Chapter 29: Easy to Dodge an Open Spear, Hard to Defend Against a Hidden Arrow
In the soft evening breeze of Changchun Peak, Meng Xueli led his two disciples to choose their lodgings.
The eldest disciple, Ji Xiao, was placed in the courtyard right next to Meng Xueli’s, separated by only a wall. Meng Xueli thought with some satisfaction that the kid seemed rather attached to him—he must have already accepted and embraced him. But Meng Xueli also felt slightly troubled. Perhaps he should set up an isolating array between the two courtyards? Cultivators had keen senses, and any noise would easily reach each other, which could be rather awkward.
As for himself, he didn’t mind—he’d seen all sorts of things. He only worried that the young one might be shy.
The second disciple, Yu Qishu, stayed in a small pavilion by the stream just outside the peach grove. Meng Xueli had told him it was the closest spot to the Sword Sovereign’s secluded meditation chamber, where he could possibly absorb a bit of celestial energy.
After such an emotionally charged day, Yu Qishu felt a bit tired. Watching the shadows of the trees swaying in front of the western window, he slowly drifted off to sleep to the gentle sound of the stream and the soft light of the moon.
He didn’t know how long he had been sleeping when he suddenly heard a faint rustling near his ear. Groggily, he opened his eyes and felt a slight tickling sensation on his neck. Reflexively, he reached out to scratch it and found something soft and furry.
With a jolt, he snapped awake.
In his palm was a little money mouse, about the size of a teacup. It was a light, soft bundle with smooth, glossy fur in a pattern of gray and white, with round, shiny black eyes staring up at him.
One person and one mouse stared at each other with wide eyes.
The golden rat was one of seven raised by Meng Xueli in the peach blossom grove. They fed on fallen flowers under the trees, were gentle and unusually fond of cleanliness.
Yu Qishu thought, perhaps it had come to the stream to groom itself with the others but got left behind somehow and ended up sneaking into his bedding. Luckily, he slept without much tossing and turning.
Yu Qishu lifted the little mouse up, saying, “You’re beautiful, and white, too.”
The mouse flailed in panic, squeaking, “Squeak squeak squeak?”
Yu Qishu glanced at the still-dark sky and laughed, “I get it; you’re here to wake me up.”
The cold, dry climate of Han Shan and the comfort of a warm bed made getting up a test of sheer willpower. Back at the lecture hall, he had a habit of sleeping in, often missing morning study sessions.
Yet on his first morning here at Changchun Peak, it felt as though he had returned to his southern homeland, waking up before dawn without struggle.
The sun had not yet risen; the dark blue sky still held the fading moon in the west, while a white mist hovered between the mountain forests. Yu Qishu made his way up the steps.
All paths on Changchun Peak were like this—winding yet not steep, every step revealing a new view, as though intentionally designed but still in harmony with nature’s beauty.
The little mouse peeked out of his chest pocket, eyes half-closed, enjoying the morning breeze in its fur. When he passed by the peach grove, Yu Qishu set the mouse down. “Go back home now.”
The mouse nuzzled his fingertip before turning and scampering back into the sea of flowers, disappearing in a flash.
The observation platform was at the mountain’s summit. Changchun Peak’s highest point was lofty but not harsh.
When he climbed the last stone step, the wide-open sky rushed into view. Above him was a faint halo of light, like an upturned giant glass bowl—the dim glow of the “Eternal Spring Formation” in operation.
Clouds rolled in waves; the snow-covered peaks of Han Shan emerged and disappeared, their tops like sharp, unsheathed swords glinting coldly.
In the vastness of the earth and sky, everything became clear and open.
So, this “observation platform” wasn’t a mere stone terrace or a pavilion overlooking the sea of clouds.
The entire mountaintop of Changchun Peak was a vast, flat grassland. Yu Qishu estimated it was big enough for horse riding.
“You’re here,” Meng Xueli sat on the soft grass, holding a cloth bag and eating snacks, with dewdrops clinging to his hair.
Yu Qishu snapped back to reality, exclaiming, “No way, you’re here so early, sitting out in the chill?”
“Early? It’s barely dawn,” Meng Xueli handed him a piece of peach blossom cake.
As he ate, Yu Qishu mused. And they said it was a lesson—of course, it was to see the sunrise.
“This place isn’t really called the observation platform, is it?”
Meng Xueli replied vaguely, “We just call it the observation platform; my Dao companion made it. He flattened it with one strike.”
Yu Qishu closed his eyes, picturing it: a flash of sword light among the clouds, the earth shaking, massive rocks crumbling, the mountain peak leveled. He couldn’t help but shiver.
The day Ji Xiao brought Meng Xueli back to Changchun Peak, Meng Xueli had seen the tall trees, lush with foliage, obscuring the view.
He enjoyed the shade of the trees but yearned for a small platform with an unobstructed, expansive view of the starry sky. Yet, thinking he might be asking too much, he murmured softly, “If it’s too much trouble, don’t worry about it. The rooftop is fine, too.”
Ji Xiao had thought for a moment, then replied, “It’s no trouble.”
Meng Xueli had gratefully bowed, “Thank you, Zhenren!”
Meng Xueli reminisced and sighed softly. Then he stood up, taking two steps back, and said, “Don’t eat too much; draw your sword.”
Yu Qishu was startled, “You’re serious?”
He knew Meng Xueli was skilled—after all, he had witnessed him defeat Zhou Wu—but he didn’t have a clear sense of Meng Xueli’s true prowess.
Seeing Meng Xueli assume a stance piqued his curiosity. So, with a tap on his storage bag, he summoned his sword, “Willow by the Pool.”
The flexible sword unsheathed, its thin, pliable blade swayed in the morning breeze.
Yu Qishu asked, “Where’s your sword?”
Meng Xueli smiled. “I don’t need one. We won’t use spiritual power, only exchanging techniques as if we were ordinary martial artists.”
Yu Qishu nodded and grinned. “Alright, but remember, you can’t use your cultivation to suppress me just because you’re stronger. Back at home, I practiced basic sword forms, grappling techniques, and the twenty-four moves of hand-to-hand combat… Be careful, Master!”
The words barely left his mouth before his sword shot forward, aiming to catch Meng Xueli off guard. Yet, fearing he might actually hurt his friend, he held back, using only seventy percent of his strength.
Yu Qishu saw that Meng Xueli hadn’t moved at all, though his hair lifted slightly in the breeze of the oncoming strike. Realizing he might be in trouble, Yu Qishu watched helplessly as his vision blurred for a split second, and a sudden ache hit his right wrist holding the sword.
A stern voice called out next to him, “Take this seriously!”
Quickly spinning around, Yu Qishu steadied himself, only to find that Meng Xueli had somehow already taken hold of his sword, Willow by the Pool, now in his grasp.
Meng Xueli tossed the sword back to him. “Again.”
Yu Qishu retreated, still in shock, gathering all his focus this time. He gave a quick flick of the soft sword in his right hand, its silver gleam flashing brightly as he feinted a thrust at Meng Xueli’s face. Simultaneously, he launched a punch with his left arm, its force as loud as thunder. But his strike missed entirely, his right arm throbbing in pain as if the sensitive points on his wrist had hit something solid in Meng Xueli’s palm.
Meng Xueli’s pale, slender hand gripped like iron.
Yu Qishu’s heart sank; he’d ended up empty-handed, and Willow by the Pool was again in his opponent’s grasp.
In that moment, Yu Qishu understood why Meng Xueli had said he didn’t need a sword. The instant they began sparring, his sword became Meng Xueli’s. Perhaps the gap between them was far wider than he had ever imagined.
But his youthful pride flared, spurring him on. “One more time!”
…
As the faint silhouette of the moon faded in the west, a sliver of orange-gold clouds appeared quietly on the eastern horizon.
Exhausted, Yu Qishu collapsed onto the ground. The soft meadow felt like a bed of cotton beneath him, almost tempting him to sink into it. “My right arm is broken…”
Turning his head with some difficulty, he saw Meng Xueli standing nearby, hands behind his back, bathed in the first light of dawn. Clouds churned behind him. Though his figure appeared slender, he somehow looked imposing.
From the very first strike to the present, Meng Xueli hadn’t taken a single step from his original position. With only small turns, pivots, and sidesteps, he’d completely overpowered Yu Qishu without allowing a single effective move.
“Why are you always one step ahead?” Yu Qishu struggled to put his feelings into words. “Before I even make a move, it’s like your next strike is already waiting there.”
Meng Xueli helped him sit up. “It’s simple. By looking at your eyes and expressions, I know whether you’ll attack from the left or right. Just as you lift your hand, I know if you’ll punch or strike. So I’m already a step ahead to counter you, which makes me faster.”
Yu Qishu groaned in exasperation. “How is that simple?!”
Meng Xueli: “When you’ve trained enough that your body reacts without thinking, it will be.”
“What was that move you used earlier?” Yu Qishu asked as he recalled Meng Xueli’s unflinching stance. “The one where you disarmed me without even looking?”
Meng Xueli: “It has no name. I made it up on the spot.”
Yu Qishu thought, he’s got such terrifying battle instincts. “Teach me!”
Meng Xueli chuckled. “You want to learn? Then no more sleeping in and skipping morning practice.”
Yu Qishu nearly cried. “Whoever sleeps in is a dog!”
“Good! If you can run from the peach grove without using a single bit of true energy and keep the petals from sticking to you, you’ll master agility. If you can stab at a flower in the wind, hitting only the center and avoiding the petals, you’ll achieve precision. With condensed true energy, you could overpower those in the Qi Refinement stage, and if you reach the Barrier-breaking stage, even challenge the Xiao Cheng level.” Meng Xueli smiled, adding, “All of my skills were earned through pure, relentless effort. Are you willing to put in the work?”
Yu Qishu responded firmly, “I’ll train!”
He thought to himself, Meng Xueli is only a year older than me. Even if he’s a natural genius who’s been practicing since birth, I’m not intimidated. I’ll commit to training hard for the next twenty years. I may not surpass him, but at least I’ll be able to reach his current level. The path of cultivation stretches over a century; twenty years isn’t too much to invest.
He then asked, “You just mentioned that at the Barrier-breaking stage, one could defeat those in the Xiao Sheng stage. What comes after Xiao Sheng stage?”
Meng Xueli pondered before answering, “After Xiao Sheng, battles become struggles of Dao techniques and Dao heart. I don’t quite know how to explain it to you yet… In short, the higher the opponent’s cultivation level, the less important combat techniques become. Take my Dao companion, for example, a powerful Sainthood cultivator. He wouldn’t even need to make a move; with a mere thought, he could manifest thousands of sword shadows. Techniques like mine become useless.”
The demon race, relying on innate bloodline talents, absorbed spiritual energy faster than humans and didn’t focus on ‘Dao techniques’ or ‘Dao heart.’ Having become human again, Meng Xueli only had a vague understanding of these things and dared not teach them recklessly for fear of leading his disciple astray.
“The Sainthood? That’s too far away,” Yu Qishu sighed. “But if I master your close-combat techniques and continue cultivating, wouldn’t I be invincible beneath the Xiao Sheng stage?”
Meng Xueli was momentarily taken aback, his tone slightly solemn as he replied:
“There is no such thing as a truly invincible expert. Even if you are unbeaten in the world, you may still stumble unexpectedly. Open attacks are easy to defend against; hidden schemes are harder. You may have a sword, but others may have traps all around. Never let your guard down just because of your strength.”
Yu Qishu struggled to his feet, standing up straight as he respectfully saluted, “Master!”
Meng Xueli smiled. “That’s enough for today. Go back, get some sleep, and think it over…”
He rose, patting Yu Qishu on the shoulder, but his gaze shifted to the young man approaching in the distance. “Tingyun is here. It’s not even time for the morning watch yet; he’s early.”
“I won’t be able to sleep anyway. I’ll just stay here and think it over,” Yu Qishu shook his head.
The youth approached, walking against the morning breeze. “What has Elder Meng been teaching?”
Meng Xueli frowned. “What Elder? Call me Master. Or just follow Xiao Yu and call me Brother Meng.” After all, in front of others, it wouldn’t do well for him to call me “Father.
Ji Xiao: “….”
Ji Xiao murmured under his breath, “Xueli…”
Meng Xueli blinked. “That works too.”
He thought for a moment. After all, Xiao Tingyun was Ji Xiao’s own child; perhaps Zhenren had taught him before.
Meng Xueli: “Tingyun, what do you think defines a battle of Dao techniques and Dao heart?”
Ji Xiao raised an eyebrow, unsure where to begin.
Meng Xueli assumed he was nervous. “I was just chatting with Xiao Yu about this. Using Ji Xiao Zhenren as an example, just speak freely.”
Although Ji Xiao found his Dao companion’s attitude peculiar, he still answered seriously on this matter of ‘discussing the Dao.’
“In battles at the Sainthood and beyond, a steady Dao heart is most crucial, followed by divine techniques, and finally, weaponry…..”
Yu Qishu was confused. “Why would weapons rank last? ‘Ji Xiao atop Han Shan, three feet and three inches away from the heavens’—it’s said his Endless Sky Sword measures exactly three feet three. People often claim that before the Endless Sky Sword, all other swords bow. Is that a lie?”
Ji Xiao chuckled, “Not quite. But ‘all swords bowing’ doesn’t rely on the weapon’s power alone. Opponents’ swords hum in their sheaths, refusing to obey and not daring to unsheathe because swords are more honest than people. Defeating an opponent without battle—that’s a battle of the Dao heart.”
“When you face Ji Xiao, your sword becomes Ji Xiao’s sword as well. If he wants to borrow swords from heaven and earth, then even swords thousands of miles away belong to him.”
Yu Qishu stood in a daze, feeling as though he understood and yet not fully comprehending.
He recalled the countless battles just fought and imagined a vast sky filled with thousands of swords traversing miles to converge.
He faintly felt that he was touching something beyond his understanding, as if the sky above him had suddenly grown larger, more expansive.
It was like his past years had been spent wandering aimlessly in a maze, stumbling around in search of a way out. Then, suddenly, it was as though he had grown wings, allowing him to soar above the maze and look down at his former, lost self.
Meng Xueli sighed, “Entering the Way for the first time… it feels wonderful.”
“Don’t disturb him; let’s head down the mountain,” said Ji Xiao.
Meng Xueli smiled, “You’re wonderful, too.” In time, you will undoubtedly inherit your father’s legacy.
Ji Xiao saw his little Dao companion smiling foolishly and chuckled, “That’s thanks to Master’s teaching.”
Meng Xueli: “Let’s go! I’ll show you something amazing!”
…
At the foot of Han Shan lay a city named “Han Men City,” where mortals and cultivators coexisted.
Long ago, only a dozen families lived there. But as the Han Shan Sword Sect gained fame and established itself, the town grew, turning first into a village, then into a bustling city.
Young men who traveled from afar to seek masters and cultivation would always need a place to stay, fresh clothes, and a bath. With so many people coming and going, businesses thrived, and shops and inns sprang up everywhere.
With Han Shan Sword Sect nearby enforcing a prohibition on weapons, forbidding the use of blades and swords in the city, Han Men City was naturally more peaceful than most places.
Rogue cultivators from the north gathered here for trade, and auctions and pawnshops catering specifically to cultivators opened up one after another. Since they didn’t need to fear robbers or killers, business steadily grew.
After three years without venturing down the mountain, Meng Xueli visited Han Men City for the first time, bursting into the crowd like a bird out of a cage, shouting, “So many people!”
Ji Xiao, worried he might bump into someone, carefully kept him safe as they moved forward, saying, “It’s a festival today—the first day of the Lunar New Year.”
Meng Xueli: “You don’t know this, but during lecture breaks, Xiao Yu invited me down to the city for a drink. I didn’t come that time, how I wonder why I didn’t come.”
“Everyone, clear the way! Firecrackers are being lit!”
The crowd parted amid laughter and chatter. Meng Xueli looked up to see windows on the second floor open, with long, thin bamboo poles extending out, holding strings of red firecrackers.
As the firecrackers exploded overhead, Meng Xueli grabbed Ji Xiao’s arm, laughing as they joined the crowd, running and dodging amid the noise and debris.
Ji Xiao thought, You’re a cultivator; why are you running? But he didn’t resist, allowing Meng Xueli to drag him along, the two racing through smoke and scattered red firecracker remains.
Meng Xueli was fascinated by everything he saw, wanting both to eat and to shop, but he remembered the reason for their trip.
He led Ji Xiao to the main street, stopping before the first shop, a prominent pawnshop with a black signboard painted in gold, bearing the elegant name, “Hengtong Juyuan.”
Outside hung a couplet: “Business prospers across the four seas; wealth flows from all directions.” The handwriting suggested the same hand had written both lines.
The largest pawnshop in Han Men City, “Hengtong Juyuan,” was indeed famous.
The Master of Tianhu Lake often came here in his youth when he was short on funds, selling off magic weapons and pills to get some spirit stones. In recent years, Jing Di, the popular first disciple of Bright Moon Lake, had also pawned his sword here to buy wine.
After the Sword Sovereign’s passing, the top floor of this pawnshop held regular auctions, where artifacts said to be the Sword Sovereign’s work often fetched high prices.
Meng Xueli exclaimed joyfully, “We found it! It’s right here.”
Ji Xiao looked at the signboard, thinking that, despite more than a century passing, it was still the same.
Meng Xueli stepped over the tall threshold and turned back when he saw Ji Xiao frozen in place, hastily explaining, “I’m not here to sell you! I would never sell you!”
Ji Xiao, perplexed, replied, “Uh, what?”
Author’s Note:
Meng Xueli: Child, your father would never sell you! Hu Si: Your emotional intelligence is a perfect match—you’re truly made for each other.
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
