“This is…”

Junior Brother Ming Kun hesitated as he looked at the scruffy man.

“Let him board too,” Yi Zuqian said.

Seeing his Senior Brother speak, Ming Kun said no more.

After waiting another hour or so, all cultivators bound for the Mortal World disembarked from the Sky Skiff.

Seeing no one else board, the cultivators of Lingyue Immortal Isle decided not to linger. They activated their formation to propel the Sky Skiff onward.

In the blink of an eye, the Sky Skiff broke through the thick fog into the vast Desolate Sea.

Thanks to Yi Zuqian being a Lingyue Immortal Isle disciple, Chen Changsheng caught a free ride this trip, spared the Sky Skiff fee.

His shipmates, old acquaintances from days past, chatted and reminisced with Yi Zuqian after boarding.

Chen Changsheng did not join them. He found a quiet spot to sit and closed his eyes to rest.

The scruffy man was led by Yi Zuqian’s junior brother to a guest cabin.

As Chen Changsheng gazed at the scenic Desolate Sea, he glimpsed someone peering around a corner.

Turning his head, Chen Changsheng saw robes that marked the figure as another Lingyue Immortal Isle disciple.

The figure immediately ducked back.

“Why the sneaking?” Chen Changsheng called out.

Hearing this, the trespasser knew he’d been caught.

He stepped out.

Chen Changsheng saw he was a young cultivator.

“Forgive this intrusion, Sword Immortal! I didn’t mean to spy. Only…”

“Not on purpose?” Chen Changsheng chuckled.

“Ah—”

The cultivator fumbled, flustered. “No, no! I was just…”

Chen Changsheng laughed again at his jittery display.

The cultivator took a breath before speaking. “Years back… I saw you once, Sword Immortal.”

“Oh?” Chen Changsheng studied him closer.

“You once soared across this sea by Sword Flight,” the cultivator recalled. “Stopped aboard a Sky Skiff, didn’t you?”

After thinking, Chen Changsheng nodded. “That happened. Over ten winters past? Were you aboard?”

“Yes!” The cultivator relaxed, relieved to explain.

“I see.”

“So you seek me out… For what reason?” Chen Changsheng asked.

“I’m Mo Chou. Would… would you teach me something? Anything at all?”

Mo Chou paused, then corrected himself. “No, forget ‘teach.’ One move—even one move would do. Just… just a single stroke…”

His words spilled out wrong. His face flushed crimson.

Chen Changsheng watched him. “One move?”

“Well… yes.”

The timidity made Chen Changsheng sigh. “Eyes that shy can plead, yet slip when lessons spill.”

Mo Chou hung his head, ashamed.

No wonder his Cultivation barely budged all these years, still drifting aboard Sky Skiffs.

“In Sword Art, I command but a flicker’s grace.” Chen Changsheng warned, “What little I command may slip your grasp.”

“I’d grasp it!” Mo Chou insisted.

Chen Changsheng considered this, then waved a hand. The sword at Mo Chou’s waist flew into his grip.

He weighed the blade. A common steel.

“Watch closely,” Chen Changsheng said.

Mo Chou fixed his eyes on the sword.

Chen Changsheng lifted the blade, then brought it down.

A chill wind struck Mo Chou.

Sword Intent brushed his skin.

The blade’s edge etched one hair-fine scratch onto the Sky Skiff’s hull—but its essence lingered raw.

Mo Chou stood stunned.

By the time he blinked, the sword flew back into his arms.

Mo Chou scrambled to catch it.

“Whether seen or unseen,” Chen Changsheng’s voice cut through his daze, “it happens once.”

Mo Chou immediately kowtowed.

“My gratitude, Sword Immortal!”

Chen Changsheng waved him away.

He’d taught nothing. Merely humored one speck of courage’s spark. A whim.

Swords hold a thousand faces. Cold Mountain Snow bloomed from Chen Changsheng’s marrow. Its Sword Intent breathed through him alone.

Should Mo Chou chase that feather-strand, ten years might circle the dawn before it drifted near enough to grasp.

But a chance always wanders nearby.

…

The Sky Skiff cut south. Sun wheeled; moon dipped.

Chen Changsheng watched the sea—its eternal sprawl, unchanging vista. Yet his gaze never drained of it.

Yi Zuqian approached him. “Lost in thought, Daoist Friend Chen?”

“Looking at nothing in particular.”

Yi Zuqian joined him on the bench, gesturing at the scratch on the ship’s railing.

“Sky Skiffs are molded from Green Willow Dragonwood. Only a Sword Immortal’s steel could mark such timber.”

Chen Changsheng remarked, “So that’s how you knew…”

Yi Zuqian exhaled. “Friend Chen’s depths run unplumbed.”

“Sword Immortal? Mere flattery,” Chen Changsheng waved it off. “I swing a blade barely fit to scrape a true Sword Immortal’s doorstep.”

“Modesty suits you.”

“Doubt cloaked as praise?”

“I trust your word.”

Yi Zuqian’s smile wilted under Chen Changsheng’s stare.

Yi Zuqian shifted the topic. “Journeying to the Cultivation World, are you? Over an Evil Spirit?”

“Something like that.”

Chen Changsheng’s gaze held. “But you? This excursion reeks of deeper currents.”

Yi Zuqian smiled thinly. “Always sharper by stride than blade, friend Chen.”

His voice roughened. “Vengeance drives my steps.”

Chen Changsheng matched his bluntness. “Thought as much—that isle you washed upon wasn’t tidal driftwork.”

“A staged misfortune.”

Yi Zuqian knuckled the railing. “The Immortal Mountain gleams—but poison tea brews beneath that jade façade. Endless scheming.”

“You sailed to burn the stage,” Chen Changsheng guessed.

“That stirs nearest my mind.”

Yi Zuqian tilted his skull skyward. “Seeping revenge through silence—that’d prove tidiest. Else? Unleash the whirlwind. Knock the sky slanted and tweak earth’s axis!”

“Stir chaos?” Chen Changsheng warned, “Your Cultivation alone could shred that ambition thread-thin.”

Yi Zuqian smiled. “What’s fear?”

His knuckles whitened. “Ten winters trapped on that spit of sand shaved scales from my eyes. Cultivation? Two unchanging truths: follow Heavenly Dao’s hand; obey the Dao Heart’s drumbeat. Should the whirlwind bloom… I’d snap my own neck before I dragged my Dao Heart through dust-streaked survival.”

“A branch… a leaf… one grain in the changing sea.”

Yi Zuqian’s fire-flooded gaze locked with Chen Changsheng’s gaze. “Cultivators? Grains on the vast slate of Creation. But I? This grain shall dare to claw sharpness back from cold blades!”