Chapter 29: The Old Man Bids Farewell

After the long howl came absolute stillness.

Xiao Chen slowly gathered his thoughts. He felt as though his soul had been thoroughly cleansed by a timely rain, becoming purer and clearer than ever before. He turned, his gaze falling upon Jiang Xiuyuan, who stood smiling a short distance away.

He straightened his tattered clothes, his expression solemn, and walked step by step toward Jiang Xiuyuan. Then he dropped to his knees before the white-haired old man with whom he had spent only a few short days. With utmost respect, he performed the formal ceremony of discipleship, pressing his forehead deeply against the cold rock.

“Your disciple, Xiao Chen, pays his respects to his honored teacher! I shall never forget your grace in enlightening me and your virtue in giving me a new life!”

He bowed with complete sincerity.

Jiang Xiuyuan had not taught him a single sword technique, nor passed on any cultivation formula. Yet he had helped Xiao Chen break free from certain death, rebuild his sword heart upon the ruins of despair, and comprehend the ultimate truths of the sword path. This kindness was weightier than imparting knowledge and deeper than saving a life. In Xiao Chen’s heart, Jiang Xiuyuan had already become the teacher who had shown him the way.

Jiang Xiuyuan stood where he was and calmly accepted the bow.

He knew that this gesture was Xiao Chen’s final farewell to his former self.

Only after Xiao Chen had finished kowtowing did Jiang Xiuyuan extend his withered hand and help him to his feet. In a gentle voice, he said, “Rise. I am not your teacher, and I am not worthy of being addressed as such.”

Xiao Chen froze and hurriedly said, “Teacher…”

Jiang Xiuyuan waved a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “I am merely an old man from the mountains who happened to pass by this place and tell you a few stories. You poured your own tea, and you walked your own path. All I did was give you a gentle tug when you were about to fall from the cliff.”

His words were plain, yet they contained a wisdom that left no room for rebuttal. Xiao Chen understood that the old man did not wish to become entangled with him by fate and consequence. His gratitude only deepened. He no longer pressed the matter of titles, but engraved this kindness in the deepest part of his soul.

At that moment, Xiao Chen’s body suddenly trembled.

To his astonishment, as his sword heart was rebuilt and his state of mind reached the realm of “selflessness,” the meridians within him—once lifeless, withered, and broken beyond repair—began to draw in the spiritual energy of the surrounding world, greedily and of their own accord, like parched earth welcoming rain.

Strands of spiritual energy no longer required him to circulate his cultivation technique. Like countless rivers flowing into the sea, they streamed through every pore of his body and poured into him. Gentle and pure, they no longer surged recklessly as they had in the past. Instead, they moved like docile brooks, slowly and steadily repairing and nourishing his damaged meridians.

The foundation of his cultivation, destroyed by the Blood Slaughter Elder’s Blood-Transforming Divine Saber—the cultivation everyone had believed could never possibly be restored—had actually begun to show signs of recovery.

Moreover, he could clearly feel that, nourished by this newly born power, the meridians and cultivation foundation he was rebuilding were more resilient and stable than they had ever been. If his former foundation had been a magnificent tower of colored glass, then what he was rebuilding now was a plain and unadorned fortress of granite, rooted firmly in the earth.

“This… What is this?” Xiao Chen stared in utter disbelief at the changes within his body.

Jiang Xiuyuan glanced at the faint vortex of spiritual energy surrounding him and explained with a smile, “The heart is the sovereign, and energy is its minister. When the mind is unobstructed, the hundred meridians open of themselves. In the past, you used force to control the Dao, forcibly driving spiritual power. Though that allowed you to unleash tremendous might, it also left countless hidden dangers in your meridians. Now you have grasped the principle of using the Dao to control force. Your heart is in harmony with the heavens, and the spiritual energy of the world will naturally draw close to you. Destruction followed by rebirth—your future may be broader than it ever was before.”

At these words, every trace of doubt vanished from Xiao Chen’s heart, leaving only boundless joy and gratitude. He knew that he had not merely regained a new life; he had also received an opportunity of immense fortune.

He turned and waved toward Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai. “Yiyi, Xiaobai, it is time for us to set out.”

Jiang Yiyi ran over merrily, pulled a face at Xiao Chen, and laughed. “Big Brother, you must never try to die again!”

Jiang Xiaobai came over as well. She gave Xiao Chen a long, complicated look containing curiosity, scrutiny, and a trace of barely perceptible admiration. Then she inclined her head slightly in farewell.

Seeing that they were about to leave, Xiao Chen was suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful sense of reluctance. He hurriedly called out, “Old sir… Teacher! Where are you going? May I follow you and serve at your side?”

Jiang Xiuyuan shook his head and pointed toward the distant place where the sea of clouds rolled and surged. With a smile, he said, “We are merely travelers beneath the heavens, making our home wherever we go. We have no fixed destination. You have your own path to walk as well. There is no need for you to follow us.”

He paused and looked at Xiao Chen before leaving him with his final words:

“Child, remember this: when you clench your fist, there is nothing in your hand; when you open your palms, the world is in your grasp.”

“Your sword is the same.”

With that, he turned and led Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai down the mountain. Their figures soon disappeared into the thick morning mist, as though they had never appeared at all.

“When you clench your fist, there is nothing in your hand; when you open your palms, the world is in your grasp…”

Standing at the edge of the cliff, Xiao Chen repeatedly pondered these words, filled with the spirit of Zen, and suddenly saw everything clearly.

He bowed once more, deeply and for a long time, toward the direction in which the three had vanished.

That night, Xiao Chen neither cultivated nor practiced his sword. He merely sat in silence beside the campfire that had already gone out, eyes closed, savoring everything that had happened over the past few days and engraving every word spoken by the old man deep within his heart.

The next morning, when the first ray of sunlight pierced the sea of clouds and cast golden radiance across the entire Sword-Burial Cliff, Xiao Chen opened his eyes.

He instinctively looked across from him, only to find the place completely empty.

The campfire had been extinguished entirely, leaving behind only a pile of pale-gray ashes. The coarse earthen teapot, the several clay bowls, the animal pelts—all of it had vanished.

There was no one at the edge of the cliff.

If not for the faint trace of delicate tea fragrance lingering in the air, and if not for the truths and insights in his mind that felt so profound and real, Xiao Chen might almost have believed that everything which had happened over the past few days had been nothing more than a dying man’s dream.

He rose and walked to the edge of the cliff, gazing down at the surging sea of clouds.

The wind still howled.

But now, in his ears, that sound was the most beautiful sword-song in the world.

He knew that the “old man from the mountains” had truly existed. He had come like the wind and departed like mist, leaving no trace behind, yet he had left an entirely new world within Xiao Chen’s life.

Xiao Chen slowly opened his hands and faced the rising sun. Upon his face appeared the first radiant smile of his reborn life.

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