The Transmigrator's Cultivation

Chapter 133 - Arc 10: The Affairs of Sword Cave | Chapter 133: Psyche Incarnation

Translator: Lynn

Among 10,000 sword practitioners, perhaps only one or two could grasp the elusive concept of sword intent. Why is this the case?

It’s not because they lack devotion to the art of swordsmanship or avoid strenuous practice. Instead, it’s tied to the term “enlightenment.” Compatibility with the ways of the sword and the presence of an opportune moment are the key factors.

Thus, those who successfully cultivate sword intent are seen as individuals naturally attuned to the path of the sword, destined for a smooth journey toward immortality.

Essentially, sword intent encapsulates the essence of the sword’s philosophy. It’s enigmatic, intangible, and ethereal. However, once mastered, it becomes a lethal weapon capable of assaulting the very soul.

For cultivators below the golden core stage, their beings consist of three souls and seven spirits. When exposed to sword intent, even a slight disturbance can rattle their souls, and, in the worst case, shatter them. Hence, a sword practitioner well-versed in sword intent can easily overpower them—such individuals command immense respect.

After crossing into the golden elixir stage, the three souls and seven spirits transform into the primordial spirit. At this stage, even the primordial spirit can fall victim to the sword’s assault.

Furthermore, the more comprehensive the understanding of sword intent, the more potent its lethality.

Such an in-depth explanation, however, Yun Lie never explained them to Xu Ziqing.

Xu Ziqing realizes that he hasn’t yet mastered any sword techniques, making talk of sword intent seem preposterous. Concentrating on his practice, he aims to enhance his offensive capabilities rather than delve into the complexities of sword intent.

After deep contemplation, Xu Ziqing leaned forward and initiated his sword movement, employing the technique “Spring Rain.”

Familiarity with the maneuver was long established, and its execution was flawless. Yet, as the sequence neared its culmination, the sword’s trajectory changed, unleashing the “Mengzi Stance.” This sudden release of energy reverberated through the room, echoing like a cracking shell, teeming with vitality.

A surge akin to gusting air and the sprouting of a seed radiated energy and vigor.

Eyes closed, Xu Ziqing orchestrated his sword dance, wrist movements fluid. His body mimicked a sinuous dragon, each gesture spawning a flurry of azure flashes, blades dancing like specters.

Immersed in the art of swordplay, the fluidity of his movements harmonized with the evolving momentum of the blade. The “Mengzi Stance,” derived from the Spring Rain swordsmanship, wove two sword forms together, seamless and intuitive, though devoid of any sensation of astonishment. This cohesion flowed naturally, defying rigidity while maximizing adaptability.

With each passing moment, his understanding deepened, invigorating his spirit, and urging him to persist without weariness.

Days and nights intertwined within this dedicated practice, until one day when he grasped the hilt again, he required no conscious thought—the sword yielded to his very intent, flowing effortlessly and unhurriedly.

A fortnight later, within the confines of the sword chamber, his movements appeared weightless, the steel and wooden sword an extension of his being, wielded with mastery.

The sword seemed fused with his essence, each motion an ode to equilibrium and authenticity.

Suddenly, a resonant cry rang out, “Ha!”

In an instant, his motion ceased, locking him in the room’s center. The steel and wooden sword, guided by its own rhythm, bore a dusky trace along its tip. Gleaming, the streak cleaved the air, puncturing the stone wall with vigor.

“Sword Light1I’m changing the Sword Illumination to Sword Light!” Xu Ziqing inhaled deeply, gripping the steel wood sword, his eyes gleaming with elation. “I’ve cultivated swordsmanship!” While he knew “Four Seasons Sword Art” suited him, he never imagined mastering the initial set of techniques to generate sword light in such a short span.

Concentrating his thoughts, Xu Ziqing silently recited the formula, invoking the “Mengzi Stance” once more. Potent and apt for testing this newfound level, the move traced a curve through the air. With pinpoint accuracy, a luminous beam shot forth, striking the stone wall and dispersing into radiant fragments.

Though incapable of attacking, the sword light proved pivotal. It was the foundation for condensing sword energy, the precursor to subsequent tiers of mastery. Thus, this inaugural stride was the crux, though demanding. Its numerous advantages, however, were evident to the discerning eye.

Several swings in succession, each heralding a precise emergence of sword light, both thrilled and disconcerted Xu Ziqing.

The swiftness of his progress seemed eerie, or perhaps the sword chamber held an enigmatic secret? Yet, aside from its tranquil ambiance, he discovered no other clues.

Just as he pondered this, radiant brilliance erupted from the stone walls previously struck by his sword light.

In an instant, the world blurred, the surroundings transformed, and the atmosphere’s weight heightened dramatically!

Astonishment gripped him as he surveyed his surroundings.

This place was no longer the austere sword chamber, but a meadow awash in vibrant hues, resplendent with fragrant blooms and the sweet twittering of birds. Sunlight poured in, and the gentle breeze imbued it with the freshness of spring. The atmosphere exuded the vitality of the season.

Walking upon the emerald grass, Xu Ziqing reveled in the tactile reality of each step. The earth seemed soft and slightly damp underfoot, an astonishingly vivid depiction.

Yet, he reasoned, this was surely an illusion, a conjuring of the mind. He concentrated, determined to dispel it through his willpower.

But a heartbeat later, he realized his mistake.

Before him materialized an ethereal figure, a form as insubstantial as a billow of fresh spring air. This silhouette held a graceful presence and gentle disposition, cradling a translucent longsword in their hand.

A voice, tender and melodic like the very season it mirrored, addressed him: “Engage.”

Xu Ziqing started, his words halting. “Who are you?”

Could this be an illusion or some other phenomenon? The figure replied, voice soft as a spring’s whisper, “I am the manifestation of consciousness from the twenty-third sword chamber within the third sword cavity. Should you triumph, you shall live; fail, and you shall perish… Will you accept the challenge?”

The sword cave’s second unique aspect.

Wuling Immortal Sect’s legacy spanned countless years, and its sword cave’s existence was equally ancient.

Initially, the progenitors of swordsmanship left behind their insights, challenging their successors to unlock their latent potential. However, across time, myriad disciples practiced within these walls, some living, some succumbing, but all leaving their mark.

Over the course of time, a multitude of ideas took root within the sword room. Whenever a swordsman achieved proficiency in a specific set of sword techniques, resulting in the manifestation of a sword light, an opportunity to undergo the sword room’s trial would arise. This trial served as a reciprocal interaction.

However, the mind’s evaluation was relentless; the monks held the discretion to either embrace or disregard this feedback.

Recognizing that his current prowess was insufficient to secure his position in the forthcoming Sect’s Grand Competition, Xu Ziqing was acutely aware of the necessity for substantial advancement within the next five months. Past experiences had taught him the pivotal role of life-and-death struggles in achieving breakthroughs.

His previous life’s frailty and premature demise underscored his fear of death. Yet, he understood that evading challenges when he had a higher likelihood of survival would only ensure certain defeat when confronted with insurmountable perils in the future.

Hence, with unwavering determination, Xu Ziqing deftly moved his wrist and declared, “I welcome your guidance.”

The thought’s embodiment smiled gently and replied, “Let us begin.”

As those words hung in the air, an exceedingly sharp gleam of sword light streaked toward him, racing toward his brow in an instant.

Xu Ziqing’s response was swift; he evaded with an agile sidestep, his arm swaying sideways to parry the oncoming sword light.

Peril was narrowly averted, and no harm was inflicted.

However, this clash provided Xu Ziqing with a glimpse of the psyche incarnation’s prowess. Its cultivation stood at the mid-stage of foundation establishment, with a true essence depth akin to his own. The sword maneuvers it executed bore resonance with Xu Ziqing’s Spring Rain swordsmanship, each imbued with sword light. Yet, disparities emerged in their nuances, lacking the “cute words” artistic conception.

Facing an adversary of comparable standing, the psyche incarnation wielded a subtler sword technique, its artistic expression born from the same swordsmanship. This afforded a degree of familiarity between them, expediting Xu Ziqing’s acclimatization to swordplay in combat scenarios.

It must be acknowledged that the individual who originally constructed the sword cave, comprising numerous disciples of the Wuling Immortal Sect, had indeed invested substantial effort into its creation.

Naturally, Xu Ziqing seized this opportunity without hesitation. The fear of inadvertently ending the opponent’s life with excessive force did not concern him. He attacked relentlessly, his eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

This was authentic honing, the true essence of the term.

Within this sword room, many practitioners who had also mastered the “Spring Rain Sword Art” had ventured here. Therefore, the thought incarnation amalgamated the collective insights and experiences of these disciples. It concentrated their strengths and meticulously funneled them into Xu Ziqing’s being. Its mentality was that of a sword – colder, more direct, and unyielding.

With a tearing sound, a gash appeared on Xu Ziqing’s shoulder, revealing the pallid flesh beneath.

Within the wound, a gentle yet invasive force permeated his flesh and blood. This trace of sword consciousness resembled a spring rain, imperceptibly saturating every element. Gradually, it would enshroud his entire body, systematically dismantling his meridians.

The potency of Spring Rain swordsmanship was on full display—certainly gentle and lingering, but its influence could burrow deeper, adhering unshakably.

Startled, Xu Ziqing rolled over and retreated, repeatedly pressing on the spot where the subtle force had infiltrated.

However, the thought incarnation did not permit him to convalesce in such a manner. Swiftly, it struck once again, three luminous streaks cascading forth – a display of brilliance both blinding and stunning.

Xu Ziqing channeled his focus entirely, leaving no room for complacency. He simultaneously channeled his inner energy to counteract the invasive force, while meticulously evading the pressure and definitive strikes orchestrated by the thought incarnation.

Sustaining this struggle for an extended moment, he barely succeeded in purging the invasive force, expending a great deal of energy in the process. His forehead was drenched in sweat.

This strategy wouldn’t suffice.

Such a realization dawned on Xu Ziqing.

While his own reserves of inner energy were finite, the power of the thought incarnation was inexhaustible as long as it persisted within the sword room. In an attrition-based confrontation, he stood at an insurmountable disadvantage.

After a rapid shift in his thoughts, Xu Ziqing swerved slightly to evade the impending strike. He then closed his eyes, undeterred by the fierce glare of the sword, and leaned forward, hastening his steps to approach the thought incarnation within a matter of moments.

“In the awakening of spring grass, life bursts from the earth!”

Drawing a deep breath, Xu Ziqing felt a profound sense of tranquility within him. As the sword light erupted from his palm, it flowed with extraordinary smoothness.

In that instant, a cerulean radiance flashed like lightning into the eyes of the thought incarnation.

Subsequently, the psyche incarnation was engulfed by the azure brilliance, its form swiftly dissolving…

Victoriously vanquished!

Xu Ziqing exhaled slowly. Despite his fatigue, an overwhelming sensation of elation flooded his heart, rendering him profoundly content.

At long last, he had made tangible progress.

Familiarity with the Spring Rain Sword Art is now at hand, there is still a task to master the Summer Storm Sword Art and others.

Relishing the sweet taste of achievement, Xu Ziqing intensified his practice efforts, leaving no room for complacency.

The Summer Storm, potent and fierce, was quenched by the myriad trees, igniting fierce flames. Thunder and fire resounded, kindling a prairie inferno that spanned thousands of miles, scorching the earth in its wake with unparalleled might.

The Autumn Wind, desolate and cold, stripped every tree of its leaves and withered its branches. The tempestuous autumn gales wrought withered landscapes, their chill carrying an unrelenting aura of impending doom.

The Winter Snow, vast and solitary, cloaked every tree while congealing vitality. The wintry snow enveloped all in its frigid embrace, concealing all life and rendering the world a desolate, frozen expanse.

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