Chapter 223 Mythical Vein Severance...The Swordholder
"Donglin Temple?"
Liu Zian was stunned for a moment, his face filled with suspicion:
"How could this dilapidated temple, which only scams women out of their incense offerings, possess such a rare sword technique? Is that unreliable abbot of Donglin Temple pretending to be weak while actually being strong?"
The old swordsmith gazed into the distance, squinting as he said:
"The lineage of legendary Qi cultivators at Donglin Temple has indeed been broken, but..."
The old man paused, then wagged his index finger at Liu Zi'an, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth:
"Aren't we allowed to have ancestors who were once wealthy? Back in the Northern and Southern Dynasties, the status of this temple was even greater than that of Yuqing Pavilion and Zaoshan, one of the Three Pure Ones of Jiangnan today, which is the most worldly and deeply involved in the world."
Liu Zian was speechless for a moment, glancing frequently in the direction of Dagushan Mountain, his brows slightly furrowed.
It seemed he was reflecting on whether he had spoken too loudly to that Master Shandao earlier. What if he really was a peerless master? The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. So what if the master was a little lustful and greedy? If he had no flaws, would he still be called a master?
Seeing the troubled look and lingering fear on Liu Zi'an's face, the old swordsmith saw right through him and shook his head:
"Don't worry, although Donglin Temple still has incense burning, it no longer has any orthodox Qi practitioners and has become just an ordinary famous temple in Jiangnan."
"The incense offerings accumulated over many years at this Lotus Sect ancestral temple have gone unabsorbed, making a bunch of passing cultivators envious."
"If you offend someone, there is no need to be afraid."
Liu Zian let out a slight sigh, turned his head, and asked curiously, "Old sir, how did you know about this matter after staying at home for so many years?"
"Last time, I chatted for a while with that pretty mute girl who was passing by on her way to deliver a message. She said that this little girl is very honest, but it's a pity that she is mute."
Liu Zian nodded, then pressed on, asking:
"How did the old gentleman obtain this rare sword technique? This afternoon, I subtly inquired with Boss Li and learned that the sword technique that the Prince of Wei's mansion prepared for Wei Shaoxuan is very likely related to the 'Emperor Wen' sword in the hands of the imperial court."
Liu Zian's expression was thoughtful:
"You said before that for every new Ding Sword that is born, a new sword technique will be created. This thing is so rare. Wei Shaoxuan is not very wary of us. I guess he is also confident that we will have a hard time finding the sword technique."
"I never expected that the old gentleman would have everything. It's so unexpected, it's like... God is helping me."
Liu Zian looked at the old swordsmith with a calm expression, his expression somewhat complicated.
If it weren't for the fact that he had been suppressed like a coward by Ouyang Lianghan recently, which made him furious and made people wonder if he was just unlucky, he would almost have thought that he was the chosen one of destiny, with everything going smoothly for him, and that someone would hand him a pillow just when he was about to doze off.
Wait a minute, maybe this is a long-awaited turn of good fortune?
"My sect has some connection with Donglin Temple."
The old swordsmith was vague, seemingly unwilling to elaborate, when he suddenly took out a thin booklet with a simple, dark gray cover from his bosom and casually tossed it to Liu Zian.
The latter quickly took it with both hands, as if it were a treasure. He turned the pages of the old book and saw that it was full of Sanskrit, seemingly an unknown Buddhist scripture.
"This is the sword technique of Donglin Buddhist Temple... Thank you, sir!" Liu Zian murmured softly, his eyes burning with emotion.
The old swordsmith watched coldly, tilted his head back, took a sip of wine, his face flushed with wine, seemingly slightly tipsy, and whispered a secret:
"The sword technique was born with the Ding Sword, so the first person to wield the sword is extremely important."
"The reason why those with strong qi who are close to the aura of the Dingjian can directly obtain the Dingjian's recognition as their master after reaching the most basic and most malleable ninth-rank cultivation condition is that they do not need the assistance of sword techniques."
"This is because people with strong spirits are naturally suited to the corresponding way of the sword and the cauldron, as if they are born with knowledge and can learn it without a teacher. Later, they can even create their own sword techniques."
"Therefore, most of the sword techniques that have been passed down in the world were created by the first swordsmen of each sword and left to future generations. This can be considered as a chance given by heaven to those who are not strong-willed to become swordsmen."
"All cauldrons originate from mythology and share the same source. There is naturally some mysterious connection between cauldrons and swords. Since the new cauldrons and swords have not yet developed their own sword techniques, in addition to those with strong qi, they can also use the sword techniques of other cauldrons and swords to gain their recognition as their master and advance the sword wielder's meridians. This can be considered as opening up a new path."
Liu Zi'an could not hide his joy. He nodded emphatically, put the Sanskrit sword manual in his hand into his robes, and bowed deeply to the old swordsmith.
"I will never forget your kindness in saving me."
The old swordsmith tilted his head back and drank alone. Liu Zi'an thought the old man didn't want to listen to his mushy words, but unexpectedly, the next second, the old man suddenly put down the wine pot and said for no apparent reason:
"That stab you gave me in the back was really well done. Even if you didn't finish him off in the end, the way Liu Ziwen suffered, the feeling of being worse than dead, ah, he died with his eyes wide open in disbelief. I love watching that."
Liu Zian's expression froze for a moment, as if he hadn't expected the matter to be brought up suddenly.
He remained silent for a moment, not replying, his eyelids drooping as he stared at the ground:
"What else would you like to watch, sir? I'd like to see if I can do anything more in my small way."
What else do you like to watch?
The murky wine leaked from the corner of his mouth, wetting his white beard. He put down the wine jar, muttered something, and chuckled softly without saying a word.
Liu Zian didn't pay any attention. He turned his head and glanced at the quiet sword furnace room, then rolled his eyes to examine the old swordsmith's ambiguous smile.
Taking advantage of his good mood, he asked in a low voice:
"Sir, you haven't told me its real name yet..."
What's your rush?
The old swordsmith turned his head and asked, "Can't you wait? I'll tell you on the fifteenth."
Liu Zian nodded with a somewhat helpless expression.
The old swordsmith turned and walked to the edge of the lawn, seemingly no longer paying attention and shooing away the guests.
Liu Zian stood there, reluctant to leave, his expression hesitant for a moment, and asked:
"Does the old gentleman have any other sword techniques in the works?"
The old swordsmith scoffed, "Go find it yourself."
Liu Zian gave an awkward smile, frowning in confusion:
"The old master once said that the bottleneck of the swordsman's meridians must be broken by the sword technique, and the sword technique is born with the cauldron sword, which is forged from the cauldron. I have always been curious about a question: how many cauldrons are there, which come from mythology?"
The old swordsmith countered with a question: "What are the different ranks of Qi cultivators?"
Liu Zian suddenly stiffened, slowly nodded, and then asked seriously:
"In this world, are there still cauldrons that haven't been forged into cauldron swords? Doesn't that mean there are still sword techniques yet to be revealed? Then... which cauldron did the old gentleman forge?"
The old swordsmith shook his head without answering, and sighed:
"That's why it's called the Mythical Vein, because at its end is a dead end."
"Yet its killing power is unparalleled!"
Liu Zian muttered to himself, about to turn around, when he suddenly uttered a number:
"seven?"
The old swordsmith said coldly:
"So what if it's seven? So what if it's eight? Even if it's a dead end, do you really think you can reach the end of the swordsman's lifeline? You're worrying about nothing before you've even taken up the sword."
Liu Zian's expression stiffened slightly. He nodded and remained silent.
The two turned their heads in tacit agreement and looked down from the grassy area halfway up the mountain. On the other side, most of the lights in Longcheng County had already been extinguished, with only a few scattered lights on, like sparse stars in the sky, drowsy and sleepy.
"It's getting late, so I'll take my leave now. Please get some rest, sir."
Liu Zian bowed and took his leave.
The old swordsmith glanced at Liu Zi'an and surprisingly asked:
"The day after tomorrow is the fifteenth, Liu Zian. I observe that there is no fluctuation of spiritual energy in your body yet. Do you have enough time... to advance to the ninth rank?"
Liu Zian smiled but remained silent.
The old swordsmith put down the wine jar he was holding and asked with great interest, "Which lineage's Qi-awakening and Qi-refining technique is this?"
Liu Zian touched the sword manual in his robes and smiled apologetically:
"On the fifteenth, we'll give the old gentleman a surprise."
After bowing, he left directly.
The old swordsmith gazed at Liu Zian's retreating figure, a thoughtful look in his cloudy eyes.
...
Liu Zian left the grassy area halfway up the mountain and walked down the mountain.
On the mountain road, he tilted his head slightly and glanced at the direction of the Dragon Head Platform where some kind of ceremony had been held.
"Disgraced and ruined... tenfold retribution..."
The sickly young man's faint murmurs were shattered by the mountain wind.
Turning back, Liu Zian's expression returned to calm as he prepared to return to the Liu family mansion to re-analyze the plan. But just then, a familiar figure appeared in his line of sight.
"Third brother? What are you doing here?"
Liu Zian looked at him curiously.
Liu Zilin was still wearing white mourning clothes, which he had not changed yet. However, the injuries he had sustained from being punished by a young county magistrate had completely healed, and he looked much more energetic.
Liu Zilin stepped forward, scratched his head, and choked out, "Second Brother, I..."
"Did you go to pay respects to your elder brother again?"
Liu Zian turned his head and pointed to a dark spot on the mountain, asking a question.
Liu Zilin's eyes immediately reddened again. He lowered his head and sobbed for a while, then forced himself to raise his head and said to Liu Zi'an, who was silently watching him:
"Second brother, eldest brother was the best to me. No matter what mistakes I made before, he never scolded me, he only taught me... Why did he have to die at the hands of that despicable person? Second brother, I've thought about many things these past few days at eldest brother's grave. I was indeed too naive and ignorant before..."
Liu Zian sighed, reached out and put his arm around his third brother's arm, patted him on the shoulder, and said in a serious tone:
"What are you crying for, a real man? If there's a blood feud, we'll avenge it. Don't be so sentimental, understand?"
"Yes, Second Brother!"
Liu Zilin clenched his fists, veins bulging on his forehead, and glared angrily in the direction of Luming Street in Longcheng County below the mountain.
In front of Liu Zi'an, his face contorted with hatred, he pounded his chest:
"I swear I will not rest until I avenge this! I will let you run wild for one more day, and I, Liu Zilin, will personally pay for this blood debt!"
Liu Zian glanced discreetly at the dark direction of Liu Ziwen's cemetery tomb, nodded slightly, and said in praise:
"This is the true man of the Liu family!"
Immediately afterwards, Liu Zian took Liu Zilin to Liu Ziwen's grave to pay their respects.
The two brothers descended the mountain together. On the way, Liu Zilin said solemnly:
"Second brother, I'll do whatever you say as long as you want revenge!"
Liu Zian nodded, glanced at his third brother who seemed much more composed, and suddenly asked:
"How's the situation with the men I asked to keep watch on them?"
Liu Zilin nodded emphatically, his face contorted with rage, his eyes bloodshot, and said:
"Don't worry, Second Brother, Liu Fu and I are keeping an eye on things. The person won't get away. There are no surprises over there for now, so you can go and do your important business! Everyone, wait for the fifteenth of the month, when we can all work together to turn things upside down! We'll settle all scores and grievances!"
"That's good."
Liu Zian smiled.
Liu Zilin smiled too.
...
"Yawn—yawn—! Cough cough cough."
Ouyang Rong sneezed twice in a row, immediately tightened his thin cardigan, and rubbed his slightly stuffy nose with two fingers.
With no one around to take care of me, and having been careless with my diet and daily routine these past few days, I've caught a bit of a cold.
Admittedly, the feudal lord-like life with maids warming his bed was indeed somewhat decadent.
Someone's thoughts were in turmoil, and they thought about it for no apparent reason.
This is a two-story room filled with the fragrance of sandalwood in a courtyard on the southeast side of Donglin Temple.
In front of the slightly hard bed, it was pitch black.
Ouyang Rong suddenly stood up and slightly pushed open the carved window door with both hands.
"Chirp, chirp, chirp—"
The chirping of summer insects around him grew louder.
"It's past midnight, Xiufa and Xiudu should all be asleep by now. It's time to go, Ouyang Lianghan. If it's past the fifteenth, Junior Sister might come back."
"Stop dawdling. You were pretty quick when you came out of the Deer Park yesterday, so why are you getting slower and slower as you get closer to the underground palace?"
In the darkness, Ouyang Rong muttered a few words to himself, then suddenly turned around, picked up the prepared bundle, and quietly went downstairs, pushing open the gate of Sanhui Courtyard.
Yesterday, he quietly went up the mountain to the temple. After dealing with Master Shandao, who always tries to give advice to everyone he meets, he quietly returned to the Sanhui Temple where he had been recuperating in bed.
It can be said that it began somewhere and it will end somewhere.
Ouyang Rong closed the courtyard gate, gently placed the key on the ground in front of the gate, turned around, and left without looking back.
At this moment, the bright moon hangs high in the sky, and the night is deep and quiet. Inside the Beitian Relief and Nursing Home of Donglin Temple, it is also dark.
Ouyang Rong followed the monks on duty with lanterns, skillfully made his way into the backyard of the charitable institution, climbed over the stone railing, and arrived at the dark, dry well.
The same old method was used: the body was suspended from a rope and slowly slid down into the underground palace below from the well opening.
A soft "bang" echoed slowly within the secluded underground palace.
It was Ouyang Rong's toes that reached down and stepped on the edge of the lotus pedestal.
Having successfully landed, Ouyang Rong rubbed his reddened palms and looked around.
The four-faced Buddha Jataka mural, the central lotus pedestal, and the moonlight falling from the well.
"Everything is the same as always..." he murmured wistfully.
In the Pure Land Palace, not far from the central lotus pedestal, a dark figure suddenly stood up and approached Ouyang Rong.
Ouyang Rong showed no surprise and silently turned his head away.
Master Xiuzhen slowly emerged from the darkness, just a step away from the moonlight falling from the well.
The mad monk, who had been woken up, probably thought his fellow disciples had brought him food. But when he saw Ouyang Rong standing in the moonlight, his withered face froze for a moment, and his outstretched hand, which was halfway to take the food, stopped.
Seeing this, Ouyang Rong immediately lowered his head and began rummaging through his clothes and bundle. After a moment, a look of apology appeared in his eyes, and he whispered:
"Sorry, I forgot to bring you some food... Speaking of which, I went to look for the mute girl and the old Taoist priest during the day, but they've probably been discharged from the hospital and I couldn't find them. I guess it's just us left here now, so we're old friends."
Xiuzhen looked up at the well opening, then at Ouyang Rong. His expression was one of surprise. He then made the old gesture of pointing one finger to the sky and one to the ground, his tone serious and earnest:
"Amitabha Buddha, benefactor, this place is the Pure Land of Lotus, and above it lies the Avici Hell! Come here quickly, don't stand there, you're too close to the Avici Hell!"
Ouyang Rong paused, his hand reaching into his robes to retrieve something. After a moment, he slowly raised his head and looked at Master Xiuzhen, whom he didn't know.
His eyes, though calm, revealed a hint of fatigue.
Forcing a smile, I nodded:
“The master is right. I should have listened to the master’s words long ago. I was foolish before. I climbed up like an idiot that night and misunderstood the master.”
Xiuzhen bowed with satisfaction:
“Amitabha Buddha, the sea of suffering is boundless, but turning back is the shore. You have great wisdom, benefactor.”
After saying this, the withered monk, who had been hiding in the Pure Land for a long time, happily reached into his robes, as if he had something delicious to share with someone who shared his wisdom.
Ouyang Rong smiled, not looking at him much, and slowly turned his gaze to a lotus pedestal in the center of the underground palace...
(End of this chapter)
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