Chapter 172: Uninvited Guest
Returning to his cave dwelling, Song Yan settled in to rest.
The night passed without incident.
The following morning, Song Yan sat cross-legged in his practice room, a flying sword resting before him.
The blade gleamed with flowing spiritual light, sword qi coiling faintly about it.
To call it a flying sword was not quite accurate, for it was a mortal blade.
The Qilin Lord.
At this moment, it had already been fully refined by Song Yan.
Though Song Yan had known from the beginning that it was a mortal weapon, it had nonetheless been the blade of a sword cultivator Senior who used it all the way through late Foundation Establishment, only replacing it upon breaking through to Core Formation.
He had always felt there ought to be something special about it, or perhaps some hidden secret.
There was not.
Then again, how could all the world’s fortunes fall upon a single person?
Still, in terms of the blade’s own resilience alone, it had already reached the level of most low-grade magic weapons.
The sword qi and spiritual energy it could bear were also scarcely inferior to those of an ordinary low-grade magic weapon.
Perhaps this was because that Senior had once melted a qilin scale into its forging.
“To use a qilin’s scale upon a blade of mortal iron…”
This Senior Nie was truly free-spirited.
Song Yan conceded that, in this regard, his state of mind had not yet attained the caliber of his seniors.
If one melted some mundane forging materials into a magic weapon, the weapon would not lose much of its power.
But if one melted a refining material into a mortal blade, though it could greatly enhance the weapon’s might, its fundamental nature as a mortal blade would not change.
Remembering Nie Chao, his thoughts began to drift.
“At the end of that illusory realm, the sword-robed Daoist once said that his master—Senior Nie Chao’s grandmaster—had gone to a very faraway place…”
At first listen, this sounded rather like a eulogy for the departed.
But since these words came from a sword cultivator, they should be taken at face value.
“Could it be that the ancient sword cultivator Seniors all disappeared because they went to that ‘faraway place’?”
Young Song Yan pondered.
But for him, the farthest place in the world seemed to be the Central Domain.
The Northern Frontier, the Immortal Islands—those were too vague to even conceptualize.
“What could be so momentous that every sword cultivator would go…”
His thoughts gradually converged, and he returned his gaze to the flying sword before him.
The Useless Sword Box could only hold two flying swords, and it was already full.
However, Song Yan planned to place Lianli and the Qilin Lord within it in the future.
The Untethered Vessel would remain in the Twin Jade Pearl.
For a life-bound flying sword, whether it resided within the sword box or the Twin Jade Pearl made little difference.
Yet placed within the sword box, nurtured by the sword qi within, the improvement to the mortal iron might be more pronounced.
When the time came to wield it, he would find it all the more responsive.
The simplest “sword formation” recorded in the Seed Planting Technique required at least three flying swords to deploy.
Song Yan planned to begin studying the essentials of sword formations once the sect’s Sword Trial concluded.
Even if he could not master it immediately, he now possessed a sufficient foundation to move in that direction.
Just as he put away the flying sword and prepared to meditate and restore his spirit, a sudden fluctuation rippled through the restrictions outside his cave dwelling.
“Hmm?”
Who would come calling at this hour?
Song Yan stepped out of his cave dwelling at a measured pace, only to find two figures standing beyond his small courtyard—a man and a woman.
The male cultivator, appearing middle-aged, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his cultivation level unreadable.
He wore an elder’s robes, his countenance stern, commanding authority without a trace of anger.
“Elder Yang Wenxuan?”
There were many elders within the sect, but those who truly held great power numbered only a select few.
After the Silence Valley affair had concluded, this Elder Yang Wenxuan had already met with him.
Seeing this man, Song Yan’s heart sank slightly. The reason was simple enough—from their brief encounter and exchange at the time, this Yang Wenxuan had proven the most difficult to deal with among all the elders.
He was…
Tricky.
Song Yan did not know what purpose this elder harbored in visiting personally rather than issuing a summons.
Standing beside Yang Wenxuan was a young female disciple Song Yan did not recognize.
She was fair of face, and as Song Yan regarded her, he struck him as remarkably familiar.
This person… bore a certain resemblance to Senior Sister Qin Ying.
Though his mind churned with questions, the other party included a sect elder, and Song Yan dared not be remiss.
He immediately straightened his robes, withdrew the restrictions, and went out to greet them.
Song Yan cupped his hands and bowed respectfully. “Disciple Song Yan greets Elder Yang.”
Yang Wenxuan nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over Song Yan before a genial smile spread across his face. “No need for such formality, Nephew Song. Your performance at yesterday’s Sword Trial was truly brilliant. This old man came specifically to offer his congratulations.”
Song Yan quickly waved his hands. “This disciple does not deserve such praise.”
He hurried to invite them into his cave dwelling, but Yang Wenxuan stopped him.
“No need for trouble, Nephew Song. We were merely passing by and thought to pay a visit.”
He walked into the yard and gestured to the young woman beside him. “This is my disciple, Qin Sheng. She witnessed Nephew Song’s distinguished bearing yesterday and insisted on paying her respects.”
Qin Sheng curtsied gracefully, her smile warm and gentle. “Senior Brother Song.”
Song Yan hurried to return the courtesy. “Junior Sister Qin.”
Qin…
Could she truly be related to Senior Sister Qin Ying?
He turned the matter over in his mind, though his attention remained fixed primarily upon Yang Wenxuan.
As an elder, a sudden personal visit was never motivated by something as simple as congratulations or a passing whim.
“Since Elder Yang has come in person, if there are matters to discuss, perhaps we should go inside?”
Song Yan stepped aside, clearing the path, and made a welcoming gesture.
Yang Wenxuan, however, waved it off once more. “No need. This old man came today not only to offer congratulations, but to ask a question.”
Song Yan’s heart went cold, though his expression betrayed nothing.
“Please speak, Elder.”
Yang Wenxuan’s gaze deepened as he spoke slowly. “Nephew Song, have you heard of the Qin clan of Southern Chu?”
Song Yan paused, his expression unchanged, his gaze flickering almost imperceptibly toward Qin Sheng.
He answered without hesitation. “Northern Yan, Southern Qin—one of the Four Great Immortal Clans. Naturally, I know of them.”
Inwardly, however, he harbored particular thoughts.
He vaguely recalled that after the Silence Valley affair had concluded, he had once ridden in a mortal’s carriage.
On the carriage were Xie family disciples heading to a Daoist sect to seek the path of immortality.
His own nascent form of Dao Heart had been thanks to the Southern Flood Clay Doll the Xie family had gifted him.
Recalling it, the Qin Immortal Clan’s methods did not seem particularly upright.
Song Yan had been navigating the cultivation world for quite some years now.
He understood well the principle of the strong devouring the weak.
Perhaps the Qin clan had originally been modest cultivators as well, toiling for generations in obscurity before eventually swallowing some fallen cultivation family to reach their present station.
But having achieved “today,” they naturally needed to secure their dominance as the preeminent cultivation family of Southern Chu.
After all, they knew full well how many “cultivation families”—just like their former selves, striving to climb the ranks—lay crushed beneath their feet.
There was nothing wrong with that.
Yet having witnessed it firsthand, his impression of the Qin clan was inevitably rather poor.
How the Qin clan conducted themselves was their freedom.
How he judged them was his own.