Old Friends

Yun Ran was always a man of few words, even when in the company of Shen Yihan.

It was not that he was intentionally cold; rather, it was a consequence of the sword path he practiced. Yun Ran’s emotions and desires were far more subdued than those of an ordinary person.

The Kunwu Sword Sect was one of the renowned "Two Lineages and Three Sects" in the current cultivation world and the most revered and aspired-to destination for sword cultivators across the realm. It was said that the sect was founded in the primordial era when the world was first carved from chaos. In those days, the cultivation world was far from the peaceful place it was now; there were no distinctions between righteous and evil, no divide between immortals and demons. Every cultivator—or perhaps, every cultivating demon or beast—revered only power.

It was an era where the strong preyed upon the weak, and powerlessness was the only sin.

Sword cultivators, regardless of their origins or affiliations, banded together for survival. They united to slay demonic beasts and spirits that were several realms higher than their own, and it was only through the greatest hardship that they managed to pass their legacy down from that era. This was the earliest prototype of the Kunwu Sword Sect.

The seventeen sword cultivators who founded the sect together became the legendary "Seventeen Sword Lords of Kunwu." To receive the inheritance of any of these seventeen lords was the lifelong dream of every sword cultivator.

The reason Yun Ran was recognized as the "World’s Greatest Sword" was that he was the successor to the "Dengyang Sword," which possessed the most ferocious sword intent among those of the original seventeen lords.

However, there was a convoluted history to this. The lineage of the Dengyang Sword had actually been lost for over a thousand years. While Yun Ran’s master was indeed a successor to one of the seventeen lords, he had no connection to the Dengyang Sword whatsoever.

That Yun Ran was able to obtain the Dengyang Sword’s inheritance was due to an accidental twist of fate—one that involved Shen Yihan.

Shen Yihan had witnessed, or rather, had helped Yun Ran obtain that sword intent.

Therefore, he knew better than anyone else that while the Dengyang Sword was formidable, it possessed a fatal weakness—aside from the well-known requirement that a practitioner must remain a virgin, for if one’s primordial essence were leaked, the sword intent would dissipate.

Once the sword intent reached perfection, if the practitioner were ever to carelessly lose their virginity to another, they would become an ideal "cauldron" for that person. The primordial essence they had cultivated for years would transform into a supreme tonic for their partner, allowing that person’s cultivation to advance by leaps and bounds overnight.

This secret was known only to the successors of the Dengyang Sword lineage. Naturally, they would never reveal their own vulnerability to the world, keeping it tightly under wraps.

Yet, the demonic cultivator in his dream—the one who disguised himself as a young disciple and joined his friend’s sect—clearly knew this.

Leaving such a person alive posed a grave threat to Yun Ran. Unfortunately, bound by the rules of the sect, Shen Yihan could not simply tell his friend about this.

It seemed he would have to take it upon himself to ferret out that demon.

Yun Ran’s word was his bond; when he said he would return, he truly did. The following day, when Shen Yihan awoke from his meditation, he felt a familiar aura the moment he opened his eyes.

He rose, pushed open the door, and stepped out of the guesthouse. The morning sun was just beginning to rise, its brilliant rays piercing through the clouds. A tall, slender figure stood quietly before the door, turning around at the sound of his movement.

It was his friend, Yun Ran, whom he had been waiting for.

In recent years, Shen Yihan’s cultivation had reached a bottleneck. Stagnant and unable to progress, he had frequently gone into seclusion, attempting to break through. He had not seen Yun Ran for many years, yet seeing him now, he found his friend remained exactly as he remembered, without the slightest change.

Yun Ran wore a dark cyan Daoist robe, a horsetail whisk draped over his arm, and a long sword strapped to his back. He possessed an exceptionally sharp and imposing face, with two sword-like brows that were clear and keen. A cinnabar mark sat between his brows, and his phoenix eyes were dark and deep, his features cold and hard. There was no trace of evil in his appearance; he radiated an aura of righteousness mixed with a sharp, icy edge. His gaze, as it swept over others, felt like two waves of cold water.

Only when he looked at Shen Yihan did his expression soften significantly.

"You have emerged from seclusion?" Yun Ran asked.

Yun Ran was, of course, aware that Shen Yihan had been in seclusion all these years, but he had never disturbed him, instead frequently ordering his disciples to send rare treasures and spiritual items to Qin'ou Island to assist in his breakthrough.

Unfortunately, Shen Yihan’s bottleneck had been severe; a hundred years had passed, and he had made no progress.

Shen Yihan smiled and said, "If I hadn't emerged, who do you think would be standing before you now?"

Yun Ran looked at him, saying nothing.

Shen Yihan’s gaze quickly fell upon the thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy following behind him.

The boy kept his head lowered, wearing a set of Daoist robes that were clearly far too large for him—one could tell at a glance they were Yun Ran’s clothes.

A name immediately surfaced in Shen Yihan’s mind:

Helan Ting.

The only surviving child of the Helan clan of Yingzhou.

Everything matched the dream. It seemed he no longer needed to harbor any doubts.

"Who is this child?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"The only son of the clan head of the Helan clan of Yingzhou," Yun Ran paused. "...It is a long story."

Shen Yihan replied, "There is no rush. Come inside and sit."

Yun Ran nodded.

The two entered the guesthouse. The boy followed behind them, looking somewhat dazed and constrained. Once inside, he stood awkwardly, clearly ill at ease.

Shen Yihan’s mind raced. He knew Yun Ran would inevitably speak of the tragedy that had wiped out the Helan clan, and it would be cruel to let the boy listen. He called out, "Zi Xu."

Yan Zixu, a disciple of the Miaoyin Sect, was always well-behaved and dutiful. Upon hearing his master’s call, he entered the room. "Master, is something the matter?"

Shen Yihan looked at Helan Ting.

In his dream, this "darling of the Heavens" would grow up to be someone completely different from the traumatized, bewildered boy standing before him. Among all of Yun Ran’s disciples, he was the only one who had possessed a shred of sincerity and a moral bottom line, which was why Shen Yihan felt less hostility toward him than the others.

Moreover, Helan Ting was, at this moment, merely a child.

"Zi Xu, this is the young master of the Helan clan of Yingzhou. Take him to the next room and see that he is well cared for."

Yan Zixu, who was clever and adept at reading the room, realized that since Master Yun was present, his master likely had something private to discuss. He smiled at Helan Ting, "I see. Young Master Helan, please, follow me."

Helan Ting bit his lip but did not move, his eyes fixed on Yun Ran.

Yun Ran said, "Go."

Only then did Helan Ting follow Yan Zixu out.

Once the two boys had left, Shen Yihan asked, "You went wandering down the mountain; why did you bring the young master of the Helan clan back to the sect? I saw that he looked quite distressed and dazed. Did something happen?"

Yun Ran took the cup of tea Shen Yihan had poured for him, his expression somber.

"The Helan clan of Yingzhou was wiped out. Aside from that child, not a single one of the thousand people in the clan survived. I encountered him in the territory of Yunzhou while he was being hunted; he was on the verge of death. I saved him and spent some time treating his wounds on the road, which is why I was delayed."

Though Shen Yihan had already known of this in his dream, hearing it from him directly was still shocking. "How could this be? The old clan head’s cultivation had reached the pinnacle, just a step away from ascension, and there were countless experts within their gates. Who did this? To strike with such cruelty—was it a demonic cultivator?"

"The matter is quite suspicious," Yun Ran said. "Helan Ting had been planted with a 'Soul-Eater Seed'."

Shen Yihan was startled. "A Soul-Eater Seed?"

This was a wicked technique used by demonic cultivators. Anyone afflicted would lose a portion of their memory every day, and within a hundred days, they would be reduced to an empty-headed, dazed fool.

Shen Yihan immediately understood why Yun Ran found the matter suspicious. If it had truly been the work of demonic cultivators, they would have simply killed Helan Ting. Everyone knew that to uproot a weed, one must destroy the roots. There was no reason to leave a half-grown boy behind, let alone plant a Soul-Eater Seed in him, as if they were afraid people wouldn't know the perpetrators were from the demonic path.

It was too deliberate.

The destruction of the Helan clan had been briefly glossed over in Shen Yihan’s dream; it was clearly not the focus. He only knew that by the end of the dream, Helan Ting had never returned to seek revenge and had instead grown increasingly temperamental, cruel, and suspicious. He had no idea who the true murderer was.

In truth, he did not particularly care.

Shen Yihan had never been a meddlesome person. To put it kindly, he only swept the snow from his own doorstep and didn't care about the floods behind him; to put it bluntly, he only cared about those close to him—like Yun Ran.

Shen Yihan involuntarily looked at the cinnabar mark on Yun Ran’s brow.

That mark was the proof that a Dengyang Sword practitioner remained a virgin. The more refined the sword intent, the brighter red the mark.

For someone as cold, proud, and pure as Yun Ran, if there was anything about him that felt out of place, it was perhaps this mark.

When they were young, Shen Yihan had thought more than once that the first master of the Dengyang Sword was truly an eccentric man...

This lineage of sword intent was tyrannical and scorching, could only be passed down to men, and required the practitioner to remain a virgin, never to fall in love or leak their primordial essence. That they were teased as the "Lonely Sword Sect" was one thing—after all, the price of losing one's virginity was no laughing matter.

But even if they wanted to warn their successors, did they really have to place the mark on their foreheads?

If one were to lose their virginity one day, wouldn't the whole world know?

However, he had always kept these snide thoughts to himself. Now, he felt a flicker of relief...

Fortunately, there was this cinnabar mark.

At the very least, it allowed him to know whether his friend was still keeping his purity... and had not been taken advantage of by some god-forsaken brat.

Seeing that Shen Yihan remained silent, Yun Ran followed his gaze and realized his friend was staring straight at his face. Unaware that Shen Yihan was looking at the mark between his brows, he asked, "...What is it? Is there something amiss with my face?"

Shen Yihan was distracted and, in a moment of carelessness, blurted out what he had been thinking: "I see that you remain pure and untainted, and I am very relieved..."

The words were out before he realized the mistake, but it was too late.

Yun Ran: "..."

Shen Yihan: "..."