Chapter 27: Loquat Fruit (Part 1)

The wooden sword left its sheath, slashing diagonally with a gust of wind trailing it. But as soon as it was drawn, the blade curved in an arc like a broken kite, falling to the ground, the tip clinking against the floor.

System: “How was it?”

Xu Qianyu placed the sword on the table and rubbed her wrist. “No impression at all.”

Though she remembered vague fragments of her past, this body was completely untrained. Holding the sword didn’t evoke any muscle memory, and even holding it single-handedly for a while proved taxing.

It was like watching people dance repeatedly and knowing the moves by heart, but being unable to perform them herself.

Xu Qianyu instantly felt that this reincarnation hadn’t brought any benefits. Besides a few painful memories, she still had to endure the same hardships, which was somewhat frustrating.

What annoyed her even more was the horrible food. On the first day, she had three meals: plain rice, steamed buns, and corn. Alongside these were a few grains and a pristine white jade hairpin flower that was neither edible nor drinkable.

By the third day, Xu Qianyu ignored the flower and looked straight at the plate, spotting two half-cut potatoes. She immediately grabbed the disciple delivering her meal. “When can I meet the sect leader?”

The two disciples, likely outer disciples of the sect and less informative than Sister Bai, hurriedly released her hand, saying, “We don’t know. Please wait here patiently; someone will inform you in time.”

Before Xu Qianyu could finish saying, “Could you please pass along my message?” they dashed away. She chased after them, only to see them vanish beyond her reach, while she was barred from following.

Surrounding the outer courtyard was an invisible barrier. Her hand touched it, feeling the firm, sturdy surface as a ripple of spiritual energy spread out from her palm, resembling a wall, confining her within the courtyard.

The system commented, “I know this! It’s a spiritual boundary. Xu Binglai must have set it up to protect you. Imagine if you wandered off and were captured by the Elder Taishang’s people.”

Xu Qianyu replied, “So he just locked me up here?”

She could wait, but without a set timeline, what if Xu Binglai forgot about her? Was she supposed to spend her whole life here?

Xu Qianyu had always been playful at home. She spent only two hours daily on studying, often scheming to persuade her teachers to assign less homework so she could sneak off and play.

She hadn’t expected that now, with days passing idly, she’d feel so anxious.

This feeling wasn’t as strong in the human world, but in Penglai, she knew that a single day here meant five days passing back home. Her grandfather and Guan Niang would have aged another five days. Yet, she was left waiting, with nothing to do but absorb spiritual energy, making her restless.

Three or four days later, when the disciples brought potatoes again, she glared at them and said coldly, “Is this food fit for a person? Take it away, I won’t eat it.”

She had hoped they’d be upset enough to report her behavior, preferably to the sect leader. But they simply exchanged glances, clearly too afraid to face her, and from that point on, food was delivered via spells without any human presence.

Without expression, Xu Qianyu tossed the flower out of the tray, picked up a piece of corn, and looked at it for a while before asking the system coldly, “Is this how the Xianmen is?”

Not even a vegetable or a piece of fruit?

Unable to eat, she set the corn down and walked to the courtyard. “I want to go out. Think of something.”

She wanted to go for a walk; encountering a random disciple would allow her to request an audience with Xu Binglai. At the very least, she could explore her surroundings.

The system was exasperated.

Of course, without pine and cypress, Xu Qianyu would turn to it.

It racked its brain, recalling a trick. “How about… try talking to the barrier, telling it sincerely that you really want to leave, pleading with it?”

Xu Qianyu’s eyes widened, confused. “Why?”

There wasn’t anyone outside.

“Uh… typically, such barriers are monitored by an important figure on the other side. They might not appear, but they’re quietly observing you. In desperation, if you think you’re trapped and speak to yourself, your sincerity could move them, and the door might just… open.”

Xu Qianyu paused. “Is Lu You like this?”

System: “Yes.”

All its female protagonists were like that.

“Never fails.” Although it wasn’t sure if it would work for Xu Qianyu, “Want to give it a try…”

No harm in trying.

“In your dreams.” Xu Qianyu coldly interrupted, “What if someone hears me?”

“There’s no one out there right now.”

Xu Qianyu retorted, “Aren’t you someone?”

She wouldn’t even ask a person, let alone plead with a wall?

Ridiculous.

What if it didn’t work? Even if only Keyun heard it, the shame would haunt her for three years.

Knowing it was pointless, Xu Qianyu scowled and turned back inside.

Yet, the thought of three days of potatoes and corn filled her with frustration. She turned sharply, took a few quick steps to the barrier, and slashed it with her sword.

The blade clanged against the invisible barrier and bounced off, falling to the ground. Xu Qianyu picked it up, wiped off the leaves, and prepared to head back.

After a moment, a cracking sound echoed in the air, as a thin fracture appeared on the barrier.

System: “…!!!”

Xu Qianyu was also startled, her palms covered in a layer of sweat. She immediately gripped her sword, took a few steps back, gathered her strength, and then sprinted forward, striking again at the crack in the frost-covered wall.

“Crack, crack…” The firefly-like spiritual energy scattered quickly.

Xu Qianyu rubbed her wrist, feeling her heart pounding and her breath quickening.

She prepared to chisel out a rectangular shape and deepen it further.

On the other end of this barrier was indeed connected to a “big man.”

Xu Binglai, with white hair and a golden crown, opened his eyes.

There was a complex golden sword mark on his brow, his eyes were narrow and long, with thick lashes, and his pupils were a very light color, like amber under sunlight, luxurious yet indifferent.

Once he discerned that the attack was not from an outsider but rather damage from the inside out, he felt reassured.

He already had a divine consciousness domain; the barrier was connected to his consciousness. All he had to do was close his eyes and gently brush his consciousness over it, and the barrier would be restored as before.

Xu Qianyu had entered Penglai’s territory, and even the heart-binding curse would be suppressed, posing no threat to her life. Additionally, a barrier to prevent the Elder Taishang from discovering her made everything even more secure. In his mind, this matter was largely settled.

These past few days had been busy with urgent and important affairs, and he had indeed forgotten about this mortal girl in the corner.

Now, hearing the commotion from the other side, he suddenly remembered—he still hadn’t met her face to face.

To him, this was not a particularly significant matter.

But since it came to mind, it would be best to arrange a meeting and put an end to it early.

Sensing someone’s gaze, Xu Binglai glanced over.

Shen Suwei stood slightly behind his seat, very close to him. With his level of cultivation, he had likely noticed the fluctuation in his master’s spiritual sense caused by the barrier, so his eyes had already looked over.

Xu Binglai said, with a hint of exasperation, “The person you brought back is chipping away at the wall.”

Shen Suwei was momentarily stunned.

The previous strike must have involved a physical impact on the barrier, causing significant damage, which would have provoked a momentary surge of killing intent from the cultivator.

But when Xu Qianyu left, she was in high spirits. How had things come to the point of damaging the barrier in just a few days?

Unable to deduce much, based on what he knew of her, Shen Suwei said, “She’s young and restless. You could offer her some food, toys, or books. Otherwise, if she has nothing to do all day, she might get unsettled.”

Then he noticed Xu Binglai’s expression, which was rather indescribable.

“Is she three? Five?” Xu Binglai replied. “She’s older than that, can’t even endure a few days and needs to be pacified. I’m not one to indulge such behavior.”

In this sect, all disciples who pursued the path were of calm temperament. Even seven-year-old novices understood decorum, knowing to stay quietly and wait for summons if not instructed by their elders—let alone that Xu Qianyu was a woman.

So impulsive.

Shen Suwei lowered his gaze and didn’t continue speaking. Acting in haste and bringing her back had indeed struck Xu Binglai’s sensitive nerve. This matter had been handled poorly.

Xu Binglai said, “Bring her to see me in two days.”

“Yes.”

Xu Binglai glanced at him again and, as expected, raised an issue: “Where’s your sword?”

Shen Suwei replied, “…My Yaoguang blade does not align well with a disciple’s.”

“Yaoguang suits you well,” Xu Binglai interrupted, his gaze sharp. “I personally chose that sword for you; it is your destined weapon.”

Xu Binglai followed the road of “instrument road,” and in terms of sword selection and tool choice, no one in Penglai could surpass him.

Cultivators tend to be modest, usually to avoid exposing their strength unnecessarily and attracting strong adversaries, thus preserving the element of surprise at critical moments. But if it compromises their fighting ability, it becomes counterproductive.

Shen Suwei was young and showed no desire to flaunt, which was fine, but concealing his edge to this extent indicated an underlying issue.

“Suwei, being outstanding inevitably draws attention. Complete concealment is for an assassin, not a sword lord. You are my disciple; I want you to be more confident.”

Shen Suwei simply replied in the affirmative.

Xu Binglai seemed somewhat displeased but did not press further about the whereabouts of Yaoguang, knowing that it was futile: “Pick a spare sword to use for now.”

Shen Suwei silently presented the token obtained from his autumn hunt.

It was spiritual energy refined from a captured demon, condensed into a pill, intended for Xu Qianyu. After all, she had been left in life-threatening situations because of him this time, so he tried his best to compensate. However, beyond compensation, he hoped: “I ask my master not to mention the disciple’s name.”

Xu Binglai looked at the pill, sighed softly, and his expression softened slightly. “You shouldn’t have become so entangled in mortal matters. After this, you should be able to stay in the sect and prepare well for this year’s ‘Spring Outing.'”

He then handed Shen Suwei a selection of heart techniques and sword manuals. “Now that you’ve formed your Golden Core, have you thought about choosing a path?”

Shen Suwei flipped through the heart techniques, landing on “Hollow Mind and Bright Realm,” and noticed terms like “Six Harmonies Ruthlessness” in the sword manuals. He understood. “Does Master wish for me to choose the Path of Ruthlessness?”

“It’s not my wish. It’s what’s suitable for you,” Xu Binglai replied. “Firstly, your nature is calm, your sword intent is cold and detached, with an otherworldly quality—unlike Jiansu, whose sword energy varies with his temperament. Among the Six Paths, the Path of Ruthlessness is the best fit. Secondly, you have great aptitude, and if you practice the Path of Ruthlessness, you’ll avoid entanglements in the mundane, fewer attachments, and it will aid in advancing your cultivation level.”

But he also understood that Shen Suwei was simply reserved, not truly ruthless; he was meticulous, repaying kindness tit for tat. Even his respect for Xu Binglai was partly due to the debt of his entry into the sect.

If Shen Suwei cultivated the Path of Ruthlessness, he would be truly detached from worldly affairs, with no more pills for Xu Qianyu, and no more dutiful bowing as the sect’s sword.

Yet Xu Binglai, being his master, wouldn’t hinder his disciple from choosing the appropriate path for personal reasons.

“You needn’t be concerned. Bringing you into the sect was no more than a small effort on my part. These tasks are merely for your tempering, not my expectations for you. In an Xianmen, cultivation is paramount. If you can progress further, all of Penglai will take pride in you.”

“If you don’t wish to choose, you can first practice these techniques. Picking a different path later will still be beneficial.”

Shen Suwei nodded slightly and took his leave.

Once outside, he looked up. Today’s sky was a deep blue, like jade, with not a single cloud in sight.

As Shen Suwei entered Mengdu, he overheard two female cultivators complaining that Xu Qianyu was so bad-tempered. They said there was no need to go inside; they could just use a spell to place the tray through the wall.

From behind, Shen Suwei remarked, “Since the Sect Master ordered you to deliver the meal, there must be some intention for you to show care and attention. Simply delivering the food isn’t enough. You must go inside.”

The disciples immediately straightened up and replied, “We respectfully follow Senior Brother’s guidance.”

Senior Sister Bai Xue informed Shen Suwei of Xu Qianyu’s courtyard location, asking if he intended to visit. Shen Suwei shook his head.

He had no connection with Xu Qianyu anymore, and it wasn’t appropriate to visit her privately. He simply replied, “Let her know she can meet with the Sect Master in two days.”

Seeing he wasn’t going, the female cultivators visibly relaxed.

The two younger ones waited until he left, then quickly handed the troublesome task over to the servant women, instructing them to speak a few extra words to Xu Qianyu when they delivered the meal.

*

Practicing the “Lihue Ruthlessness” sword technique felt cold, even colder than his previous sword forms, as if engulfed by heavy snow, with darkness all around.

In the vast, boundless universe, it was as if he stood utterly alone.

The blue sky, dark green trees, sunlight, and everything around him gradually melted away in a blizzard, as if he had returned to that dark underground cavern of his childhood. His eyes stared straight ahead, pupils large and round like a cat’s, dark as ink.

From years without seeing light, his pupils had set this way, beautiful but frightening.

Since he hadn’t spoken in two years, his mother, upon realizing he was mute, became flustered. She began to hold him daily, reciting poems, stories, and memories.

He remained as quiet as a porcelain doll.

His mother said, “When you were three, you could recite the Thousand Character Classic, poetry, and the Hundred Schools of Thought, all fluently.”

He saw the brightness in her eyes, as if in deep regret. His eyelashes quivered; he wanted to say something to make her happy, but the storm of hate churned within him, and in his childish voice, he managed only one word: “Kill.”

His mother was stunned.

Her tear-filled eyes widened, shining like gems, and she embraced him.

The jewels and hairpins on his head shook as they hit each other, and he felt warm tears trickle down his neck.

“How could this be?” she cried. “Whom do you want to kill? There’s only you and me here. It’s all my fault—you were never meant to endure this.”

Of course, he didn’t mean to kill her.

It was to kill those people, the ones who had forced them into such a state.

He actually knew how to say “blue sky,” “green trees,” and “birds,” but he couldn’t get the words out. For things he’d never seen, all those words felt the same, blending into confusion at the tip of his tongue.

He knew only what “kill” meant: the sudden trampling of hooves, countless feet, and the flow of warm liquid, just like the warmth now seeping into his collar. And then, someone beside him would disappear.

So many people had disappeared already; now it was just him and his mother.

Suddenly, he grabbed her hand in fear. He pushed her away, wiping her tears with his hand, afraid she might vanish too.

He forced himself to open his mouth, but he couldn’t say anything that would shock her again.

He started learning to say “friend,” “family,” “beloved,” and, seeing his mother’s smile, he quietly breathed a sigh of relief. In his heart, he thought that these words must mean something similar to the soft comfort of his mother’s hand.

Later, he even recited, “The pear blossoms pale white, the willows deep green, the city filled with flying blossoms.”

It was years later before he understood what the sky was, what spring was, what willow catkins and pear blossoms were.

By then, his mother, too, had disappeared.

…

If he chose the Path of Heartlessness, it would probably mean returning each of these colorful things, one by one, until all that remained in heaven and earth was empty snow and the desire to kill.

He had come this far, after all, for the sake of the great path. His goal lay before him, and it seemed there was nothing wrong with that.

Yet, as his sword slowed, the wind and snow in his vision gradually stilled.

It seemed there was still something he had forgotten to return. But since it didn’t belong to him, it couldn’t be easily set aside.

He quietly used his sword tip to brush away the snow, revealing something buried within it.

An unopened box of snow-skin mooncakes.

Shen Suwei lowered his sword, the delayed sword wind brushing through his hair.

So this was the unfinished business.

Beginning to end, let this be the closing chapter.