The heavens wept torrentially just as Feng Xiaozong Ling’s group was murmuring with uneasy speculation.

Deep within the dense woods, however, a graceful figure stood before more than a dozen corpses.

She appeared to be a woman, her form flickering like mist.

Her face was exquisitely beautiful, and her eyes, dotted like stars, surveyed the surroundings with palpable excitement.

Every one of those bodies had been completely charred.

Apart from some localized wounds, it was nearly impossible to discern anything further from them.

Yet, the outline of the ritual altar remained, and the broken, scattered foliage around it confirmed that a fierce battle had indeed taken place here.

It was evident that the person who dealt with this scene and disposed of these bodies had not put genuine effort into concealment.

The woman’s gaze, however, remained fixed throughout on one particular skeleton of medium build.

As her eyes moved, a faint smile touched her lips.

“It seems like a soul-slaying strike with a single sword, yet it’s slightly off—is this a deliberate misdirection? Interesting.

It seems I’m seeing truly fascinating things this time out.” The young woman chuckled softly, then tilted her head back, her expression filled with bewildered curiosity.

“It suggests an innate master, perhaps even a peak expert, yet it could also be someone barely initiated into the Inner Breath.

Just who is this person—” On the rapidly moving carriage, Zong Shou sneezed violently, a chill suddenly sweeping through his entire body that made him frown deeply.

Usually, when he felt this way, it signaled an ominous omen—that something unfortunate was about to happen.

“Could it be that the arrangements I made earlier have backfired?” Frowning slightly, Zong Shou dismissed the thought.

The ‘Innate Master’ they had fabricated using the corpses and staging the scene was meant to frighten those people if possible; if not, it didn't matter.

Shaking his head, Zong Shou returned his focus to the task at hand.

Before him lay a yellow talisman upon which were drawn blood-red lines resembling childish scribbles.

However, upon closer inspection, one could discern that these lines bore a striking resemblance—about seventy percent identical—to the final character, ‘Yun’ (), among the Twelve Heavenly Talismans inscribed at Tianfu Terrace Mountain.

Yet, every stroke was crooked and unsteady, even worse than a three-year-old’s writing.

And Zong Shou’s finely sculpted eyebrows were equally drawn, his eyes shimmering with astonishment.

“This Heavenly Talisman Seed can actually help me draw a Heavenly Talisman—” This Daoist talisman had ultimately failed, collapsing at the very last step.

But in Zong Shou’s perception, the reason for his failure was merely a slight deficit in soul power.

Without hesitation, Zong Shou retrieved all the beast soul stones, along with the goshawk that had been sealed away.

But before attending to those, a matter nearby required his momentary attention.

“Wrong! When stepping out, lean the body half an inch further to the left! Raise the right arm another three points!” Right beside Zong Shou, Su Chuxue was practicing her swordsmanship, repeatedly executing only a few basic stances.

Hearing Zong Shou’s instruction, she instantly adjusted her movement, though her small mouth curled up slightly in mild displeasure.

“Young Master, you weren't even looking! How could you tell Xue’er was wrong?” Zong Shou didn't look up, calmly spreading out a sheet of talisman paper.

“Nonsense! A martial artist observes everything with their eyes and ears.

If I say you are wrong, you are wrong! You were the one who begged me to teach you swordplay; are you already refusing to listen to your master?” Chuxue’s breath hitched, and then she puffed out her chest stubbornly.

“Then why must this thrust lean half an inch, and the right arm rise another three points? What sword principle does that follow? It’s just the ‘Immortal Points the Way’ stance; everyone practices it that way!” Zong Shou sighed lightly, knowing this little kitten wouldn't yield easily.

Putting down his brush, he picked up a plain steel sword lying nearby and smiled faintly.

“Then watch closely!” Just as Chuxue’s expression turned serious, displaying a wary posture, Zong Shou’s figure suddenly blurred.

Moving instantly from stillness to action, with a single step, the sword light lashed out diagonally.

Although the motion was almost identical to hers moments before, this slight alteration imbued it with an indescribable resonance.

It was as if a fierce wind was stirring, and the sword light seemed to pierce the very limits of human capability.

With a sharp, piercing whistle, the sword arrived before her.

The pale-white blade reflected several beams of light directly into her eyes.

For a moment, she could no longer clearly discern the sword force tearing through the air.

With a sharp clang, Chuxue was forced back more than ten steps.

Her small face had gone as pale as parchment, and she stared at Zong Shou, heart still pounding with residual fear.

She had managed to block the strike at the last second.

But the immense force transmitted through the blade nearly made her lose her grip.

Her sword-holding right hand was still trembling faintly.

If Zong Shou’s Inner Breath had been slightly stronger, and the sword speed just a fraction faster, this strike could have taken her life! “This is truly ‘Immortal Points the Way,’ Young Master, you weren’t lying to me?” Carefully reviewing Zong Shou’s every movement from moments ago, after a long pause, Chuxue finally confirmed that the previous strike was indeed the stance known as ‘Immortal Points the Way.’ Her ashen complexion immediately flushed bright red.

“Is there any reason for it to be false?” For some unknown reason, Zong Shou’s expression also seemed unsettled.

He looked at Chuxue with an extremely peculiar gaze.

Fortunately, this lasted only a few breaths before he calmed down.

“Do you understand now? Slight variations in posture can drastically alter the amount of force exerted, and consequently, the speed of the sword might increase or decrease.

However, this swordsmanship is not fixed.

Wind speed, terrain, even light—all can be utilized!” Chuxue nodded, appearing to grasp the concept yet still somewhat bewildered.

Her eyes sparkled, and the look she gave Zong Shou was filled with profound respect and admiration.

Zong Shou inwardly smiled.

This sword stance was called ‘Immortal Points the Way’ in this era, and it possessed several other names.

But ten thousand years hence, it would be uniformly known as the ‘Small Step Diagonal Thrust.’ Refined over millennia by countless martial cultivators through verification, summary, and continuous improvement based on biomechanics, this technique far surpassed this era’s ‘Immortal Points the Way.’ In terms of sword principle, it was vastly superior to anything in this time period.

It was more than enough to fool this young girl.

However, Zong Shou showed none of this on his face, maintaining his stern expression: “Understood.

Then practice your sword properly according to what I told you!” Chuxue immediately became flustered, raising her sword again, and meticulously executed another ‘Immortal Points the Way.’ This time, however, she followed Zong Shou’s requirements precisely, not deviating by an inch.

Immediately, a sword’s keen howl rang out.

Both the speed and power of the sword surpassed Zong Shou’s earlier strike.

Faint, ethereal wisps of internal energy even manifested at the sword’s tip, making the thrust appear incomparably sharp.

Chuxue paused first, then a look of pure joy spread across her face, and her gaze toward Zong Shou became even more reverent.

Zong Shou nodded slightly, slowly lowering his sword and turning back to pick up the wolf-hair brush again.

But before laying down the stroke, he hesitated slightly.

After a moment, a faint, wry smile touched his handsome features.

“However, Xue’er, from now on, for all those secret martial arts techniques, just learn to practice them well.

Do not bother yourself with sword principles, fist principles, or similar theories.

And don’t learn those things from me anymore—” “Eh?” Chuxue’s sword stopped again, this time genuinely perplexed.

Her face crumpled in offense, looking on the verge of tears.

“Young Master, you don’t want to teach me anymore?” “It’s not that I don’t want to teach you, but teaching you would be useless.

Xue’er, do you know what intuition is?” Seeing Xue’er still confused, Zong Shou sighed again, remembering the strike a moment ago that, according to his expectations, should never have been blocked.

“Xue’er, did you instinctively know you had to move that way just now to block me? This intuition, you could call it battle instinct, battle intuition.

In other words, Xue’er, you are superior to those mindless fierce beasts who fight only on instinct.

All those sword principles, fist principles, and martial mysteries—they are trash compared to you—” Su Chuxue nodded vaguely, feeling a small wave of happiness from being praised.

Then, her face immediately darkened.

“Young Master, you must be criticizing me indirectly, saying I’m even dumber than those beasts, right?” Zong Shou gasped, feigning astonishment.

“Rarely, you actually understood what I meant!”