The black-robed monk ate three full bowls of plain noodles in that noodle shop, and only after he could eat no more did he slowly rise.

The noodle shop owner glanced at him and smiled proactively, “Master, how about another bowl?”

It wasn’t that he was particularly hospitable; it was just that the young man earlier had already given him a skygold coin. At this point, whether the black-robed monk ate three more bowls, thirty more, or three hundred more, it made no difference.

It was merely a matter of earning more or earning less.

Even thirty bowls or three hundred bowls was only a drop in the bucket.

The black-robed monk shook his head with a smile. Three bowls of plain noodles could be exchanged for a few words; whether the business profited or lost, it was hard to say, and he didn’t wish to say.

However, what he had said earlier, treating him to a bowl of noodles, could be exchanged for a few more words, so he thought that after eating two extra bowls, it was time to do something else.

This thought, without the presence of that young martial artist, no one could know. Even if spoken, he wouldn’t hear it.

Just as he thought to leave the noodle shop, he saw a tall man walking straight in. The black-robed monk paused, then turned back to sit down, smiling as he said, “Please bring another bowl of noodles, with meat.”

The noodle shop owner nodded, showing no anger, only curiosity about how this monk had so many friends.

The tall man entered the shop, glanced at the black-robed monk, and sat down across from him, in the seat previously occupied by Chen Chao.

The two of them looked at each other. The black-robed monk smiled and asked, “After Sect Master delivered that sword, your didn’t check the battlefield. Do you believe that Yu Xiyi is surely doomed?”

The Sword Sect’s sect master replied calmly, “He chose his own path; life and death are his responsibility. However, if he truly dies, I will feel some disappointment.”

In the present world, as far as he could see, only Yu Xiyi might one day become his rival.

The black-robed monk said, “Sect master could have done something else.”

The Sword Sect’s Sect Master was not in a hurry to speak. He waited until a bowl of beef noodles, visibly more substantial, was placed before him, then slowly reached for a pair of bamboo chopsticks and spoke calmly, “A lifetime spent cultivating the sword, I always thought Sword Dao was higher than heaven. Later, in the Divine Capital, His Majesty told me, the sword is not just a sword. I gained some understanding, and only then could I comprehend such a perfect sword. But beyond the sword, it seems like a mist before my eyes, unclear.”

“Because of this, I dare do nothing. Even if I do something, I always feel there is a problem, a fault in the Sword Dao.”

Having said this, the Sword Sect’s Sect Master lowered his head to eat his noodles, his expression still complex.

The black-robed monk smiled. “That is why the Sect Master came to seek this destitute monk, wanting to hear a few words from me as well.”

The Sword Sect's Sect Master did not speak, quietly eating his noodles. Only after finishing did he raise his head and say softly, “I have heard a rumor that Fellow Daoist is the reincarnation of that black-robed Nation Teacher. I wonder if it is true.”

The black-robed monk smiled. “If it were false, then even if this destitute monk said a few more words, the Sect Master would not listen, even if you found them reasonable?”

The Sword Sect's Sect Master frowned slightly but said nothing.

The black-robed monk thought for a moment, then smiled. “This destitute monk and that Nation Teacher indeed share countless entanglements, but to say that this penniless monk is him, and he is this penniless monk, would not be quite right.”

The Sword Sect's Sect Master seemed about to speak but stopped himself.

The black-robed monk shook his head with a smile. “There is one thing this destitute monk can tell Sect Master is - whether it's this destitute monk or that Nation Teacher, we both shared a single wish: peace under heaven.”

What was true peace?

When the demon race could not invade the south, and foreign cultivators could not oppress the common people at will according to their whims, only then would it be true peace.

For the sake of preventing those foreign cultivators from freely bullying the people, that black-robed Nation Teacher had been willing to abandon his Buddhist cultivation, disturb the mortal world, and force that deposed emperor to abdicate.

The reason was simple - so long as that man sat upon the throne, there would never come a day when the foreign land cultivators would bow their heads.

As for what came after, that black-robed Nation Teacher could not accomplish it, and at that time, the Great Liang Emperor could not either.

The black-robed monk smiled faintly. For the Nation Teacher to have accomplished even one of those things was already remarkable; one could not expect him to succeed at both.

“This destitute monk can offer the Sect Master a single piece of advice, but in exchange, the Sect Master will owe this destitute monk a favor.”

The black-robed monk looked toward the Sword Sect's Sect Master as he spoke, his words plain as those of a common merchant, yet open and upright.

The Sword Sect's Sect Master asked, “For me to directly draw my sword and cut down Daoist Wuyang?”

The black-robed monk shook his head. “No need. If Sect Master had been willing to act from the beginning, matters would have been far simpler. But as things stand now, that fellow can already see it through. For Sect Master to act now would be no different from stealing credit.”

The Sword Sect's Sect Master was surprised. “Those three can truly win?”

From the very beginning, he had not held much hope for those three young men. He knew well the difference between the Fuyun Realm and the end of Nepenthe. If it were merely an ordinary gap between realms, it would not have been that after so many years, so few had ever reached that stage.

The black-robed monk said, “They are not Sect Master. Naturally, they can win.”

That line’s meaning, how much it contained, depended on how the Sword Sect's Sect Master chose to comprehend it.

The Sword Sect's Sect Master remained silent for a while, then asked, “What is it that Fellow Daoist wishes to say?”

The black-robed monk stood up, looked at the Sect Master, and smiled. “The weight of this sentence is great, so what I ask of Sect Master is not something simple.”

After saying this, the black-robed monk spoke a few words telepathically, then waited for the Sect Master's reply.

The man recognized by the world as the number one sword user was silent for a long time before slowly nodding.

Only then did the black-robed monk say, “When Sect Master can stop holding the Sword Dao as the most important thing, the path of the sword will naturally stretch infinitely far. Beyond Nepenthe lies Fuyun,not the end. Sect Master’s Sword Dao will not stop here either.”

Having said this, the black-robed monk did not care how the Sword Sect's Sect Master took it. He simply rose and walked out of the noodle shop.

Stepping onto the main street, the black-robed monk murmured to himself, “Whether I am you or you are me,it no longer matters, does it?”

Then he suddenly looked up toward the heavens and laughed. “Sure enough, you still cannot let it go, can you?”

......

......

The battle atop that mountain peak still raged on.

Daoist Wuyang had been struck repeatedly by flying swords and fists. His body, never exceptional to begin with, was now riddled with problems and heavily injured. Yet in the end, he managed to grab Chen Chao’s head, and terrifying qi surged from his palm, ready to destroy all the painstaking cultivation this young martial artist had accumulated.

Before the young martial artist’s death, he wanted him to taste the feeling of losing everything.

First destroy the acupoints, then the meridians, until this young man became a true cripple.

Let this young martial artist’s grand dream crumble into dust - a yellow millet dream turned to nothingness.

But then Daoist Wuyang frowned. The flying sword embedded in his chest was trembling slightly, letting out a faint sword hum.

That sword had pierced into his chest, landing precisely on an acupoint. Not only had it severely injured him, but it also completely disrupted the flow of qi within his body. It was fortunate that his qi was still pouring outward; if it were to reverse its flow, Daoist Wuyang would need to expend tremendous effort just to stabilize it.

Thus, that flying sword, now lodged in his chest, could remain, but must never be withdrawn.

Originally, this was nothing to worry about, since Yu Xiyi was already gravely wounded. Whether he could even get up again, let alone unleash another sword, was uncertain.

But if not him, then who was pulling this flying sword Wild Grass?

Daoist Wuyang instinctively looked toward Yun Jianyue, who was still barely holding on, but it was not him. Of course, he was a great daoist sage, his daoist techniques reaching the heavens. But as for anything else, Daoist Wuyang did not believe it possible.

Then who was pulling the sword?

______