Chapter 259: Fourth Floor

The thirteen disciples of the Sword Pavilion were renowned throughout the world, with the seventh and eighth disciples possessing a unique sword-spirit-body fusion, born with swords and destined for the path of the sword from birth. Thereafter, they honed their skills through travel, gained renown across the land, and eventually became disciples of the Sword Pavilion, hailed as two of the fourteen sharpest swords in the world.

The Sword Saint of the Sword Pavilion had taken on his first four disciples a century ago; the eldest of his remaining disciples was only in his fifties. By the standards of cultivators, this could even be considered youthful.

The seventh disciple's name was Liu He, and he was over thirty years old. His brows resembled willow branches, and his swordplay was as graceful as a willow. Since he began cultivating, outside the Sword Pavilion, he had never been defeated in a sword duel by anyone of the same cultivation level. Apart from a few reclusive five-path masters in the Central Plains, very few were qualified to be his opponents.

However humble Sword Pavilion disciples might appear, they possess an inherent pride that borders on arrogance.

This is why the sword attendant found it very strange.

His Third Senior Brother had ordered him to attend the Dragon Mother's Banquet. Although Liu He didn't know the purpose, he always respected his Third Senior Brother, so he came without question, traveling thousands of miles by sword. Upon arrival, he had remained incognito. Though people knew someone from the Sword Pavilion had come, they didn't know who it was. The sword attendant understood that her master disliked trouble. Moreover, their world was fundamentally different from that of these seemingly prosperous cultivators—one was in the clouds, the other in the mud.

However, she never expected that her master would consider drawing his sword.

Although Mr. Seven had dismissed that unknown woman's sword body as worthless, to make him draw his sword would surely be a source of pride for anyone in this world. If that woman knew she was defeated by a Sword Pavilion disciple, she would probably feel honored in defeat and remember it for a lifetime.

As the sword attendant pondered these thoughts, Liu He had already ascended to the third floor. He climbed the stairs with light steps, like a sea breeze stirring tides or a lake breeze rustling willows. Ripples spontaneously rose, and willow branches danced. His suppressed cultivation, like a new sprout emerging in winter, slowly began to unfurl.

At this moment, on the fourth floor, Lu Jiajia stood beside the Lotus Sword Pond. The Sword Tower was the largest of all the towers and the most thoroughly protected by restrictions. This was because sword cultivators were often unreasonable; sometimes, after losing a duel, they would refuse to accept defeat, insist on a fight to the death, and then unleash a full-blown battle.

Lu Jiajia was the fastest to ascend the tower among everyone. During the duels, everyone announced their origins. Some had long introductions, like, "Ouyang Jian, chief disciple of the Unworldly Branch of the Myriad Realms Immortal Sect under Jade Gate Mountain, who once claimed first prize in the Six Peaks Grand Competition." And he was defeated faster than he could introduce himself. This was due to nothing else but Lu Jiajia's incredibly astonishing sword intent.

Sword duels in the Sword Tower were decided by a single strike: whoever's sword intent remained intact after one blow won. Lu Jiajia's sword body could assimilate other people's sword energy as her own. By the time she reached the fourth floor, no one voluntarily chose Lu Jiajia as an opponent. She was in no hurry, and sat by the lotus platform, sipping tea.

"When did the Central Plains produce a Sword Immortal like you?"

Eventually, everyone else had chosen their opponents, and one man, left with no choice, walked to face Lu Jiajia. He looked at the exceptionally beautiful woman, feeling a surge of emotion. He wondered why a woman of such exquisite beauty and unparalleled swordsmanship, as pure as the lotus in the pond, should have been famous long ago, yet he had never heard of her.

Lu Jiajia put down her teacup and said, "I come from Nanzhou."

The man was even more surprised upon hearing this, thinking, *How could such a Sword Immortal emerge from a wild land like Nanzhou?* After exchanging a cupped-fist salute with Lu Jiajia, he drew his sword. He knew he was no match for the woman before him.

Lu Jiajia, likewise, did not underestimate her opponent despite her assured victory. Ever since she lost the finger-sword duel to Ning Changjiu that day, she had never again shown the slightest distraction or contempt when facing any adversary. Yet, despite her focus, as the duel was about to begin, her attention was still diverted by something else. She instinctively glanced towards the stairwell. The narrow stairwell was the only path to the top of the Sword Tower.

"Someone else is coming?" Lu Jiajia sensed that sword intent. All who reached the fourth floor were top practitioners of the sword. But Lu Jiajia still had the distinct impression that the sword slowly ascending the stairs was coming for her.

Everyone heard footsteps. The sound of swords clashing throughout the tower was overshadowed by these soft footsteps. Everyone looked in that direction.

"I apologize for being late and disturbing you all," Liu He said. He had an ordinary appearance, though with a certain sharp quality. The sword he carried was also unremarkable, the very first one he bought when he began practicing, and he had never replaced it. But those present were not foolish; they knew that no ordinary person could be here. The moment he appeared, all the swords present couldn't help but tremble softly, as if in fear or submission.

"Mr. Liu? Are you Mr. Liu from the Sword Pavilion?" someone exclaimed, having guessed the possibility. Instantly, no one in the Sword Tower had any interest in dueling anymore. For sword cultivators in the Central Plains, the Sword Pavilion was undoubtedly the most longed-for destination in their lives. When the news of the Sword Pavilion seeking its fourteenth disciple was announced, many gifted talents from various sects eagerly prepared to try out. Their own sects did not view this as betrayal; rather, they considered it bringing glory to their ancestors. Only the Sword Pavilion received such treatment. The Sword Saint of the Sword Pavilion was, without a doubt, the foremost in the Central Plains and the greatest in the world.

Listening to their noisy discussions, Liu He gently tapped the air with his finger. A sword hum instantly arose, silencing the entire Sword Tower.

"I came on a whim and I'm aware of the Sword Tower's rules. Please continue your duels; there's no need to mind me," Liu He said with a faint smile, slowly walking further into the hall. Once they knew his identity, the seemingly ordinary man's demeanor outshone all the noble young masters in their eyes.

"Is Mr. Seven here for a duel too?" someone asked, unable to contain their curiosity after the initial shock.

Liu He nodded slightly. "Indeed."

They knew someone from the Sword Pavilion had arrived, but they never imagined that Mr. Seven would come to duel in person. In the entire Dragon Mother's Banquet, besides the rarely seen Dragon Mother herself, who could possibly be a match for Mr. Seven? Yet, their spirits were not dampened. How honorable would it be to experience the sword intent of the Sword Pavilion, even just once?

On the fourth floor, only Lu Jiajia remained calm. She stood quietly beside the lotus pond, like a painting hung peacefully, a masterpiece whose subject seemed to embody a lifetime of artistic skill.

However, a discord soon appeared in this picture.

Because Liu He looked at her. His gaze, though gentle, was like a sword. With just one look, it disrupted the natural perfection of Lu Jiajia's sword intent.

Lu Jiajia remained unfazed by his gaze, simply asking, "Are you looking for me?"

These words held entirely different meanings depending on who heard them. Some felt admiration, others thought it arrogant, and still others scoffed, thinking, *You were once so aloof and proud, like a lotus fairy, but now that you see a Sword Pavilion disciple, you actively challenge them, wanting to gain their attention. Hah, it seems your purity was just a pretense; even a fairy can't escape fame and fortune.*

Liu He's reply also surprised everyone: "I ascended this tower for you."

The statement was somewhat provocative and somewhat ambiguous. Lu Jiajia's delicate brows furrowed slightly. Others merely assumed she was either flattered or nervous. But Lu Jiajia felt a little sickened.

Though she had never been to the Central Plains before, who in the world didn't know the great name of the Sword Pavilion? In her heart, the Sword Pavilion had always been a sacred land for sword cultivation. Although this Mr. Seven from the Sword Pavilion was powerful, he was vastly different from her imagined ideal of a Sword Pavilion disciple.

Upon hearing Liu He's words, the man opposite Lu Jiajia quickly stepped aside. Liu He smiled faintly and walked to face her, still holding his sword. The two were separated by the lotus pond.

"Your sword-spirit-body fusion is poorly cultivated," Liu He stated bluntly.

Lu Jiajia asked, "And what is your profound insight?"

Liu He was not stingy with his words. He slowly began to draw his sword from its sheath, a faint smile on his face. "Sword-spirit-body fusion, as the name suggests, means the sword is also a spirit—a powerful spirit that can perfectly integrate with oneself. Yet, you hastily and shortsightedly refined the sword embryo directly into your body. All you gained was a slightly tougher sword body and sharper sword energy... You gained the sword, but lost its spirit."

Lu Jiajia didn't know if his philosophy was correct, but her sword body had been refined by Ning Changjiu, and she naturally trusted her husband more. Even so, she knew that she might have to stop at this fourth floor.

Lu Jiajia said calmly, "There's no need to draw your sword."

Liu He's motion of drawing his sword continued, yet the blade never fully emerged from the sheath. Everyone present was captivated by his seemingly casual yet awe-inspiring movement, until Lu Jiajia spoke, breaking the spell.

Liu He was not annoyed; he merely smiled and said, "Not bad."

"Draw your sword," Lu Jiajia said.

They both possessed sword-spirit-body fusion; the sharpest sword was never an external object, but their very selves.

Liu He pressed his palm against the hilt and slowly pushed the sword back into its sheath. At the same time, Lu Jiajia made a motion as if drawing a sword. But the sword she drew was one conjured in her mind. Between one sheathing and one drawing, the sword's resonance was crystal clear. The surface of the lotus pond parted in the center.

Everyone held their breath, intently watching the two figures standing opposite each other in the northwest corner of the Sword Tower. Ning Changjiu also looked towards the northwest corner.

Meanwhile, on the fourth floor of the Chess Tower, an elderly man walked over and slowly took a seat. He leaned his walking stick against the wooden table, glanced at Ning Changjiu, and performed a salute. Ning Changjiu sat upright and returned the salute. He could feel that this elder's cultivation realm was at least as high as, if not higher than, his own.

In fact, very few people in this Chess Tower recognized the once-renowned elder. The elder's invitation had been borrowed from a junior disciple of his sect—he hadn't played chess in many years. Ning Changjiu gave him a profound look.

They decided who went first and began to play. The elder, playing white, made the first move. The stone fell onto the empty board like a snowflake landing on a desolate plain. After three games, Ning Changjiu had progressed from beginner to proficient. His initial nervousness had vanished, replaced by caution. He also picked up a piece and placed it down.

Sword duels in the Sword Tower were like chess games. The two first contended for momentum. Their sword intent, when condensed, was like a single point, then rapidly expanded into a plane, and finally transformed into a three-dimensional sword domain, enclosing the opponent and showering them with sword intent like a thousand cuts. Thus, whose sword momentum arose first largely determined whose sword domain would form first, a crucial factor for victory.

Lu Jiajia drew her imagined sword. Though the sword was illusory, its intent sounded like the tearing of pipa strings, sharp and fragmented, and also like a winding, murmuring spring, lamenting as if in tears. Within the Sword Tower, sword intent stirred sorrow. All other swords in the tower were affected, producing mournful, weeping tremors. It was the sound of the evening breeze slipping through cracks on countless nights at Sky Cavern Peak.

Liu He remained unmoved. Though his action was sheathing his sword, the sword energy emanating from him was like a blade unsheathed. Lu Jiajia's sword intent appeared sorrowful on the surface, but inwardly, it held the magnificent power of an army breaking formation. But no matter what, he was a willow. A willow in spring breeze, a willow in winter snow. Whether the winds were gentle or fierce, he remained as serene as ever. Before him, an absolute domain of sword energy seemed to rise. All of Lu Jiajia's sword intent, upon reaching him, would transform into a torrent and part to both sides. Previously, Lu Jiajia had assimilated countless sword energies, but this time, it was as if she encountered an unyielding stone that could not be transformed, completely unable to claim it as her own.

Lu Jiajia drew her sword, and Liu He pressed his sword back. Within the invisible sword intent, two armies clashed. In the lotus pond, the boiling water surged like a curtain of rain. The curtain of rain turned into raindrops falling. Black chess pieces also dropped onto the board like raindrops.

The elder looked at the chess piece, smiled, and said, "Young man, you must come from a renowned family, I presume?"

Ning Changjiu smiled faintly. "The rules of chess don't change based on one's background."

The elder nodded gently, understanding that disciples from Ning Changjiu's sect were likely not permitted to reveal their origins when traveling. The struggle on the chessboard was tense and fierce; miscalculating the value of even a single move could lead to significant losses in the mid-game. But outside the chessboard, they began to chat casually.

"When I was as young as you, I also attended the Dragon Mother's Banquet a few times. Back then, the Immortal Palace of Adorned Consorts wasn't as beautiful as it is now," the elder said, as he carefully placed a chess piece firmly onto the board.

Ning Changjiu replied, "I imagine you were quite the charismatic figure in your youth, sir."

The elder smiled. "That was all more than two hundred years ago."

Ning Changjiu frowned. "Have you been injured, venerable elder?" Being over two hundred years old shouldn't show such decrepitude for someone in the Purple Court realm.

The elder nodded with a smile. "I was too competitive in my youth and developed many lingering ailments. Don't make the same mistakes I did."

Ning Changjiu asked, "Are you also here to see the Dragon Mother, venerable elder?"

The elder nodded. "I have a lingering doubt in my heart, and I don't wish to die with it unresolved, so I came to ask her."

Ning Changjiu asked, "What is your question?"

Instead of answering directly, the elder said, "The Dragon Mother has no children, yet she is called the Dragon Mother. Don't you find that strange?"

Ning Changjiu replied, "It is very strange. May I ask what the reason is, sir?"

The elder smiled, speaking vaguely: "Because the Dragon Mother's existence is far, far longer than three hundred years."

More than three hundred years? Dragon Mother? Ning Changjiu caught a hint of something. After Ning Changjiu's brief distraction, the elder had already selected a placement and solidly put down a piece. Ning Changjiu looked at the current board position and fell into contemplation.

The elder no longer looked at the chessboard. He leaned back in his chair, eyes slightly closed, seemingly taking a nap. He had originally thought it would be easy, but he hadn't expected to expend so much mental energy... The elder also felt a little tired. Ning Changjiu looked at the game, realizing that while the board seemed balanced, his own pieces had in fact created an opening. Calculating many subsequent breakpoints would be very troublesome, and he ultimately lacked the experience to foresee clearly. Yet, he vaguely sensed that if he didn't handle it well, it would lead to an avalanche. He slowly calmed his mind.

The crisp sound of a piece being placed echoed. The elder knew he had a strong chance of winning this game, but when he opened his eyes, he was still startled. It wasn't because Ning Changjiu had made a brilliant move, but because the elder clearly saw a golden light hidden within his eyes. That golden light was very pure. But the elder, familiar with ancient lore, knew well that such golden pupils were an act of great sacrilege. Even merely seeing them portended ill.

The duel in the Sword Tower also gradually reached its climax. The others had long since put down their swords, staring intently at the scene. They knew Liu He would win, so their focus wasn't on the outcome but on trying to comprehend the subtleties within the two sword intents, hoping to grasp something beneficial for their own paths. Contests in the Sword Tower were largely unrelated to cultivation realm; they were purely duels of sword intent.

Lu Jiajia had grown up on Sky Cavern Peak, accustomed to landscapes shrouded in clouds and mist. Her sword was a peak piercing the sky, and her peak was a sword piercing the sky. With the two intertwined, she stood unmoving yet embodied the presence of a towering peak blocking the path. As for Liu He, he cultivated in the Sword Pavilion, and the doctrine believed by the people of the Sword Pavilion was to cleave through peaks, cut off rivers, and contend against fate itself. His sword momentum seemed to be suppressed, but Lu Jiajia knew that if she couldn't completely overwhelm him, his counterattack would be fatal.

Sure enough, a shadow flickered in Lu Jiajia's sword-eyes—a white figure. If Liu He's relied-upon sword intent was a lake, then this suddenly appearing figure was a fierce beast within that lake. Lu Jiajia quickly realized that it was the spirit Liu He had refined from his sword body. That spirit resembled Liu He. The spirit raised its arm, and the arm became a sword, thrusting towards Lu Jiajia's glabella.

Lu Jiajia gathered her sword intent and positioned it before her eyes to defend. A crisp shattering sound. Lu Jiajia's sword body and physical body were already perfectly integrated, but for some reason, when this sword strike came, she still couldn't muster much resistance. But she showed no signs of retreating. She moved towards the spirit, simulating the sword technique from the latter half of the Heaven's Decree Sword Sect's scroll into her sword intent. The sword intent was lethal.

Liu He's expression shifted slightly. In his original estimation, this white-clad woman should have been defeated by this strike, but suddenly, he felt an unprecedented killing intent. This killing intent both startled and excited him. He twisted his fingers together, uniting his form with his sword spirit, and the sharpness and keenness of his sword intent surged dramatically. Before him, countless sword shadows, manifesting as tiny swords, leaped from the lotus pond like carp. They thrashed their tails upward, splitting continuously, resembling a blizzard stirred by a hurricane.

Lu Jiajia's red lips pressed into a thin line. The clash of sword intents was not a battle of real blades, yet it contained a game where a slight misstep could lead to a monumental error. The sword intents collided like churning blades. Lu Jiajia was at a disadvantage; her resolute, killing sword intent was shattered by Liu He. The sound of shattered sword intent was as crisp as a chess piece landing.

Ning Changjiu picked up a fallen black piece and wiped the dust from it with his hand.

"You are about to lose," the elder slowly said.

Ning Changjiu sighed. The game was now in its endgame; it would be difficult for him to turn the tide. Ning Changjiu sighed. "Your chess skills are indeed excellent, venerable elder."

The elder rubbed his temples; the complex thought required for this game made him appear even older. He sighed, "Your chess is also very strong—among the strongest I've encountered in my life... one of them."

Ning Changjiu placed the cleaned black piece onto the board. The sunlight seemed to grow a little brighter. It was a brilliant move, so brilliant it could stir celestial phenomena, yet it could not reverse the tide of the game.

The elder slowly raised his hand. He looked at the black and white pieces spread across the board, satisfied with his endgame performance. His hand slowly descended.

Lu Jiajia watched the falling sword intent, which resembled a drifting ice phoenix, her expression solemn. The sword intent was like spreading ice, sealing away all possibilities for her sword intent to change. Even the water in the lotus pond was affected by the sword intent, solidifying into a thin, fragile layer of ice. Lu Jiajia closed her eyes.

Within her sword intent, the shadow of a Golden Crow shattered the ice and emerged. Liu He's expression subtly changed. But he quickly composed himself and sighed, "A sword should be straight, cold, and emotionless. It may be corroded and rusted by time, but it must never cling to dust. That is what a sword truly is. Your sword cultivation is too human-like; no matter how indifferent it appears outwardly, it does not contain a pure sword heart. The human heart is not like a sword heart, and thus, it is naturally timid."

This Golden Crow was powerful, but it was merely an illusion, not something Lu Jiajia truly possessed. Liu He's sword intent transformed into a lock, trapping the Golden Crow's shadow within. This was the Sword Pavilion's 'Ice Seal,' the finest sword lock in the world. No mundane flame could melt it.

Lu Jiajia was frozen by the sword intent, unable to move, her expression calm but pale. After his initial sword strike, Liu He's remaining sword intent aimed for Lu Jiajia's glabella.

Then, a sudden anomaly occurred, and Liu He's pupils constricted. He saw fire. That was no ordinary fire. Lu Jiajia's long hair fluttered slightly in the sword wind, and within her hair, a single strand suddenly emitted a red light. She herself didn't know what it was, only that it felt warm, a warmth much like that of the little girl Zhao Xiang'er. Lu Jiajia's frozen sword intent instantly broke free and pierced towards Liu He. This strike wasn't delivered by her alone; it was more as if she and Zhao Xiang'er were holding the hilt together, thrusting it forth. And the Golden Crow, representing Ning Changjiu, cheered them on from the side.

The ice on the lotus pond melted instantly. A drop of blood fell into the lotus pond, spreading outwards. It was Liu He's blood. He looked at his glabella, his expression shocked. Silence filled the tower.

In the Chess Tower, it was also silent. Ning Changjiu picked up a piece, hesitated, then gently put it down. With a hint of regret, he sighed, "I've lost."

But the elder gently shook his head.

"Huh?" Ning Changjiu asked, puzzled.

The elder slowly said, "I'm going to die." Although he could win this game, it was a hard-won victory that had drained his last bit of strength. There were still three more floors; he was destined not to complete his journey. Rather than pass away amidst a tangled endgame, it was better to end his days with a perfect finish. He placed his last piece, gently adjusting it. This piece filled a vital point in his own formation, turning a previously active group of stones into a dead one. The piece was as white as his hair.

The elder leaned back in his chair, hands clasped within his sleeves, and closed his eyes.