Many people change their deanor, their behavior, even their immutable nature for soone they love—but Yin Weiyin was not one of those people.
In the end, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
Chen Yi tried to calm himself. He didn’t want Zhou Yitang to know about the engagent yet. His plan was to bring it up slowly, at a ti when she was in a good mood, and accompany the revelation with sweet talk—only then might this wife from his previous life reluctantly accept.
Chen Yi cleared his throat, waved his hand slightly, and said:
"I’ll follow the advice of my master."
Yin Weiyin turned to look at him. Though she felt a faint fear in her heart, she nevertheless replied:
"It’s just a reminder for you to rest for a while."
Although her words were a bit awkward, as she was never good at expressing care toward others, she had started learning how to care ever since returning from the underground palace.
But the timing was sowhat off.
Chen Yi said softly:
"I don’t need rest. I’m not tired."
A trace of worry flickered in Yin Weiyin’s eyes. Sweat was already welling up on Chen Yi’s neck. If Great Yin advised him to linger a mont longer, it would be as good as sentencing him to death.
At this mont, Zhou Yitang spoke:
"Don’t push yourself too hard. Take a seat; it’s fine."
Chen Yi’s sweat drenched his back, and he said earnestly:
"I truly want to practice my swordsmanship."
Yin Weiyin furrowed her brows slightly. Seeing his determination, she finally let him go. Chen Yi hurriedly followed the one-ard woman, and the two figures disappeared beyond the doorway.
At that mont, the little fox, oblivious to the tension, carried over tea and placed it down obediently after glancing at Great Yin, Zhou Yitang, and Chen Yi in turn.
Chen Yi followed Zhou Yitang into the courtyard. The one-ard woman stood under a tree, silently watching Chen Yi.
He didn’t waste ti. Taking a deep breath, he drew the Hou Kang Sword from his back.
He bent his knee slightly, the blade pointed straight ahead. As soon as Chen Yi assud his sword stance, Zhou Yitang walked over and steadied him.
"How does rediscovering the essence of the Living Sword feel?" Zhou Yitang asked.
In his previous life, Chen Yi had comprehended the Living Sword, yet upon being reborn, his insights were erased because of the Heavenly Vision.
Now, as he relearned the Living Sword, it felt sowhat different from before.
He began to describe:
"It feels like a process of transitioning from existence to nonexistence, then back to existence. At the mont I grasped the sword, I was left with only one thought—that I must save soone..."
Chen Yi turned his gaze to Zhou Yitang and continued:
"At that mont, I thought—I must save you."
She replied:
"I don’t need your saving."
Chen Yi didn’t argue. Whether she was being truthful or hiding her true feelings, after spending so much ti together, he could tell instinctively.
He continued: "That sensation feels like transcending the physical unto the void. I feel as though I’ve touched that realm again."
But he had only brushed upon it; he hadn’t fully stepped into that realm.
He remained far from mastering it.
After finishing his thought, he paused for a long mont, then turned around. Bowing respectfully to Zhou Yitang, he said:
"Master, I seek your guidance."
It was the first ti in this reincarnation that he extended a disciple’s salute to her.
Sword Armor spoke impassively, asking:
"What is a sword?"
Chen Yi was perplexed by this question.
Before he could answer, Sword Armor continued:
"Can plucking flowers or leaves constitute a sword?"
This question left Chen Yi montarily stumped. The tales in folktales would often paint such grandiose images of master swordsn using flowers and leaves as weapons, or even declaring that all things could be turned into swords. Yet these tales were rely the product of ordinary people’s imagination, far removed from reality.
After pondering for a mont, Chen Yi responded diplomatically:
"If it were up to the Broken Swordsman, he would say that plucking flowers and leaves as a sword is re fanciful talk,
a sword is a sword—the double-edged blade is what makes it a sword. A sword is straight and unyielding, ant to pierce throats and take heads. It’s indifferent to the winds of heaven and earth, indifferent to the myriad thoughts of the heart, and certainly has nothing to do with notions of heroic righteousness for nation and people."
He paused, revealing his insights into the killing sword:
"One stroke of the sword is to kill, nothing more."
At this mont, the Hou Kang Sword emitted a low hum, its resonance aligning with his shift in mindset. But the mont Chen Yi’s stance stabilized, it unraveled into vulnerabilities.
Zhou Yitang remarked calmly:
"You remain conflicted. With your current level, it’s impossible to transcend the physical unto the void."
Chen Yi nodded and replied:
"I understand, but I still want to ask—can plucking flowers or leaves truly constitute a sword? In my opinion, it’s re rhetorical nonsense."
"What do you think?" Zhou Yitang asked.
"I think it’s wrong."
The one-ard woman shook her head slowly and replied: "Then you are mistaken."
Chen Yi froze and looked at Zhou Yitang.
The one-ard woman walked forward step by step and casually plucked a half-withered leaf.
This ti, her words beca much more elaborate:
"I debated this very matter of sword on the banks of the Indeterminate River in Western Jin. Killing swords... they are swords of annihilation.
A single strike of such a sword ends lives and crushes spirits.
It is different from the Yin Sword Mountain styles,
when training this type of sword, one would dwell upon their past humilities, their lifelong grievances...
Imagine the person who once humiliated you, recall their haughty expression.
For instance, imagine your parents being killed, your pleas falling on deaf ears, kneeling outside governnt offices for an entire day and night, only to be chased away by a governnt official’s baton.
Or imagine wanting to bury your parents, but being forced to lay them in a mass grave, digging up soil inch by inch with your hands. Your blood flowing as you laughed and cried in despair.
Wouldn’t you want a single sword strike to utterly destroy such injustices?"
As Zhou Yitang spoke, Chen Yi sank deeper into thought. His stance grew increasingly unsteady, and a faint vibration emanated from his joints.
Then her voice suddenly pierced through:
"But after you destroy it, what then?"
Chen Yi stopped and stared directly at the Sword Armor of Yin Sword Mountain.
"Nothing changes. Annihilation is simply annihilation—it is akin to the Buddhist concept of Nirvana. Since that is the case..."
She pinched the withered leaf between her fingers, her eyes sharp:
"Since that is the case, why not protect everything from the beginning?
The Living Sword exists to save people. And since the dead cannot be brought back to life, the Living Sword is not for rescuing the dead—it’s for saving the living.
Think about it: you could have avoided humiliation. No one could act arrogantly before you.
Think about it: your parents need not die. You could save them and have a happy family, sparing yourself from kneeling outside the governnt all night. You wouldn’t just avoid suffering—you could aid others suffering injustices.
Imagine a world with fewer tragic deaths, with no mass graves, no young boy digging graves with his hands, his heart shattered..."
Sword Armor turned to look at him. His previously unsteady stance gradually beca more composed. She smiled faintly and said, "If plucking flowers or leaves can save lives, then why shouldn’t plucking flowers or leaves constitute a sword?"
The withered leaf glided through the air, tracing an ordinary arc, until it eventually landed flat atop the sword’s edge—still and unmoving. Yet Chen Yi felt a sudden quake in his heart.
Zhou Yitang’s Living Sword unfolded like an unshakeable mountain.
This was her sword,
This was the Dao.
It was neither annihilation nor Nirvana but encompassing existence and nonexistence, from nothing to all, from all to nothing.
"What is your sword, then?"
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