Chapter 57: The Sword Cultivator Who Abandoned His Sword
Li Shuang was as cold and distant as the winter wind. Yet in that moment, Long Yan’s mind wandered through many memories.
He was not born in a solid form. Once, he had been nothing more than a sleeping wisp of spirit, drifting in a hazy slumber. In that misty state, he had heard murmurs questioning his worth—whispers that he might be a defiled Sword Spirit, flawed and unworthy. They even asked Li Shuang if she wished to cast him aside.
Back then, he did not truly know himself. All he felt was a deep, desperate need burning like embers within his heart. [He longed to shout, “I am not a defiled Sword Spirit! If you only wait, I too can grow strong as the fiercest blade!”] But without words, he only shrank into his uneasy self.
And Li Shuang—what had she said? Without delay, she had declared that ever since she had drawn the Dragon’s Roar Sword from the Sword Pavilion, fate had bound them together. From that day forward, Dragon’s Roar was her lifelong companion, and she would never forsake her chosen Sword Spirit.
In that instant, joy bloomed in Long Yan’s spirit. He vowed then to forge himself in the fires of cultivation and become worthy of Li Shuang’s trust.
In the days that followed, he remained fragile—a flickering flame against the wind. In the rare moments when he stirred awake, he caught only fleeting glances of Li Shuang’s tireless efforts. She spent endless hours in the Library Pavilion, searching for ancient scrolls and hidden secrets. She roamed the bustling Market for rare manuals and poured over old texts with relentless determination.
Then, one day—suddenly, he awakened. The very first sight that met his eyes was Li Shuang, her face glowing with rare joy. She seldom smiled, but that day, her lips curved gently like an ice lotus blooming in the heart of winter. Gratitude filled his spirit for her unyielding faith.
Thus, he trained by her side, enduring grueling days of cultivation. His spirit grew more solid, and his grasp of the Sword Dao slowly matched hers. In the beginning, Li Shuang was a peerless genius. Long Yan had feared that his weakness might hold her back. Yet she always showered him with praise, calling him the finest Sword Spirit and declaring his talent unmatched. With her steady belief as his guide, he gained confidence and slowly walked the path of strength. For a long time, he believed he would remain Li Shuang’s loyal Sword Spirit for all eternity.
But then—Ye Zhao Zhao entered his life. Suddenly, Long Yan discovered that life held wonders beyond the endless routine of cultivation. There were thrilling adventures and vibrant experiences that Li Shuang could never provide. [He felt as though he were a child beholding a vast, colorful world for the very first time—dazzled, enchanted, and utterly entranced.]
From that moment, his devotion to Li Shuang began to fade, and his feelings for Ye Zhao Zhao blossomed. Long Yan had once believed that driving the Dragon’s Roar into Li Shuang’s dantian was a decision he would never regret. Yet now, as he heard Ye Zhao Zhao’s sharp curses, a strange emptiness stirred within him. Had all his efforts truly been worthwhile? If it had been Li Shuang, would she have recklessly burnt her spirit essence, ignoring the danger? Would she have cried out in despair? No—she would never do that. Even in her wildest moments, she never compromised. She had given everything to nurture Dragon’s Roar into the mighty blade it was today.
But what of Ye Zhao Zhao? Did she truly care as she claimed? “Long Yan, you useless wretch!” Ye Zhao Zhao cursed for a long time, her face growing as cold as a sharpened blade in the dark. Though their whispered exchange went unheard by others, Li Shuang understood from the twisted fury in Ye Zhao Zhao’s eyes. Calmly, she spoke, “There is no need to force Long Yan. He burnt his very essence to unleash that technique. He has no strength left. Ye Zhao Zhao, now it is just you and me! Dragon’s Roar is yours. Show me your Sword Dao!”
Her serene voice echoed across the arena, and every eye turned toward Ye Zhao Zhao. Even Sheng Yuan and the others held their breath in tense silence. Never had anyone seen Little Junior Sister’s swordsmanship before. Would today be her day?
Ye Zhao Zhao’s face remained still for a moment before she asked, “What does it mean to burn one’s essence?”
Li Shuang replied calmly, “To burn one’s essence is to call forth the power of a True Dragon—using strength beyond one’s limits. His spirit is now fading. For now, rely not on your Sword Spirit’s power.”
At these words, Ye Zhao Zhao’s expression changed. Without thinking, she blurted out, “Does that mean this Sword Spirit is useless now?”
The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them. Long Yan’s spirit trembled ever so slightly, and a flicker of disbelief shone in his eyes. He wished he could tell himself that she simply did not know—but Li Shuang had laid everything bare. Her first thought was not concern for him, but whether he was still of any use. Both Long Yan and Li Shuang raised a brow at her reply. Was this the very person Long Yan had chosen—the one he had betrayed her for? Li Shuang’s expression remained unmoved; it seemed their bond was breaking faster than she had expected, yet she cared not.
“Draw your sword, or yield,” Li Shuang said calmly, her gaze firm.
“Zhao Zhao, do not hold back! Show your strength! Strike now!” cried Chang Le An with unwavering confidence. He had swiftly ended his previous match and now all his attention was on Zhao Zhao. Little Junior Sister was a peerless genius—there was no way she could lose to Li Shuang!
Ye Zhao Zhao’s face twisted slightly as thoughts raced in her mind. [Chang Le An! That fool! Draw her sword? With what weapon?] Forcing a smile, she spoke with sincere calm, “Senior Sister Li, I would love to spar with you, but as you said, Long Yan is weak. I must care for him first. Let this match be my loss.” Her words carried such heartfelt conviction that they did not sound like a concession from weakness, but a true concern for Long Yan, unwilling to waste time in needless conflict.
Within the realm of the Sword Spirit, Long Yan—though wracked with pain—felt a small spark of hope. [So Zhao Zhao still cares for me, does she not? Were her harsh words spoken only in haste?]
“The judge may announce the result. I forfeit,” Ye Zhao Zhao said with graceful calm. The judge nodded and was about to declare the outcome—when suddenly Li Shuang smiled.
She flicked her wrist, guiding her sword in a graceful arc before thrusting it toward Ye Zhao Zhao. Any true Sword Cultivator would have instinctively parried the strike. But Ye Zhao Zhao cried out in surprise and fled, dropping the Dragon’s Roar onto the cold arena floor. In an instant, she leapt from the platform, her face flushed with fury as she prepared to lash out at Li Shuang.
Yet Li Shuang calmly sheathed Black Abyss with an air of innocent ease. “Ye Zhao Zhao, I was only playing with my sword. Why are you so frightened?”
Ye Zhao Zhao stared in silence.
“A Sword Cultivator who abandons her blade—this is your Sword Dao,” Li Shuang said coolly.
A heavy silence fell over the arena. The judge gave Ye Zhao Zhao a meaningful glance before finally announcing, “In the second match of the tournament… the victor is Li Shuang!”
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation