Chapter 3193: Chapter 1625: eting Wen Ting beneath the Sword Washing Pool, Slling the Sword to Seek Address in the Starry Sky_2
Glancing back, her brows and eyes condensed, seething with murderous intent, nearly rivaling the fad swords enduring daily tornt in the Sword Washing Pool.
“There’s an issue.”
The Storyteller kicked off her high heels without a care and stepped barefoot onto the Qing Shi pathway beside the Sword Washing Pool, where the water barely covered the surface.
Amidst the crisp sound of splashing water, she approached her seat, curling up swiftly as if she were at ho, placing her wet jade feet rudely atop the armrest.
Wiping them twice and crossing her legs, she casually pulled a book from the stone cabinet beside her, flopped her head down, and while flipping through the book, said:
“Little Bazhun’an is looking for you.”
...
——”Sword Sutra · Upper”!
“He has an issue ‘requesting’ to co over, can’t he do it himself, does he even have any manners?” Wen Ting sternly glared at those stinky feet with lingering water stains.
“Not at all! Indeed, he can’t even co over! He has forgotten how to fly, and if you ask him to climb a mountain, tomorrow you’ll have to go out and retrieve his corpse.” The Storyteller turned over, lying more comfortably with her backside poked up, “Oh, and there would have to be a funeral too.”
A pleased expression dawned on Wen Ting’s face, the fierceness gone: “Haha, retrieving a corpse sounds great, I enjoy that, a funeral would have to be grand… stop interrupting, put down your feet!”
If the three Gu Brothers were here, seeing their Supre Master’s current expression, they might be shocked out of their wits.
Because, in their impression, the Supre Master was always stern and seldom smiled, his face always stern, and a smile rarely graced his lips, let alone laughter.
Moreover, the Sword Washing Pool is a holy land of Burial Sword Tomb, and from three days before they even entered that stone gate, they were required to burn incense, bathe, change clothes, and ditate…
Only after finishing a series of procedures and seeking approval from the Supre Master, they were allowed to enter the Sword Washing Pool.
Furthermore, the “Sword Sutra” is a secret of Burial Sword Tomb, only accessible for reading upon initial discipleship, and afterward, only if one made a mistake might they earn the ‘privilege’ to be punished by copying the “Sword Sutra”.
On regular days, Gu Qinger and his brothers would get into all sorts of trouble and still scarcely begged for the punishnt opportunity to copy the “Sword Sutra”.
“Heavenly book! Truly a heavenly book!”
After flipping through a few pages of the “Sword Sutra,” the Storyteller, drowsy, realized she would never grasp the Innate Sword Intent in her lifeti.
She stuffed the ancient book back into the stone cabinet, stood up with a solemn deanor, and announced:
“Kui Leihan is looking for him!”
Wen Ting’s brows raised, her index finger pressed against her rouged lips, sarcastically inquiring, “Do they, the Ten High Nobles, really need to bother soone as irrelevant as myself?”
“They request you.”
“Request?”
“Yes! A direct request for you, the renowned tomb keeper!”
“Who requested?”
“Who else but little Bazhun’an?”
The Storyteller laughed as she stepped off her seat, approached the Sword Washing Pool, and squat down to look toward the center of the pool.
Among the rust-covered broken blades, there lay a similarly broken sword that remained pristine despite the years, with neither rust nor moss, vibrating intensely with a green hue, brimming with Sword Will.
Impressed, the Storyteller couldn’t help but praise: “It has to be Qingju, still possessing life force after so long.”
“That’s not life force.” Wen Ting pointed out, “It’s a whiner. It’s been crying for thirty years; haven’t you heard?”
Hum!
The broken sword Qingju trembled violently, as if voicing disagreent, the whining hum becoming shriller.
“People didn’t see it like this last ti.”
The Storyteller squinted her eyes, vaguely rembering that corrosion and moss should be growing faster and more abundantly on Qingju than the other swords.
“It always has the illusion it’s about to be reborn, hence the renewal of its bath and clothes.”
“Renewal?”
“Yes! Many ‘renewals’!” Wen Ting said with a mocking smile, “All those baths, and yet no one to cherish it, oh my, my little whiner, how sad!”
Whimper—
Qingju vibrated even more fiercely.
“Just wait, in less than half a month, its rust and moss will grow back faster than before, and age even more.”
“Constant sadness will kill the heart.”
Wen Ting had lost the heart to advise long ago and didn’t hesitate to hurt broken sword Qingju’s feelings.
After saying that, he imdiately ignored the sword and turned to glare at the Storyteller, his expression growing somber:
“What’s the specific matter?”
No longer digressing, the Storyteller got straight to the point: “He asked you to search for the god slayer divine priest’s ruins.”
“Just summon it, shouldn’t that do it?”
“Can’t go in anymore.”
“Can’t enter by summoning, nor can you go in through the Four Symbols Secret Realm?”
“Indeed, not possible! That pathway has been sealed as well, it’s essentially the sa.”
“Then how should I search?”
Wen Ting, speechless, spread his hands: “One, I never leave Burial Sword Tomb, two, I’m isolated from the world, three, you haven’t even given a rough idea of where the god slayer divine priest’s ruins’ spatial coordinates might be, am I supposed to bet my life searching for you?”
“No need for your life.” The Storyteller shook her tender green jade finger, “Just sniff out the scent of Angry Immortal Buddha Sword or the scent of sword cognition from the Sword Observation Manual, even Fourth Sword will do, getting a rough direction is enough.”
Wen Ting was about to curse, but he stopped short upon hearing this: “That damn thing went in too?”
After Buddha’s disappearance, the Angry Immortal Buddha Sword was no longer at Western Region Buddhist Sect, Wen Ting had searched a few tis, eventually tracing the scent to Gui Zhe Sacred Mountain Dao Hall Master.
And then stopped searching.
The Storyteller nodded without saying a word.
Wen Ting pondered for a while, with a dangerous look and a wary tone: “What does he intend to do after finding it? What can he do? Or is it that he wants to keep requesting — Well, I won’t go!”
He preemptively cut off his own retreat.
He had not the slightest interest in things like Ran Ming ruins, nor care to get involved in the grand sche.
“You don’t have to go; just finding it is enough, he’ll resolve the rest himself.”
“Isn’t he half dead?” Wen Ting was anxious internally while speaking nonchalantly, “The kind of garbage who’d die climbing a mountain, what can he do?”
“Don’t call him garbage!”
The Storyteller glared at him fiercely, then said: “I don’t know either, but since he said so, he must have a way.”
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