Wangchuan Tower was the premier pavilion of Anxi Commandery's seat. Nestled against mountains and flanked by water, it offered a vantage to gaze into the distance from on high or lean over deep pools to admire the swimming fish. It was a gathering place where the younger generation met over poetry and martial arts, as well as where clan elders often came to listen to the rain, savor fine wine, and watch with amusement as circumstances shifted and the youth vied for supremacy.
Nine was the ultimate number, and thus Wangchuan Tower had nine stories. Only when the younger generation gathered to spar in poetry and swordcraft was it possible to set foot on the ninth floor. Yet not just anyone could ascend there; whether one could climb to the summit to debate the Dao still required the tower master's nod of approval.
The clan elders often gathered on the eighth floor, while the rising figures of the younger generation occupied the seventh.
Reaching the seventh floor required qualifications of its own. Only seven people could be recognized as principal patrons of that floor; if an up-and-comer wished to take a place among them, they had to unseat one of the current seven.
Young though Cui Tianlin was, he had long become a regular of the seventh floor. Ever since his Dao Foundation immortal sword took its rightful place—becoming the Spring Courtyard Moon, one of Sword Palace's seven realm-guarding immortal swords—this windowside seat on the seventh floor had become his exclusive domain.
Night had just fallen, and splendid lanterns were lighting up one after another. Speckles of lantern light reflected upon the river's surface, looking like the starry heavenly river spilling into the mortal world.
Cui Tianlin sat leaning against the windowsill, lost in thought.
Around the tables sat over a dozen young men and women, all of whom had gained entry to the seventh floor entirely by his grace. If Cui Tianlin did not come, they would not even be qualified to set foot on this story. Among them were no few who hailed from families of higher pedigree than Cui Tianlin's; indeed, a decade ago, many of them would have disdained to even associate with him.
"Brother Lin, are you thinking of practicing your sword again?" asked a sweet, lovely young woman.
Pulling his thoughts back, Cui Tianlin said, "Too much is as bad as too little. Cultivating the sword begins with cultivating the mind. Wherever the mind reaches, there lies the boundary of the sword. Hence, there is no need to practice excessively; it is enough to hold the sword in one's heart."
Someone cheered at once. "Brother Tianlin's words truly awaken a man from his dream! Only now do I realize that my twenty years of sword cultivation were entirely led astray!"
Cui Tianlin felt a touch of helplessness, but he still nodded politely. Whenever he tried to share his insights into the sword Dao with these people, he was always met with specious flattery. At times like this, all he could do was repeatedly ponder the sword intent of the Spring Courtyard Moon in his heart.
After the group prattled on about their so-called insights into the sword, someone suddenly said, "A flying boat arrived in the city today, and someone saw Cui Yu return."
Another young woman said indignantly, "That man truly doesn't know what's good for him. If not for Brother Lin's magnanimity, by our reckoning, we'd have challenged him to a duel on the ninth floor long ago to teach him there is always someone better and heaven beyond heaven! Really, Brother Lin has always wanted to save the most important position for him. If you ask me, he deserves a good thrashing!"
"Brother Tianlin, why not seize the chance of his return to challenge him directly? We've been longing to behold the brilliance of the Spring Courtyard Moon!"
The crowd broke into another round of clamorous encouragement.
Cui Tianlin suddenly felt his enthusiasm wane. "Forget it. If he is unwilling to join, there is no need to force him."
Just then, a commotion broke out downstairs, and everyone on the seventh floor turned toward the stairwell. From below came an attendant's frantic voice: "The seventh floor is already full! Please don't make things difficult for this lowly one, Young Master!"
Then came Cui Yu's voice: "Then what about my seat? Who took it?"
"Young Master, you know as well as anyone that if a seat is left empty for half a year, it must be given to someone else. That has always been the rule!"
"Then how is it I heard that someone didn't come for an entire year, yet his seat remained untouched?"
"Uh, this..."
Everyone turned to look at Cui Tianlin. A year ago, Cui Tianlin had been in closed-door cultivation at Sword Palace to stabilize the Spring Courtyard Moon, and he indeed had not returned during that time.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs—steady, calm, unhurried, as though not even the collapse of the heavens would disrupt his pace.
Cui Yu stepped onto the seventh floor.
Behind him, the attendant was on the verge of tears, pleading, "This lowly one is just trying to earn a bite to eat. Young Master..."
Cui Yu swept his gaze across the room. At one of the tables, a youth shrank back instinctively. That very seat had once been Cui Yu's customary place before being taken by him. If Cui Yu wanted it back and challenged him, the youth knew full well he was no match for Cui Yu.
To his surprise, Cui Yu did not even glance at him, looking straight at Cui Tianlin instead. "Do you dare to fight?"
Cui Tianlin was visibly taken aback, but naturally he did not fear Cui Yu. "Why would I not?"
Cui Yu sneered. "Very well, then we fight on the ninth floor! But your physical body is ordinary. Shall we place some restrictions on this match?"
Cui Tianlin replied, "No need. When battling enemies in the future, will an enemy agree to restrictions? In a fight between you and me, we should naturally unleash all our methods."
Cui Yu let out another cold laugh. "I did warn you. Let me ask once more: do you want any restrictions?"
Cui Tianlin could not help feeling provoked, his voice dropping into a solemn tone. "No need! Whatever methods you have, Brother Yu, feel free to use them."
"Splendid!"
Cui Tianlin's gaze passed over Cui Yu and fell upon the tall young man standing behind him. That young man possessed almost no presence; only now did Cui Tianlin even notice his existence.
The young men and women were thrilled, bustling up to the ninth floor in a clamor. The clan elders who had been drinking on the eighth floor also ascended one after another to spectate. In the blink of an eye, word spread, and more and more people arrived. Everyone knew that who would lead the younger generation of the Cui family would be decided in this very match. This was perhaps the most momentous duel fought at Wangchuan Tower in the past decade.
The ninth floor was exceptionally lofty, its ceiling standing a full ten zhang above the floor, supported by eight massive pillars.
Cui Tianlin was the first to enter the arena. He slowly drew his dharma sword, running a finger along the blade, and the entire weapon immediately shimmered with rippling light, like the gentle undulations of deep water.
Cui Yu, on the other hand, entered flanked by two retainers, each carrying a large chest.
Opening one chest, Cui Yu hauled out a peculiar dharma treasure. It had three barrels and looked rather cumbersome. One retainer set up a tripod, helping Cui Yu mount the treasure onto it. From the other chest, Cui Yu pulled out a belt laden with flying swords, feeding one end into the device, before signaling that he was ready to begin.
A clan elder recited the customary rules of engagement—nothing more than forbidding lethal strikes, deliberate killings, and the like—before striking a bronze chime. The duel began.
Sword in hand, Cui Tianlin stood poised. "Brother Yu is older than me, so please strike first. I will yield three sword strikes to you."
The surrounding youths burst into praise at once, declaring that Cui Tianlin was not only extraordinarily gifted but also modest and courteous; if no peerless genius appeared in the coming decades, he would surely be the undisputed candidate to lead the entire Cui family.
Cui Yu turned a deaf ear to their chatter, yet his ashen face betrayed his thoughts. He stared at Cui Tianlin and said, "If you concede now, there is still time."
Cui Tianlin smiled faintly. "Among Sword Palace disciples, there has never been a precedent for yielding."
Cui Yu sneered. "It seems you know nothing of my methods. Very well, today I will open your eyes!"
Channeling his Dao power, Cui Yu activated the bizarre treasure, only for it to emit a sharp clack—a flying sword had jammed inside! The entire hall erupted in laughter.
Cui Yu was stunned as well; he had never expected the treasure to malfunction at a time like this. He urged his power several times, but the flying sword remained stuck fast in the chamber. As the laughter grew louder, one of the clan elders remarked, "Petty gimmicks and clever craft can never take the stage in the end."
The double-edged remark took a jab at Cui Yu along the way.
Helpless, Cui Yu reached out to flip a switch on the treasure and yanked the bolt. A low hum resonated as the three barrels began to spin at blistering speed. He had not originally intended to use this mode.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three flying swords shot out in rapid succession, almost blending together, but Cui Tianlin deflected them with ease.
The onlookers were rather surprised; they could all tell each other that each of those three strikes was equivalent to the full blow of a Dao Foundation cultivator, packing quite respectable power. The treasure in Cui Yu's hands was evidently anything but simple.
Cui Tianlin said leisurely, "Three strikes have passed. Now, I shall attack."
"You won't get the chance!"
Cui Yu poured out his Dao power, unleashing it with everything he had. A deafening roar instantly swallowed the ninth floor as countless flying swords converged into a raging torrent! Cui Tianlin's protective Dao art held on for barely three breaths before shattering violently, and he was hurled backward like a broken doll, plummeting into the river below.
The Spring Courtyard Moon slipped from his grip, spinning several times through the air before plunging into the wooden floorboards, its sword light gradually dimming.
After a heartbeat of dead silence, cries of alarm finally rang out, and several figures leaped into the air to fish Cui Tianlin out of the water.
No one had expected Cui Tianlin to lose so decisively. Yet the treasure in Cui Yu's hands was truly terrifying; in that brief instant, it had unleashed hundreds of flying swords. Let alone a Dao Foundation cultivator like Cui Tianlin, not even a dharma idol expert could have withstood it.
At that moment, the elder who had sneered at petty gimmicks turned furious. He barked, "How dare you resort to underhanded trickery! This match does not count!"
The elder strode toward Cui Yu and reached out to seize the peculiar treasure. "A baneful contraption like this cannot be permitted to remain in your hands!"
Suddenly, another figure stepped in front of him—Wei Yuan. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, Wei Yuan said indifferently, "This thing is quite expensive. If you damage even a corner of it, I'm afraid you won't be able to afford the compensation even if you bankrupt your entire household."
The old man looked Wei Yuan up and down, then suddenly asked, "You are Wei Yuan?"
"The very same."
A buzz of discussion immediately erupted around them. What they were discussing was not that Wei Yuan had survived the Karma Great Curse, but rather the bold words he had leveled against the Xu family.
The old man narrowed his eyes, his voice turning frosty. "I hear you said the Xu family's dharma idols are all rubbish. Tell me, do you look upon my Cui family's dharma idols and think they are all rubbish as well?"
Wei Yuan threw his head back and laughed, his voice ringing through the surroundings. "Old sir, your attempts to sow discord are far too crude! You've lived to such an age, yet how is it your wits haven't grown? When you have nothing better to do, read fewer romance serials and study more history books."
The old man's face turned livid with rage. Magic power surged around him as he unleashed the cultivation of a late-stage dharma idol expert without the slightest restraint.
Behind Cui Yu, a middle-aged man appeared at some unknown moment, frowning slightly as he prepared to step forward, but Cui Yu held him back with a gentle shake of his head. The middle-aged man looked slightly surprised, but chose to wait and see.
Wei Yuan glanced at the spear-wielding warrior that manifested above the old man's head. In an instant, he saw that this dharma idol was actually centered on the spear itself; the warrior holding it was merely an accessory and embellishment, not even on the same tier as Shangguan Qianmo's sword-bearing immortal maiden.
Dharma idols, much like Dao Foundations, were divided into grades, with the disparity between them even more pronounced. Generally speaking, the greater the spiritual nature a dharma idol possessed, the higher its grade. Thus, a sword-bearing immortal maiden stood an entire rank above a pure immortal sword.
Though this old man possessed late-stage cultivation, the core of his dharma idol was still just a long spear; its spiritual nature was thoroughly mediocre.
Having appraised the old man's dharma idol, Wei Yuan had his answer. He said, "I have always admired the Cui family, and Brother Yu and I are life-and-death friends. There are many dharma idol experts in the Cui family whom I hold in high esteem. But I must say, old sir, this dharma idol of yours truly is rather rubbish. If we remove you from the count, the overall standing of the Cui family's dharma idols would likely rise by an entire grade."
Chapter 392