Chapter 126: The Sword Immortal of the Land

With a single strike, the sword tore through the heavens, landing on the street before the mansion. The sword's energy trail lingered in the air like a comet, its path, which pierced the boundary and entered this realm, remained for a long time, akin to a beam of blinding sunlight filtering through a window, casting into the dim, stagnant room. The white donkey, as if reunited with an old friend in a distant land, galloped in circles with abandon.

The bride-dressed ghost seemed momentarily stunned. As the master of this land, she felt the sword's might more keenly than anyone else. The very roots of the mountain trembled, and the mist of the waters boiled. Had she not shrouded the mansion with her qi, nearly a thousand lanterns inside would have extinguished all at once. The ghost was both astonished and enraged, not staring at where the flying sword had landed, but fixating instead on the irrepairable rift in the dark sky. At the same time, droplets of fresh blood began to ooze from her red bridal gown, rolling like beads of water on a lotus leaf, then multiplying, flowing into sheets.

She flicked her sleeves, raised her head, and shouted in fury: "Who dares trespass here shall die! Bold Sword Immortal, I shall rip your head from your shoulders and plant it in my garden, where it will survive for ten, even a hundred years!"

A hearty laugh echoed from afar, slowly converging above the sword embedded in the ground. The voice was not only smooth but carried a unique charm, like a noble scion speaking of fleeting romance, its tone as gentle as a spring breeze. Yet, beneath the words lay an unmistakable and towering arrogance: "Please, wait just a moment, my physical form is not yet fully stabilized, and cannot compare to the speed of your flying sword. However, I do wonder what your garden looks like..."

"Small, and the view is not much, enough only to plant a head," the ghost retorted.

Her once pallid face grew even darker, turning a sinister shade of purple. Her smile twisted grotesquely as two torrents of blood-red streams erupted from her sleeves, surging toward the rift in the sky. A voice rang out: "Sword, banish the filth!"

The heavy sky trembled violently. The two rivers of blood that had reversed course and gathered at the rift exploded outward in all directions, creating a storm of crimson rain. The ghost's body quivered, her sleeves fluttering as countless blood drops returned into them.

A young man in a white robe descended from the heavens, enveloped in a misty aura, like a lake's fog or the fierce wind atop a mountain peak. His hair was bound, but he wore no crown or adornments. With hands clasped together as if holding a sword, a massive sword aura, thick as a robust arm, radiated from him. The light of the sword was dazzling, like a white dragon swirling fiercely around him, swiftly devouring the foul energies and blood.

The handsome man, barely past his twenties, landed gracefully between Chen Pingan's group and the bride-dressed ghost. The flying sword zoomed over to his side, its tip pointing at the mansion's plaque, "Xiushui Gaofeng."

The man relaxed his fingers, and the dense sword aura briefly paused. Turning his head, he noticed a young girl in a red cotton jacket carrying a small book box on her back. He recalled something—a long-forgotten object that had once been his companion but was no longer. With a smile, he raised his hand, and the green bamboo box, held by Li Baoping, wobbled slightly. The silver gourd within stirred, and a white, two-inch sword shot out, reluctantly infused with sword energy. It sped toward the man's brow, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

The Sword Immortal chuckled, rubbing his forehead. "In the future, we shall wander the world together. You are no sheltered maiden; there is no need to stay cooped up in the embroidery tower."

The white donkey trotted cheerfully to his side, nudging his shoulder affectionately. The man smiled and reached out, stroking the donkey's head. "Old friend, it's been so long, I've missed you."

The rift in the sky, forced open by the man, began to close slowly, though it drained much of the spiritual energy from the land. In mere moments, the accumulated essence of fifty years had been wiped clean, turning into nothing but stagnant, polluted air.

The ghost, regaining her composure, sneered. "A sword that channels both the sword energy and the flying sword of your essence, each more powerful than the last—what an extraordinary display from a landbound Sword Immortal. You cannot be from Da Li, can you?"

The young Sword Immortal smiled calmly. "I am but a rootless drifting reed. My name is unworthy of mention."

After speaking, he did not turn his head but casually spun around, leaving his back to the bride-dressed ghost. This newly emerged Sword Immortal spoke in a warm voice: "I am but half a friend to Ah Liang. Half, mind you, as his disciple. Unfortunately, Ah Liang refuses to acknowledge me, saying I am too stubborn and my actions too soft, so my sword strikes are always too slow. Were I to call him my master, he would lose face. The reason I've traveled so far is to sense something unusual with my old companion and his sword-raising gourd. By the way, may I ask, where is Ah Liang, and who exactly are you?"

Chen Pingan explained: "We are also Ah Liang's friends. The gourd was a gift from Ah Liang to Li Baoping, and the donkey has been cared for by Li Huai. As for Ah Liang's whereabouts, I believe you will learn of it soon enough."

Compared to the bride-dressed ghost, the Sword Immortal's friend Ah Liang, whose thoughts were often strange, was no stranger to Li Huai. To the child, Ah Liang's friends were his friends too. The question of whether one was a deity or not didn't matter to the bonds of friendship. However, after the incident at the embroidery ship in the Jiang River, Li Huai had grown cautious, wary of speaking too freely. He kept sending furtive glances at the white donkey.

The young Sword Immortal listened attentively to the boy's words, then nodded. "I understand now."

Almost everyone could feel the earth tremble slightly, like the forewarning of an earthquake or a mountain collapsing. The bride-dressed ghost's face changed, and as she tried to leave, she found herself pinned by the sword energy of her own flying sword. The pure white sword had already hovered three feet above her head.

In her fury, she shouted: "Han Langzhong, the god of the Embroidery River, are you both not going to intervene?! If that Yin God truly breaks the roots of this mountain and heads north, not only will Xiuhua's three great rivers be affected, but also the northern Qi Duan Mountain, the Iron Talisman River, and the Dragon Beard River. Who could escape such a calamity?!"

An elder holding a large red lantern hovered outside the sky, sneering, "Where has Lady Chu's former grandeur gone?"

The bride-dressed ghost's face darkened. Beside the elder stood a figure wrapped in armor, with a green serpent coiled around his arm. He spoke in a deep voice, "Lady Chu, Han Langzhong and I can persuade the Yin God not to disrupt the mountain's root. However, we also hope you refrain from any further reckless actions."

The ghost smiled sweetly. "If I wish to spar with this Sword Immortal, is that considered reckless?"

Han Langzhong, filled with rage, laughed bitterly, "What a kind-hearted Lady Chu! I, Han, have learned much today, ha! The Grand Li's Ministry of Rites will certainly repay this lesson."

The ghost laughed derisively. "A mere Langzhong speaks so arrogantly. Perhaps when you become the Minister of the Ministry of Rites, you may dare to lecture me."

The green serpent on the god's arm hissed as the elder's face darkened. He was clearly more familiar with the intricacies of the Grand Li's officialdom than the bride-dressed ghost, and spoke in a voice laden with warning: "Lady Chu!"

The ghost, covering her mouth, giggled and curtsied gracefully. "I shall apologize to Han Langzhong then."

The elder, clutching his lantern, turned pale with anger but said nothing, for the stability of the Grand Li's kingdom was paramount. Were it not for this, Lady Chu's savage acts of slaying passing scholars would have long since prompted the Ministry of Rites to act. Yet, the elder felt no fault in the current situation. After all, in the grand scheme of empires, what was the death of a few innocents?

It was said that the strong controlled the fate of the weak—what more can be said about the inevitable nature of life and death?

The elder, having seen countless battles, invasions, and assassinations, no longer held the naivety of his youth. His actions were dictated by the weight of the position he now held.

The young Sword Immortal, unmoved by the ghost, the god, or the officials, simply turned back toward the bride-dressed ghost, asking with a smile: "You wish to spar with me?"

The ghost, narrowing her eyes, smiled slyly: "If we keep it brief, I am willing. After all, a Sword Immortal as young as you is a rare sight."

The Sword Imm

ortal held his ground, not intimidated, replying calmly: "The younger generation always seeks improvement."

"Then, I shall grant you a chance to learn."