Chapter 150: Peace Amulet · A Sword's Spirit, Hidden Yet Revealed

Chapter 150 – Peace Amulet · A Sword’s Spirit, Hidden Yet Revealed

In Cuiwei Valley, Xiao Chen sat with Hezhou Travelogue in hand, engrossed in its pages.

This journal had been penned 160 years ago by a Foundation Building elder from the Lihuo Sect during their travels. It chronicled their journey through Hezhou’s landscapes, brimming with details about local customs and culture. Yet the phrase that appeared most frequently was—Eastern Territory.

It sounded odd, but Xiao Chen couldn’t shake the impression that the Eastern Territory seemed to be trading heavily processed goods for raw materials from Hezhou. For instance, the elder often purchased talisman powder made from pearls sourced from the Eastern Territory during their cultivation travels.

In Lizhou, cultivators who needed cinnabar would buy raw chunks and grind them into powder themselves. But Hezhou was different—pre-ground talisman powders were readily available for purchase, tailored to specific needs.

“Huh? They even sell water-refined cinnabar?”

Toward the end of the journal, the author mentioned certain shops in Hezhou selling water-refined cinnabar. This substance was created by placing raw cinnabar into specially crafted jars, adding collected spirit water, and then using spells over three years to gradually dissolve impurities, leaving behind a purer, more potent product. Talismans or artifacts made from it were far more powerful.

Xiao Chen knew this from his time at Servant Peak, when a weapon forging hall’s Inner Sect senior had come to select servant disciples for tending cinnabar jars. Those chosen earned an extra spirit stone monthly. He’d applied but wasn’t picked, a minor regret that lingered in his memory.

Now, discovering Hezhou openly sold water-refined cinnabar to solitary cultivators surprised him. These details highlighted how different Hezhou and Lizhou truly were, despite being neighbors.

“Good thing I’m already late-stage Foundation Building. Even in Hezhou, late-stage cultivators are rare.”

Xiao Chen closed the journal, stretched, and yawned. Today marked the ninth day—tomorrow at noon, the spiritual vessel departed for Hezhou.

He’d already bid farewell to Mei Yong. Yesterday, he’d handed over the Chu Mo Dian records to a second-stage Foundation Building junior. Beyond that, few things tied him here. Though his trip might last a year or five, he’d never been one for attachments.

“Wait—better check on my Tianluo stars.”

The Tianluo blossoms had sprouted buds but hadn’t bloomed before his departure. Su Wanning stood before them, sighing. “A shame you’ll miss the flowers.”

“Not necessarily,” Xiao Chen replied, glancing at the time. “It’s late. You should return to Nanhu Lake.”

“Just water them every three days.”

Following their routine, today was her turn to care for the spirit flowers. But tomorrow, the Su family would send many cultivators to Hezhou—she’d need to bid her family farewell.

“Understood, Senior Apprentice.” She turned to leave but paused at the gate, retrieving a small woven charm. “Senior Xiao, I heard Hezhou is dangerous. Take this peace amulet.”

Xiao Chen recognized it as her handiwork immediately—store-bought ones wouldn’t be this… unique.

“This amulet’s got character,” he said, accepting it. “Now that you mention it, I did feel like I’d forgotten something. Turns out I just needed a peace amulet.”

“I’ll pray for Elder Su daily,” she said earnestly. “And if I have time, I’ll pray for you too—may your journey be safe.”

With that, she departed. Xiao Chen saw her out. “Wish you the same.”

---

The next morning, the sect’s martial arts plaza teemed with Foundation Building cultivators—more than at the Ascension Ceremony. Though some Lihuo elders remained behind, many solitary cultivators joined—those allied with the sect or simply seeking companionship on the journey. Even Zhu Hui, the famed “Nine-Foot Staff” of Lizhou, delayed his departure to travel with the group.

In Hezhou, they’d all be countrymen. Better to build camaraderie now for mutual support later.

The departing cultivators burned with excitement, while those staying behind watched with worry. Mei Yong left at mid-morning, claiming duties. Back in his empty hall, he stared at the Hezhou map. “How many juniors will return safely?”

Unlike others, as sect leader, he knew every face. Their absence would weigh heavily.

“Don’t dwell. With fewer mouths to feed, promote younger disciples to share the burden.”

“Mingyan Junior Sect Brother should handle things smoothly.”

“Your priority now is to focus cultivation. If trouble arises, you’ll need strength to protect the sect.”

Though alone, a voice echoed from the rear mountains. Mei Yong bowed respectfully. “Yes, Disciple understands, Master Mingyan.”

Hearing that name deepened his unease. Only he and the two Zhenren knew the truth—Fenghong Zhenren’s journey outside had stretched into decades. Now, with Divine Flame Sect blocking Quanzhou, return seemed impossible. If Mingyan Zhenren fell in Hezhou, Lihuo’s position would crumble.

And what of Qianzhu Bazaar’s Zhenren, now with Mingyue Zhen as a junior brother? Would they stay idle?

The protective formation would shield the sect itself, but remote spirit mines, fields, and veins—those borders would blur.

---

At noon, the colossal spiritual vessel ascended, piercing the clouds. Xiao Chen leaned at the bow, estimating over four hundred Foundation Building cultivators aboard—evenly split between Lihuo and solitary travelers.

“Xiao Chen, don’t linger here alone,” Steward Chen called, leading him to a cabin. “Join us for spirit wine. Meet some friends.”

The journey to Spirit Origin Sect would take thirteen days—nine crossing the desert, four within Hezhou. Though the vessel’s speed lagged behind a Foundation cultivator’s flying sword, its rest quarters and social decks drew many. Only the overconfident, like the Black and White Sage, traveled solo.

“Xiao Chen, meet Liu Feng—the ‘Lone Sword’ of Lizhou’s Ten Greats!” Steward Chen beamed. “He was secluded cultivating sword techniques earlier this year, missed Qianzhu’s auction. Good timing to meet now.”

Liu Feng bowed first. “I know Manager Xiao—your Wind-Thunder Pair Swords at Qianzhu, your victory in Jingchuan County. An honor.”

A Foundation Building Peak elder’s courtesy surprised Xiao Chen. He returned the bow. “Your reputation precedes you, Senior Liu. Delighted to meet.”

Around them, dozens of cultivators allied with the Chen family gathered, exchanging pleasantries. Liu Feng soon steered the talk.

“Might you have your Wind-Thunder Pair Swords aboard? Missing Qianzhu’s event was a regret—I’d love to see them.”

Others leaned in, eyes gleaming. Xiao Chen noticed—most here were sword cultivators, blades glinting at their waists. Liu Feng’s especially radiated power, a top-grade magic artifact.

Seeing Xiao Chen’s gaze, Liu Feng unsheathed it. “Take a look, Senior Xiao.”

Xiao Chen shrugged and placed his pair of swords on the table. "These are just ordinary swords with a name, nothing compared to Fellow Cultivator Liu's treasures."

The others didn’t touch them but examined them closely.

Compared to the others’ flying swords—some shimmering with radiant light, others exuding dragon-like sword auras—the Wind-Thunder Pair Swords looked plain, like wooden replicas.

The group exchanged puzzled glances, clearly baffled. Though they didn’t speak, their expressions screamed doubt. This is the legendary Wind-Thunder Pair Swords that fetched a fortune? Doesn’t look like it.

Xiao Chen caught their skepticism. He flicked his fingers, channeling a sliver of mana. Instantly, a rumble of wind and thunder echoed, and faint azure-violet light pulsed along the blades. Withdrawing the mana, the glow vanished, leaving only subtle energy coiled within.

Liu Feng’s eyes widened. “Truly remarkable! Concealed sharpness, hidden mysteries—true treasures among swords!”

The others murmured in awe.

“Wind-Thunder Pair Swords—indeed legendary!”
“To witness such a masterpiece today is a privilege!”
“These are artifacts worthy of the immortals!”

At the mention of spiritual artifact, all heads turned to the elder who spoke.

Liu Feng chuckled. “Old Master Feng, you’re not serious, are you?”

The elder straightened. “I’ve lived over a century—when have I lied? A hundred years ago, during my Foundation Building days, I traded spirit pearls in the Eastern Territory. Many know this.”

Another cultivator nodded. “Yes, I remember that.”

Feng continued, “Back then, I saw Golden Core Zhenren daily—different ones every day. Many carried swords like these—unassuming yet profound.”

The group refocused on the Wind-Thunder Pair Swords.

Above top-grade magic artifacts lay spiritual artifacts, named for their innate mystique, almost sentient. Some defensive spiritual artifacts could even protect their wielders autonomously. A basic spiritual artifact was worth over 100,000 spirit stones.

Old Master Feng concluded, “I’d wager these Wind-Thunder Pair Swords are nearly spiritual artifacts already.”

Eyes gleamed with greed. As sword cultivators, none could resist such blades.

“A pity,” one sighed. “Forged from a single source, balancing yin and yang—perfect material. If a third-tier forging master refined them…”

“Dream on!” another scoffed. “If they were spiritual artifacts, the immortals would’ve claimed them already.”

They raised cups to Xiao Chen, who remained unfazed. His possession of the swords was no secret—better to display them than hide. Besides, no one here dared covet what they couldn’t take.

Liu Feng paused, then said, “There is a way to make them spiritual artifacts.”

Silence.

Spiritual artifacts were irrevocable—how could they be reforged? And finding a third-tier forging master was near impossible.

Steward Chen pressed, “How?”

Liu Feng explained, “Sword cultivators forging their life-bound swords during Golden Core refinement is common. These swords already hold latent sentience. If refined alongside Xiao Chen’s core, even without immediate awakening, they’d rival prime sword cores. With time, they’d become spiritual artifacts.”

The group turned envious—until Steward Chen noted, “Xiao Chen isn’t a sword cultivator. This path is closed to him.”

The room dimmed. Xiao Chen never carried a sword—his path diverged.

Old Master Feng laughed, “Enough about spiritual artifacts! Let’s discuss Hezhou’s campaign.”

Xiao Chen sheathed his swords, pondering.(End of Chapter)

Chapter end