Chapter 6: Blood from the Heart

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Because of the unexpected episode at the Floating Cloud Flying Palace, Leng Fangxie did not immediately seek out the swordsmith after escaping. Instead, he returned to his room and bathed like an ordinary person. The water was heated by spiritual fire, making it not only comfortably warm but also infused with abundant spiritual energy, cleansing every meridian in his body.

Leng Fangxie exhaled softly, washing every inch of his skin thoroughly. With his cultivation level, he was already impervious to dust; ordinarily, he would simply form a hand seal to cleanse himself. His choice to bathe was largely psychological.

While Leng Fangxie bathed, Fu Heng’s external manifestation stood silently by the window, watching him—and also observing the rampant inner demons within the room.

***

The Jiuchen Sect was a prestigious and well-established sect, unlike smaller sects such as the Yao Xiang Sect, which specialized in only one path due to limited scale. From their training and instruction of outer disciples, it was clear that Jiuchen covered all major and minor paths. Under these myriad paths were not only disciples cultivated by the sect but also many affiliated wanderers.

Though swordsmiths could not wield swords themselves, their status was very high. They were revered by sword cultivators and respected by practitioners of other paths. Because of their fame, ordinary people flocked to them, resulting in a large number of swordsmiths in the Fuyuan Realm. Most had minor titles and crafted delicate utensils, while truly recognized “swordsmiths” were few and far between.

Currently, there were only twenty-six swordsmiths with established reputations, seven of whom were in Jiuchen. The rest were mostly divided among two other sects and six smaller factions.

The swordsmith Leng Fangxie was seeking now, though not as famous as six others with worldwide renown, had a solid reputation in certain niche fields. Sword cultivators admired her as much as the leading swordsmiths.

Therefore, commissioning her to forge a sword was not a matter of money but of availability—getting an appointment was extremely difficult. Even if a request was accepted, the wait could easily be one or two decades.

This posed no problem for Leng Fangxie. He and Jiang Jianyu were peers of the same generation, both among the ten true disciples. They had frequent exchanges and had supported each other during their trials. Jiang Jianyu had an eccentric temperament, but within the sect, Leng Fangxie was considered one of her “trusted friends.” Moreover, when he left the sect years ago, Jiang Jianyu had a favor to ask, and he happened to find the item she needed on his journey. These factors combined meant persuading her to forge a sword immediately was no great challenge.

The Spirit Peak of the swordsmiths was located due east of Jiuchen. The Golden Crow rose in the east and set in the west; the eastern side was where sunlight and fire energy were most abundant—perfect for forging swords. However, Jiang Jianyu was no ordinary person. She chose to live on a water island west of the Hundred Refining Peak. Being a fire element cultivator residing on an island rich in water spirit energy was undoubtedly a hardship. Not only was her cultivation difficult, but even daily life was a constant trial.

As Jiang Jianyu herself said, “True fire is not afraid of water refining. It must be tempered by water, struck and forged a thousand times over. Only then is the resulting flame the most vigorous and flourishing in the world.”

The island was shrouded in mist and expanses of smoke waves, with egret and crane—rare and divine birds—wandering the shallows, occasionally preening, creating a scene teeming with life.

Jiang Jianyu’s residence was nestled among towering trees that seemed to pierce the sky, yet the building materials were plain wood without any decoration or embellishment. At the island’s entrance, several young fire spirits greeted him. Compared to the last time Leng Fangxie saw them, the flames on their bodies were even more condensed and roaring, a sign of Jiang Jianyu’s progress in cultivation.

The fire spirits recognized him and approached as soon as they saw the glow descending from the horizon. They could not speak, let alone flatter him like the other peak children, which Leng Fangxie preferred—less noise was more peaceful. The fire spirits led him toward the wooden house.

On the way, however, he saw another person.

Clad in a moon-white robe overlaid with a sheer silk that shimmered softly, with flowing cloud patterns on the collar and sleeves, it was unmistakably an inner disciple. Leng Fangxie did not recognize the face, likely someone who entered the inner sect after he left.

This made him even more surprised—Jiang Jianyu’s forging fees were exorbitant, sometimes exorbitantly high. Ordinary cultivators could not afford them. Inner sect disciples struggled even to meet daily expenses, much less spend lavishly on her forging services. Even if they had the money, it would be more sensible to find a gentler, more reliable craftsman.

The disciple glanced at Leng Fangxie with a slight change in expression. They exchanged a brief look before parting ways, but the disciple’s gaze remained fixed on him, as if not only recognizing him but also harboring other intentions.

Leng Fangxie was not a solitary or aloof person. On the contrary, he enjoyed making friends, and in the past, most Jiuchen disciples could speak with him. However, after Fu Heng’s troubles increased and restrictions on him tightened, he spent most of his time dealing with Fu Heng and contemplating future developments, neglecting other matters. He was no longer the radiant figure that once illuminated Jiuchen.

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Though puzzled about the disciple’s connection to him, the bird perched on his shoulder fluttered its wings impatiently, prompting Leng Fangxie to focus.

“Finally back! Haven’t seen you in so many years!” Before he saw her, he heard Jiang Jianyu’s low, hoarse voice. Her skin was tawny from living on the island and being fire-aligned. She wore light, revealing clothes, adorned with rings of golden ornaments encircling exposed skin. Her eyes glimmered faintly gold, her appearance strikingly unusual.

The fire spirit’s eyes mirrored hers. Jiang Jianyu had evidently seen what happened on the road and teased casually: “That brat still won’t give up.”

She declined to explain further to Leng Fangxie, believing that clarity and straightforwardness left no room for fun.

At first, her gaze was warm upon seeing Leng Fangxie. After all, he was one of the few friends she could talk to. Years apart and limited contact through cloud messages had left her bored cooped up on the island. But when she saw the bird on his shoulder, her eyes narrowed and her expression instantly turned cold—clearly showing disdain for whoever the bird represented.

Her contempt was palpable.

Considering Leng Fangxie’s status, she refrained from elaborating and instead complained that he hadn’t come to find her sooner.

“You’re not inside Jiuchen anymore, so I have no reason to leave. My whole sect is dead and gone, except for dealing with those odd, broke sword cultivators. Life is absolutely dull!”

Leng Fangxie smiled rarely: “Is it really more fun outside?”

He pulled a lotus flower from his spatial pocket. The petals drooped halfway; the lotus heart resembled a cicada, with thin wings shimmering purple and surrounded by faint fire energy. It was clearly no ordinary flower.

Jiang Jianyu was astonished: “Cicada Heart Lotus! You actually got one!”

This lotus was a rare treasure even in the Fuyuan Realm, renowned for its unique dual water-fire nature, with the two energies harmoniously intertwined. For swordsmiths, it was an extremely precious material, not even guaranteed to be obtained by the top-ranked master craftsmen.

The Cicada Heart Lotus grew only on the Absolute Shadow Wall of the Supreme Sect, where it was scarce and difficult to harvest. The sect itself could barely meet its own needs, and even fewer were allowed to flow out. Although Jiuchen and the Supreme Sect were both among the top three sects, their relations were mediocre, even hostile at times. It was especially difficult for Jiuchen disciples to acquire one.

Jiang Jianyu had mentioned the flower casually, teasing Leng Fangxie without expecting him to actually get it for her.

After her initial shock, she blinked and smirked with a gossiping expression: “Such a precious thing, carefully guarded by the Supreme Sect—how did you manage to get it?”

She already suspected the truth. Though the Supreme Sect and Jiuchen’s relations were lukewarm, it didn’t mean they were indifferent to Leng Fangxie. Many young talents in the Supreme Sect admired him as a model, and some powerful cultivators favored him greatly. If not for Fu Heng’s hypocrisy, they would have snatched him to be their favored disciple long ago. Moreover, the top Daoist there harbored deep feelings for Leng Fangxie.

The Cicada Heart Lotus was likely a gift from that Daoist.

But Leng Fangxie was typically indifferent to such infatuations and precious friendships. Why had he accepted it this time?

He replied calmly, “Won in a fight.”

Jiang Jianyu: “...”

Well, well. Still the same Leng Fangxie.

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Jiang Jianyu made a face as if seeing an ancient tree spirit she couldn’t bear: “You really don’t understand romance! When I said I had a fleeting moment with you, you just brushed it off. Sword cultivators all have the same lousy trait! You’re hopeless when it comes to finding a wife! Enough, why have you suddenly come? I’m not going to forge a sword for you.”

Leng Fangxie waved his sleeve, tossing out an assortment of forging materials. “I didn’t come for anything else. Use these materials as you wish to forge a suitable sword for Li Lingchen—you know him. That kid’s spiritual roots and energy are unusual, fierce with a hint of darkness. He needs a sword that can be commanded as an extension of his arm, but can also restrain his power in critical moments.”

Even Jiang Jianyu’s eyes gleamed greedily at the materials on the table. They were not only abundant but of excellent quality. No matter how distinguished the swordsmith, they would find it irresistible—enough materials to forge ten swords. Leng Fangxie gave them all to her just for that mortal boy who hadn’t even formally entered the Dao yet!

Jiang Jianyu’s expression grew complex: “No wonder others in the sect treat that kid poorly. You’re so good to him, even I’m jealous. Fine, this request isn’t too hard. You must need it urgently. I’ll start forging yours first; the others will have to wait.” She waved her hand. “Go on, I won’t see you out—don’t disturb my sleep.”

She feared that if she lingered, someone from the Floating Cloud Flying Palace might come chasing after her.

With one burden lifted, Leng Fangxie relaxed slightly. But as he reached the door, he noticed the inner disciple he had seen earlier still waiting there.

Leng Fangxie remained expressionless but began to ponder if he owed the disciple anything. The disciple’s expression was hard to read, filled with unspoken words. Though handsome and radiant, his gaze upon Leng Fangxie was like that of a betrayed lover, tinged with sorrow.

“What do you want?”

The disciple’s face shifted several times, as if wrestling with a fierce internal conflict. After a long pause, he forced out a few stiff words: “Why won’t the Dao Lord accept me?”

His voice was hoarse: “What is Li Lingchen better than me?”

The disciple was Jiang Yanwen. Though born into a prestigious clan, unlike his indulgent relatives, he was diligent and had shown promise since childhood. During a demon-slaying battle, he saw Leng Fangxie and earnestly wished to become his disciple.

Unexpectedly, Leng Fangxie refused him. Jiang Yanwen did not give up, believing it was due to his own inadequacy. Even after entering the inner sect, he never took a master but trained alone, hoping that after Leng Fangxie returned, he would be accepted.

When Jiang Yanwen finally saw Leng Fangxie return, he heard he planned to accept a mortal as a disciple. Though Fu Heng stopped it, the words were out, and Jiang Yanwen knew Leng Fangxie would not compromise.

He was confident his talent and character were no worse than Li Lingchen’s.

Why accept him and not me? Do I have some flaw that disgusts you?

Though he had a thousand words inside, facing the immortal lord he had sought day and night was like confronting the clear moonlight—Jiang Yanwen could barely voice his pale question.

So this was the one who had previously tried to apprentice under him.

Leng Fangxie examined Jiang Yanwen carefully, though he did not recall him. Many begged to join his side, even abandoning family and clan; Jiang Yanwen was just one of the less conspicuous ones. Leng Fangxie had never looked at any of them or entertained thoughts of taking disciples.

Because he would only ever have one disciple.

Leng Fangxie said, “He is one of a kind.”