Chapter 24:Silent Heart sword Technique

Shu Yue’s breakthrough to late Golden Core had elevated her spiritual power and divine sense to new heights, and her mind should have been clear and unburdened.

Yet, the desolate scene she “saw” in that remote room—a figure devoid of vitality—left her heart stifled with an indescribable weight.

‘Something’s wrong… terribly wrong. That wasn’t just a tantrum or mere disappointment…’

A powerful unease overwhelmed her.

Ignoring the marvels of her new realm and Wan Qing’s concerned farewell, she vanished in a flash, appearing outside the isolated room.

She hesitated, not pushing the door open immediately, instead sending a stronger wisp of divine sense inside.

Within, Qing Wan lay curled on the floor, seemingly asleep, but shrouded in a lifeless aura.

Her breathing was faint and erratic, her spiritual energy utterly depleted. Freshly bandaged wounds had reopened from her frenzied actions, blood staining her clothes a dark red.

Her face was ghostly pale, lips cracked, brows furrowed, and her lashes twitched unconsciously, betraying a tormenting nightmare.

Beside her limp hand, the ordinary iron sword was entwined with a faint but remarkably pure… sword intent!

It was no longer a mere echo of Shu Yue’s own sword intent but the embryonic form of something new—born from Qing Wan’s despair and pain, icy and razor-sharp, pulsing with stubborn vitality!

Shu Yue’s heart jolted.

‘She birthed a sword intent embryo in this state? How… how is that possible?’

For a Qi Refining cultivator to even touch sword qi was one in ten thousand.

To comprehend sword intent was a threshold typically reached by late Foundation Building or even Golden Core sword cultivators!

What was this girl enduring? What was she sacrificing?

Shu Yue could no longer care about keeping distance or her survival plan.

She shoved the door open, striding to Qing Wan’s side. Crouching down, she carefully probed her spiritual energy into her body.

What she found made her heart lurch.

Qing Wan’s meridians were riddled with fine cracks from overexertion and improper cultivation, her dantian and qi sea withered, on the verge of collapse.

This wasn’t cultivation—it was self-destruction!

“Qing Wan!” Shu Yue’s voice trembled. She tried infusing gentle spiritual energy to nourish her damaged meridians and dantian.

But as her energy entered, Qing Wan’s body shuddered, instinctively resisting with a faint force!

That resistance carried the same newborn, resolute sword intent embryo!

Though it couldn’t challenge Shu Yue’s power, it clearly conveyed rejection.

Rejection of her approach, her aid.

Shu Yue’s hand froze mid-air, her heartstrings snapping.

‘She’s… rejecting me?’

A tidal wave of sorrow and complex emotions engulfed her.

She finally realized the extent to which her so-called “strategies”—her deliberate coldness and manipulative provocations—had driven this girl.

This wasn’t about favorability anymore. This was a dao heart on the brink of collapse, a cultivation path teetering on ruin!

“Fool!” Shu Yue muttered, unsure if she was cursing Qing Wan or herself.

No longer hesitating, she suppressed the faint resistance, channeling her purest, gentlest Golden Core spiritual energy to meticulously mend Qing Wan’s ravaged meridians, nourish her dantian, and repair the alarming damage.

The process was draining, requiring immense precision.

Sweat beaded on Shu Yue’s brow, but her focus never wavered.

Perhaps due to the warm energy, Qing Wan’s tense body gradually relaxed, her resistance fading as she sank into deeper slumber.

Yet her furrowed brow betrayed the lingering pain in her dreams.

Shu Yue gazed at her frail, pale face, her fingers unconsciously brushing her cracked lips, her heart a chaotic ache.

‘This can’t go on… I have to save her… but how?’

Mere spiritual nourishment was a temporary fix; the wound to her dao heart was the root.

After a moment of silence, determination flashed in Shu Yue’s eyes.

She gently lifted Qing Wan onto the simple bed, covering her with a thin blanket.

Then, she walked to the fallen iron sword.

Picking it up, her fingers grazed the nascent sword intent.

‘This sword intent… though weak, carries such resolve… Perhaps…’

A plan took shape in her mind.

When Qing Wan awoke, it was deep into the night.

She found herself on the bed, her wounds freshly treated, a cool comfort soothing them. A trickle of restored spiritual energy flowed through her, and a gentle, powerful foreign energy was slowly mending her injuries.

It was the Elder…

She immediately recognized the source.

Her heart ached, then sank beneath a deeper numbness.

Even this aid was likely just duty.

Struggling to sit up, she found herself too weak to lift a hand.

At that moment, a cold, calm voice sounded from outside, almost indifferent:

“Since you’re awake, come out.”

Qing Wan froze, hesitating.

Mustering her strength, she dragged herself to the door and pushed it open.

Outside, Shu Yue stood with her hands behind her back, bathed in cold moonlight, her figure as erect and solitary as ever.

Hearing the door, she didn’t turn, only saying faintly, “Pick up your sword.”

Qing Wan noticed her iron sword planted in the ground outside.

Uncertain but obedient, she stumbled over and grasped the hilt.

Shu Yue finally turned, moonlight illuminating her expressionless face, her eyes calm and unreadable.

“With all your strength, attack me.”

Qing Wan’s head snapped up, staring in disbelief.

Attack the Elder? Was she insane?

“Can’t understand?”

“Use that reckless fury you had, that urge to destroy everything, and attack me.”

“It’s an order.”

Qing Wan’s hand trembled on the hilt.

Meeting Shu Yue’s icy gaze, a surge of grievance and rage flooded her.

Why!

Why force her like this!

Saving her only to humiliate her?

Fine!

As you wish!

A fierce glint flashed in her eyes, her nascent sword intent flaring.

Draining her barely restored spiritual energy, ignoring the stabbing pain in her meridians, she let out a hoarse growl and thrust her sword in the simplest, most direct “stab” toward Shu Yue’s heart!

The strike was artless, riddled with flaws.

Yet it carried a reckless, do-or-die ferocity!

Shu Yue stood unmoving.

At the moment the sword tip neared her robe—

Hum!

A terrifying sword pressure, vast as an ocean, erupted from her!

It wasn’t an attack, merely the release of her aura!

Qing Wan felt an immense pressure, like a mountain crashing down!

Her iron sword became impossibly heavy, unable to advance an inch! She was pinned in place, unable to move a finger, her breath halted, her soul trembling!

It was absolute dominance of power!

She felt she’d be torn apart in the next second!

Just as she thought the pressure would crush her, it receded like a tide, vanishing without a trace.

Qing Wan collapsed, gasping, soaked in cold sweat.

Shu Yue looked down at her, her voice calm but piercing.

“Do you feel it? This is the true gap in power.”

“You think your pain and despair are impressive?”

“You think your reckless self-destruction can change anything?”

“An ant’s rage cannot shake a mountain. A weakling’s tears won’t earn a strong one’s pity.”

Each word struck Qing Wan’s heart like an icy hammer, shattering her last shred of pitiful pride.

“You want to know why?”

“You want to defy this?”

“You want to stop being insignificant?”

Shu Yue stepped closer, crouching, her cold eyes locking onto Qing Wan’s tear-filled, humiliated gaze.

“You can.”

“Then grow stronger.”

“Strong enough that one day, your sword can truly touch my robe.”

“Strong enough to stand before me upright, not wallowing in this laughable outburst of useless emotions.”

Shu Yue reached out—not to help her up, but to lightly touch Qing Wan’s forehead.

A wisp of pure sword dao insight, imbued with desolate intent, along with an icy incantation, branded itself into Qing Wan’s sea of consciousness.

“Silent Heart Sword Art, forged from despair to temper the sword heart. How much you comprehend depends on your fate.”

“Remember, Jinghong Peak doesn’t nurture the useless.”

With that, Shu Yue stood.

Without another glance, she turned and left, her figure vanishing into the moonlight as if she’d never been there.

Qing Wan sat alone on the cold ground, Shu Yue’s icy words and the profound Silent Heart Sword Art echoing in her mind.

Every emotion churned wildly in her eyes.

Finally, they coalesced into scalding tears, streaming down.

But this time, her gaze wasn’t lifeless—it burned with a near-obsessive flame.

Struggling to her feet, she gripped the heavy iron sword

 

again.

Looking toward where Shu Yue vanished, she whispered hoarsely, word by word:

“Fine.”

“I’ll practice.”