This time, Fang Xuan gripped his little brother and attempted to condense his sword momentum once more.
Having learned his lesson and armed with the special suspended grip Ning Xian had taught him, he no longer acted recklessly.
He calmed his heart and stilled his breathing.
The blade remained silent, devoid of spiritual light, but that heart-palpitating, malevolent intent seemed to have settled considerably.
Fang Xuan carefully guided that cold sword momentum along the length of the blade.
"Shhh—"
A sharp sound of air being sliced through echoed, significantly more pronounced than before.
In the direction the sword tip pointed, a withered branch the thickness of a thumb three zhang away snapped, the cut clean and even.
It worked, and the sword hadn't flown out of his hand.
Fang Xuan let out a long sigh of relief, feeling his palm still slightly numb; after all, the recoil force of this sword was still present.
But compared to that terrifying sensation of almost being blown away last time, this was much better.
Furthermore... condensing sword momentum seemed particularly easy for him. Was he truly some kind of natural genius?
However, compared to Ning Xian’s effortless display of sword intent, he was still a long way off.
He practiced several more times until the aching numbness in his arm accumulated into discomfort before he finally stopped.
Every successful activation of sword momentum was accompanied by that recoil; while bearable, it was truly exhausting.
"If it makes me numb, it'll make others even more so."
He shook his arm and looked at the quiet black sword, suddenly breaking into a grin.
In the future, even if he couldn't land a direct hit during a fight, this recoil force alone would be enough to give his opponent a hard time.
He found a clean, soft cloth and carefully wiped down the blade.
Then he sheathed the sword and put it away solemnly.
By the time he finished, the sky had already begun to darken.
After a long day of labor, Master Fang finally got to eat his spirit bun.
Fang Xuan rubbed his hands together and retrieved the reward from the system space—a whole, large spirit bun! It was still warm.
Hehehe...
He took a bite.
It was the familiar texture—soft and slightly sweet, much more satisfying than mere crumbs.
Pure and gentle spiritual power spread through his body like a warm current, eventually flowing into his dantian.
It pushed his cultivation, already at the Half-Step Void Core, toward the barrier once again.
Although he didn't break through immediately, he could feel the barrier loosening further, and his spiritual power becoming more condensed.
Delicious, simply delicious.
While the system rewards were a bit odd, the effects of this bun were undeniably good.
He just didn't know when he would save up enough to reach the Void Core Realm...
Well, it all depended on effort. The buns would come, and so would the Void Core.
After finishing his extra meal, the sky had turned completely dark.
Fang Xuan returned to his bamboo hut, sat cross-legged on a prayer mat, and began his daily meditation.
Although the buns provided a fast track for improvement, he couldn't neglect his own cultivation; his foundation had to be solid.
A Half-Step Void Core was not a true Void Core after all.
The Void Core Realm was the critical transition from foundation establishment to the Golden Core Realm, requiring one to highly compress liquid spiritual power to form an illusory core seed within the dantian.
Whether it was the total amount of spiritual power, its purity, or the recovery speed, there would be a qualitative leap.
He had to break through as soon as possible to have enough strength to handle the upcoming troubles.
.......
Night shrouded the valley.
In the other bamboo hut, Ning Xian was not resting; she was also meditating to regulate her breathing.
The medicinal power of the Nine-Revolution Soul-Restoring Pill continued to work, and combined with her hidden bloodline traits, it was reshaping her spirit bone.
She examined her internal state, but the expression on her face grew increasingly solemn.
She had discovered that deep within the hideous wound on her back where the spirit bone had been excavated, there were actually strands of new bone growth, translucent as jade and emitting a faint golden glow.
How was this possible...
Having one's spirit bone stolen was an almost irreversible, devastating injury.
Even with top-tier pills to sustain life and heal wounds, one could at most preserve a portion of their cultivation. The idea of regrowing a spirit bone was unheard of.
Unless... that pill was not an ordinary holy medicine for healing at all.
She thought of Fang Xuan—the junior brother who had suddenly appeared, saved her, gifted her the pill, and then naturally moved into her valley.
Just what... was his background?
He could casually produce such an unheard-of miraculous medicine, and the sword talent he displayed was also terrifyingly powerful.
Ning Xian's heart sank slightly.
Although Fang Xuan had only shown kindness so far and could even be called her savior, she still couldn't trust him too much...
She would just consider it... as if she owed him...
.......
She thought of her current situation again.
When she first entered the Qingyun Sect, because of her unique identity, she had been subjected to a restriction barrier within the ancestral lands.
It was precisely because of this restriction that she hadn't resisted the order to have her bone excavated.
In this life... she had already been disheartened, planning to drag her broken body along and finish her remaining days in this secluded valley.
But Fang Xuan's appearance and her reshaped foundation had caused ripples in the still water of her heart.
Sacrificing a bit of her lifespan, she activated a secret technique.
The Aura-Sensing Art.
It wasn't a combat spell but a fringe technique that allowed one to vaguely glimpse another's luck, destiny, and even causal connections.
The price was immense, so she had almost never used it.
She turned her gaze toward the neighboring bamboo hut where a faint candle flickered.
Looking through the walls, she watched the meditating Fang Xuan.
In her eyes, Fang Xuan was enveloped in a layer of clear, silver-white aura—condensed and pure, a sign of extraordinary talent and rising luck.
Within it, there was even a hint of noble purple belonging to a direct descendant of a great family.
This wasn't surprising; it matched his performance and status.
But when she looked at the "fate line" connecting herself and Fang Xuan, she froze.
Fate lines usually reflected the nature and depth of a relationship between two people.
For those with deep grudges, the fate line would be as black as ink.
For blood relatives or life-and-death friends, the line might appear pale gold.
For ordinary relationships, it would be colorless or a very faint gray.
But the fate line connecting her and Fang Xuan...
Was actually a faint... pink.
Ning Xian: "...?"
She blinked, thinking she had misseen or that the Aura-Sensing Art had malfunctioned.
Another sliver of her lifespan burned away as she focused her vision again.
It was correct; it was indeed pink.
Though it was very faint, it truly existed.
It looked like the color of early spring peach petals, entwined between her and Fang Xuan's destiny and luck.
Pink... what did that represent?
For the first time, a look of obvious bewilderment appeared on Ning Xian's cold face.
She was well-read and knowledgeable, yet she had never seen pink used to describe a fate line connection in any ancient text.
No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't understand it...
She could only withdraw her gaze and terminate the Aura-Sensing Art.
Her face grew even paler due to the loss of her lifespan.
.......
She still needed to test him a few more times...
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