Chapter 81: Within the Green Mountains, One Beholds the Green Mountains—Wielding the Sword of Boundless Righteousness with Fearless Resolve

Fang Xi felt both the thrill of passing the examination and the joy of soaring like a great roc above the blue sea. To him, achieving high honors in the imperial exams was but a stepping stone; true renown must be measured by its endurance through the ages.

As the spring examination curtain fell and the lanterns of the city began to glow, those who had excelled in the imperial tests were in high spirits, while those who had performed poorly grew despondent. A thousand expressions, mirroring the human condition, were displayed in the pleasure boats and spring pavilions of the brothels.

Han Shi had not expected that An Le, the illustrious master painter whose fame resonated throughout Lin'an, and who had claimed the top spot in the cultivation assessment, would bring him to such a humble tavern for drinks. He had imagined they would visit the Drunken Dragon Pavilion, the most famous wine house in Lin'an. Yet after one bowl of aged yellow wine, Han Shi let go completely, drinking with An Le, venting all his excitement and fervor.

The patrons surrounding them in the tavern were all ordinary folk, not a single cultivator among them. Each drank heartily and chatted freely; some played drinking games, their noisy laughter drawing Han Shi's frequent glances. Though lacking refinement and elegance, a unique vitality pervaded the place—a kind of earthly warmth—which reminded Han Shi of drinking in the army encampments.

Turning to see An Le, who was clearly enjoying the atmosphere, Han Shi could not help but feel admiration. Surely this An Le was a man of genuine temperament.

An Le, too, drank and ate meat, occasionally exchanging idle words with Han Shi. Yet his mind lingered more on the bamboo sword, Qingshan, at his waist. Resting his palm upon its hilt, he could feel that the sword, having absorbed the spirit of righteousness, was undergoing subtle changes within. The aura of righteousness and the sword energy of Qingshan were melding together—a transformation only truly understood by gripping the sword oneself.

An Le’s heart beat with anticipation as three or four cups of yellow wine went down. He and Han Shi, neither suppressing the effects of the wine with their cultivation, could begin to feel its intoxicating warmth rising within.

Within Qingshan, An Le sensed a vast and blazing sword energy, now fused with righteousness. It was like the midday sun illuminating the world, under whose light all evil and darkness would melt away and crumble. An Le was shaken. He glanced at the tipsy Han Shi beside him, who, though forthright and hearty, simply could not hold his liquor.

“Brother Han, I have some matters to attend to, so I must take my leave,” An Le said with a clasped fist in farewell.

Han Shi, his eyes bleary, grinned. “No worries, Master An, go on ahead. I’ll drink on my own. Today I’ll have three hundred bowls—drink all the wine those old fools in the army said I’d never have, since I’d never pass the exams.”

An Le smiled, bade him farewell, and rose to settle the bill at the counter. “Keeper, that gentleman is my friend. However much he wishes to drink, give it to him, and put it on my tab.”

The proprietress, busy cracking melon seeds, smiled and waved him off. “No need, sir. You look familiar, and that young man is already quite drunk—he won’t manage much more. Whatever is left, let it be my treat to you.”

An Le could not help but laugh, offered a polite bow, and, after buying one more jug of old yellow wine and settling the day’s bill, turned and departed.

The proprietress, only reluctantly tearing her gaze from An Le, soon heard Han Shi pounding on the table and demanding more wine. She set aside her seeds and personally brought out a cask.

“Young man, drink as much as you like,” she said with a beaming smile.

Han Shi looked up and grinned. “Thank you, sister.”

At this, the proprietress found him just as pleasing to the eye as Master An himself.

Meanwhile, the sword at An Le’s waist quivered. A warm current surged from Qingshan’s hilt into An Le’s body, coursing through his meridians, stirring even his bones and skin. His inner energy and blood began to boil uncontrollably. Qingshan’s sword energy and the scholarly aura of righteousness blended into a new, grand sword qi, radiant as the sun. An Le felt even the lingering demonic energy in his body being washed away.

Unable to restrain his burgeoning power, An Le quickened his pace toward Ta Temple Lane. Upon returning to his courtyard, the old man of Ta Temple appeared at once, his brows furrowed in deep concern. He could sense the dramatic change in An Le’s aura—something vast and radiant was welling up within him—but the internal transformation of Qingshan was beyond his knowledge. After all, he no longer wielded Qingshan.

Without a word, An Le returned to the courtyard, donned Qingshan at his waist, and began practicing the Five Beasts Technique of the ancient demons, using the surging righteous sword qi to temper his body. His energy and blood rushed like waves pounding a shore; his eyes shone bright, their brilliance undimmed even by night.

The old man narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on An Le, then shifted his attention to the bamboo sword at An Le’s waist. Though he could sense the surging aura, he remained silent. Still, from An Le’s subtle expressions, he could tell that a mighty sword qi was pouring from Qingshan into the youth’s body.

On Clear Wave Street, outside Ta Temple Lane, Lady Hua appeared, her black gauze dress fluttering in the night. With a slight frown and a hint of puzzlement, she mused, “No one attacked, so how did the heart-sword qi I had hidden in An Le dissipate?”

With her formidable spirit, she could sense the changes within the small courtyard, as if a new sun was about to rise. Taking three graceful steps, she entered the courtyard.

The old man of Ta Temple was not surprised by Lady Hua’s arrival; he merely raised his hand in a gentle gesture, signaling her not to disturb An Le.

“The aura of righteousness was never his destined fortune. Had he truly inherited it, he would be forever entangled with the Academy, perhaps even burdened with the hope of its future. Now that the Academy is driven to despair, they are capable of anything. All things are ordained; thus, it is better that the aura did not settle upon him.”

“Qingshan has drunk its fill of righteousness and undergone a transformation even I cannot comprehend. A blazing sword qi has awakened within An Le, and he is using it to temper his body. This is his true fortune.”

Zhao Huangting’s voice was tinged with both admiration and the weariness of age. He rejoiced for An Le, knowing his judgment had not erred—An Le was indeed suited for Qingshan. Yet he felt the ache of age, for even after five hundred years with Qingshan, he could no longer fathom its depths.

“Young blood ever hastens the old to fade; time is merciless,” the old man sighed, shaking his head.

Lady Hua glanced at him, but said nothing, turning instead to watch An Le practicing the Five Beasts Technique in the courtyard. The old man’s sword qi sealed the area, ensuring that none of the demonic energy An Le released would escape. Thus, only a few could sense An Le’s overwhelming presence. Were it not for her heart-sword qi being erased by that vast power, even she would not know of this change.

“This brilliance feels even keener, more magnificent, and more immense than pure righteousness. There’s even a cleansing purity to it,” Lady Hua observed, her senses finely attuned as a heart-sword cultivator.

The old man nodded. “The fusion of Qingshan’s sword energy and righteousness has formed a new sword qi—righteous sword qi. It is not merely the abstract righteousness spoken of by scholars, but the justice of a swordsman drawing his blade against injustice—righteousness born of the heart.”

“Qingshan’s sword qi was never ordinary. Now, fused with the aura of righteousness, its might is extraordinary. If An Le can fully master this sword qi, he might truly have a chance to break through to the tenth realm.”

Lady Hua’s red lips parted slightly, unsure what to say—the idea of reaching the tenth realm seemed far-fetched.

“Of course, only if he can truly master this righteous sword qi,” the old man added, face grave and solemn. “To wield Qingshan is already a challenge. Now, with the righteousness fused in, it will be even harder. If his heart is not sincere, pure, and steadfast, he will lose the sword qi, or worse, be harmed by it.”

“This is the law of heaven and earth: the greater the power, the more it tests the wielder’s character. The greatest treasures, as well as this righteous sword qi, are no exception,” the old man said sternly. “We cannot help him here—he must rely on himself.”

The courtyard fell into silence, broken only by the sound of An Le’s surging energy and his practice of the Five Beasts Technique. Lady Hua and the old man watched him closely, waiting to see if he could truly master the righteous sword qi.

Tiger, bear, deer, ape, and bird—the five forms of the ancient demons. An Le practiced them relentlessly, every inch of flesh, skin, and bone trembling and wringing out torrents of energy. The spirit core in his dantian spun furiously, pouring out strength and vitality. With each practice, a surge of radiant sword qi swept through his meridians, washing over his body, making him ever stronger and rapidly advancing his cultivation.

But this was not his main concern. Through the Five Beasts, he found a measure of comfort—only by venting could he slowly gain control over this newfound power.

The sword qi fused with righteousness, forming the righteous sword qi: bright, grand, magnificent, fearless, and proud. An Le experienced a swirl of emotions—how could a single stream of sword qi contain so many feelings?

Within his mind’s palace, the sword furnace rang as a surge of righteous sword qi poured in. Suddenly, his vision filled with white.

It was as if a force had drawn his spirit into a mysterious realm.

Vast, majestic, boundless.

As far as the eye could see, the heavens and earth were filled with sword qi.

The sword qi seemed to stack up, forming a mountain that soared into the clouds, parting the mists and air currents above.

At the foot of this mountain, An Le looked up—he could not see its summit.

Suddenly, his spirit tensed, and an overwhelming pressure crashed down upon him. The mountain of sword qi seemed to take on the form of a colossal figure, with eyes gazing down from the heights.

In that instant, it felt as if the sky collapsed. A wave of despair rose in An Le’s heart, eclipsing all his fighting spirit and resolve.

The mountain itself seemed to question him: how do you claim mastery over such sword qi? By what right do you wield it?

The ground crumbled, the earth was ground to dust. An Le’s white robes whipped in the sudden wind, and above the mountain, sword qi burst forth, weaving a white dragon in midair.

The dragon coiled around the mountain, winding its way down.

Without warning, it dove, its radiant sword qi bringing light to the world, seeking to cut down all injustice.

In this moment, An Le was like a tiny boat, tossed on a towering wave in a boundless sea, always on the verge of being swallowed, shattered, or dashed to pieces.

Planting his feet, white robes billowing, hair tossed by the gale, he stared at the descending dragon of sword qi. In his dark eyes, a glimmer of white grew—like the North Star lighting up the night.

Slowly, he reached out his hand.

Flesh melted away under the sword qi, spirit bones cracked, yet he remained unbowed, his fearless heart shining like a bamboo stalk standing firm against a hurricane. Defiantly, he plucked a strand of sword qi from the dragon.

Holding it, he said softly, “From childhood to now, from nothing to something, from weakness to strength—though my body is not powerful, nor my spirit grand, I will climb step by step, and one day stand atop the mountain, wielding this sword qi.”

As the words fell, the dragon’s roar faded, and the descending white dragon vanished, leaving only a strand of shining sword qi coiled around his arm, brilliant as the noonday sun, pure and untainted.

An Le raised his head, gazing at the mountain of sword qi—celestial blue, fading into the white mist.

Within Qingshan, he saw Qingshan.

Lowering his gaze to the strand of righteous sword qi now melding gently with his spirit, a smile appeared in his eyes.

In the courtyard, demonic energy gathered into the form of a tiger, its roar shaking the four directions. The old man’s sword qi spread out, suppressing the disturbance so that none of Lin’an’s experts would notice.

Lady Hua and the old man frowned, watching the youth.

Suddenly, the youth stood silent, holding the bamboo sword Qingshan, as if lost in a profound trance. Neither dared disturb him, but only watched from afar.

Lady Hua turned to the old man, curious. “Elder, why is this bamboo sword called Qingshan? Was it always thus named?”

A glimmer of reminiscence shone in the old man’s eyes as he smiled. “No, a sword is nameless at birth. The one who inherits it may name it as they please. Later, I glimpsed a mountain within the sword, and then I understood why it was called Qingshan.”

“But it has been so long since I saw that mountain, I nearly thought it was an illusion. Perhaps Qingshan is gone.”

His words left Lady Hua perplexed—could there really be a mountain within a sword? Swords contain only sword qi, how could they hide a mountain?

But the old man gave no explanation, only looked up at the youth in the courtyard, where An Le’s sword qi was calming at last.

The righteous sword qi ebbed, becoming gentle, brushing An Le’s body like a breeze.

Moonlight poured like silk. An Le slowly opened his eyes. His vitality was strong, shining like the sun; his spirit core pure, erupting with peerless strength. His weary spirit was restored; his eyes were sharp and full of life.

Most striking was the change in his bearing: sword qi seemed to coil around him—upright, keen, and magnificent. Clad in white, he was like a torch in the night, scattering all evil wherever he passed.

“It seems he has mastered the righteous sword qi,” the old man said, breaking into a smile of genuine delight.

Righteousness melded with Qingshan; the sword now possessed true righteousness. To master such a sword qi would bring unimaginable improvement to his cultivation and combat power.

Now, if An Le were to face Wang Qinhe again, a single strike would suffice.

Had he merely received the aura of righteousness, he would not have achieved such an effect. Its boost to cultivation alone would have been modest. But for Qingshan to drink of righteousness—that was a true stroke of fortune.

The ways of heaven are mysterious indeed.

An Le opened his eyes and saw the old man and Lady Hua, knowing they had worried for him. A gentle light flickered in his gaze.

With a flick of his finger, Qingshan and Ink Pool flew to embed themselves in the old locust tree’s trunk. Smiling, An Le drew up a chair and sat in the courtyard to drink with Lady Hua and the old man.

Though he had now mastered the righteous sword qi, he understood that this was only the beginning. To maintain this qi, he would have to nurture it with his character. Should he ever betray his heart or act against righteousness, the sword qi would become tarnished, his cultivation would plummet, and perhaps he would never progress again.

The purity of the sword qi and the righteousness within it must be preserved by his own hand. This was both the reason and the price for which the righteous sword qi had come to him.

Elsewhere in Lin’an, at the Drunken Dragon Pavilion—

Luxury and arrogance had dulled ambition, and for no reason the scholars sought out the brothels again. A group of scholars, fresh from the spring examination, gathered here to feast and revel, raising jeweled cups to the moon in a raucous, early Deer Cry Banquet.

Xu Shun pulled Liu Yue to a seat, both faces flushed from drink, eyes shining with the pride of youth—as if he had already topped the second list and would soon win imperial favor and become a high official.

Drunk, he radiated boundless confidence.

Liu Yue, caught up in the moment and certain of his success in the exams, was similarly spirited.

“I, Liu Yue, will surely take the top spot on the second list, enter the court, serve the people, and win immortal fame!” he declared with a grand sweep of his hand.

“Well said!” Xu Shun raised his cup and drank. “Brother Liu, in the court let us support each other and share the emperor’s burdens.”

Many of those around them, though outwardly congratulatory, felt secretly resentful. The results had not yet been posted, and these two were so confident of office, so sure of their answers.

Nothing was certain until the lists were released.

Liu Yue, from Huating, had some talent and thus some reason for confidence; but who was Xu Shun of Jiankang to be so arrogant?

One by one, the scholars drank, each with their own grievances.

In a corner, the failed candidates drowned their sorrows, lost in dreams of oblivion. Some of the literati who had ranked on the Wenqu List were too ashamed even to visit the questioning forest of the institute. Watching these two untalented scholars boast, they grew all the more irritated and disgusted.

Suddenly, Xu Shun pulled Liu Yue aside, whispering excitedly, “Brother Liu, you are on good terms with Master An. With his fame in Lin’an, you must seize the opportunity. With his help, our futures will surely soar—we’ll have an ally at court at least.”

At these words, Liu Yue, though still tipsy, instantly sobered. He threw off Xu Shun’s hand and barked, “Do not speak nonsense!”

Xu Shun merely smiled and turned to drink with the others. But his words had caught the attention of several of the Wenqu List scholars who were drinking away their sorrows—cold glances fell upon Liu Yue.

Liu Yue felt a chill on his back. As the wine took hold, he decided to leave, bade Xu Shun farewell, and returned to his inn to sleep.

He slept fitfully, his head pounding from too much wine, when suddenly a loud commotion roused him. The inn’s door was kicked open, and a group of constables and officials in uniform streamed in.

Without a word, they seized Liu Yue from his bed and shackled him.

“Brother Shen—”

“Yes,” came the reply.

Shen Changqing walked along the street. When he encountered acquaintances, they exchanged brief nods or greetings, but none showed any emotion; all seemed indifferent to the world.

Shen Changqing was used to this. This was the Demon Suppression Bureau, the agency that maintained the stability of Great Qin, its main duty the slaying of demons and monsters—though it had other responsibilities as well.

Everyone in the Bureau had blood on their hands. When one is accustomed to life and death, one becomes indifferent to many things.

At first, Shen Changqing had found it hard to adjust to this world, but over time, he grew used to it.

The Bureau was vast, and only the strongest, or those with the potential to become so, could remain. Shen Changqing was of the latter sort.

Within the Bureau, there were two positions: Guardian and Exorcist. Everyone began as an Exorcist, the lowest rank, before slowly rising, with the hope of one day becoming a Guardian.

Shen Changqing’s previous self had been a novice Exorcist, the lowest of the low, and with his predecessor’s memories, he knew the Bureau’s environment well.

He did not take long to reach a certain pavilion. Unlike the rest of the Bureau, steeped in a murderous atmosphere, this building stood out like a crane among chickens, its tranquility unique amid the pervasive scent of blood.

The doors stood open, and people came and went. Shen Changqing hesitated only briefly before stepping inside.

At once, the atmosphere changed. The scent of ink, tinged faintly with blood, filled the air. His brow furrowed instinctively, but quickly relaxed. The smell of blood was something no one in the Demon Suppression Bureau could ever quite wash away.