Hearing this, Chen Zui's pupils constricted slightly before returning to normal.
He recalled the moment his spear had pierced Cao Zhengchun's right shoulder yesterday—the yin-cold internal energy formed by intertwining the Ghost Shadow spear intent and the Wind and Snow spear intent wrapped around the spearhead, pouring into Cao Zhengchun's body along the shaft.
That was the first time he had merged two entirely different spear intents within his Mountain-Viewing Realm internal energy to unleash a strike.
Even he was uncertain how that energy would wreak havoc once it entered a body.
Now it seemed that his spear intent was far more troublesome than he had anticipated.
“Ghost Gate Chamber never leaves survivors or traces when they strike,” Liu Yinsheng continued.
“They also have a rule: anyone who poses a threat to them is recorded in their ledger.
“You heavily injured a Wind-Riding Realm Grandmaster while merely in the Mountain-Viewing Realm.
“Within three days, this feat will spread throughout the dark side of the martial world.
“When that time comes, Ghost Gate Chamber will not be the only ones watching you.”
He paused, his gaze fixed squarely on Chen Zui.
“The road to Jinyang City is long and treacherous, fraught with countless perils. I am uneasy letting you travel alone.”
Chen Zui's grip on his spear tightened slightly, then relaxed.
The familiar curve appeared at the corner of his lips, carrying a touch of youthful stubbornness.
“Senior Liu, I appreciate your kindness, but this junior's words remain the same—”
“I told you, I have not come to stop you.”
Liu Yinsheng raised a hand to interrupt him.
With a measured movement, he placed his right hand upon the hilt of the pitch-black ancient sword at his waist.
That hand was slender and fair, looking as though it had never been stained with blood.
Yet Chen Zui knew that the moment that hand gripped the hilt, it would unleash the fastest sword in the world.
“I have come to give you something.”
As his words fell, a flash of sword light appeared.
Chen Zui did not even clearly see Liu Yinsheng draw his blade.
He only saw Liu Yinsheng's right hand lightly touch and release the hilt, and a faint, whisper-soft sword hum brushed past his ears.
The sound was exceedingly brief—so brief that without focusing intently, one would mistake it for the wind rustling through gaps in the pine branches.
Three strands of sword intent materialized out of thin air in the morning mist.
The first strand coalesced into a transparent sword, hovering three cun above Chen Zui's left shoulder.
Its blade was as thin as a cicada's wing, drifting in and out of sight amid the fog.
The second strand hovered over his back, revolving slowly as it formed a cluster of pale green sword aura.
The aura was restrained rather than outward-bursting, like an invisible shield.
The third strand was the smallest, no longer than a silver needle, darting straight into the Quchi point on Chen Zui's right arm before vanishing without a trace.
Chen Zui felt a slight chill in his right arm, followed by a surge of warmth flowing from his Quchi point, coursing along the Large Intestine Channel of Hand-Yangming all the way to the Shangyang point on his index finger.
Involuntarily, he tightened his grip on his spear shaft, feeling the strength in his fingers increase by thirty percent out of nowhere.
The tactile sensation between his palm and the spear shaft grew sharper and clearer as well.
He could distinctly sense even the finest scratches and textures along the wood.
“These three breaths of sword qi are a small parting gift from me.”
Liu Yinsheng's voice remained calm.
“These three breaths of sword qi were condensed from my sword intent.
“You do not need any mastery over the Way of the Sword to use them.
“The sword qi will automatically protect its master in moments of peril, and will also coordinate with your spear techniques when needed.
“However, each may only be used once; once spent, they dissipate.”
He paused, a hint of unspoken depth entering his tone.
“The one on your left shoulder is defensive.
“It will block one fatal ambush for you.
“The one at your back is for entrapment.
“If you are surrounded, it will transform into a sword formation to stall the enemy for a brief moment.
“The one in your right arm is offensive.
“When you unleash your strongest strike with all your might, it will naturally integrate into your spear technique.”
Chen Zui looked down at the Quchi point on his right arm.
A faint, pale green halo shimmered there before slowly sinking beneath the skin, leaving not a trace behind.
He attempted to circulate his internal energy to sense that sword intent. The moment his inner breath brushed against it, he felt a vast, abyss-like sword intent lying dormant within.
Chen Zui had seen Gu Yiyou draw his sword—that single strike had overturned mountains and rivers.
Yet Liu Yinsheng's sword intent was an entirely different spectacle.
Gentle, restrained, never flaunted, yet unfathomably deep.
“Senior Liu.” Chen Zui looked up.
“Why are you helping me?”
Liu Yinsheng turned his back to Chen Zui.
His gaze drifted into the depths of the morning mist, toward the official road leading beyond the mountains.
“For the public good.”
His voice was as crisp as ever, yet carried far more weight than before.
“I was originally a student of Confucianism.
“Turning to the Way of the Sword later on was a stroke of fortune, but also a matter of having no other choice.”
He glanced down at the pitch-black ancient sword at his waist, a fleeting look of trance flashing across his eyes.
“When people speak of Liu Yinsheng today, they only call me a Sword Saint, praising me for mastering both the brush and the sword.”
He turned back around, meeting Chen Zui's gaze squarely.
“Yet look at this world today.
“Martial artists and Confucian scholars were originally meant to walk two separate paths without interfering with one another.
“Yet they have been artificially torn apart into opposing sides.
“The lords of the imperial court treat these two paths as bargaining chips in factional struggles.
“The heroes of the martial world dismiss scholars as sour pedants who only know how to wag their tongues.
“The students in the academies view martial artists as uncultured brutes.”
His tone remained calm.
“Yet I know that is not how it should be.
“When a scholar holds a brush, he writes the righteous Dao of heaven and earth.
“When a martial artist grips a sword, he defends the baseline of the common folk.
“These two paths were never meant to stand in opposition.
“In my life, I transitioned from Confucianism into the sword; I have walked both paths and borne both identities.”
He paused, his eyes settling on Chen Zui.
“The reason Zhizhou Tower sought me out to persuade Lu Chenzhou was not because my swordsmanship is superior.
“It was because they knew Lu Chenzhou would only listen if I was the one to say it.
“Because I am someone who walked out of Confucianism, and also someone who returned from the martial dao.
“I have stood in that crack between Confucianism and the martial dao for thirty full years.
“Therefore, for the public good...
“I wish to see a different world.
“A world where scholars and martial artists need not belittle one another, and need not be forcibly torn apart by the imperial court and the martial world.”
He fell silent for a breath. A faint touch of self-deprecation curved at the corner of his lips.
“As for private reasons...
“I have walked the Way of the Sword for thirty years, and I believe I have reached the end of this path.
“Further ahead lies the realm of the Earthly Sword Immortal.
“Yet I have stood before that threshold for more than a decade, forever shy by a single sliver.”
A rare tremor of emotion surfaced in his voice.
“Sword Immortal Shen and Sword God Lü are the only two under heaven who truly stand on the other side of that threshold.
“In the Way of the Sword, I have surpassed ninety-nine percent of the swordsmen under heaven, yet remain firmly overshadowed by those two alone.
“This is no irreconcilable grudge, but a swordsman's yearning for a higher realm.
“I wish to know what kind of spectacle it will be when the two of them clash with all their might.
“I wish to know what kind of sword intent that threshold—which I have failed to cross for so many years—will become beneath their blades.”
His gaze rested sharply upon Chen Zui like a sword.
“And Gu Yiyou wielded the sword for Sword Immortal Shen for over thirty years.
“What he left you—whether a few brief words or a single thought—will become the most unpredictable variable in this duel.
“The outcome of this battle may very well concern my, Liu Yinsheng's, ultimate pursuit of the Way of the Sword.”
He took a deep breath.
“So whether for public good or private reasons, whether by reason or sentiment, I must see to it that you reach Jinyang City alive.”
Chen Zui listened in silence. Then, he planted the spear in his hand into the ground, its butt embedding into the crevice of the bluestone slab and standing ramrod-straight.
“Senior Liu, I accept your three breaths of sword qi.
“I have also taken your words to heart.
“My life may not be worth much, but when Chen Zui makes a promise, I always see it through.
“I will deliver Senior Gu's words to Jinyang City.”
Liu Yinsheng nodded.
“Good.”
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