The crude wooden stake punched through bone and brain matter with sickening finality. The massive Stonehide Boar collapsed like a felled tree, its beady eyes glazing over instantly. A single, perfect puncture bloomed crimson at the center of its forehead. Silence, thick and absolute, followed the thud.
"D-dead? Just… like that?" Xu Baozhu stammered, staring at the mountain of inert muscle and hide, her own piece of rabbit jerky forgotten in her slack hand.
Within the Grand Hall of Heavenly Clarity:
The silence was a physical thing, pressing down on the assembled Peak Lords, elite disciples, and the Sect Master himself. It stretched, taut and brittle, for three heartbeats.
Then, chaos erupted.
"Did… did I just see—?"
"A branch?! She killed a Stonehide with a gods-damned branch?!"
"Natural Sword Physique! It has to be!"
"Yowch! Why'd you pinch me?!"
"To prove you're awake! And yes! Natural Sword Physique! Once in ten thousand years! May the Heavens strike me jealous!"
"Pinch me back, you fiend! Natural Sword Physique! The unfairness! Waaaah!"
Natural Sword Physique.
The whispered term hung in the air, charged with awe and bitter envy. The holy grail for Sword Cultivators. A physique born in perfect resonance with the blade. Sword Dao comprehension flowing like water, mastery achieved with terrifying ease. A gift whispered about in legends, rarely witnessed.
"Good! Excellent! Magnificent!" The Lord of Piercing Peaks' voice boomed, trembling with barely contained fervor. His eyes blazed as he pointed at the scrying mirror. "This girl! This treasure! She is destined for Piercing Peaks! To inherit the true legacy of the Sword!"
"Mind your words, Junior Brother!" The Sect Master's voice cut through the din, cold and authoritative. "Her path was already set. She will join Heaven's Blade Peak and oversee the Sanwen Hall."
"Sanwen Hall?!" The Piercing Peaks Lord's laugh was a harsh scrape of metal. "You would bury a Natural Sword Physique beneath scrolls and children's primers? A desecration! Does your conscience allow it, Sect Master?!"
"With such innate Sword Dao affinity, her path must be the blade!" The Sect Master retorted, his expression granite. "The Sanwen Hall is no longer her destination."
"Brothers, peace!" The Lord of Drifting Clouds intervened, his tone placating. "The trials are not concluded. This discussion can wait."
"Indeed!" The Feather Spirit Peak Lord added, a note of pragmatic regret in his voice. "Even a Natural Sword Physique cannot overcome the fundamental conflict of Water and Fire Spirit Roots. Her Dao path has a limit. Arguing over her now serves little purpose."
The Sect Master and Piercing Peaks Lord fell silent, but their gazes remained locked on the mirror, fierce and unyielding.
The Lord of Violet Bamboo stood immobile, a pillar of quiet intensity. His sharp eyes, however, were riveted not on the girl, but on the blood-smeared branch still clutched in her hand. A branch… channeling Sword Intent… Pure, unadulterated Sword Intent. This wasn't mere talent; it was a terrifying symbiosis with the blade itself, defying the constraints of her spirit roots.
Behind him, Lu Tianyu practically vibrated out of his skin, fingers twisting desperately in his master's sleeve. His! She had to be Violet Bamboo's! His future Little Junior Sister! His instincts were flawless! Spirit root conflict? Pah! Under his Master's guidance, it meant nothing! Even if she focused solely on Body Tempering and the sword, she'd become a legend! That Feather Spirit Lord? Blind! Utterly blind!
Unaware of the storm she'd ignited, Gu Qingxi efficiently stripped the choicest cuts of boar meat, wrapping them in broad, waxy leaves. Leaning on Xu Baozhu's surprisingly sturdy shoulder, the two girls navigated the treacherous descent, reaching the designated rest point within four days.
In the simple quarters assigned to them, Xu Baozhu sprawled on a cot, her spatial pouch disgorging a cornucopia of snacks with gleeful abandon. "Finally! Qi feels so good!" She shoved a handful of sweetened dried beef strips at Gu Qingxi. "Honestly, Qingxi, these trials aren't so bad, are they?"
"Perhaps the next gate holds the real challenge?" Gu Qingxi replied absently, accepting the jerky.
"Hmm?" Gu Qingxi paused mid-chew, her gaze sharpening on Baozhu. "You said earlier… you didn't need to take the trials?"
"Yep!" Baozhu mumbled around a mouthful of candied fruit, utterly nonchalant. "Thought it'd be fun! But meeting you was the best part!"
This little ancestor, Wuling Laozu's voice dripped with a mix of awe and sardonic humor, either has Sect blood thicker than dragon's broth, or her family paid a king's ransom for a golden ticket. Cultivation aristocracy! Guaranteed admission!
"Are you the Sect Master's granddaughter? Or perhaps a Peak Lord's descendant?" Gu Qingxi asked casually, continuing to chew.
"Nope!" Xu Baozhu shook her head, sending her twin buns wobbling.
"Then how…?"
"My family donated a spirit vein to the sect," Xu Baozhu stated, her tone as casual as if announcing they'd brought a basket of fruit. "So I get to pick whichever Peak I like."
"A SPIRIT VEIN?! A WHOLE, FUNCTIONING SPIRIT VEIN?!" Wuling Laozu's psychic shriek nearly rattled Gu Qingxi's teeth. "Mountain-moving wealth! Dynasty-founding riches! This girl bathes in spirit stones!"
Gu Qingxi: "..."
She stared at Xu Baozhu's round, utterly guileless face, the words echoing. Donated a spirit vein. Said like it was donating old robes to charity. Not a source of near-limitless spiritual energy, foundational to a sect's power for centuries. Just… donated. The Xu family… were they the silent titans of the cultivation world's mining empire?
Days later, the fifty-plus survivors of the second trial gathered in a stone courtyard. The sword-bearing girl was among them, her robes showing signs of struggle, a fresh tear on her sleeve, her expression taut with barely contained frustration. When her eyes landed on Gu Qingxi and Xu Baozhu huddled together, sharing a pouch of honey-glazed nuts and giggling, a wave of pure, scalding resentment washed over her. How?! How did these two—one seemingly frail, the other perpetually distracted by snacks—finish before her? The favored ones of the first trial, lounging in imperial luxury while others fought phantoms! It was infuriating!
Gu Qingxi met the venomous glare with a flicker of her eyelids, a silent, dismissive acknowledgment. Bring it on.
The third trial shimmered into existence. The task: Unified Defense. All participants must work together to protect a village and its inhabitants from an impending threat. Spiritual power was unsealed. Those without weapons were issued standard-issue sect swords. The sword-bearing girl sneered at the plain blade offered to her.
A pulse of energy, and they materialized at the edge of a tranquil village. Children playing near the wooden archway scattered like startled birds, shrieking. Only one boy, sturdy and wide-eyed, remained, sucking his thumb as he watched them from a safe distance.
"Protecting the village implies an external threat," the sword-bearing girl declared, stepping forward, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "Our priority is intelligence. We split up, canvas the village, gather information. Regroup here in one incense stick's time!" Her bearing was commanding, born of confidence and a desperate need to lead.
Nods of agreement rippled through the group. Gu Qingxi offered none, but raised no objection. Teamwork was the mandate. If this girl wanted to orchestrate, Gu Qingxi was content to follow… and conserve energy.
The sword-bearing girl approached the lone boy, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She crouched, holding out a small, brightly wrapped candy. "Little brother, come here. Sister has something sweet for you."
The boy stared, unmoving, his expression blank.
"You!" The girl snapped her head towards Xu Baozhu, her tone sharp. "You're the walking pantry! Give him something! Now!"
Xu Baozhu shot her a glare that could curdle milk, biting back a retort. For the mission, she chanted internally. Turning back to the boy, she plastered on her sunniest smile, pulling out a delicate, cloud-patterned rice cake. "Little brother, look! Yummy cake! Come try!"
The boy took two steps back, his small face tightening with suspicion.
An awkward silence descended. All eyes turned to the sword-bearing girl, awaiting her next command.
"Hey! Kid!" Gu Qingxi's voice cut through the tension, sharp and impatient, devoid of any sugary pretense. "Any man-eating monsters hiding in your village? Spit it out! Before they turn your whole family into breakfast and you're left crying over empty graves!"
The sword-bearing girl whirled, outrage twisting her features. "Gu Qingxi! You ignorant—!"
"You… you look weak," the boy whispered, his voice trembling but clear. His eyes darted over the assembled cultivators. "The last ones who came to help… they all died."
"Weak?!" Gu Qingxi's eyebrow arched, a dangerous glint in her eye. She jerked her thumb towards the fifty-odd disciples behind her. "Take a good look, squirt! Every single one of us could take on ten of your boogeymen!"
As if on cue, the group straightened their spines, shoulders squaring, chins lifting. A wave of collective determination, however fragile, surged through them. They might be scared, they might be uncertain, but they would not be called weak.