CHAPTER 374: CHAPTER 1: CARRYING THE SWORD POUCH, TO THE IMMORTAL STATE

The approaching Cocoon Sword Meeting had sparked overt and covert rivalries among the more than three hundred affiliated sword sects centered around the entry ceremony of the Heavenly Sword Sect.

Even remote mortal towns were drawn into the conflict.

Qing Town was no exception.

Known for its specialty tea and wine, Qing Town was nestled at the intersection of well-connected official roads. It once saw large caravans passing daily.

But later, the calamity wrought by the No-Life Sect left Qing Town far from its former bustling state.

It is rumored that within a single night, hundreds of thousands of mortals mysteriously vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but a terrifyingly desolate ghost town. Only after a century had passed did surrounding villagers begin to migrate back into Qing Town.

Adding to its woes, the Sword Tongue Sect intentionally downplayed the town’s influence, further deepening Qing Town’s decline.

Looking up.

The streets of Qing Town appeared immeasurably old. The cold and damp environment offered a natural breeding ground for moss, while the air was thick with the odor of decay.

Residents depended on Lu River, running through the center of the town, for their daily lives. Every few days, merchant vessels would stop briefly to rest and resupply.

Yet merchants found Qing Town unlucky and would rarely stay overnight.

The twelfth lunar month had just arrived.

Silver frost coated rooftops, and the aroma of grains stewing wafted through Qing Town.

To outsiders, Qing Town might seem like an ominous ghost town to avoid at all costs. However, seen from another perspective, this secluded town resembled a paradisiacal enclave, untouched by the petty disputes of mortals.

The marketplace, organized by close-knit neighbors, brought the town’s sparse population together early in the morning.

Though Qing Town had few residents, the twelfth month still exuded the celebratory spirit of the new year. The faces in the market, however, were all familiar figures.

The old streets, with their walls overtaken by clusters of green moss, saw scattered passersby weaving through, occupied with their livelihoods.

Children chased and played with one another—a small, earthly paradise indeed.

Old constable Yuan Chun, clad in greasy, worn-out clothes, squatted at an intersection, helping passersby sharpen knives while humming a tune for the twelfth month.

"On the twenty-third, sticky candies are made,

On the twenty-fourth, the house is swept clean,

On the twenty-fifth, tofu’s prepared,

On the twenty-sixth, meat’s sliced for the year,

On the twenty-seventh, chickens are butchered..."

The surrounding crowd cheered, making Yuan Chun slightly self-satisfied.

At that moment, a young constable rushed over, panting heavily and shouting, "Chief Yuan, immortals are here, two immortals!"

Yuan Chun froze, while the townsfolk exchanged puzzled looks.

Ever since the calamity caused by the No-Life Sect, Sword Tongue Sect had revoked Qing Town’s eligibilities for examinations, and no immortals had set foot here since.

The sudden arrival of immortals filled Yuan Chun with worry.

"Chief Yuan, could this mean the examinations will be reinstated? You think my son might catch this immortal fate and—heaven forbid—join the Sword Tongue Sect..."

The crowd buzzed with speculation, but only those few elderly villagers, over two or three centuries old, wore complex expressions. Mortals only knew the examination was their chance to enter the Immortal Gate, unaware of how many perished attempting it.

"Ugh, let me take a look then."

Feeling uneasy, Yuan Chun walked briskly toward the end of the street. Sensing it was inappropriate, he removed his greasy coat and shivered in his thin garments.

Qing Town hadn’t seen immortals for several centuries, and the implications were uncertain.

Even with just two streets to traverse, Yuan Chun broke into a cold sweat. The biting wind felt like razor blades carving into his bones and flesh.

He rubbed his pallid eyes.

At the city gate stood a pair of sword cultivators—man and woman—who appeared to be in their early thirties, distinguished by their long greenish-white tongues hanging down to their chests.

Both were at the Core Formation Stage, just shy of the Nascent Crying Stage.

"I am but a humble constable of Qing Town, paying my respects to the two Immortal Masters."

"Ming Lin. This is my junior sister Ming Xue," Ming Lin said coldly, scanning the lively marketplace in the distance. His expression softened slightly, perhaps reminiscing about markets from his hometown.

"We’re looking for Elder Taiyi. Guide us."

"Elder... Taiyi?"

Yuan Chun repeated twice, more cold sweat forming on his forehead, cautiously replying, "I’ve never heard of this Elder Taiyi’s name before."

"Qing Town has had no outsiders for many years; could it be you have the wrong place, Immortal Master?"

"Impertinent." Ming Xue’s gaze flashed with suppressed killing intent. Her greenish-white tongue revealed signs of shedding, while sword qi silently gathered.

Frightened, Yuan Chun dropped to his knees.

"Junior Sister."

Seeing Ming Xue’s intimidating focus on Yuan Chun, Ming Lin raised his voice and said, "Junior Sister, remember not to be reckless!"

"I am at fault, Senior Brother."

Ming Xue lowered her head, her chest heaving heavily.

Ming Lin intended to reprimand further, but seeing her state, he held back.

Everyone knew of the dangers of the Cocoon Sword Meeting. Though both were outstanding among their peers in the Sword Tongue Sect, their chances of demise and Dao dissolution were high.

The Sword Tongue Sect had fallen from its former glory to a mere small sect. The Heavenly Sword Sect’s standards were not demanding.

A total of sixty-one participants enrolled in the Cocoon Sword Meeting—fifty in the Weak Crown Stage, ten in the Core Formation Stage, and one in the Nascent Soul Stage.

Yet, within a short period, seven had descended into madness, including the lone Nascent Soul.

Ordinary disciples could be replaced easily, but filling the Nascent Soul vacancy posed a challenge. Thus, the Sword Tongue Sect Master recalled Elder Taiyi stationed at Qing Town.

Ming Lin had left the other disciples outside the town, venturing inside with Ming Xue to invite the elder.

When Ming Lin joined the sect four centuries ago, he had a brief encounter with Elder Taiyi. Though brooding and taciturn, after his Lifebound Flying Sword had been damaged, the elder had developed an odd demeanor.

"Think carefully—about the Taoist who came to Qing Town two to three centuries ago. Thin build, white hair, looking somewhat ragged."

"A Taoist..."

Reflecting deeply, Yuan Chun hesitated but finally said, "Indeed, there was a nameless Taoist who rarely interacted with others."

"Take me to him immediately."

Ming Lin sighed in relief. If Elder Taiyi could not be located, he would have no way to report back to the Sword Tongue Sect, all the while harboring growing apprehension.

Considering the elder’s temperament, spending centuries in a mortal town with sparse spiritual energy—could he have already lost his sanity?

Ming Xue said softly, "Senior Brother, the Sword Tongue Sect exiled Elder Taiyi to Qing Town, only to remember him during the Cocoon Sword Meeting..."

"Mind your words.

"Although Elder Taiyi has long withdrawn from sect affairs, he is still beyond reproach by the likes of us, mere Core Formation cultivators."

Ming Lin admonished sternly, "During the trek to the Heavenly Sword Sect, we shall rely on Elder Taiyi’s protection. Otherwise, traveling tens of thousands of miles would be impossible."

"You’re right."

Elder Taiyi’s reputation within the Sword Tongue Sect was unremarkable—his Lifebound Flying Sword destroyed, his swordsmanship talent average. Nevertheless, a Nascent Soul Stage cultivator was still a Nascent Soul Stage cultivator.

Without one, reaching the Heavenly Sword Sect within the time limit would be inconceivable.

Yuan Chun exhaled hot breaths into his palm.

The more he listened, the more confused he grew. If the nameless Taoist were truly an immortal, why would he need to set up a fortune-telling stall to make ends meet and live in such meager poverty?

Yuan Chun stopped and started, forcing his way forward until he reached a tributary of Lu River.

Sure enough.

By a dilapidated pavilion near the riverbank stood a figure draped in a straw coat, holding a green bamboo fishing rod to test the waters for fresh fish.

Ming Xue frowned at Ming Lin, who took a long moment before nodding in confirmation.

Ming Lin was perplexed. The Taoist before him matched his memories but exuded an air of carefree leisure, fully embodying one who roamed like a cloud and perched like a crane.

Could it be that centuries in Qing Town had brought clarity to Elder Taiyi’s mental realm?

"Master Taoist! Master Taoist!!"

Yuan Chun called out a few times, and Ming Lin promptly reached out to halt him, motioning for them to wait.

The Taoist remained oblivious to worldly concerns, engrossed in his fishing. Upon closer inspection, Ming Xue noticed the fishing rod lacked even bait.

Yet the fish seemed drawn to something intangible, gathering along the riverbank.

Ming Xue quietly remarked to herself, "A true eccentric."

For a full hour, the Taoist remained motionless. Ming Lin and Ming Xue, protected by spiritual power, fared well, but Yuan Chun was trembling from the cold.

"It’s done!"

The Taoist withdrew his fishing rod, smiling as he caressed its green bamboo body. Ming Lin and Ming Xue, however, saw no fish hooked.

Before they could respond, the Taoist appeared half a meter away.

"Chief Yuan, braving the wind and snow in thin clothing—you must think your life far too robust, yes?"

Li Mo patted Yuan Chun’s shoulder, who immediately felt enveloped by the warmth of sunlight. The cold vanished, replaced by steaming heat that rose above his head.

"It turns out you’re an immortal, Master Taoist—no wonder, no wonder..."

Li Mo chuckled softly, paying no attention to Ming Lin and Ming Xue, still focused on examining his fishing rod, sensing the profound mysteries within.

During his two to three centuries in Qing Town, he had poured his efforts into tempering his magic treasures.

After all, his Four Nascent Souls cultivation was already at its peak. Without superior Foundation Spiritual Objects, progress was unattainable. The only solution lay in the Heavenly Sword Sect.

Li Mo had not been idle.

Da Ai Mi Tian: sixty-two spirit patterns; Corpse Mountain: fifty-three spirit patterns; White Bone Treasure Body: forty spirit patterns; Spirit Root Worm: eighty-nine spirit patterns.

The power of his other treasures had not seen remarkable enhancement. Only the Spirit Root Worm had undergone a full transformation.

In the Corpse Mountain Mini World, all four hundred thousand residents now hosted Illusion Spirit Roots, while Xia Dao Palace enveloped the entire Mud Pill Palace, creating an illusion indistinguishable from reality.

The most surprising discovery for Li Mo was that as the Spirit Root Worm approached the tier of High Grade Magical Treasure, it could forge illusions in the outside world as real as if perceived by the naked eye.

However, it still needed to attach to Illusion Spirit Roots.

Li Mo had long attempted to integrate Illusion Spirit Roots into artifacts. Dissatisfied with the Artifact Refining Divine Power’s Magic Artifact Catalog, he chose to innovate a new category of Illusion Spirit Root artifacts, making progress just last year.

The top-grade Magic Device Embryo in his hand, shaped like a fishing rod and named the [Illusion Fish Sword], was the result.

The Illusion Fish Sword could use illusions to mimic the properties of flying swords, allowing Universal Illumination Sword Intent to reach two-tenths of the effect of [Fake Buddha].

Post-Hundred Refinements, the Illusion Fish Sword should achieve a three-tenth amplification without issue.

Spirit Root Worm: the paradox of truth within falsehood.

Of course, Li Mo’s fishing wasn’t solely about testing the Illusion Fish Sword but also practicing Universal Illumination Sword Intent to perform minor conversions of the river’s fish.

To his surprise, fish were exceptionally suited for honing Universal Illumination Sword Intent.

Li Mo had just completed a conversion when the fish’s memories only lasted seven seconds before fading.

If Universal Illumination Sword Intent was applied in moderation—avoiding structural changes to the fish’s body and merely affecting their spiritual wisdom—it allowed for infinite repetitions of conversion.

Ming Lin asked cautiously, "Elder Taiyi, there are thirteen years left until the Cocoon Sword Meeting. The Sect Leader’s intention is..."

"Understood. Let’s go."

"Huh?"

Ming Lin and Ming Xue hadn’t expected Li Mo to agree so readily.

"Huh, what? Lead the way."

Li Mo had been engrossed in fishing, only recalling the Cocoon Sword Meeting recently. The participant slot had almost been claimed by some unworthy fool, fortunate that the Sword Tongue Sect was rife with No-Life Sect’s double agents.

He turned to Yuan Chun and said, "Chief Yuan, I’ll be leaving Qing Town henceforth. Keep the decrepit rod I gave you a few days prior safe."

"Master Taoist, you..."

Li Mo laughed heartily, his straw coat and fishing gear looking nothing like an immortal.

"Raise your sword in song—it’s a cup’s worth of wine. North of Qing Town lies the Immortal State."