Xu Lingxin’s words served as an excellent reminder for An Fei. The young girl didn’t dare enter the forbidden sanctuary nestled in the unforgiving depths of the Mourning Forest, and could only roam the outermost fringe wherein the Morning Star Temple’s young disciples periodically arose to cultivate. The dull and enforced stillness caused her hands to become stir-crazy, and soon, the outer fringes of the baleful forest were filled to the brim with wooden branches stabbed into the earth.
When the disciples ascended the peak and explored the border of the Mourning Forest, the unperishable sea of twigs buried in the silky soil caused their hearts to marvel in awe.
The sheer admiration suffused in their gazes as they peered down the incomprehensible trail of wooden branches caused much bemusement to An Fei, and the young girl elected not to remain in the forest’s vicinity.
The celestial maiden’s kind chastisement was forceful enough, and she didn’t want to stir up any hornets’ nests if possible.
Hence, all An Fei found she could do – or have the leisure to do – was to aimlessly stroll alongside of the pond’s edge, sleep in her dilapidated, gloomy room, or irritate all resemblance of sanity from He Xin. The former nearly drove the young girl insane herself, and in turn vented her frustrations on the pitiful young servant maiden of Xu Lingxin.
Living a mundane, peaceful life was the golden cusp that An Fei had salivated after in her previous life as a straggling vagrant. Now that it was enforced upon her shoulders, the young girl discovered that she didn’t like it one bit.
“Waking in the morning to stab a twig into the ground… with that clumsy Sword Intent… and then spend the entire day snacking on toxic berries and lazing around?”
An Fei sat at the ridge of the pond, her feet dipping into the cool water below. She gently exhaled as the cold and nourishing threads weaved around her delicate skin, scraping at the accumulated dust and dirt from her daily, barefoot travels into the Mourning Forest.
The pond – although describing the body of water before her as a pond wasn’t the proper definition, as there seemed to be an underground stream circulating and preventing the water from being contaminated from her daily baths. A mere dip of her skin would moisturize the flesh and calm the mind, and for highly dignified, esteemed cultivators as the Elder situated atop the Mourning Peak, a single bath would bring the benefits of an entire week of dedicated cultivation.
…Xu Lingxin had casually explained in the past that the entirety of the Mourning Peak was a spiritual treasure beyond the capabilities of the Morning Star Temple and even the Violet Jade Pavilion, but He Xin was adamant that there existed a terrifying fierce creature at the heart of the mountain causing the miraculous properties of the pond and forest. The young girl curled her toes and braced at the incoming numbness creeping up through her body, and couldn’t help but scoff.
“That Earth Giant mentioned by that old fatty was also a fierce creature. A fierce creature living at the heart of the Mourning Peak – not possible!”
Otherwise, that giddy smile on the celestial maiden’s countenance was bound to vanish if such fierce creature was to awake, and the Morning Star Temple would have experienced a disaster. Fierce creatures – even one roaming around without any sustenance – were mighty enough to terrorize any Spirit Building Realm cultivators.
They… were ornamented with the character ‘fierce’, after all…
An Fei shook her head to clear her thoughts, and glanced in the direction of the entrance leading into the kingdom of trees. When she squinted her eyes, her vision was interlaced with the rapidly weaving and interlocking silhouettes of many cultivators struggling in the Mourning Forest. The unparalleled might of the trees ensured that all screams and pained shrieks remained confined within the forest, and the young girl was left to pout at a picturesque motion-drama for entertainment.
From sunrise to sunset, there were numerous cultivators from within the Morning Star Temple ascending the Mourning Peak to… temper their spiritual essence. Perhaps it was due to some assignment thrown onto their shoulders or a requirement of cultivation, but the constantly flickering shadows of sweaty disciples rushing up the mountain peak, bowing to their Martial Aunt Xu Lingxin, and striding into the forest with great confidence only to emerge with pale, shell-shocked expressions, had completely ruined all semblance of tranquility in her day-to-day life.
An Fei hadn’t forgotten Xu Lingxin’s kind warning. The Elders and Sect Leader of the Morning Star Temple could tolerate her existence as a mortal girl from Great Yong, their nation’s belov – greatly hated enemy, but the same logic could not be applied for the rudimentary disciples.
“Still… remaining mute throughout the entire day is rather annoying… and those uncomfortable glares…”
An Fei grimaced, and heaved sigh after sigh. Her knowledge of Bei Tang’s inexplicably catastrophic language was gradually beginning to bud – though not entirely at her initiative, and it was a saving grace that many of the cultivators present at the Morning Star Temple spoke in the language of Great Yan –
“– stupid Sword Intent, stupid cultivators. Do they really enjoy blithering and over-exaggerating about the smallest of things?” the young girl growled, and kicked at the still water.
“The grass has some profound Sword Intent, the nightly breeze has some profound Yin-attribute Sword Intent, the air in the Mourning Peak has some baleful Sword Intent, some mortal girl’s roughshod wooden twigs has some divine Sword Intent… sword?”
An Fei’s lips came to a pause, and her gaze locked onto the other visitor of the pond’s roiling surface. There, a solitary petal floated and spun its glorious cries of battle and death, its severed tubes drowning at the overwhelming abundance of cold water and vitality. The young girl stilled her breath as she rapped at her mind to awake from its lengthy break.
Soon, her hands clapped in joy, and the scarlet irises displayed a rare gleam. An Fei submerged her calves into the cold, massaging underwater currents hidden within the depths of the pond, and her sea of perception gently arose into action.
She didn’t want to recall anything about the pesky topic of ‘Sword Intent’ that seemed to infatuate all cultivators of the Morning Star Temple. Yet, the concept of swords caused a memory to surface from the depths of her mind, a recent but blurred recollection.
The <Golden Lotus of Establishment> that she had recklessly tempered with had allowed her to produce lotus petals that could transform into a sword by her will. That had part of her plan to slowly explore the Shattered Star Continent at her whims, when a certain Empress and heavenly dragon stomped over her dreams. It was just…
“I don’t remember the acupuncture points that the technique wanted to combine…”
The young girl slapped herself on the forehead. Perhaps it was due to the accumulated boredom or some other factor, but An Fei found a rare inclination of resolve blazing through her veins. Or perhaps it was mere pent-up frustration and annoyance –
“– no matter! It’s better than lazing around all day!”
An Fei closed her eyes, and enveloped her senses with the mental visualization kindly provided by the Sanctum several years ago. Her lack of practice and months of inactivity caused the mere act of drawing a single thread of golden light from the core at her heart to become incredibly difficult, but on the third attempt, she had managed to extract a full thread coiled into the shape of a compressed bead.
…but which acupuncture points?
The young girl shook her head and threw all discontented thoughts aside. Indulging in the rare display of resolve and recklessness displayed by herself, An Fei split the delicate thread into equal lengths, then shoved the threads in different directions into the dark abyss that was the remainder of her body.
She dimly recalled that the split threads had to bore into two oppositely attributed acupuncture points, but perhaps her memory had gone astray. After a few breaths of bated and deafening silence, the abyss tossed back two misshapen threads, one radiating a pale orange gleam, the other suffused in a sea of cyan light.
There was only a soft gasp of pain stabbing at the base of her navel, and the threads appeared to have been chewed and mangled during its mysterious journey. Nonetheless, An Fei cleared her mind for the third time and drove the twin threads towards the base of her right palm, upon which they began to gravitate and merge into a single bead of pale, nearly colorless sea of white and grey.
An Fei opened her eyes and returned to the mortal world inundated in greyscale. Her eyes crinkled when bathed in the infinite array of diversely shaded grey blots, and she quickly transferred her gaze to her palm. There, sat a thinly decorated lotus petal – a petal that she had not held for months.
By her will, she could transform it into a lethal sword –
“As expected, you really are overthinking the entire process. So much divine essence, and the result is a cheap manufacture?”
