Chapter 47: The Small Saint’s Token Holds a Hidden Treasure, Heaven and Earth Draw Near to the Sword’s Aura

On the journey home, the spring rain had ceased its drifting, and the waning sun hurried across the sky, chased by the wind. Rays of sunset slipped quietly from behind, spilling a layer of golden light upon the road leading straight to Lin’an.

Inside the ornate carriage, Lin Zhuifeng chattered incessantly, venting the shock and excitement in his heart.

Lin Qingyin, by contrast, sat quietly, lips pressed together in attentive silence, offering a gentle smile now and then.

Anle sat upright, a bamboo sword named Green Mountain at his waist, the sword Mo Chi resting on his lap. He appeared utterly composed, so much so that any outsider might have mistaken him for the prodigy favored by the Mountain Lord and holder of the Little Sage Token, rather than the irrepressibly excited Lin Zhuifeng who swung a fire poker in enthusiasm.

How many peaks west and south does the sunset touch, where broken clouds paint the distant sky crimson?

Bathed in the afterglow of rain-washed dusk, the carriage rolled back to Lin’an Prefecture just as lanterns were being lit.

Upon alighting, Anle, swords at his side, smiled and bid farewell to Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin. Only after their carriage disappeared at the far end of Qingbo Street did he turn and make his way down Taimao Alley.

Dressed in white, a smile lingering at his lips, Anle was in high spirits. Having broken through in his cultivation, obtained the treasured sword Mo Chi and the Little Sage Token, his heart brimmed with joy.

As he reached the gate of his courtyard, he paused in mild surprise to find, standing before the entrance, an elder in plain robes and wide sleeves, a bamboo staff in hand, holding a jug of wine and a packet of beef wrapped in oiled paper.

Seeing Anle’s return, the old man’s long brows relaxed, and he raised the wine and meat in greeting.

Anle’s smile broadened. He quickened his steps, almost running to open the door with his key and let them both inside.

Moments later.

In the courtyard, fresh from new rain, they sat at a small table, enjoying wine and meat in great spirits.

Anle toasted the elder, marking the occasion of having obtained the Little Sage Token atop the Sixth Mountain.

The sun’s last light poured magnificently upon the world.

The elder held Mo Chi in his hands, squinting as he examined it. “The Lord of the Sixth Mountain keeps three thousand swords in his casket, said to hold all the swords under heaven—celestial blades of immortals, mortal blades of the world, all are there.”

With fingers gnarled as ancient branches, the old man traced the blade’s edge. Mo Chi trembled lightly, its song filling the courtyard.

“This sword Mo Chi is quite intriguing, forged as if from ink wash—a sword of painting and calligraphy. At present, it is but a sixth-rank sword, yet it suits you well. You excel at painting; nourish the sword with your art, and its rank may yet rise. Coupled with the power within the Little Sage Token, perhaps it will one day surpass its limits.”

The elder praised him.

Anle smiled in response. “I have just stepped into the second realm of body refinement; Mo Chi is most fitting for me. Pursuing a higher-grade sword now, when I cannot wield its power, would be futile.”

The old man picked up a piece of beef, chuckling. “That you are so free of vanity is an excellent thing.”

“Now that you possess the Little Sage Token, I ought to remind you: those who gain this token are entered upon a list—the Little Sage Roll—composed of all current token holders.”

“To gain the token is one condition for speaking with the Sage Master, but only those in the top three of the roll are given such a chance. It is, in itself, a test.”

Anle was taken aback by this.

“To rise in the rankings is simple—challenge others.”

“If you win, your rank rises. But each token holder may only lose twice. Fail twice, and the token shatters, your name is struck off. So, choose your challenges wisely.”

The elder sipped his wine and smiled.

Anle’s expression grew more serious as he listened.

“As for the specific rankings, you will learn of them at the Lin residence. I need say no more.”

The elder did not linger on the subject. The two drank yellow wine, enjoyed the fading sunlight, and spoke of the techniques of painting bamboo in ink.

When the pale moon hung high, and the wine and meat were gone, the elder stood, dusted his plain robes, and left with his bamboo staff.

“With the Little Sage Token, your name will soon be known in Lin’an. Wealth and luxury, all manner of temptations, will come to you. Hold to your heart’s path, strive ever forward, and let not your talents nor the green mountains be wasted.”

The old man lingered at the alley’s mouth, earnest and sincere in his counsel.

Anle bowed deeply, his gesture reaching the ground.

“I will remember your words.”

Hearing this, the elder turned and walked away. The sound of his staff echoed down the moonlit alley, gradually fading into the distance.

Anle withdrew his gaze, returned to his courtyard, and sat upright with the three-foot Mo Chi across his knees. Bathed in the chill of a spring night, his thoughts slowly grew calm.

Though he now possessed the Little Sage Token, the pressures he faced only mounted. With the token in hand, he could not let himself idle—he must ascend and meet the Sage Master, more mysterious and powerful than even the Emperor of Yuanmeng.

So, advancing on the Little Sage Roll, excelling in the imperial examinations—these were the mountains he must now climb.

In the days to come, he must guard against arrogance and impatience: study, cultivate, nurture his sword, and constantly reflect upon himself.

With a long exhale, Anle rose, tidied the courtyard, and arranged the flower pots left by the previous landlady along the edges. Then, under the moonlight, he began to practice the Five Animals forms.

Having stepped into the second realm of body refinement, with sword-qi in his bones, his energy surged, every move infused with new power. The Tiger Form was especially fierce—his movements, fluid and mighty, like a striped tiger roaring through the mountains, even stirring the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

Next, he practiced the Deer, Bear, Monkey, and Bird forms in turn. Each form had improved greatly since his training in the sword rain atop the Sixth Mountain.

When at last his surging vitality subsided, Anle composed his mind, closed his eyes, and felt the changes in his spiritual bones, familiarizing himself with the sudden increase in strength and its bursts.

The moon climbed high, and the night grew colder.

Sitting cross-legged beneath the old locust tree, Anle shut his eyes and entered meditation, refining his spirit.

Though he had not broken through to the “Transcending the Mundane” stage—the third realm of spirit refinement—he remembered what Lady Hua had once said: this realm was crucial, a true transformation of the heart.

He took it seriously. As he meditated, moonlight seemed drawn to him, bathing him as though he wore robes of clarity.

Within the Mud Pill Palace at his brow, a phantom of the sword pool appeared, spreading its mist.

Sword-light shimmered, dreamlike and illusory.

The Mo Chi, resting on his knees and nourished by his spirit, quivered slightly as if eager to soar, circling about him in flight.

Yet something was still missing. If he could only transcend the mundane, perhaps he could command the sword with a mere thought.

Suddenly, Anle’s spirit drifted into Mo Chi’s blade, where a strand of sword-qi circulated.

In his perception, it was pure, vast, and razor-sharp.

His spirit sank deeper into Mo Chi, which seemed to transform into an ink-black pool, drawing him ever downward.

This was the secret hidden within the Little Sage Token—a modest gift from the Sage Master.

When Anle opened his eyes, he found a painting slowly unfurling before him.

Ink spread, and images appeared.

Within the painting, a blade of grass, a single leaf, a droplet of water… all could become a sword: the world itself was saturated with sword-qi!

Sword-qi, close enough to touch!

This was a technique for sword control, a pure sword move.

It was Anle’s reward for winning the Little Sage Token—a technique, not a cultivation method or body-forging art, but pure swordsmanship. It had no name, like a stroke of ink captured on paper, caught and comprehended by Anle.

Beneath the old locust tree, Anle’s spirit withdrew from the Little Sage Token within Mo Chi. In his eyes, a faint gleam of sword-light flashed.

He rose, unable to contain his delight, grinning broadly. He brought two fingers together in a sword gesture and gently traced the air before him—his spirit transformed into a thread of sword-qi, like the string that animates a puppet.

The silent Mo Chi suddenly sprang from his side, whistling through the air, darting and turning, slicing the wind as a fish cuts through water.

Though not true sword flight, this ability to control his blade remotely filled Anle with a sense of freedom and exhilaration.

Under his will, Mo Chi embedded itself in the old locust tree, quivering as a single leaf fell.

With a sword gesture, Anle directed his will, and even the fallen leaf was guided like a flying sword, slicing through the air!

Such was the sword control technique hidden within the Little Sage Token.

Anle’s eyes shone. A blade of grass, a leaf, a drop of water… all things could hold sword-qi. What a formidable sword move!

Within the Mud Pill Palace, his sword pool boiled, and his spirit seemed to grow stronger, drawing ever closer to transcending the mundane.

…

Beyond the alley, in the double-eaved, two-story ancestral temple, incense smoke curled.

Zhao Huangting was wielding his brush in a burst of ink when he suddenly felt something and turned toward the courtyard down the alley.

A look of astonishment crossed his eyes.

“The secret within the Little Sage Token, left by the Sage Master… he’s grasped it so quickly?!”

“A true wonder…”

Zhao Huangting took a deep breath, then smiled. “My judgment is, as ever, keen.”

…

After a while of sword control, Anle’s spirit was somewhat depleted, and he began to feel tired.

He summoned his will.

The long-absent light screen appeared before him.

…

[Name: Anle]

[Threads of Time’s Breath: 3]

[Dao Fruits of Time: Talent for the Ages (0/2 threads of golden time’s breath, 0/100), Innate Swordsman (0/2, 0/100), Collapsing Sword Force (2/10), Fearless Heart, Tempered Demon Jade]

[Mastered Methods: “Sword Waterfall Chart” (11), “Qi Guiding and Breathing Art” (1)]

[Mastered Skills: “Five Animals Body-Forging Technique” (18), “Zhao Ancestral Long Fist (Fragment)” (1)]

…

Hmm?

Anle was surprised to find that the sword control technique had not been recorded on the screen.

Even the common “Zhao Ancestral Long Fist (Fragment)” was listed, yet this sword move was not.

Perhaps because it was merely a technique, not a formal art, it could not be recorded.

Standing in the chill of early spring, Anle pondered.

“A sword move comprehended from the Little Sage Token, without a name, but with sword-qi close at hand, able to imbue all things—then let it be called ‘Sword Qi Within Reach.’”

Anle happily named his sword move.

Then, focusing his spirit, he used the three threads of Time’s Breath he’d drawn from the pale-faced girl, and after a moment’s thought, invested them into the Dao Fruit “Talent for the Ages.”

Upon using two threads, a surge of golden light appeared before his eyes. To his surprise, he directly obtained a thread of the golden Time’s Breath from the pale-faced girl.

Golden breath rose like an incense stick in flame.

A vision appeared, rippling across his mind like a stone cast into a lake.