Day six.
Today was the sixth day of He Qiu’s practice with the sword manual, and it was also the most critical day of his cultivation.
In truth, by 3:00 AM last night, He Qiu had already thoroughly comprehended the entire seventy-seven pages of the *Fine Snow Sword Manual*.
He understood everything—the Sword Qi, the Sword Heart, and the Sword Intent—and had internalized the knowledge completely.
However, the problem now was this:
Although He Qiu had grasped the essence of the sword manual, his actual cultivation level had not significantly improved.
Forget the legendary feat of ‘with one swing of the sword, snow drifts for ten thousand miles.’
If He Qiu swung his sword now, he could, at most, chop down a single sapling and leave behind a patch of frost.
It was… very strange.
Frustrated by this reality, He Qiu had been depressed all night and hadn’t slept well.
‘This shouldn’t be right. Could the sword manuals and techniques of this world also be exaggerated? Did they write some hidden disclaimer at the end of the scroll saying, “Descriptions are for reference only; please refer to actual combat for results”?’
If that were the case, it would be a massive scam.
He Qiu refused to believe it.
His intuition told him that it was a rare and precious technique.
Since he was a child, his intuition had never been wrong, and he believed there had to be something he was missing.
Driven by this obsession, He Qiu brought his wooden sword to the Cultivation Ground early this morning.
After a series of sword dances to warm up his muscles, He Qiu immersed himself completely in cultivation mode, beginning to seriously study the unresolved puzzle from the previous night.
Half an hour passed.
He Qiu stopped his practice and stood with his arms crossed, deep in thought as if he had reached an epiphany.
‘Based on the current situation, there are only two possibilities. Either my Spirit Veins are too useless and I’ve already reached my limit, or I lack actual combat experience, which is why my Sword Qi is so pathetic and weak…’
He was more inclined toward the latter than doubting his own talent.
Having spent his life studying, perhaps his nature had become too soft, making him unable to adapt to the killing environment of the Spirit Cultivation Realm.
Perhaps… finding a sparring partner to exchange blows with, or heading down the mountain to find a thief to cut down and see some blood, would be good options?
At that thought, He Qiu narrowed his eyes, put away his wooden sword, and began to scan the Cultivation Ground for a suitable target.
Zhou Zheng, Spirit Realm Level 2, Fire Spirit Vein…
‘I can’t beat him.’
Liu Neng, Spirit Realm Level 2, Water Spirit Vein…
‘I can’t beat him.’
Hu Yue, Spirit Realm Level 3, Wind Spirit Vein…
‘Tsk, these Inner Gate seniors are all too powerful. I can’t mess with any of them.’
With He Qiu’s current reputation as a “nepotism hire,” if he were to arrogantly challenge someone to a duel, wouldn’t he just be delivering himself to their doorstep to be made a laughingstock?
It would play right into the hands of those who looked down on him.
He kept looking, hoping to find another weakling.
Just as He Qiu was about to look toward the center of the Cultivation Ground, a silver-white silhouette suddenly entered his field of vision.
The woman wore simple light robes, her silver-white hair tied into a wide ponytail with a silk ribbon.
Her porcelain-white arms hung naturally at her sides, and her fingers were wrapped tightly around a chilled spirit sword.
She walked toward the Cultivation Ground with a cold, clear gaze.
Primordial Saintess, Spirit Realm Level 7, Twin Sheng Spirit Veins…
‘Well, this sparring partner is great. She could send me to the afterlife with a single strike,’ He Qiu complained silently.
On the other side, the moment the Saintess appeared at the entrance of the Cultivation Ground, the environment and temperature began to drop rapidly.
With every step she took, the ice sword in her hand rippled with faint blue Spirit Runes, her aura as biting as the arrival of a frozen winter.
*Hiss—*
Feeling that familiar chill, the disciples were startled and shuddered.
None of them dared to speak.
They parted like waves, creating a path for the Saintess.
Most of them kept their heads bowed, not even daring to look directly at the Primordial Saintess’s face.
What kind of wind had blown the aloof and unreachable Ice Mountain Saintess here today?
She usually spent her time in solitary seclusion.
As the Saintess of the Sect and a genius disciple of the highest caliber, An Lingran possessed her own exclusive Saint Pavilion and snow mountain for cultivation.
Therefore, under normal circumstances, ordinary disciples rarely saw the Primordial Saintess—let alone here, in the crowded central Cultivation Ground.
How could the grand Saintess possibly practice in the same place as these ordinary cultivators and breathe the same air?
At this thought, the disciples swallowed hard, anticipating what the Saintess would do next.
“…”
In the middle of the crowd, An Lingran remained cold and silent.
She held her ice sword loosely in her right hand, the tip of the blade tracing the ground as she walked, leaving a trail of frozen spirit ice in her wake.
Her target was clear: a certain open space in the deepest part of the Cultivation Ground.
Along the way, the disciples stood in two rows, watching her respectfully.
Only after the Saintess had moved further away did the disciples in the front row dare to whisper.
“Hey, looking at the Saintess’s posture, is she here to kill someone?”
“No way…”
“Then why is she carrying her sword like that? Her face is so cold, and she’s heading in such a specific direction.”
“Maybe she just… wants to practice her sword art?”
“Are you stupid or is the Saintess stupid? Why would she come to this crappy square to practice when she has the treasure land of the Xueyin Mountains?”
“Uh, good point.”
As they talked, several disciples suddenly felt a chill down their spines, and a terrifying thought occurred to them.
If they reasoned it out… exactly what kind of person could have provoked that cold Saintess to the point where she would disregard the sect rules and come to a public place to cut them down in broad daylight?
Just thinking about the inside story was chilling.
Yet, despite their fear, they were even more tempted to follow and watch, curious to see exactly whom the Saintess was looking for.
“Hey, in that open space… there seems to be a young man in white holding a sword…”
“Isn’t that the new Junior Brother, He Qiu?”
“Wait, look! The Saintess is heading straight for him!”
“She really is going to kill him!”
At that moment, a bald man stroked his chin in confusion.
“Didn’t she just give him a sword manual a few days ago? Why would she kill him today? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe she’s going to give him some pointers?”
Another naive disciple wondered aloud, only to be mocked by the senior brothers around him.
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s the Primordial Saintess… How could she personally…”
“Exactly! Is your brain fried? Could such a good thing actually exist in this world?”
The situation became more and more explosive.
The disciples were full of anticipation, and various theories and speculations emerged one after another.
Not far away, the Saintess and the young man in white finally met.
“Senior Sister Lingran?”
Startled by the Saintess’s aggressive posture with her sword drawn, He Qiu couldn’t help but feel a sense of vigilance as he spoke in confusion.
Nodding slightly, An Lingran slowly raised her ice sword, holding it before her eyes to observe it closely.
She pressed her long index and middle fingers together to trace the patterns on the blade, closing her beautiful eyes to feel the Sword Intent and Sword Spirit within.
After a moment, while maintaining her posture of “feeling with closed eyes,” she spoke softly.
“Today, I have come to demonstrate the movements of the *Fine Snow Sword Manual* for you, as well as the levels of Sword Intent and the deep mysteries within it… The sword dance is fast, and I will only do it once.”
“Junior Brother He Qiu, watch closely and learn well.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the internal spiritual energy within An Lingran surged.
The ice sword in her hand immediately emitted a bone-chilling cold, its icy blue and ethereal blade reflecting flashes of cold light under the sun.
A cold, beautiful face, leaning sword shadows, accompanied by a chilling song from all directions…
The woman dancing with her eyes lightly closed before him was like a fairy frozen for a thousand years.
She was so beautiful and noble that she made one’s soul shine, causing them to forget their troubles, forget to breathe, and forget their own heartbeat.
*Buzz! Buzz!*
The ice sword sliced through the air.
Everywhere the blade danced, frost was left behind, forming several cyan-blue sword arcs around the dancer.
The sword arcs and shadows, combined with the beautiful woman dancing gracefully in the snow, were as lovely as a celestial being.
This sword, this scene, and this elegant sense of beauty far surpassed the artistic conception of any painting of a frost fairy.
The surrounding disciples all stared with frozen gazes, lost in a trance as they were mesmerized by the sword dance.
“What a sword…”
“What a dance…”
“What footwork…”
“What movement…”
Beside them, He Qiu watched the dancing Ice Fairy Senior Sister without blinking, his heart stirred.
His palms felt a faint itch.
Watching An Lingran’s graceful sword dance, He Qiu felt the Spirit Veins within him surging.
He felt an uncontrollable urge to pick up a sword and join her.
Unfortunately, he did not have his own ice sword; it was as if he did not have the “qualification” to wield the *Fine Snow Sword Manual*.
*Crackle!*
Within the desolate sea of his Spirit Veins, an icy blue sprout broke through the soil.
In that instant, He Qiu’s eyes widened.
The Saintess’s dance was reflected in his pupils, and his body and mind trembled with excitement.
As if eager to confirm some suspicion, He Qiu secretly hid his left hand behind his back.
He curved his fingers with the strength of a dragon’s claw, concentrating the spiritual energy from his entire body into his left shoulder and arm, and gathering all the power of his mind into the palm of his hand.
‘Just a little more…’
‘Still a little more.’
He Qiu continued to increase the strength in his hand, his five fingers curved like claws, and several veins popped out on the back of his hand.
It was coming!
*Clang—*
A sharp Sword Intent broke through his bone. In an instant, a ten-inch-long ice spike burst from He Qiu’s left palm.
The chill emitted by its edge was not the least bit inferior to An Lingran’s cold ice sword.
Hiding his hand behind his back, He Qiu carefully felt the coldness of the ice sword in his palm, his heart churning with waves of shock.
‘I understand.’
‘I finally understand!’
All the confusion he had felt up until now was completely resolved.
He Qiu felt refreshed, and the Sword Intent within his Spirit Veins was eager to be tested.
At the same time, An Lingran’s sword dance gracefully came to a stop.
Her ice sword returned to its sheath, turning into a faint green Spirit Rune before dissipating in the air.
Opening her beautiful eyes, An Lingran looked at He Qiu, her eyebrows arching slightly.
For a moment, she seemed to have smelled a few traces of bone-chillingly sharp Sword Intent.
Moreover, this extremely threatening Sword Intent seemed to have come from the frail Junior Brother before her…
This Sword Intent was sharp and exposed.
Though it was green, it was extremely dangerous!
But when An Lingran tried to sense it more closely, the Sword Intent vanished instantly, as if it had never existed in the first place.
‘Could it be…’
Staring into Junior Brother He Qiu’s innocent eyes, An Lingran hesitated to speak, eventually dismissing her suspicion.
How could that kind of chilling and dangerous Sword Intent possibly come from this refined, scholarly, and gentle Junior Brother?
Besides, she had only taught him the *Fine Snow Sword Manual* and had not taught him the higher-level *Thousand Snow Sword Heart*.
How could he possibly have forged a “Sword Spirit”?
She had indeed been overthinking things.
Calming the surge within her Spirit Veins, An Lingran maintained her cold and celestial aura, speaking softly.
“How was the sword dance, Junior Brother He Qiu?”