Chapter 098: The Life of a Sword Disciple

Dual spiritual bodies meant a great deal—Qian Jiale knew this all too well. The Blue Master Ancestor of the sect possessed a water-wood dual spiritual body, granting her access to more cultivation methods than others, and a far greater chance of advancing. Yet, despite this, he had never heard of a cultivator with dual spiritual bodies choosing the path of the sword. Sword cultivation demanded much of the body, but was less stringent on innate talent, which was why the Purple Heaven Sword Sect recruited through fierce trials—fail, and you were eliminated. The Taibai Sect was different; it valued aptitude above all, as it was a traditional Daoist sect, with the majority of its disciples practicing spell arts.

A dual spiritual body meant that one could naturally pursue two paths in spells, cultivating two kinds of spiritual bodies. For someone of such rare talent to choose sword cultivation—it was, in Qian Jiale’s eyes, a waste. Initially, he felt a kinship with Lingyu, admiring the resilience she displayed during their sword duel—the psychological pressure was so intense that even he, who prided himself on his courage and ferocity, found it hard to bear. Now, knowing she possessed a dual spiritual body yet chose the sword, he genuinely respected her.

“Sister Cheng, you truly have courage!”

“Hm?” Lingyu was baffled. She still had only a vague understanding of aptitude; she had heard on the flying boat from He Xiaoshi that her talent allowed her to practice methods of two attributes, which was extremely rare. As for how rare dual spiritual bodies were, she was still unclear.

Moreover, she hadn’t chosen sword cultivation herself. In the lower realm, there were no thorough ways to test aptitude. Liu Weiyi said she had good constitution and bone structure, suitable for the sword, and so she was set on that path—it was all a misunderstanding.

Nevertheless, Qian Jiale’s reaction made her realize something. The “Water-Fire Sword Manual” said that even with ordinary aptitude, one could cultivate both water and fire attributes. Qian Jiale, upon seeing her sword aura, insisted she had a dual spiritual body. This meant that cultivation methods like the “Water-Fire Sword Manual” were even rarer than dual spiritual bodies themselves. Perhaps no one had ever heard that by practicing a single method, one could produce sword aura of two attributes.

The celestial tome was simply miraculous! Lingyu had always thought it an extraordinary treasure, but now she realized its wonders far exceeded her imagination. Such a thing must never be revealed to anyone!

Qian Jiale’s friendliness quickly improved their relationship, and with his guidance, Lingyu soon blended into the circle of sword cultivators at the Small Sword Pool.

She had feared that losing the sword duel would earn her contempt, but later learned that, among the hundred or so disciples who regularly trained at the Small Sword Pool, almost none could defeat Qian Jiale—losing to him was no shame. At dinner, the senior surnamed Guo comforted her: “Sister Cheng, let me tell you, almost no one who trains at the Small Sword Pool has escaped a beating from Qian Jiale. For this, we founded a special alliance. Its name is…” He paused, watching Lingyu’s expectant eyes, then uttered three words: “Ten Thousand Families Cry!”

“Pfft!” Lingyu sprayed her rice, coughing for a long while before regaining her composure, half laughing, half crying. “Senior Guo, what kind of name is that!”

Old Guo replied, “Isn’t his name Qian Jiale—‘A Thousand Families Happy’? Well, if he can’t be happy, then ten thousand families cry.”

Lingyu thought about it and found it quite reasonable, laughing along.

After the meal, Qian Jiale called out, “Sister Cheng, come, let’s spar a bit!”

There weren’t many sword cultivators in Taibai Sect, and even fewer who frequented the Small Sword Pool. Most of these hundred disciples knew each other well, and enjoyed lively camaraderie—after training, they would gather to eat, and after meals, spar and discuss sword techniques.

Lingyu quickly adapted to this life after joining the group, and her skills improved rapidly through practice.

By day, they each meditated and trained at the Small Sword Pool; at night, they gathered to exchange sword techniques and experiences. Lingyu learned much from them—not just sword cultivation, but also astronomy, geography, local customs, and the sect’s gossip.

If working in the guardhouse broadened her social connections, at the Small Sword Pool, she learned the foundation upon which sword cultivators built their lives.

Between sparring sessions, they often discussed the future.

Qian Jiale once told her, “For Daoist cultivators, we sword cultivators don’t stand out in terms of aptitude and are too focused on power. Establishing a foundation is much harder than for spell cultivators. Though we act carefree and optimistic, in truth, every one of us carries a heavy heart. Taibai Sect has tens of thousands of Qi-refining disciples, but only a little over a thousand foundation establishment cultivators. Excluding those who never reach Qi-refining completion, only about ten percent succeed—and among sword cultivators, it's even lower. Why are there so few women among sword cultivators? Because this pressure is unbearable for those sensitive of heart. Yet, we have no other choice but to press forward. With the sword in hand, we cut through thorns and forge ahead, paving our own path.”

These words filled Lingyu with deep respect for him. On the surface, Qian Jiale seemed arrogant and childish, but he possessed steadfast conviction.

“Qian Jiale, stop scaring Sister Cheng. Why worry so much? We just need to take care of ourselves, practice diligently, and opportunities will come,” Old Guo chimed in with a cheerful smile. “Sister Cheng, don’t you agree?”

“Yes!” Lingyu nodded. “Both of you make good points—Senior Qian is clear-eyed about the hardships ahead, and Senior Guo keeps an optimistic heart.”

“Sister Cheng truly lives up to her guardhouse reputation—so eloquent!” Old Guo was delighted by the praise.

Lingyu recalled something and asked, “By the way, do sword cultivators establish their foundation the same way as spell cultivators?”

“Regardless of the branch, all are Daoist cultivators—the process is largely the same, though there are finer differences,” Qian Jiale explained carefully. “For sword cultivators, foundation establishment isn’t just about expanding meridians and the dantian, but most importantly, comprehending the essence of the sword. Once the sword intent is clear, foundation establishment comes naturally. Unlike spell cultivators, we aren’t as dependent on foundation pills. If one can grasp sword intent during Qi-refining and channel enough spiritual energy through the meridians, the chances of breaking through are high.”

“I see…” Lingyu pondered. “Since we aren’t so reliant on foundation pills, why is our success rate lower than spell cultivators?”

Qian Jiale gave a bitter smile. “True, but what is sword intent? Sword aura we can accumulate day by day—but sword intent depends on talent. Not bone structure, not spiritual body, but an intangible insight. Honestly, sword intent is harder to acquire than foundation pills. Many sword cultivators only realize it after establishing their foundation, shedding their mortal shell. Those who achieve it during Qi-refining and combine it with foundation establishment are exceedingly rare.”

“...So that’s how it is.” Lingyu thought of Elder Feng and sighed—there were sword genius in the lower realm who grasped sword intent before foundation, but were trapped by their circumstances, unable to advance further. Suddenly, she had a thought: one day, when she formed her golden core, she would return to the lower realm, build a stairway to the heavens, and help those who had guided her continue their journey—her way of repaying their kindness.

“Sister Cheng, don’t overthink it. Let’s train hard, reach Qi-refining completion, try to comprehend sword intent and use the spiritual eye to establish our foundation, while waiting for the sect’s reward of foundation pills. That way, we miss nothing,” Old Guo said, then turned and shouted to the others, “Right, everyone?”

“Old Guo talks nonsense—what else can we do?”

“Exactly.”

Old Guo returned, battered by their teasing.

Qian Jiale ignored the crowd and continued with Lingyu: “Usually, every decade there’s an opportunity—sometimes it’s an inter-sect competition, sometimes a trial opens. There’s risk, but the rewards are rich. In such times, we sword cultivators have a natural advantage—fighting is our forte!”

“Right, right, when it comes to fighting, sword cultivators are the strongest!”

“That’s right—the Battle Command Hall always has more sword cultivators than anyone else!”

The Battle Command Hall was one of the sect’s seven branches, responsible for security and enforcement—managing the mountain’s defensive array, patrolling, guarding, enforcing rules—all fell under its purview. In short, the Battle Command Hall was the elite force of the sect; every disciple was the cream of the crop, and it was the place most coveted by sword cultivators. However, only those who had established their foundation could qualify.

Listening to their banter, Lingyu felt a warmth in her heart. No matter how difficult the path ahead, they still possessed a fighting spirit and unwavering optimism. Though they were combative, proud, and sometimes annoying, they remained sincere and endearing.

“By the way, Senior Lu should be returning soon, right? Anyone heard any news?” Old Guo chatted among the group.

“Old Guo, you always remember Senior Lu—but Senior Duanmu is with her, what chance do you have!” someone joked. “You? Dreaming of a goddess? Look how many lovely junior sisters are in the sect!”

“Get out!” Old Guo glared. “Are you calling me a toad?”

“Where did I say that?” The other spread his hands in innocence. “Everyone, did I say ‘toad’?”

“No.”

“I didn’t hear it.”

“I heard it—it was Old Guo himself!”

“You bunch!” Old Guo grabbed his sword. “Come on, let’s duel three hundred rounds!”

“Bring it on—who’s afraid of you!” The group erupted once more, which soon turned into another sparring session.

Lingyu watched joyfully from the side. Old Guo was a good fellow, though he had the flaw of being lovesick. With so few female sword cultivators at the Small Sword Pool, he rarely saw beauties and doted on Lingyu whenever he could.

Senior Lu’s full name was Lu Yingfeng, a direct disciple of the manifesting immortal of Purple Cap Peak, a prodigy who completed Qi-refining at seventeen and possessed peerless beauty, idolized by many male disciples. Old Guo was no exception—he loved to talk about her, and even when he couldn’t see her, he would get by on stories. At such times, everyone would tease him, though it was all harmless fun. They all knew that ordinary disciples like themselves had no hope of matching a core formation heir like Lu Yingfeng.

Such was the life of ordinary disciples—plain, but filled with warmth and vitality.