So this is how it was resolved…
Ling Xiyue couldn’t help but sigh softly.
Luo Qingchen heard her voice, turned around, and said to her very seriously.
“Right! Senior Sister, you need to remember: in the cultivation world, if you’re strong, you set the rules instead of kowtowing to those weaker than you.”
“Kindness must have an edge, or it’s just weakness.”
The two walked through the entrance of the Sword Grave, their figures disappearing into the light curtain behind the door.
Only then did the inner disciple dare to sit down.
He collapsed into his chair, staring after their retreating figures, swallowing his saliva in lingering fear.
His heart was shaken.
That dim-witted senior sister everyone used to push around—
She might never come back.
Hidden Sword Mountain…
Was about to change!
Passing through the light curtain, Luo Qingchen’s body suddenly felt heavy.
Her feet sank as if stepping on cotton, and the weightlessness made her heart race.
Before her eyes, the layered peaks of Hidden Sword Mountain were gone, replaced by a barren valley stretching endlessly.
The sky was gray, devoid of sunlight.
Only a few bald mountain peaks stood abruptly in the distance, like the spines of giant beasts.
The valley was densely packed with swords.
Some were broken, some were battered, and some were intact with gleaming cold light.
They stood upright or slanted, arranged haphazardly, like an abandoned weapon graveyard.
A bitingly cold sword aura rushed toward them.
Luo Qingchen felt her skin sting, and every breath made it feel like needles pricking her lungs.
“Hiss…”
Luo Qingchen inhaled sharply.
This place was even harsher than she had imagined.
She instinctively grabbed Ling Xiyue’s hand and found it ice-cold, but her steps remained steady.
Ling Xiyue swept her gaze across the surroundings, her cool face expressionless.
“This is the Sword Grave,” Ling Xiyue said softly.
Luo Qingchen nodded.
The two continued walking deeper into the valley.
The sword aura grew denser.
The spiritual power inside Luo Qingchen circulated automatically to resist this invisible pressure.
As she walked, she observed each sword.
Every one emitted a different aura—
Some silent, some violent, some with a plaintive moan of resentment.
Just then, Luo Qingchen’s attention was caught by a huge, broken sword stele ahead.
The stele was a hundred zhang tall, its fractured blade piercing the clouds, covered in mottled cracks.
A white-haired, handsome old man sat casually on top of the stele, tilting his head back and chugging from a wine gourd.
Wine spilled down the corners of his mouth, soaking the front of his robe, giving him a wild and unrestrained look.
“Uncle Master.”
Ling Xiyue stopped and respectfully cupped her hands in greeting.
Luo Qingchen’s heart skipped a beat.
So this old man was Jian Daoren?
The guardian of Hidden Sword Mountain’s forbidden area?
She looked at Jian Daoren.
The old man really wasn’t bad-looking—
Immortal-like—
But his drinking posture was quite bold.
Before she could think too much, her body reacted faster than her brain.
She waved directly and shouted:
“Hey, handsome old man! I’m here to pick a sword!”
Ling Xiyue stiffened.
She hadn’t expected Luo Qingchen to be so rude.
Jian Daoren’s drinking paused, the gourd still pressed against his lips.
He slowly lowered the gourd, his movements light, but that made Luo Qingchen’s heart tighten.
He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over.
In that instant, Luo Qingchen felt as if she were pierced by an invisible sword—
Her entire body went cold.
A terrifying pressure descended instantly.
It wasn’t sword aura—
It was pure sword intent!
That sword intent was heavy as a mountain, pressing directly onto Luo Qingchen.
Luo Qingchen’s legs went weak, her body plummeted, and her knees almost hit the ground.
She gritted her teeth and held on stubbornly, her bones creaking.
Veins bulged on her forehead, and sweat soaked her clothes instantly.
‘Damn it!’
Luo Qingchen cursed inwardly.
‘This old man is unpredictable—he flips in a flash!’
She felt her lungs being squeezed, her breathing becoming difficult, and darkness washing over her eyes.
This pressure was even more terrifying than Wangyou Zhenren’s Nascent Soul stage pressure, because it carried a pure intent, as if it could crush her in the next second.
Ling Xiyue’s expression changed drastically.
She could feel Jian Daoren’s relentless sword intent and knew he was truly angered.
She was about to plead for Luo Qingchen.
“It’s fine!”
Luo Qingchen suddenly reached out and grabbed Ling Xiyue’s wrist tightly, stopping her.
She forced a smile uglier than a cry, her voice hoarse but stubborn.
“The senior didn’t really mean to harm me—otherwise I’d be ash by now!”
Jian Daoren withdrew his sword intent, and the pressure vanished instantly.
Luo Qingchen felt lighter and almost collapsed.
She gasped for air, feeling as if she had just walked through the gates of hell.
Jian Daoren stared at Luo Qingchen, a playful expression on his face.
He jumped down from the sword stele, his movements agile.
He walked over to Luo Qingchen, crouched down, and looked her straight in the eyes.
“Little girl, what was that about ‘scissors person’ you said outside?” His voice carried a hint of hoarseness.
“And what exactly is that barber? It didn’t sound like good words to me.”
Luo Qingchen’s mind stirred, and she casually made something up.
“Hey, that’s an ancient profession from my hometown!”
She cleared her throat and began to spout nonsense with a straight face.
“In my hometown, there’s a mysterious organization called the Barbershop.”
She paused, seeing Jian Daoren’s interested expression—she knew she had hooked him.
“This Barbershop is no ordinary cultivation sect.”
Luo Qingchen gestured wildly.
“They don’t cultivate spiritual power, they don’t refine pills or forge tools—they only cultivate one thing: scissors!”
“Scissors?”
Jian Daoren raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this new term.
“That’s right! Scissors!”
Luo Qingchen nodded emphatically.
“With their scissors, they can cut away all misfortune, trim away troubled thoughts, and snip their way to the peak of life!”
Ling Xiyue stood to the side, utterly confused, but she didn’t interrupt Luo Qingchen and just watched quietly.
“The barber is the strong one in the Barbershop!” Luo Qingchen continued weaving her tale.
“They usually live in seclusion in the mountains, not caring about the world. But once they emerge, oh boy—it’s something else!”
“Something else how?”
Jian Daoren pressed.
“When they make their move, they go around inviting strong cultivators into their territory for friendly exchanges!”
Luo Qingchen lowered her voice, pretending to be mysterious.
“They challenge those arrogant experts, and if they win, they cut off the opponent’s hair! Not only that—the one who gets cut has to pay them spirit stones!”
As she spoke, she made a scissor gesture with her hand—snip, snip.
“Imagine this: a great power, with his hair cut like a dog’s chew, crying while paying up. Isn’t that sight particularly satisfying?”
Luo Qingchen blinked, looking at Jian Daoren expectantly.
Jian Daoren was stunned, as if visualizing that scene.
A Nascent Soul old monster, disfigured by a haircut and crying while paying.
This… this was unheard of, unseen!
He was frozen at first, then an irrepressible smile spread across his face.
The smile grew from the corners of his mouth and eventually turned into a thunderous burst of laughter.
“Hahaha! Interesting! So interesting!”
Jian Daoren laughed so hard he rocked back and forth, tears almost coming out.
“Haircut! Haircut! This kind of punishment is even harsher than killing someone’s spirit!”
He pointed at Luo Qingchen, slapping his thigh with laughter.
“Little girl, this barber title—I like it very much! When you have time, introduce me. I want to visit the Barbershop too.”
Luo Qingchen respectfully cupped her hands.
“Sure, sure.”
Jian Daoren suddenly stood up.
He stopped laughing, but the excitement still lingered on his face.
He pointed at the swords covering the mountain, his tone turning profound.
“Good! Starting today, I, Jian Daoren, will strive for that title as well.”
He picked up his wine gourd, tilted his head, and took another big swig.
The wine flowed from the corners of his mouth, but instead of the earlier wildness, it carried a newfound boldness.