Chapter 217: Waiting for the Mountain Flowers to Bloom

Clouds rolled overhead like surging waves. A chilly air permeated the grey sky amidst the fine drizzle.

The tribulation lightning had passed; the thunder and lightning echoing from above were now genuine atmospheric phenomena.

Ning Changjiu looked south, his expression dazed.

This moment of distraction was fatal.

His mind was suddenly gripped by something, and the pain in his soul was no less intense than when the demon-possessed girl had stabbed him earlier.

"When did you wake up?" Ning Changjiu's question was tinged with pain.

Inside him, the familiar voice was colder than ever: "I woke up the moment you left the abyss."

It was the Sword Spirit's voice.

Ning Changjiu was silent for a moment, then asked, "Why didn't you act earlier?"

The Sword Spirit replied, "Because that woman was there."

"Are you still determined to take over my body?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The Sword Spirit said coldly, "I told you from the very beginning... but perhaps over the years, you held out hope that I wouldn't move against you."

Ning Changjiu shook his head. "No, I think you're perfectly fine this way. Only a sword heart that remains true from beginning to end is worthy of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture's ultimate killing move."

"Actually, I don't particularly like this sword from the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture," the Sword Spirit said.

"Why?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The Sword Spirit answered, "Because it's an assassin's sword. True powerhouses cannot be assassinated, like the God Lord who observes heaven and earth. My lifelong wish is to wield a sword that is truly the fastest and strongest."

The Sword Spirit paused, then continued, "To wield a sword, I must first be able to grasp it. I don't want to be held in someone's hand."

"I admire your wish," Ning Changjiu said, "but unfortunately, it's my body you intend to seize, so I cannot support you."

As they spoke, their spiritual energies pulled at each other, vying for control of the body.

Ning Changjiu's face alternated between placid and cold, constantly switching between the compassionate human and the ruthless sword.

Ning Changjiu's voice, however, remained calm. "You can't win against me."

The Sword Spirit was silent for a moment, then whispered, "I know."

It sighed. "This was destiny's decree from the start... and besides, even the Sin Lord couldn't kill you. But I still don't understand: I know every sword technique you do, so why can't I defeat you?"

Ning Changjiu sat cross-legged in the rain, the flashes of lightning illuminating his figure starkly.

His white robes were soaked, and his dark hair lay across his shoulders. His originally delicate, youthful features now appeared sharper.

He already resembled a sword, a proud, unsheathed blade, without the need for the Sword Spirit to possess him.

"Since you don't understand, I'll make you understand," Ning Changjiu said.

Behind Ning Changjiu, his soul faintly floated, its ethereal silhouette in the misty drizzle seeming as if it could shatter at a touch.

Both the ethereal silhouette and the main body closed their eyes simultaneously.

Then, a heavy rain began to fall upon Ning Changjiu's boundless inner mind-lake. The once mirror-like lake instantly became vast and misty.

The Sword Spirit's grey-haired, shrouded shadow stood still on the mind-lake. Then, Ning Changjiu's soul also transformed into the size of a mustard seed, entering the mind-lake and calmly confronting it.

The rain on the mind-lake was illusory, merely a resonance between the mind and the external world.

But the ripples beneath their feet were real.

Above the mind-lake, this battle silently commenced.

They began to cross swords, identical swords. Thousands of sword shadows, simulated by their souls, shrouded the sky above the mind-lake. These sword images were like armored soldiers lining up for battle to the sound of thundering war drums, brandishing gleaming, brilliant weapons. The vibrating sound as the weapons were drawn from their scabbards resembled the rustling of a *huqin*.

Ning Changjiu sat cross-legged, now in meditation.

The sky remained overcast with continuous rain, its cessation unknown.

Nearly two years had passed since Ning Changjiu fell into the abyss.

Over a year in Sundered City had passed in the blink of an eye. When they traversed the sundial, they again passed through that plane of absolute time flow. Upon emerging, the severe winter that should have arrived had silently passed, snow had melted, and the cherry blossoms outside the plains were in full bloom. In the late spring rain, the creek murmured as it rushed towards the distance.

Even after so much time had passed, Ning Xiaoling couldn't help but gaze absently for a long time at the painting of the blue bird in the display window.

Outside the window, it was raining.

According to folklore, summer would soon follow this rain.

This was the second summer since her Senior Brother left.

Ning Xiaoling pushed open the door, and the bead curtain swayed, blurring her delicate features.

She was sixteen this year and would be seventeen in a few months.

The girl was no longer the youngest disciple in the Inner Peak. Her expression grew increasingly serene; she disliked dressing up, always wore a plain face, white robes with a black belt, and her youthful dark hair was simply tied in the middle with a cord, falling naturally almost to her waist.

Her figure remained petite, but she had grown taller. Her chest had subtly risen, like a tide receding to reveal a mountain hidden beneath for a long time.

If Lu Jiajia was an unsullied immortal sword from another realm, then Ning Xiaoling was a finely carved, exquisite small blade.

And normally, many in the peak regarded her as Lu Jiajia's successor.

However, for the past two years, it had often been said in the peak that Senior Sister Ning was going to practice cultivation in a major sect in the Central Lands called the Ancient Spirit Sect.

The Ancient Spirit Sect was originally named the Netherworld Dao Spirit Sect, but later, the words "Netherworld" became taboo and were removed. Additionally, since the sect leader's favorite granddaughter at the time was named Guling, the sect was renamed the Ancient Spirit Sect.

It was a renowned major sect in the Central Lands, located on the legendary former site of the Underworld Kingdom. They excelled in the art of dispelling and controlling spirits. Legend had it that they also held a scattered portion of the Nether Lord's authority, and every formal disciple could enjoy a share of it as a bonus to aid their cultivation.

But two years had passed, and Ning Xiaoling had still not departed.

Today marked exactly two years since her Senior Brother left. He still hadn't returned.

Ning Xiaoling entered his room and cleaned it again, though it was already dust-free. Yet, no matter how thoroughly she cleaned, the scrolls on the desk still showed the yellowing signs of time's erosion.

To the sound of the pattering rain, Ning Xiaoling finished tidying the room.

She knelt down and pulled out a red letter from the bottom drawer of the desk.

It was the marriage contract between Ning Changjiu and Zhao Xiang'er.

Ning Xiaoling opened and read it as usual, her expression gentle.

"If Senior Brother and Sister Zhao were together, that scene would surely be interesting..."

She was lost in thought for a long time before putting the letter back under the desk. After returning to her own room, she picked up the porcelain vase and gently tapped it.

From the vase, Han Xiaosu's shadow floated out. "Sister Xiaoling, what's wrong?"

"Your soul has almost recovered," Ning Xiaoling said. "I'll take you back. On the way, I can tell you about what happened in Linhe City back then."

Han Xiaosu seemed a little panicked. "But this is my home."

Ning Xiaoling smiled softly. "Of course, I wouldn't make you leave while I'm here, but I'm leaving now."

"Where are you going, Sister Xiaoling?" Han Xiaosu was startled and immediately thought of the rumors. "Are you going to the Central Lands?"

Ning Xiaoling nodded. "Yes, I'm going to find my Senior Brother."

Han Xiaosu wondered, "Huh? Isn't Young Master Ning in the Southern Wilderness...?"

Ning Xiaoling whispered, "The saying goes that to find someone, one must search 'above the Azure Heavens and below the Yellow Springs.' The Azure Heavens are too high and far; I cannot become an immortal to go there. But perhaps I can try the Yellow Springs."

Having spent every day with her, Han Xiaosu naturally understood her intention—even if Ning Changjiu were dead, she would retrieve him from the Underworld Kingdom.

Han Xiaosu sighed softly. "Although the Ancient Spirit Sect is a major sect, the path to the Netherworld is certainly not a grand avenue. Sister, you are already shining brightly in the way of the sword; why must you do this?"

Ning Xiaoling's voice was calm yet firm: "If I don't enter hell, who will?"

Dressed in plain white robes and skirt, Ning Xiaoling arrived at Linhe City by sword boat. In the fine rain of Linhe City, Han Xiaosu reluctantly flowed into the river water.

The flowing river water could not reflect her shadow.

"It's so cold here," Han Xiaosu said, hugging her shoulders.

Ning Xiaoling said gently, "This city is also very cold. After that incident, many who barely survived moved away. Now, most of those left are the widowed and elderly who couldn't leave. You will establish a shrine here, slowly transforming from a river spirit into a river deity, becoming the recipient of their incense and prayers. So everything else can be cold, but your heart cannot. Do you understand?"

The young girl's words were like a lesson, yet soft as a spring breeze. Han Xiaosu, half-submerged in the water, hugged herself and nodded gently.

Ning Xiaoling ruffled her head and bid her farewell.

Han Xiaosu watched her back disappear into the distance, then reluctantly swayed her ghostly form and sank like a fish to the bottom of the familiar yet strange river.

Over a year ago, Zhao Xiang'er, clad in black and wielding a single sword, assassinated King Jin. She watched fires from within the palace and admired flowers outside the hall, drawing countless tribulation lightning bolts and stepping into the Purple Court in one stride.

This was already a widely circulated story among the common people.

No matter how fiercely and sonorously the story depicted Jin's struggles, the outcome was already common knowledge.

That assassination not only severely damaged Jin's morale but also struck fear into the heart of Rong, which had initially hoped to profit from the conflict. The ruler of Rong was also an old man; he had even outlived his own son and driven his eldest grandson to mutiny. Such an old man, unwilling to relinquish power, feared death the most.

After the assassination in Jin, he quickly ordered a letter sent to Zhao, expressing willingness to cede all the occupied territories from years past and offering to send troops to help Zhao annex Jin.

Zhao Xiang'er accepted the returned territories, but for some unknown reason, she specifically left one city unclaimed. This city, named White City, was located at the very center of those territories. In White City, Rong's flag still conspicuously flew.

Afterward, the war between Zhao and Jin became increasingly smooth, progressing from initial deadlock to a one-sided victory, with even famous Jin generals directly leading their troops to surrender.

A war that should have lasted many years was decisively settled in just one.

Everyone believed Jin was doomed, but after reclaiming all her territories, Zhao Xiang'er did not continue to send troops to destroy Jin. Instead, she allowed the two nations to engage in some commercial cooperation.

Over the years, Ning Xiaoling and Zhao Xiang'er would occasionally meet, drink wine, and admire flowers in the palace, sharing their quiet thoughts.

Today, after leaving Linhe City, Ning Xiaoling also went to see Zhao Xiang'er.

Zhao Xiang'er had not attended court these days, remaining in seclusion deep within the palace.

She was not wearing a dragon robe but a light spring dress, elegantly embroidered. Combined with her increasingly striking figure, as she strolled through the courtyard, she seemed to overshadow all the spring beauty around her. Colorful butterflies even fluttered around her, lightly pecking, as if the embroidery on her spring dress held the most exquisite fragrance in the world.

The fine rain pattered softly, and lingering red petals of late spring fell to the ground.

In the misty, chilly weather, Ning Xiaoling entered her sleeping quarters as if no one else was present. She possessed a jade token personally given by Zhao Xiang'er, allowing her free movement throughout the entire royal palace.

At the Heavenly Sword Sect, the young girl was like a plum blossom in the snow—cold and proud. Yet, in front of Zhao Xiang'er, she resembled a young lady who had just emerged from her boudoir.

Ning Xiaoling folded her umbrella and quietly stepped into the tranquil palace, where curtains swayed.

No lamps were lit in the hall. The beams from which the curtains hung showed signs of age due to dampness, and the hall's layout was symmetrical and rigid, like that of an elderly scholar. Only the gauze cover outside a lamp swayed, casting faint floral shadows.

In the ancient hall, Zhao Xiang'er sat fully dressed before a dark desk. On the desk lay an antique *jiaowei* guqin, and beside it, an incense burner emitted wisps of green smoke.

Zhao Xiang'er's porcelain-white, tender fingertips lightly brushed the zither strings. The resonant notes cut faintly into the curtain of rain. The incense smoke wavered, making the misty rain seem even more desolate. Ning Xiaoling, in her white robes with tied-up hair, sat silently behind her, watching Zhao Xiang'er's exquisite and mournful back, listening quietly until the end of the melody.

Zhao Xiang'er had learned zither, Go, calligraphy, and painting since childhood, mastering all of them to a national level.

But after achieving mastery, she rarely touched them again.

The melody was not long; it quickly dissolved into the spring rain, its lingering echoes muffled by the sound of the downpour.

Zhao Xiang'er's slender fingers pressed against the silver strings. Her dark hair fell softly beside her slightly bowed head, concealing her profile. Her delicate features watched as the faint incense smoke, which had enveloped her, also gradually dispersed after the music.

"Are you leaving?" Zhao Xiang'er asked softly, without turning her head.

"Are you too, Sister Zhao?" Ning Xiaoling replied.

Zhao Xiang'er hummed. "I should have left long ago, but I wanted to wait until after the three-year promise."

"Will we have a chance to meet again?" Ning Xiaoling asked.

Zhao Xiang'er knew where she was going and that it would likely be difficult to meet again in the future, yet she still nodded. "We will."

Ning Xiaoling chuckled softly. "What will become of the State of Zhao after you leave, Sister Zhao?"

Zhao Xiang'er lowered her gaze, looking at the wood grain on the ancient zither as she spoke. "Even without me, the State of Zhao will not face the danger of collapse for several decades. Last year, I promoted Song Ce to prime minister. In the future, the throne will be vacant, and the prime minister will oversee the state. The favorable situation is already established. If Zhao's officials cannot maintain the foundation, then there is nothing more I can do."

Ning Xiaoling listened quietly. Gazing at Zhao Xiang'er's back, she couldn't help but ask a question that had been buried in her heart for a long time: "Sister Zhao, did you... ever like Senior Brother?"

Zhao Xiang'er's hand on the zither paused slightly. She tilted her head slightly, smiling faintly. "If you want to know, have him ask me himself."

Ning Xiaoling looked at Zhao Xiang'er's profile, her expression wavering slightly.

Over two years had washed away the childishness from her features. Ning Xiaoling gazed at that pure, beautiful profile, always feeling a momentary trance, as if she were the Luo River Goddess from poetry, embodying every trace of beauty to its fullest.

Ning Xiaoling regained her composure and asked again, "Then, if Senior Brother returns, will you still honor that marriage contract, Sister Zhao?"

Zhao Xiang'er gently shook her head. "Of course not. I'm not your Master..."

The young girl stopped herself from speaking further.

Ning Xiaoling didn't believe it. She asked, "Why not?"

Zhao Xiang'er remained silent for a long time before finally speaking softly: "When I was very young, my mother told me four words. I've always remembered those four words."

"What four words?"

"Return the jade intact to Zhao."

It was already dusk when Ning Xiaoling returned to the sect. She took a final look at everything in the peak.

Le Rou stood outside, holding an umbrella.

After Ning Xiaoling came out, Le Rou gently embraced her, then took a small booklet from her embrace and handed it to her.

"What is this?" Ning Xiaoling took the booklet and flipped through it, finding it empty.

Le Rou said earnestly, "There are two copies of this booklet. I'll keep one, and you'll keep the other. When we part ways, we'll each write down interesting things that happen, and the next time we meet, we can exchange them and read each other's."

Ning Xiaoling smiled, tucked the booklet into her embrace, and said, "Don't you dare slack off on your sword practice after I'm gone."

Le Rou said a little irritably, "I'm the Senior Sister, you know! How come you're always lecturing me?"

Ning Xiaoling stood under her umbrella, and the two walked side-by-side along a mountain path for a while.

Le Rou asked, "Shall we go see Master together?"

Ning Xiaoling hesitated for a moment. "Yes, but let's not disturb her this time. Senior Brother is already gone. If I were to leave too, no matter how calm Master appears, I know she would surely be heartbroken."

Le Rou sighed. "Master and Junior Sister are both the same kind of person."

So, before dark, they went to the Southern Wilderness and looked at Lu Jiajia from a distance.

Her silhouette remained as pure and aloof as ever; even when viewed through the misty forest, she was still so ethereal that one couldn't bear to leave.

Only after Ning Xiaoling and Le Rou had left did Lu Jiajia turn to look.

She actually knew everything.

In the misty rain, her graceful silhouette seemed even more forlorn.

On a mountain path west of the Southern Wilderness, a child wearing a conical hat and fishing suddenly yelled "Monster!" and then fled, diving into the water, swimming to the opposite bank, and disappearing into the fishing village.

The person the young fisher child called a monster was almost entirely shrouded in greyish-white hair.

The person was not tall, and the face framed by the greyish-white hair bore both the firmness of a youth and the delicacy of a maiden, making it impossible to discern their gender.

He walked to the riverbank, looked at his reflection in the water, then extended his hand.

His hand, as it trembled, transformed into a sword.

Holding the sword, he cut a circle around his own neck.

The long, shroud-like hair fell away instantly; every strand was a unique sword-fiber found nowhere else.

He picked up these sword-fibers and cast them into the river, as if burying a destined encounter.

He looked at his reflection in the river again.

His hair was now terrifyingly neat, resembling a large watermelon covering his head, giving him a dull appearance that mismatched his bright, elegant features. At the roots of his hair, the greyish-white strands were slowly turning black.

"How do you like this body?" another white-robed young man emerged from the valley, his face pale and weary.

The white-robed young man was, of course, Ning Changjiu.

Earlier, he had engaged in a soul-level contest with the Sword Spirit, fighting from dawn until dusk. When all sword techniques were exhausted, and all methods became one, they simultaneously unleashed that one final sword strike.

The Sword Spirit ultimately lost.

The margin of defeat was minuscule, yet it decisively determined the outcome.

It felt no regret or sadness, for it had done its best. If Ning Changjiu hadn't had the fortuitous encounter in Sundered City, hadn't cultivated the Asura Divine Record, hadn't mastered the law of time... No, these weren't the most important factors. The most crucial reason was that its own sword heart was no longer perfectly clear.

Naturally, a killing sword must possess the intent to kill to be its fastest.

But it knew, deep down, that it was unwilling to kill Ning Changjiu.

A hair's breadth separated victory from defeat...

Originally, after its defeat, Ning Changjiu could have directly absorbed and refined it.

It awaited destiny's judgment.

After Ning Changjiu's soul returned to his body, he did not absorb the defeated Sword Spirit. Instead, he placed his hand on his chest, directly pulled out the silver sword, severed its connection to his body, and relinquished control of the sword to the Sword Spirit.

Thus, the sword became the Sword Spirit's body, and it transformed from a spirit into a human.

Meanwhile, Ning Changjiu not only lost this silver sword but also found his Asura physique no longer perfect, becoming a flawed product with only half its original power.

"Even I feel it's a pity for you," the Sword Spirit said.

"Senior Brother told me that there's always a reward for every effort," Ning Changjiu replied.

"It will be hard for me to repay you," the Sword Spirit said.

Ning Changjiu chuckled. "When I see Jiajia in the future, with no one bothering me internally, isn't that a form of reward too?"

The Sword Spirit felt a little helpless.

It actually knew that someone like Ning Changjiu wouldn't kill it. Perhaps it was precisely such a person who could become so strong.

He bowed formally and earnestly to Ning Changjiu.

The Sword Spirit looked at his incomplete Asura body and asked, "Without the Asura body to rely on, how will you defeat your legendary fiancée?"

Ning Changjiu laughed. "Why use an ox-slaughtering knife to kill a chicken? Using the Asura Sword to beat up that little girl would be a bit of an overkill."

The Sword Spirit sneered, "You men really only talk behind people's backs. If you actually met her, who knows what sort of shamefully meek appearance you'd put on."

"You men?" Ning Changjiu asked. "Aren't you one?"

The Sword Spirit was silent for a moment. "I don't know."

It had not yet decided its gender.

"Have you thought of a name then?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The Sword Spirit said earnestly, "I'll think of a name once I determine my gender."

Ning Changjiu scoffed faintly, "Are you giving birth or something?"

The Sword Spirit glared at him coldly.

Ning Changjiu looked at its watermelon head and chuckled softly.

"Are you leaving?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"Yes, it was quite boring spending so many years reading books with that old man in the library. I've long wanted to see the world beyond books for myself," the Sword Spirit said. "You go see your woman, I'll go see my martial world. Farewell for now."

Ning Changjiu cupped his fist and said, "Farewell, young hero."

Before leaving, the Sword Spirit still said, "Oh, and don't listen to that red-headed chicken's nonsense. Zhao Xiang'er is nowhere near as good as Peak Master Lu. Even if you're going to marry both, let Lu Jiajia enter first."

Fortunately, Blood Feather Monarch wasn't there, or it would surely have been a fierce war of words.

Another departure.

The Sword Spirit disappeared into the vast mountains and rivers.

Ning Changjiu's smile was finally replaced by exhaustion and pain. He clutched his chest, coughing incessantly, spitting out a lot of blood.

The forced separation of the Asura Divine Record caused a much greater backlash than he had anticipated.

But it was all just a choice.

The sky gradually darkened.

After briefly tending to his injuries, Ning Changjiu ascended into the sky on his sword, soaring towards the Heavenly Sword Sect.

The Red River, encircling the Southern Wilderness, was already in sight.

In the post-rain night sky, the tranquil starlight flowed overhead, and vast mountain ranges swept past beneath his sword.

These were all unfamiliar sights.

Along the way, only the winding Red River accompanied him.

His sword flew faster and faster, crossing mountains and great rivers, moving with the starlight.

The bright, mirror-like crescent moon arced from the lower sky to the zenith, then traced a lonely curve, slowly sinking into the distance.

After a long time, light appeared on the horizon.

Then, the morning light gradually turned into dusk again.

Mountains and waters stretched endlessly.

The Southern Wilderness was too vast.

Even with his Purple Court realm cultivation, it still took him nearly a month of day and night travel to finally reach south of Nanzhou.

The landscape gradually became familiar, like reuniting with old friends.

He did not go to the Four Peaks.

When he touched the small sky-faring array from back then, he knew that Lu Jiajia would surely be waiting for him by the abyss.

He followed the old path, slowly traversing the mountains and forests, crossing the Red River, and entering the Southern Wilderness.

In the Southern Wilderness, there was a newly constructed road.

That road followed the traces left by the Nine Infants when it crushed through the wilderness years ago.

Ning Changjiu slowly stepped onto the stone path.

Dawn quietly arrived, and the mountain mists and all living things gradually awoke.

The abyss spread out immensely before him.

But he did not look at the abyss.

Beside the wooden house, that long-unseen figure swayed gently through the dappled tree shadows, capturing all his attention.

At that moment, dawn light illuminated behind the mountains, streaming in bundles over the peaks and valleys, penetrating the rain-moistened forest, refracted by every dewdrop, splitting the morning light into countless rays.

Some of these rays crisscrossed the not-so-long path, like a woven curtain of light; others fell upon the soft, undulating snow-like figure, resembling makeup painted by heaven and earth.

Ning Changjiu extended his hand, gently touching the stream of light before him.

Perhaps the morning dew was heavy, but his eyes slowly welled up.

This was a scene he had only ever dreamed of.

Today, he finally wouldn't have to wake up.