After Xiao Mo announced to the outside world that he meant to cultivate immortality, he was free to carry on, openly and legitimately, as a shut-in who never set foot outside his doors—even once his illness was cured.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Xiao Mo used the pretext of cultivating to slip into meditation and sent his consciousness into the Hundred Lives Book.
Every five days, Xiao Mo used the Sustaining Heaven Formula to help Jiang Qingyi nurse her health and clear her spirit meridians.
He also spent his own contribution points on all manner of precious medicinal herbs, and following the prescriptions written in the Sustaining Heaven Formula, he brewed the medicine for Jiang Qingyi with his own hands.
As for Xiao Mo's lifespan—
Xiao Mo didn't care.
The Sustaining Heaven Formula's price is the lifespan of "Xiao Mo"—and what does that have to do with me, Xiao Mo?
He was only here to experience a life for fifty years, after all.
Given the state his body was in at present, he could hold out for at least seventy.
That was time enough.
Under Xiao Mo's care, Jiang Qingyi improved quickly.
It took her only one month to go from the first layer of Qi Refining to the second.
Admittedly, some geniuses could climb from the first layer to the fourth—even the fifth—inside a single month.
Set against those geniuses, Jiang Qingyi's talent really didn't look like much.
But Xiao Mo was already satisfied.
The girl could cultivate at all, and that was plenty. What more could he ask for?
Before anyone noticed, several more days had passed in the real world.
Xiao Mo spent every day lost in cultivation and never asked after court affairs, wearing the look of a man who had simply given up; the ministers came to remonstrate, and he didn't listen to a word.
Apart from eating, all Xiao Mo did was slip into the Hundred Lives Book to teach his disciple.
In a blink, ten months had gone by inside the Hundred Lives Book.
Over those nearly ten months, Jiang Qingyi had grown fast.
She was barely fifteen, and already close to one meter sixty.
Then again, that was only natural.
This was exactly the age when a girl shoots up.
And since coming to the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, she had no more worries about food or clothing. She ate her fill every day, had meat at every meal, and as her nutrition finally caught up, she naturally grew faster.
By now Jiang Qingyi was opening out like a willow putting forth new branches.
There was a distinct sense of "the girl next door has just grown into a young woman."
She was starting to look like a grown young lady.
Another ten days passed.
That morning, as Jiang Qingyi drew her sword stance back in, the aura around her rose another step.
"Not bad."
Xiao Mo praised the girl.
His own disciple had stepped into the seventh layer of Qi Refining.
Hearing her master's voice, Jiang Qingyi turned and came running over happily. "Master, you're up!"
"The sun's already baking my backside—how could I stay in bed?" Xiao Mo laughed and patted her lightly on the head. "Qingyi, you're cultivating faster and faster. Looks like your hard work hasn't gone to waste."
"It's all because Master teaches so well."
"It's the fruit of your own effort… cough, cough, cough…" Xiao Mo broke into a violent fit of coughing.
"Master, are you all right?" Jiang Qingyi looked at her master with worry.
"I'm fine." Xiao Mo waved a hand. "I just hit a snag in my training lately and did my body a bit of harm. A little rest and I'll be fine."
"Really?" Jiang Qingyi said worriedly.
This is the first time I've ever seen Master fall ill.
"Of course it's real." Xiao Mo changed the subject. "There's less than three months left before the New Blood Tournament. Are you ready?"
"Replying to Master, your disciple is ready. I absolutely won't embarrass you!" Jiang Qingyi said earnestly.
"Just do your best out there and leave no regrets."
As he spoke, Xiao Mo took a sword case out of his storage pouch and handed it to Jiang Qingyi.
"Master, what's this?" Jiang Qingyi asked curiously.
"A gift from me. Open it and see."
Jiang Qingyi opened the case.
Inside lay a long sword.
"What a beautiful sword."
Jiang Qingyi exclaimed.
The long sword seemed carved from frost and ice, its blade translucent, lotus patterns graven across it.
"This sword is called Xuanshuang. It's a fourth-rank artifact—not especially precious, but it really is pretty, and it suits you. Well? Do you like it?"
"Mm! I love it!" Jiang Qingyi nodded hard. "Thank you, Master. Qingyi will take good care of this sword!"
Xiao Mo smiled. "It's only a fourth-rank artifact, and pretty is about all it has going for it. Once your cultivation is higher, you'll go and throw it away."
"I won't, Master!" Qingyi hugged the sword case tightly and shook her head hard. "Qingyi will keep it safe. I will never throw it away, not for the rest of my life!"
The Myriad Sword Sect.
As the foremost sword sect of the world under heaven,
the disciples who could get into the Myriad Sword Sect all had no small talent for cultivation.
Even a single outer sect disciple of the Myriad Sword Sect would, in any other sect, have the talent of an inner sect disciple.
And today was the grand festival of all the Myriad Sword Sect's new disciples—the New Blood Tournament!
The New Blood Tournament had its origins in a sect that had long since vanished: the Dragon Spring Sword Sect.
Compared with the old Dragon Spring Sword Sect's, the Myriad Sword Sect's New Blood Tournament differed in nothing where the rules were concerned; both used a drawn-lots format for the bouts.
The top three of the New Blood Tournament received lavish rewards, including but not limited to techniques and artifacts.
In fact, each year's champion received a treasure artifact bestowed by the Sect Master in person.
This time, for instance, the Sect Master of the Myriad Sword Sect had put up a first-rank artifact as the prize!
Which filled every disciple with motivation.
Early that morning, all the disciples taking part in the New Blood Tournament, along with the various elders and peak masters, had gathered on a small plain.
On the first day of every New Blood Tournament, the Sect Master of the Myriad Sword Sect appeared in person to declare it open.
So every young disciple was craning their neck, waiting for the sect master to appear.
The Sect Master of the Myriad Sword Sect was simply too legendary.
To sword cultivators the world over, the Sect Master of the Myriad Sword Sect was something close to a god.
And the Sect Master of the Myriad Sword Sect usually appeared and vanished like a divine dragon, showing neither head nor tail; even the sect's own high-ranking members rarely saw her.
So for many, this was one of the few chances in their whole lives to lay eyes on the sect master.
The hour of Chen had barely arrived.
A sword shadow swept through the air and dropped straight to the very front of the plain.
The woman stood atop the high platform, the clear wind stirring her long skirt.
At her waist hung a long sword, white and translucent, as though forged from dark ice.
"Is that sword the sect master's wearing our Myriad Sword Sect's immortal sword, Baixia?" On the plain, a female disciple asked the friend beside her.
"No. The sect master rarely uses Baixia. This one's called Xuanshuang—it's just a fourth-rank artifact," her friend explained.
"A fourth-rank artifact?" The female disciple blinked. "Is there something special about this fourth-rank artifact? How could a fourth-rank artifact be worthy of the sect master's standing?"
"I couldn't say."
Her friend shook her head too.
"Maybe that fourth-rank artifact means something special to the sect master…"