently stroked the blade.
Though it was currently sealed, its foundation was there.
Moreover, this feeling of "heavy swords having no edge, great skill requiring no carving" suited his taste perfectly.
He remembered the scattered descriptions of this sword in the original novel.
This ancient sword, later known as "Oblivion," had shaken the heavens and earth in Ning Xian's hands.
The original work mentioned its characteristic in a single word—hard!
It wasn't sharp, it wasn't nimble, and it didn't contain any laws or divine abilities; it was just hard to the absolute extreme.
So hard that it could ignore most divine ability barriers and shatter artifacts of the same or even higher rank.
It was incredibly overbearing.
It fit Ning Xian's great love personality in the later stages very well...
......
At the thought of this, Fang Xuan smiled indifferently. Not only was he not disappointed, but he felt even more excited.
He liked things that were simple and crude, and he planned to call it his little brother from now on.
He hoped it would be as unyielding as his own little brother, though that might be a high bar...
After all, his own little brother was invincible under heaven.
.......
After testing the sword, Fang Xuan checked the time; it was time for class.
As a newly initiated direct disciple, he had to go to the Sword-Honing Hall near the main hall of Sword Peak every day for the first month to listen to lectures.
He would learn the sect's history, rules, basic knowledge, and general theories on cultivation.
This was a tradition of the Qingyun Sect, designed to let new disciples integrate quickly and solidify their foundation, usually lasting over half a month.
He called out to Ning Xian, who was still practicing her sword: "Senior Sister, I'm heading to the Sword-Honing Hall."
Ning Xian stopped her movements, wiped her sweat, and nodded. "Mhm, be careful on the way."
She paused, then added, "If anyone makes things difficult for you like yesterday... you don't have to endure it. Your senior sister will back you up..."
She had clearly heard about the incident on the mountain path yesterday, though she likely only knew half the story.
Fang Xuan smiled. "Don't worry, Senior Sister, I know what I'm doing."
.......
Stepping onto the path to the main hall again, Fang Xuan clearly felt that the gazes around him had changed.
When the inner disciples saw him, it was no longer just simple awe; their eyes held many complex emotions.
Although their whispers were kept low, Fang Xuan's hearing allowed him to catch some of it:
"Look, Senior Brother Fang is here..."
"I heard he was punished by Peak Lord Shen yesterday. Two months of resources are gone, and he has to go be with that Ning Xian..."
"Really? It's only his second day since initiation, right? That’s too miserable..."
"It was probably Senior Sister Shen who... Sigh, let's talk less about it. This senior brother strikes quite hard..."
"Being punished on the very first day, his life on Sword Peak probably won't be easy from now on..."
"Shh, he’s looking over..."
Fang Xuan swept an indifferent gaze over them, and the disciples who were whispering instantly fell silent as if they were cicadas in winter.
They lowered their heads and hurried away.
Fang Xuan sneered in his heart.
It seemed news traveled fast. Shen Qingqing probably did quite a bit to spread the word about him being punished and sent to suffer at Ning Xian's place.
Was she trying to use public opinion to suppress him and isolate him?
Childish.
He didn't care to deal with these flies and walked straight to the Sword-Honing Hall located behind and to the side of the Hidden Edge Hall.
This was a rather spacious hall, arranged like a classroom with dozens of cushions laid out.
At this moment, twenty or thirty new disciples had already arrived. Inner and outer disciples were sitting in clearly demarcated areas.
When Fang Xuan walked in, especially when they saw the green sword tassel at his waist, all eyes instantly focused on him.
Curiosity, scrutiny, envy, jealousy... all sorts of looks were present.
Fang Xuan remained expressionless, finding a cushion near the front but not in the center to sit down. He closed his eyes to rest, shutting out those gazes.
Before long, a stern-faced middle-aged cultivator wearing deacon robes walked in.
His gaze swept across the room, lingering for a brief moment on Fang Xuan before he began today's lecture.
"Today, I shall speak of the foundation of our Qingyun Sect and the primary importance of our sect's rules and precepts..."
His voice was resonant, but the content was quite dry.
It was nothing more than how brilliant the founding ancestor of the Qingyun Sect was, how successive generations of predecessors had blazed trails through hardships to establish the foundation in the Southern Wilderness.
And how strict the sect rules were, how disciples should respect their teachers, unite with their fellow disciples, and slay demons and monsters.
Fang Xuan found it tedious and began to meditate, drawing qi into his body.
The deacon giving the lecture seemed to notice his lack of attention, but after glancing at his direct disciple sword tassel, he ultimately said nothing.
Direct disciples had their own masters to teach them; coming to these lectures was more of a formality.
The hour-long morning lesson ended quickly.
The deacon announced the end of the session, and the disciples rose one after another.
Fang Xuan also prepared to leave and return to continue his great training enterprise.
But he had only taken a few steps out of the Sword-Honing Hall when a deliberately delicate voice rang out from behind him:
"Junior Brother Fang, please wait."
Fang Xuan's footsteps paused. He didn't turn around, but a cold sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.
What was meant to come had finally arrived...
Rate on N.U.
