Chapter 74: A Journey of a Thousand Miles

His thoughts were like an eclipse: after the darkness, light gradually began to illuminate his consciousness once more.

Ning Xiaoling watched him cautiously. She could clearly feel that in that moment, it was as if her senior brother had been emptied of something. This scene reminded her of the day he told the story of the young Taoist priest during the heavy rain. Back then, she had felt he was like a star; people could only perceive his faint glow, but not the true form hidden beneath its radiance.

Ning Changjiu sat in silence for a long time. He felt like someone who had wandered through darkness for ages, only to suddenly see a ray of light pierce the night and appear before him. That beam of light was like a sword; if he could grasp it, he could tear through the endless night.

“Junior sister…”

After a long while, he slowly spoke, his hand gently stroking her hair. He met her gaze, and softly said, "Thank you."

Although his smile was faint, Ning Xiaoling could sense his profound joy. It was like a calm lake suddenly teeming with ten thousand surging koi, ready to leap from the water at any moment, creating countless glittering splashes.

Ning Xiaoling shyly avoided her senior brother's seemingly melting gaze and said, "Why thank me?"

Ning Changjiu didn't answer directly, but suddenly said, "Xiaoling, I am your senior brother."

"Oh," Ning Xiaoling responded, surprised by his sudden remark.

Ning Changjiu continued, "I haven't been possessed by anyone, nor has my body been taken over by a monster. I have always been your senior brother; the person I was before that night is still the person I am now."

Ning Xiaoling paused for a moment. Ning Changjiu's words seemed complex, yet she understood them perfectly. He wanted to dispel her last remaining doubts.

"Senior brother, you don't have to say all this."

"I was worried you still had concerns."

"Honestly, knowing that you're good to me is enough," Ning Xiaoling said, pursing her lips and looking up. "And I don't know why, but I've always felt that you are, and always have been, the original senior brother... Is that just intuition?"

"It's truly wonderful to have met you, junior sister."

The brief calm was like a momentary pause in a blizzard.

"Fool," Ning Xiaoling murmured softly, then suddenly lunged forward, embracing him unexpectedly. Ning Changjiu's hanging sleeves stirred slightly as he heard the faint sound of the girl's sobs against his chest, her tears dampening his white robe.

Ning Changjiu curved his arms, his hands resting on her back, and gently patted her. He felt a surge of emotion.

In his previous life, his master had personally severed his innate spirit. This had led to a misconception: he believed his innate spirit was permanently gone, and thus, his Purple Palace was currently empty. But this was now twelve years ago. If time had truly rewound, and everything was back to its beginning, then what did the events of the past matter? He hadn't yet cultivated or formed a spirit, just as he was back then. It was good that everything was starting anew.

He closed his eyes, holding the girl in his arms, a faint smile gracing his lips. There was joy, and a hint of self-mockery. Beneath the paper window, his thoughts became crystal clear. He had spent half a month going in circles over something so simple. No wonder he felt a flash of insight when he saw that book in the library today, even if he hadn't fully understood it at the time. He really was a fool.

"Junior sister, don't cry. I'll teach you to read. Hmm... where did we leave off last time?" Ning Changjiu whispered.

"Last time we learned the horizontal, vertical, left-falling, right-falling, turning, bending, and hooking strokes..." Ning Xiaoling stammered.

Ning Changjiu laughed in exasperation. "What, you want to start over? If Jiejie finds out, she'll be upset."

"Jiejie has a tough exterior but a kind heart; she won't get angry. Even though she rarely speaks to you, she secretly cares about you a lot."

"Yes, I can't disappoint her anymore," Ning Changjiu said softly. "Alright, alright, get up. Today, I'll teach you poetry. Xiaoling needs to be cultured; you can't grow up to be a wild girl."

"What kind of poetry are we reading?"

"Since it's deep winter and snow is falling, sounding like shattering jade, I'll tell you some poems about snow."

In the afternoon, a green lamp rested quietly, ancient scrolls exuded their scent, and their conversation rose and fell, softly like falling snow.

"All throughout heaven and earth, it is made of white jade, cleansing one's heart and soul, making one wish to become an immortal..."

"The sky is cold at dusk, painted horns from the city gate tower blow, turning the jade trees into falling willow catkins."

After a long while, Ning Changjiu slowly closed the scroll and, smiling, asked, "Which line do you like best?"

Ning Xiaoling pondered for a moment, then carefully replied, "'Scattering salt in the air is barely comparable?'"

Lu Jiajia landed her sword on the chill cloud platform. Amidst the swirling cold mist, snow suddenly began to fall. Looking up, the sky was a vast, boundless white. The wind stirred, as if countless white scales danced wildly, bringing down endless frost and snow.

With a flick, Lu Jiajia drew her sword from its sheath. As the clear, crisp chime resonated, the wooden scabbard at her waist was empty, and a streak of verdant light shot across the sky. She focused her mind, then swept her sleeve aside with a flourish. Gripping the hilt, she ran two fingers of her left hand along the sword's mirror-bright blade, her expression cold and clear. She swung the sword, delivering a strike. The sword techniques from the upper volume of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture were unleashed one after another.

She executed "White Rainbow Piercing the Sun," "Great River Entering the Ditch," and "Ink Rain Overturning Basin"—three swords of magnificent and decisive killing intent. She also unleashed "Cloud Cliff Carving," "Falling Osmanthus," and "Knocking Moon Asking Immortal"—three unparalleled chilling swords. Other transitional swords, such as "Sand Snow," "White Silk," "Mirror Flower," and "Autumn Makeup," followed one after another.

Between the cliffs, sword qi surged, leaving behind countless fine sword marks on the ancient, unchanging rocks. They fell in a chaotic pattern, like small, scattered cliff carvings. Above the cloud platform, sword qi surged skyward, and snowflakes whirled backward. Lu Jiajia, with her slender waist cinched by a belt, moved with graceful agility amidst the swirling sword energy. Red plum blossoms had just begun to open by the cliff edge, and her figure was even more striking than the winter plum against the white snow.

Initially, the sword's momentum was immense, grand and imposing, with broad, sweeping movements. But towards the end, it became as delicate as a maiden dancing with a sword in a pavilion, gracefully moving to song and dance. Lu Jiajia had vermillion lips and pearly teeth, her skin like snow. The light filtering through the clouds illuminated her cheeks, making her earlobes appear crystalline.

The sword returned to silence. The swirling wind and snow settled.

Lu Jiajia, however, let out a soft sigh, the sword tip lightly brushing past her side as it slid back into its sheath. She stood silently, her expression blank, watching the sword qi gradually dissipate into the heavens and earth. Most of the sword techniques she had just performed were repetitions of fearless, aggressive attacks, but towards the end, her movements had become soft, like a courtesan's dance. It wasn't a sudden surge of tenderness in her heart; rather, her burst of spiritual energy had been exhausted after the fifth sword. The two damaged acupoints on her back had reached their limit, turning into a searing, piercing pain. Therefore, her last two sword movements could only be as gentle as a breeze, beautiful in appearance, but the agony beneath was hers alone to bear. The six main swords and four auxiliary swords from the upper volume of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture ended rather hastily.

Earlier, when Ning Changjiu and Ning Xiaoling rescued her, Ning Changjiu had asked what she would do if her cultivation could no longer advance. Her bold words from that time now felt hollow; she only felt a profound sense of helplessness. Today, she was twenty-four years old—still very young, even for a non-cultivator...

Yes, I'm only twenty-four. Lu Jiajia sighed softly, her gaze unfocused. If she were to spend the next hundred years confined to the Longevity Realm, how could she possibly endure?

On Heavenly Cavern Peak, the star stones stood in desolate silence. With her sword on her back, Lu Jiajia turned away from the fresh snow covering the mountain and entered the Sword Hall.

Night deepened.

Ning Changjiu sat on the floor, a bronze lamp lit before him. He sat cross-legged, gazing at the single flame, its brilliance reflected in his eyes. He didn't know what kind of night this exact day was in his previous life. Back then, he would have already rejected the marriage proposal and advanced into the Purple Court Realm. If he had encountered Zhao Xianger then, given their difference in cultivation, he wondered if she would still have dared to boldly demand an annulment in his presence.

But now, circumstances were entirely different. He hadn't even entered the Profound Realm yet.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Previously, he had wandered in confusion for a long time, but had never truly taken that crucial first step. His cultivation in the previous life had always felt effortless, like riding on clouds. Now, residing in the mortal realm, he hadn't been willing, or even thought, to take a grounded approach. Only today did he truly grasp that everything had, in fact, been reset and was starting anew. Although those memories remained, the closed-door disciple no longer existed in the realm of the unseen, and his life's path was now a brand new canvas.

"Then let it begin tonight..."

Ning Changjiu's breath deepened slightly. He stared at the flickering flame, and into the still lake of his heart, a spark seemed to ignite, then a fire began to burn, steadily growing brighter. He couldn't yet find that unparalleled, sharp blade. But since he was certain there was fine jade beneath the stone, even if it took a thousand years for the water to flow, it would eventually wash away the layer of dust.

Outside the window, heavy snow fell like countless white scales, silent and vast. On this ordinary snowy night, Ning Changjiu officially embarked on his path of cultivation in this lifetime.