In the blink of an eye, deep autumn had arrived.

The chill of autumn was palpable.

The mountainsides were dyed gold, the forests a tapestry of yellow. On the northern peak of Mount Hua, in a secluded spot, a young man was leisurely drinking wine, utterly at ease. Lu Yuan had returned from his tempering in the Celestial Prison. His recent stint there had substantially enriched his combat experience, particularly after battling several inmates at the tenth level of the Body Tempering stage. He was now adept at fighting when at a disadvantage.

Simply put, his combat experience had increased significantly.

However, even with this added experience, facing a cultivator at the Great Perfection stage of the tenth level of Body Tempering, Lu Yuan had to admit he would still lose. He truly was no match for them. If the tenth level was this difficult, the Longevity stage must be significantly stronger.

Of course, being weaker wasn't the end of the world.

Although outside rumors pegged Lu Yuan as the foremost true disciple among the younger generation, deep down, he still considered himself just a lazy, wine-loving disciple of the North Peak. Even if he felt a bit proud in the mortal world, returning to the quiet life on the mountain would always soothe his spirit.

Ah, people!

Lu Yuan lay back on the grass beneath a grove of maple trees, the scenery magnificent with the crimson leaves. About four zhang away from him, a flying sword hovered and drifted, clearly indicating Lu Yuan was still trying to figure out how to channel his mana into the sword remotely. But achieving this remote infusion was proving difficult.

So much time had passed, yet he remained stubbornly stuck at this bottleneck, unable to advance. Currently, Lu Yuan’s mana was stalled at the peak of the seventh level of Body Tempering.

Lu Yuan’s progress had always been smooth sailing; he rarely stalled at one stage for this long. But since he was stuck, he decided to accept it. He had only ever possessed average aptitude for mana cultivation, relying instead on the absorption rate of Cloud Essence Qi. It was only natural that he would hit a wall now.

He let his mind rest, allowing things to take their course.

Perhaps this barrier would vanish as mysteriously as it appeared someday. Lu Yuan had always been the type to take things in stride.

Lu Yuan continued to lie on the grass and drink. As he drifted into a state of near-drunkenness, he suddenly sensed a thread of his mana traversing the void toward a distant location. It felt as if something at that place was calling out to his power. Lu Yuan, being half-dazed, simply let it go. The mana thread found an anchor point far away, merging with it. He then seemed to vaguely command that point, and in his hazy state, Lu Yuan directed the distant point to slice forward. It seemed to collide with something, and anything in its path was cleanly severed.

Bang! Whatever it struck.

Lu Yuan snapped awake instantly. He saw that his flying sword was now nearly eight zhang away, deeply embedded in a massive boulder. Where the sword had passed, nearly ten large trees lay felled, cleanly cut in half by a single stroke.

This was...

Sword Flight?

He could previously make his sword fly at a distance, but it was controlled purely by mental power, lacking mana infusion, thus rendering the sword powerless. But now, the sword seemed to possess actual force, cutting down those trees and embedding itself so deeply into the stone.

Lu Yuan was both astonished and delighted.

Had he, after being stuck at this stage for so long, broken through inexplicably? Lu Yuan couldn't contain his excitement. With a mere flick of his hand, the Yangwu Sword severed itself from the boulder, instantly cleaving the massive stone in two!

He succeeded!

He had truly reached the eighth level of Body Tempering: Sword Flight in the Air! It wasn't easy. Lu Yuan felt nothing but pure elation. Yes, the feeling of that single sword strike shattering the boulder confirmed it—the power of the cut, the thrill of splitting the rock—it all attested to his attainment of the eighth level of Body Tempering, Sword Flight in the Air.

Hahahaha, hahahaha! He had finally reached this realm!

This level had been incredibly hard-won.

He had broken through many previous stages—recently, the fifth level, Innate Essence Blood; the sixth, Skin and Bone Refinement; the seventh, Brain Tempering—but none felt as exhilarating as this one. This level meant a massive surge in combat prowess, and more importantly, it was the crucial step between a Swordsman and a Sword Immortal: Sword Flight!

Indeed, Sword Flight!

He had always loved using the sword, and he loved commanding it even more. Now, he could truly command it.

Hahahaha! Thinking of it, Lu Yuan couldn't help but burst into unrestrained laughter.

Overjoyed, Lu Yuan soared upwards, flying above the white clouds surrounding the North Peak. He re-entered that pure white realm—the White Cloud Immortal Realm, the world of the clouds. This realm was tranquil and perfectly suited to Lu Yuan’s tastes, yet for some inexplicable reason, it didn't seem to appeal to most cultivators; few spent time there.

But if others didn't like it, all the better for him. This White Cloud Immortal Realm was exactly right for a quiet soul.

The White Cloud Immortal Realm: a sea of silver light pouring forth, the clouds transforming into vast chasms and deep valleys, filled with swirling mist, boundless and immense, like a surging, endless ocean. Sometimes the sea of clouds drifted slowly, resembling a gentle trickle; sometimes the clouds descended like fine drizzle, silver threads falling like jade curtains; and sometimes they rushed like great rivers, plunging downward.

This was the Sea of Clouds!

Lu Yuan loved staying in the White Cloud Immortal Realm. Now, having reached the eighth level of Body Tempering and gaining the ability to fly with his sword, he felt an endless exhilaration. Naturally, he had to practice his swordsmanship in this sea of clouds. The Yangwu Sword moved in his hand, swiftly cast far out, beginning to slash at the cloud waves some three or four zhang away. Every strike was filled with immense power.

Every strike was intensely satisfying.

Lu Yuan tested a few blows, his mood overwhelmingly joyful. Now he wanted to practice his sword forms in earnest, starting with the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud. He had long since mastered this set, but this practice brought new realizations.

Normally, Lu Yuan should have fully grasped the transcendence of Sword Intent derived from Wind and Cloud Sword Intent, understanding everything within the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud. But this time, he felt something different emerging.

He had always felt that some moves in the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud were impractical because they risked back-stabbing himself during execution. Swords were typically about three feet long, and a reverse strike could easily wound him. Lu Yuan had never felt comfortable using those moves and rarely employed them.

But now, having reached the eighth level of Body Tempering—Sword Flight in the Air—he discovered those moves were suddenly highly useful. Since he was far away while flying the sword, the reverse thrusts struck the void instead of himself, making them perfectly viable. The more he practiced the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud, the more he appreciated the profound mystery of this sword technique.

Lu Yuan increasingly realized that once one reached the level of Sword Flight, one could utilize far more sword moves, employing techniques of greater power. He finally understood why cultivators sought to create the Art of Sword Flight: firstly, for personal safety; secondly, because being physically distant from the sword allowed it to unleash its perfect potential.

This was Sword Flight!

This was the Art of Sword Flight!

For some reason, Lu Yuan felt his usually calm Dao Heart had been broken by sheer, ecstatic joy. "Good! Again!" He tipped his head back and took a hearty swig of wine. The Yangwu Sword began moving again, four zhang away, sweeping out once more. Now, he was no longer confined to the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud; he unleashed every sword art he knew—the Twilight Sword Technique, the Seventy-Two Forms of Rain Falling Sword Technique, and various others he had learned. Countless exquisite moves were executed fluidly. Then, it wasn't just learned or self-created techniques; he simply moved however felt exhilarating, deriving immense pleasure from every slash.

Sword flies, sword sinks, sword drops, sword rises, sword thrusts, sword parries... The sword's range varied, sometimes nearly touching Lu Yuan’s hand, sometimes extending toward ten zhang. The surrounding cloud vapor churned incessantly, the white clouds being repeatedly cut and reformed by the sword strikes. The rising vapor almost enveloped Lu Yuan completely.

The clouds were cleaved or merged; the surrounding vapor shifted, sometimes forming white serpents, pure white elephants, or snow-white apes, sometimes sheep or silver roosters. The transformation of the clouds gradually swallowed the youth practicing swordplay within them, along with his blade.

It seemed that the man, the sword, and the clouds were inherently one.

Lu Yuan felt only boundless exhilaration, but even the greatest joy must end with returning to earth. Lu Yuan recalled the Yangwu Sword to its sheath and began descending. Upon reaching the ground, he planned to find a place for a nap; the sword practice had tired him out. His Master had left, the only one responsible for him was gone, and thus began his life.

Sleep wherever he wished to sleep.

Drink however he wished to drink.

This was a life of freedom mingled with solitude.

Sometimes, late at night, looking at the scattered lights outside, Lu Yuan would ask himself if he was feeling lonely. Just as this thought crossed his mind, a Daoist attendant found him, saying, "The Peak Lord requests your presence."

"Senior Martial Uncle Yuan Yuan? I’ll go right away."

When Lu Yuan stepped into the Hall of Calm Balance, the first words spoken by Venerable Yuan Yuan nearly stunned him: "Martial Uncle Yan, meaning your Grand-Martial Ancestor Yan, is about to ascend."

One sentence, earth-shattering! (I feel this chapter turned out quite well, much like the feeling when I wrote the chapter 'I Can Fly'—a sense of absolute, joyful freedom. I truly enjoyed writing it. I wonder if the readers share my sentiment.)