Location: Verdant Peak Courtyard - Aftermath of Revelation & Gifting
The gurgling melody of the spirit fountain mingled with the sharp chink of Long Qianli meticulously scraping the last vestige of dried blood from the Frost-Core Sapphire hairpin's silver spine. Gu Qingxi stood nearby, the velvety weight of the Sun-Halo Persimmons cradled in her arms pulsed with comforting warmth against her palms, its rich, solar essence promising rapid recovery. Yet, her gaze was fixed on the hairpin catching the late-afternoon sun, its sapphire core already glowing like captured arctic twilight.
Lu Tianyu sidled up beside her, his colossal practice blade Mountainbreaker now casually slung over one shoulder. "Looks like Third Brother hit pay dirt this time," he murmured, his voice thick with unmistakable envy as he eyed the luxurious spirit fruit.
"Hmm?" Gu Qingxi glanced at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Ah, Shimei," Lu Tianyu sighed dramatically, slumping against an undamaged stone bench. His expression was a mixture of mock-weariness and genuine aspiration. "Our revered Third Brother? His primary cultivation funding stream is... annihilation economics." He made a slicing motion across his throat. "Specializes in hunting the scum of the nine realms: soul-dealers, flesh-guilders, nascent demonic pact-makers. Preferably, those bearing hefty Heaven's Justice Board bounties." His eyes took on a faraway, covetous gleam. "Double reward then! Plunder their void-storage artifacts and collect the official bounty. If no bounty? Well... the plundering suffices." He heaved another, heavier sigh, genuine this time. "Third Brother's just... built different. He targets the rich monsters. Established scourges with deep coffers gathered over centuries of pillaging. Me? Ha!" He gestured disparagingly at his own sword. "I scrape by tackling purse-snatcher-level fiends whose coffers barely cover their cheap demonic tinctures. Soul-coins rattle like loose pebbles in a pouch." He shook his head morosely. "Sword maintenance burns spirit stones like a furnace dragon guzzles lava. Verdant Peak disciples learn early: honed steel demands a constant river of ore."
Gu Qingxi: "…" A profound silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the fountain's splash and Long Qianli's soft polishing strokes. The sheer, stark practicality of it settled over her like cold ash. She'd known of the legendary impoverishment haunting the sword cultivator's path – the insatiable need for rare quenching fluids, spirit-sharpening sands, resilience-forging elixirs to keep flesh and blade in synchronicity. But this explicit method – bounty hunting and sanctioned corpse-looting – cast the sect's economic plight into a harsh, unforgiving light. An unexpected pang of pity laced with fierce resolve surged through her. We need a better business model. Verdant Peak shall rise!
Long Qianli rose from the fountain's edge, the Frost-Core pin now gleaming with unblemished radiance. He extended it to Gu Qingxi with utmost solemnity. "Purified, Shimei." He met her gaze, an uncharacteristic flicker of reassurance in his icy eyes. "The Bone-Chime Enchantress never wore it. Acquisition was… swift." He paused, adding with perfect, oblivious sincerity, "No lingering contaminant threat."
Gu Qingxi almost choked trying to suppress a laugh. "Swift acquisition." Translation: she was dead before she could put it on. The sheer, understated violence of his explanation was both horrifying and absurdly comical. She accepted the hairpin, its metal cool against her fingertips, the sapphire's icy Qi now steady and clean. "My profound thanks, Third Brother," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. His actions, however terrifyingly pragmatic, stemmed from protective intent. "A humble token of gratitude from me as well." Reaching into her own small spatial pouch, she withdrew a neatly stacked sheaf of talismans – each piece of spirit-paper meticulously inscribed with glowing crimson characters, radiating a focused energy. "Fire-Sealing Runes," she explained, offering them to Long Qianli. "For containment, not ignition. Useful in dampening rogue flame bursts."
Long Qianli accepted the bundle without hesitation, his long fingers tracing the intricate strokes. "Well-crafted, Shimei. Thank you." He tucked them away efficiently, only then processing the implications. He froze, turning back to her, confusion etched onto his usually impassive features. "...You are a Talismanic Master?" His obsidian eyes scanned her face, searching for an answer that contradicted everything his sword-sense perceived. "Why... would you dilute your path? Shimei?" His voice held genuine perplexity, tinged with a note of what sounded almost like… disappointment? "Your heavenly endowment... a Sword God's Bone Meridian! Manifest from Qi Sea! Pure, undiluted potential! The Dao's decree resonates – you are a blade wielder. Must be." It wasn't judgment, Gu Qingxi realized with sudden clarity; it was the baffled frustration of a dedicated artisan witnessing precious ore being used to forge mere plowshares.
"Fear not, Third Brother," Gu Qingxi assured him, her own voice imbued with conviction. She laid a hand on Chillspring's pommel at her hip. "The sword remains my true path."
Relief washed over Long Qianli like spring thaw across a glacier. Then, something extraordinary happened. A smile unfolded across his features. Not a mere twitch of the lips, but a full, breathtaking illumination. The late afternoon sun filtering through the bamboo seemed to capture him, sculpting jade into celestial light. Every scar, every cold contour softened, filled with a warmth that momentarily stole Gu Qingxi's breath and made Lu Tianyu's jaw drop slack. The courtyard ceased to exist; the very air stilled. Creation's perfection rendered in bone and jade, Gu Qingxi thought dizzily. No wonder that Bone-Chime wretch met her end. A vivid, plausible narrative sprang into her mind: the Enchantress, encountering this impossible radiance near the Scarlet Miasma Marshes, mistaking ethereal lethality for vulnerability, attempting to overpower and ensnare this living masterpiece for her own twisted pleasure – only to be erased in a burst of glacial fury. Vanity paid the blood price. Some truths were self-evident.
(Later, recounting the incident to Lu Tianyu confirmed her suspicion: the Enchantress had been nearing nascent soul dissolution and had attempted a soul-thrall pact using poisoned gifts after being rejected. Justice, served cold.)
Long Qianli's smile lingered, softened into something profoundly approving as he reached out and gently patted the crown of her head. "The Sword Path," he stated, his voice resonant with quiet pride, "is creation's highest calling. You stand at the threshold of legend, Shimei." His gaze intensified, filled with paternal investment. "Nurture this gift. Temper your resolve. You carry Verdant Peak's future within your marrow. Excel."
Gu Qingxi looked up at his beautiful face, earnest beyond measure, radiating intense pride like a master seeing a precious ore vein uncovered. The instinctive wince died unsung in her throat. Fine. Third Brother envisions a treasured heir. Let him. She met his gaze steadily. "With all my spirit, Third Brother."
Long Qianli nodded, the warm mentor fading as the focused analyst resurfaced. The brief interlude of paternal affection vanished into razor-sharp inquiry. "Now. The sword forms you displayed. Beyond the Azure Heavens Nine. You called them... Cloud Serpent's Thirteen Strokes?" His gaze sharpened. "The base? Core Nine Swords – Heaven-Earth Split, Azure Mist Fades – yes. But the transitions... Cloud-Ladder's ascent… the conclusion Serpent's Coiled Strike? Their synergy resonates… profoundly. An extension? Or…" He hesitated, seeking the right term, "...a revelation born of instinct?"
Before Gu Qingxi could formulate a carefully evasive reply that skirted the problematic 'inherited legacy' explanation, Lu Tianyu erupted with excitement.
"Pure genius, Shimei!" he boomed, slamming a fist into his palm, his earlier envy forgotten. "Forging the Azure Nine into Thirteen! You didn't just learn the sword path... you reimagined its spine! That's not talent, that's destiny sharpening itself!" He grinned triumphantly.
Gu Qingxi inwardly cringed. The attribution was dangerously inaccurate. This was the Cloud Dragon's Legacy, passed down through her bloodline, not spontaneous creation. Yet, voicing its true origin felt treacherous – a breach of ancestral silence she could not explain.
Lu Tianyu's admiration transformed into fuel for Long Qianli's pedagogical zeal. His gaze locked onto Gu Qingxi, brilliant and demanding. "Such a unique affinity," he declared, his voice vibrating with renewed intensity. "To perceive and repair an ancient form! This gift demands honing! Five thousand foundational forms daily! A minimum! Let muscle memory weave the strokes into your being." It wasn't a request; it was a decree wrapped in fanatical pedagogical certainty.
Five thousand?! Gu Qingxi felt the phantom ache bloom in her shoulder muscles already. Third Brother, your remedial kindness is… punishing.
"And this art?" Long Qianli continued, almost hesitantly, his intense fixation betraying a rare humility. "May I… study its flow?"
Gu Qingxi pushed aside thoughts of future arm fatigue, her reluctance to misattribute the forms warring with practicality and gratitude. "Of course, Third Brother. My knowledge is yours."
"Count me in!" Lu Tianyu declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes alight with ambition. "That finishing strike! Lightning coiled to spring! Shimei?"
"Absolutely," Gu Qingxi agreed, managing a smile. Sharing the forms felt right, regardless of their source.
"Excellent." Long Qianli turned to Lu Tianyu, the brief humility replaced by chilling anticipation. "Master it swiftly, Junior Brother Lu." His voice dropped into a sub-zero register promising imminent physical correction. "We shall spar upon completion."
Lu Tianyu's celebratory posture froze mid-bounce. His expression slid from enthusiasm through disbelief into stark horror. His mouth opened. Closed. He gulped audibly. Spar? With Third Brother?! After witnessing his accidental Qi-surge?! Wasn't punishment swordsmanship enough for one day? He longed to snatch the words back, to plead ignorance. Fighting Long Qianli wasn't honing; it was a scheduled, controlled demolition designed to teach pain tolerance via repeated impact. Should have waited for him to vanish first! Blasted enthusiasm!
Neither disciple noticed the subtle shift in the courtyard's ambient Qi moments before a rich, resonant voice spoke from the gateway to the main hall.
"This unprecedented Dragon's Roar Echo, resonating from my disciple's practice…" Master Mo Tianchen stepped into the courtyard, his gaze sweeping over the group, lingering on Gu Qingxi's flushed face and her faintly steaming practice robes. His dark eyes held a mixture of profound interest and paternal satisfaction. "Its potency drew me from meditation. Qingxi?" His focus sharpened. "Demonstrate this form that summons Primordial Power."
Understanding the purpose instantly, Gu Qingxi nodded. She stepped to the courtyard's center, took a grounding breath, and drew Chillspring. The ensuing demonstration was even more controlled than before, yet no less brilliant. Cloud Serpent's Thirteen Strokes unfolded like the revelation of a lost celestial text, every transition smoother, every implied strike resonating deeper with the unseen chords of ancient might. The faint outline of the soaring azure dragon shimmered once more within the gathering dusk.
Mo Tianchen observed with deep stillness, a master observing a masterpiece taking form. Long Qianli stood equally rapt beside him, his analytical gaze missing nothing. Lu Tianyu clutched Mountainbreaker for comfort, knowing further punishment awaited sunset. Only the splash of the spirit fountain dared interrupt the profound silence woven by blade and intention.
As Gu Qingxi struck the final pose, breathing only slightly elevated, Mo Tianchen released a long, low breath filled with profound appreciation. "Exquisite." He walked towards her, his gaze filled with deep contemplation. "Qingxi, daughter," he began, his voice low and serious, choosing the affectionate form deliberately. "The profundity residing within these strokes… they transcend the Azure Nine's legacy." He paused, ensuring her full attention. "The sect's vaults hold knowledge; yet this form bears the fragrance of creation anew. Would you… consider entrusting it to Azure Essence? As a core addition to the Inner Peak's Sacred Sword Archives?"
Gu Qingxi blinked, genuinely taken aback. The thought hadn't crossed her mind. Her inheritance… become a pillar of the sect's knowledge? "This… This form can be… exchanged?" she asked, her voice laced with hesitation and disbelief.
"Not merely exchanged," Mo Tianchen emphasized, a rare warmth entering his usually composed demeanor. He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, a grounding weight of pride. "Enshrined. Its value? Immeasurable in conventional coin. Vast Merit Points." He saw the spark of understanding ignite and fanned it carefully. "Direct treasures – a suit of shimmer-scale Battle Weaver's Silk spun by Nightmoth Maidens? Impervious to the First Soul-Dissolving Strike? Select elixirs, rare scrolls, spirit stones by the multitude…" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper heavy with protective intent. "Yet... your star ascends too rapidly, little dragon. Announce the creator? Invite a torrent of envious gazes and grasping hands far too soon. Allow your Master this subterfuge: I shall petition the Sect Master, claiming these strokes as my lifelong refinement. All earned rewards?" He squeezed her shoulder gently. "Flow solely to you. Your path shielded; your contribution honored. Do you… assent?"
Gu Qingxi's breath caught. The complexity of his safeguard unfolded before her: obscurity purchased with his own reputation as the master craftsman, shielding her while funneling immense resources her way. A wave of profound gratitude washed over her, warm and steady. He was truly standing sentinel at the gate of her burgeoning power. "Master," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "Your wisdom shields me. I assent completely. And thank you. Truly."
Mo Tianchen nodded, the lines around his eyes softening into deep satisfaction. "Wise. Your focus remains your cultivation. Leave these worldly negotiations to me." He withdrew his hand with a final, reassuring pat. She understood – he would handle the politics of perception.
(Later, the sheer scale of the "exchange" rendered Gu Qingxi momentarily speechless):
A jade tablet etched with the formidable glyph representing Ten Thousand Merit Points – enough to purchase legendary manuals or a lifetime supply of peak-grade sword-care resources, materializing as a tangible weight in her spirit sense linked to the sect's core artifact.
Three glistening Foundation-Forging Sky-Dew Pills sealed within purple-jade vials – treasures capable of elevating a struggling disciple to perfection in one burst, resting cold and potent in her palm.
A roll of liquid moonlight that shimmered upon unfolding. The Woven Shadow Serpent Armor felt like captured nebula against her skin. It flowed over her form, instantly adapting. Its defensive matrix pulsed, ready to intercept soul-rending power – a lifeline against nascent foes.
A scroll bound with crimson flame-silk cords: Phoenix Ashes' Wrath: Intermediate Pyromancy. Heat radiated from the binding; complex sigils pulsed within. A promised channel for the fierce elemental Qi she knew resided within her.
And finally… five pouches, heavy, resonant. She spilled the contents slightly onto her palm: five hundred perfect Heaven's Tear Spirit Stones. Not tiny chips or irregular fragments, but large, thumb-sized prismatic gems, each imbued with concentrated, almost liquid spirit-force. They caught the last rays of sunset, painting iridescent arcs across her skin. They sang with potential.
The sheer, overwhelming bounty cascaded upon her mental tally. Ten thousand points. Three supreme pills. Divine armor. Legendary fire-art. Five hundred gems radiating sunfire essence. The world tilted. The impoverished disciple of Verdant Peak was gone. Vanished in the glittering cascade of wealth that now filled her spatial pouch, its dimensional boundaries straining slightly with the sudden influx.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "So… many…" The words were a breathless whisper, barely audible above the hammering of her own heart. Is this… 暴富 in the truest Daoist sense? Am I… the wealthiest being on Verdant Peak… overnight?
The realization struck like a physical blow. Her legs felt weak. Her carefully constructed world of ascetic discipline and resource scarcity had just been obliterated by an avalanche of celestial currency. How could a foundational sword form… even an exceptional one… command such a staggering exchange rate?