She closed her eyes in concentration, hands forming a mudra, her bearing as majestic as the Bodhisattva Guanyin, utterly still.
A moment later, she opened her eyes, flashed Li Muzhan a radiant smile, rose, and drifted outside the small pavilion, standing quietly. Then, she stepped her left foot half a pace sideways, brought her hands together before her chest, fingers joined like a sword, pointing toward the sky. Her gaze dropped slightly, a mere sliver of light catching the tip of her finger.
Li Muzhan followed her out, standing beside her to watch.
For about fifteen minutes, a change began to manifest upon her. A faint sword intent permeated the air, elusive and nearly imperceptible; were it not for Li Muzhan's sharp senses, he might have missed it entirely.
Li Muzhan nodded. His Master’s comprehension was indeed quite good.
As time passed, the sword intent emanating from Abbess Zhuzhao grew stronger. After an hour, the surroundings became chillingly cold, "as if treasured swords were being unsheathed," a biting light spreading everywhere.
Her jade-colored monastic robes billowed like ocean waves, rising and falling unevenly, the power driving the fabric surging and receding, inhaling and exhaling.
Li Muzhan frowned.
A moment later, as her sword intent intensified, the robes lashed about as if in a strong gale. Her porcelain-white cheeks flushed a tender crimson, "as beautiful as a flower," and her breathing grew heavy.
Li Muzhan’s frown deepened.
Another quarter of an hour passed—Abbess Zhuzhao’s lovely face was flushed, clearly exerting force as if pushing her limits, her sword-fingers trembling slightly, her exquisite, delicate body also faintly shaking.
At this point, the surroundings were as cold as the deepest frost, the sword intent felt almost tangible, "like a blade pressed against the throat," compelling one to instinctively recoil and retreat from her presence.
Li Muzhan’s spirit was as mighty as a dragon, his will like iron, remaining unaffected, yet his expression darkened, his brow tightly locked, his eyes fixed intently on Abbess Zhuzhao.
Abbess Zhuzhao trembled more violently. He shook his head and sighed; this was the sign of Qi deviation—her spirit could no longer control the sword intent.
He brought his hands together in a salute, like Bodhidharma presenting his staff. He slightly lowered his eyelids, clearing his mind and collecting his spirit, his lips barely moving.
“Thus have I heard: At one time, the Buddha was in the Jeta Grove in Śrāvastī, together with a great assembly of twelve hundred and fifty monks. At that time…” “…,” “…,” a sound, barely there yet present, drifted from his lips, winding ethereally toward Abbess Zhuzhao’s ears—like strands of silk, like smoke, like mist, vague and illusory.
Li Muzhan dared not disturb her; she was at her most fragile now. Any slight disturbance would certainly lead to Qi deviation.
The chanting was soft and round, each syllable like a perfect bead falling into Abbess Zhuzhao’s ears. It slowly grew from almost nothing until, eventually, the sound of the sutra filled the heavens and earth.
Abbess Zhuzhao’s complexion gradually returned to normal. Her robes settled upon her form, and the pervasive sword intent slowly receded.
“Hah!” Li Muzhan suddenly roared out.
Abbess Zhuzhao started, slowly opening her almond eyes. She cast a dim, lusterless glance at Li Muzhan, and her body suddenly went soft, collapsing.
Li Muzhan reached out and caught her slender waist, drawing her into his embrace.
…………………………………………, “Truly amazing. What a marvelous Sword Forging Stance,” Abbess Zhuzhao murmured breathlessly, managing to widen her almond eyes to gaze at him, her breath fragrant like orchids.
Sweat erupted from her suddenly, "like a sluice gate opening," instantly soaking her monastic undergarment, which clung to her body, revealing her exquisite curves.
Li Muzhan placed his palm on her back, channeling a stream of mild, wholesome internal energy. It circulated once in an instant, banishing the chill. Then, with one arm around her shoulder and the other supporting her knee, he carried her inside the house.
Though the sunlight was bright, it was still the dead of winter; the breeze was sharp and cold. She was at her most vulnerable, and any intrusion by malevolent energy now would be extremely troublesome.
Martial artists generally avoid catching a cold, but if one did, it turned into a severe illness—far more dangerous than for those who do not cultivate.
Abbess Zhuzhao, petite and delicate, was soft and pliant in his arms as he laid her onto the couch. Leaning against the pillow, she sighed weakly, “This Sword Forging Stance is simply not meant for humans to practice!”
Li Muzhan took her small hand and chuckled, “Master, if it were truly that easy, the Changbai Sword Sect would have already conquered the world, wouldn't they?”
Abbess Zhuzhao laughed, “That is true!”
Li Muzhan circulated his power toward her. His internal energy surged, and in moments, white mist billowed up, instantly drying her robes. He pulled the blanket over her, stood up, and said, “Master, rest a while. I will go fetch you some clothes.”
“Mm, go then,” Abbess Zhuzhao waved lazily, already drowsy.
She was utterly exhausted, drifting in a fog; her spirit had been depleted too severely, and her consciousness was not entirely clear.
Li Muzhan turned and left, heading to the Wuji Hall. He asked a female disciple guarding the entrance to fetch Abbess Zhuzhao’s clothes, and quickly returned to the small courtyard.
When he entered the room again, Abbess Zhuzhao had already fallen asleep, serene and peaceful.
Li Muzhan paused for a moment, placed the clothes aside, then quietly withdrew, shaking his head repeatedly.
As evening approached, Li Muzhan was practicing the Flying Immortal Sword technique in the small courtyard, intending to merge it with the Nine Swords of the Vast Sea to leverage the strengths of both. Suddenly, a delicate cry echoed from the room: “Zhanran! Zhanran!”
Li Muzhan quickly responded, “Master.”
He put away his Dragon’s Roar Sword and entered. Abbess Zhuzhao sat propped up by the quilt, her cheeks flushed, looking exquisitely languid.
“Master is awake?” Li Muzhan smiled, sitting down near the couch.
Abbess Zhuzhao looked at him with a smile, “You scoundrel. I was fortunate to have you here this time.”
Li Muzhan laughed, “I only hope Master doesn't blame me.”
Without his infusion of energy, Abbess Zhuzhao could not have practiced the Sword Forging Stance. Although he managed to stop the Qi deviation in time, she had still suffered considerably.
Abbess Zhuzhao shook her head and sighed, “It seems I truly cannot practice this Sword Forging Stance!”
…………………………………………………… After sitting for a while, Abbess Zhuzhao rose; her clothes had already been changed. As she was about to leave, she pursed her lips, “You, you foul boy! Air out this quilt thoroughly, and wash it often!”
Li Muzhan was startled, “Why?,” His quilt was quite clean. Because he cultivated the Indestructible Vajra Divine Art, his marrow had been cleansed and washed, and his internal organs were pure. Coupled with the protection of his inner energy, it was spotless—his body flawless and incapable of soiling the bedding.
“The smell of a man is far too strong!” Abbess Zhuzhao gave him a sidelong glance and turned to leave.
Li Muzhan touched his nose and smiled helplessly.
Master had severe mysophobia; sleeping in his bed must have made her very uncomfortable. It was truly difficult for her.
He was alone again in the small courtyard. He walked into the center of the yard, bathing in the sunset glow, feet planted apart, fingers joined like a sword, thrusting lightly at the sky. He slightly lowered his eyelids, allowing his peripheral vision to illuminate his fingertips, visualizing a long sword piercing the void.
A bold sword intent gradually coalesced, the entire person seeming to transform into a single blade—piercing straight through the dark clouds above, illuminating the earth, meeting the rolling, immense thunder, tempering this blade with lightning.
Two hours passed. When he opened his eyes, it was already past midnight. Towering sword energy filled the entire small courtyard, as cold as ice, the temperature several degrees lower than outside.
He ceased his motion, feeling utterly invigorated, his sharpness like tempered steel. Though it was night, everything was clear and bright; the moon was beautifully radiant, the night sky purely dark—everything was beautiful.
It was too late for dinner. He walked casually to the front of the Wuji Hall, turned west, pushed aside the dense, dark pines, and followed a small path through the woods to a small courtyard in the center of the grove.
Under the hazy moonlight, this small courtyard lay tranquil and silent, blending into the surrounding pines. From the outside, it looked like any ordinary dwelling, yet it was Abbess Zhuzhao’s residence.
“Master,” Li Muzhan called out loudly.
Abbess Zhuzhao’s voice sounded, “Scoundrel, come in!”
Li Muzhan pushed the door open, and a dazzling burst of sword light rushed toward him. He struck out with his Dragon Slaying Hand, and with a crisp "Ding," the sky full of sword light vanished.
Abbess Zhuzhao stood before him, spirited and lovely, wearing snow-white silk fighting attire, holding her sword, and huffed, “Not bad!”
Li Muzhan appraised her with a glance and smiled, “Master has recovered her vitality?” Abbess Zhuzhao returned her sword to its sheath, “This nap really did the trick. Why did you come?”
Li Muzhan smiled, “I missed the mealtime rush and came to beg Master for a bowl of food!” Abbess Zhuzhao employed the chef from the Poison Gate, whose skills were superb. Li Muzhan had heard this from his senior sisters but had yet to experience it himself; this was a perfect chance to freeload.
“Mm, wait a moment.” She nodded, turned, and went inside. After a short while, she emerged wearing a jade-colored monastic robe.
She clapped her hands, and a person emerged from the kitchen—a beautiful, middle-aged woman with a voluptuous figure.
Abbess Zhuzhao said, “Qiaoniang, prepare two dishes for Zhanran.”
“Yes.” The middle-aged woman smiled at Li Muzhan and turned back into the kitchen.
………………………………………………“……………… The two sat in the small pavilion in the courtyard, where several lanterns illuminated the space as brightly as daylight, making every feature sharply visible.
Just as they were about to speak, Li Muzhan suddenly frowned, his vital energy surging momentarily.
Seeing his expression change, Abbess Zhuzhao asked, “What is it?” Li Muzhan shook his head, stood up outside the pavilion, feeling unsettled—his vital energy churning ceaselessly. After pacing a few steps, it only grew worse.
Li Muzhan stopped and turned around, “Master, something might have happened to Senior Sister and the others!” Abbess Zhuzhao raised her delicate eyebrows, “I sent two experts from Cui Feng Pavilion to follow them secretly, and with Yinyue’s skill and astuteness, they shouldn't be at a disadvantage.”
Li Muzhan shook his head. Although he felt a premonition, it was unclear, only a vague blur. He vaguely sensed it involved Wen Yinyue, yet he feared that excessive concern might cloud his judgment.
He looked up at the sky; a round, bright moon hung high, the night sky clear, with no clouds.
Frustrated, he paced a few more steps, stopped again, and slowly began manipulating his prayer beads, silently reciting the Vajra Sutra.
Since cultivating the Heavenly Observation Divine Illumination Scripture, his mind had been as calm as still water; all his emotions had attenuated considerably. Whether joy or sorrow, they were faint, rarely truly lingering in his heart.
This agitation was a first.
“Zhanran, are Yinyue and the others truly in trouble?” Abbess Zhuzhao asked with a frown.
Li Muzhan nodded slowly, “Eight or nine times out of ten! Master, I must go see.”
Abbess Zhuzhao frowned and snorted, “Bad luck charm! Even if something happened, it’s too late for you to go now.”
Just then, an eagle’s cry suddenly rang out from the sky, sharp and piercing. Li Muzhan quickly waved his hands; these two eagles had also practiced internal energy and possessed exceptional eyesight.
A gust of wind swept by, and the two eagles appeared on his shoulders. Li Muzhan reached out, grabbed the bamboo tube tied to the smaller eagle’s leg, opened it, and took out a slip of paper. His expression shifted drastically.
He handed the note to Abbess Zhuzhao and said in a deep voice, “Master, I must leave immediately!” He pursed his lips and let out a long whistle. A horse's neigh echoed from below Canghai Mountain, like a dragon's roar, the sound thundering across the entire mountain, awakening everyone to see what was happening.
Li Muzhan turned and left the small courtyard. By the time he reached the front of the Wuji Hall, Chi Ying had transformed into a wisp of light smoke, drifting up the steps, arriving close in an instant.
It trod the stone steps as if walking on level ground, its speed surpassing even the highest lightness skill.
Li Muzhan leaped onto Chi Ying. The mount neighed softly and dissolved into a plume of smoke, drifting down. The entire Canghai Mountain was roused, and people emerged to see what the commotion was about.