Chapter 1: A Dao Companion of Three Years

“Madam, it’s time to get up.”

The sun was already high in the sky, the glazed tile eave kissing beads shimmering brightly. The maidservant stood before the tightly closed door, having knocked three rounds, before faint rustling sounds finally emerged from within the room.

It sounded as if someone had rolled over twice in bed, wrapping themselves in the quilt, then flopped back down onto the mattress, motionless. Soon after, a somewhat dissatisfied, muffled voice drifted out, sounding groggy.

“Just half an hour more… and don’t call me that.”

…The same old excuses for staying in bed, every time.

The maidservant Jingxi sighed helplessly. Just as she was about to call out again, a dark shadow leaped down lightly from a tree behind her. A young man walked up to the door, revealing an expressionless face, his tone equally devoid of emotion:

“Young Miss, there is only a quarter of an hour left before the final match of the Tianxing Ranking begins.”

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

This time, the voice that emerged sounded much more awake, accompanied by the faint rustling of fabric.

“Oh, what does that have to do with me?”

Jingxi gently reminded her: “Madam, the final match is Sword Lord’s competition.”

The female voice inside the room let out a light snort: “So he’s competing, so what? What does that have to do with me? I never said I was going to watch. Don’t call me.”

After saying this, the room fell silent again, and Jingxi frowned in distress.

Beside her, the young man in black remained calm and composed, standing with his arms crossed, holding his sword.

“Mad—”

The door slid open with a swish, cutting off Jingxi’s words. She looked at the beautiful, cool, and elegant face of the young woman before her, as radiant as the moon. Her eyes sparkled like stars, her long, thick lashes fluttering lightly, though her complexion held a faint, sickly pallor, and her body carried a subtle scent of medicine.

Yet, the bright red dress she wore perfectly offset this incongruous hint of illness, making her skin appear even fairer than snow. Perhaps because she had risen in a hurry, her hair and collar were slightly disheveled.

Jingxi smiled gently: “Madam, there is still some time. Let me fix your hair for you.”

Sang Ying turned away abruptly, her small face cold and stern: “Who said I was going to watch the match? We’re out of talisman paper at home. I need to go out and buy some urgently.”

After walking a few steps, before even reaching the courtyard gate, Sang Ying turned back to the young man in black following behind her and said: “Lengmian, you don’t need to follow me today. Stay at home.”

Lengmian, holding his sword, spoke calmly: “The competition venue is at Wanbing Valley, two thousand li away. Only I can get there within a quarter of an hour.”

Sang Ying: ?

“It’s always been at Minghua Mountain. Why did it suddenly move to the remote wilderness of Wanbing Valley?”

Lengmian remained indifferent: “A month ago, during Sword Lord’s match, he accidentally destroyed a nearby peak with a single sword strike. Since then, whenever Sword Lord participates in a competition, it is held at Wanbing Valley.”

Sang Ying took a sharp breath: “…How much did he have to pay?”

“One hundred thousand Spirit Stones.”

Sang Ying gritted her teeth: “That spendthrift! Why did he use so much force? Doesn’t he know how hard it is to earn money these days? How difficult employment is? The streets are filled with Sword Cultivators who can’t make ends meet and have to drive for Sect Group Didi…”

Lengmian: “Over the past month, Sword Lord has already earned back the Spirit Stones he paid in compensation.”

Sang Ying: “It’s only human to strive for victory.”

After all, the Heavenly Ranking is the Cultivation World’s definitive ranking of true strength. The Tianxing Ranking has no restrictions on cultivation level or race, only age—limited to those under fifty years old. It ranks individuals based on their strength within this age group, listing a total of fifty names.

Those who secure a place on this ranking are all geniuses of the Cultivation World, individuals destined to become future overlords in their own right.

However…

Sang Ying was somewhat puzzled, “How come I don’t know about something that happened a month ago? I have no memory of it at all.”

Lengmian stood atop the sword light, “The young lady was ill and slept for two days at the time. By the time you woke up, the Sword Lord had already handled the matter.”

Lengmian extended his sleeve to Sang Ying, who grabbed it and climbed up, lost in thought. Was it because she had exhausted too much spiritual power drawing talismans and fell asleep? Never mind, it wasn’t important.

She narrowed her eyes, her tone sinister, “So, to avoid being implicated by my anger, you also helped him keep it from me, withholding information, right?”

“No, this time I was paid.”

Lengmian said expressionlessly, “The Sword Lord gave far too much.”

“…”

Sang Ying gritted her teeth, “Spineless traitor! A few spirit stones were all it took to buy you off.”

Lengmian calmly pulled a spirit stone pouch from his storage ring, “You get sixty, I get forty.”

Sang Ying approvingly patted his shoulder, “Lengmian, your tactics for infiltrating the enemy are getting more and more brilliant!”

Before her hand could reach his shoulder, Lengmian happened to turn and look into the distance, dodging her. He pointed toward a dense, dark mass in the distance, “Young lady, that’s the competition arena over there.”

Sang Ying instinctively looked over as well, but there were far too many spectators, and from this angle, she couldn’t see the situation in the arena clearly.

Even from such a distance, she could hear the cheers. Many cultivators were spontaneously shouting words of encouragement. However, the majority were young and beautiful female cultivators, all shouting the same name.

—”Qingyu Sword Lord!”

The most promising contender to win this year’s Tianxing Ranking, the direct disciple of the former sect leader of the world’s number one sect, Wu Wen Sect, and the cultivation world’s exceptionally talented demon cultivator genius in recent years.

Qingyu Sword Lord, Xie Lingyu.

Also… her dao companion of three years.

Wait, was it two years, ten months, and eight days? Nine days? Or ten days?

Sang Ying counted on her fingers as Lengmian steered the sword light to land in an unoccupied area on the outskirts of the arena. The chill of Wanbing Valley immediately surged up, and she couldn’t help but sneeze, covering her reddened nose.

Lengmian took out the white feather crepe fox fur cloak that Jingxi had stuffed into his hands before departure, along with a steaming food box, and handed them to her.

He reminded her, “This place is bitterly cold. Staying too long risks cold energy entering the body. At most, we can stay for two hours, then I’ll take you back.”

“Young lady, did you hear me?”

Sang Ying buried her fair, delicate face in the fox fur, but her clear, bright eyes kept scanning the distance. Munching on a steamed bun, she impatiently mumbled, “Heard it, heard it, both ears heard it.”

“Lengmian, isn’t this a bit too far? The announcer sounds like a bird—oh, the bird is talking, seems like it’s starting? Damn it, I can’t see a thing.”

“Didn’t the young lady tell the Sword Lord just a few days ago that you weren’t interested in the competition?”

Lengmian stood with his arms crossed, giving her a faint glance, “If we were closer and the Sword Lord saw you, how would you explain it? ‘I went out to buy talisman paper and got lost two thousand li away at Wanbing Valley’?”

Sang Ying: “…”

Lengmian seemed to sigh lightly, “Why can’t the young lady be more honest? Your sword tassel has been finished for a long time now.”

“…”

Sang Ying swallowed the last of the hot steamed bun in one bite and lowered her head to rummage for talisman paper, “That’s none of your business. I have my own pace.”

“According to my plan, I should have been a woman well-versed in poetry and literature, captivating thousands of young men in Qinghe Town, with everyone in the entire town frantically snatching up my merchandise. But currently, there’s a slight hiccup in the plan—I’m now just a very full woman.”

Sang Ying patted her chest. “Burp.”

Lengmian: “…I told you to eat slower earlier. Only a trumpet would compete with you for food.”

Channeling her spiritual power, she guided it with the brush tip and quickly drew two Disguise Talismans, slapping them onto Lengmian’s forehead.

The black-clad youth’s face rippled like water in a mirror, and in the blink of an eye, it transformed into the completely unfamiliar face of a young man. His stature also grew instantly, taking on the build of a young man.

Sang Ying applied one to herself as well. Just as she was about to change, she paused as if remembering something, then changed her mind and altered her face.

Lengmian sheathed his signature sword and turned his head, only to come face-to-face with a heavily made-up, gaudy, ghostly pale visage caked with three pounds of powder, resembling a ghostly brothel madam.

The youth instinctively took half a step back, a crack appearing in his usually unflappable expression for the first time in his life, shock slowly shattering in his eyes.

“Young Miss, you…”

Seeing his reaction, Sang Ying nodded in satisfaction, theatrically flicking a pink handkerchief reeking of powder and striking a coy pose, her tone exaggeratedly sweet: “Oh my, why is this young gentleman staring so intently at little old me? I’m getting shy~”

Lengmian: …

Young Miss, as long as you’re happy.

…

“Big brother, could you lower your head a bit? Your spiky ponytail is blocking my view.”

Her shoulder was tapped. The youth, who had been intently watching the arena, was disturbed and frowned impatiently, turning to look behind him.

A ghostly pale face crashed into his vision.

0.01 seconds later, the youth let out a startled cry, his face turning deathly pale as he screamed and dashed away as if fleeing from a demon ghost.

Watching him disappear, Sang Ying hummed thoughtfully… Was it really that scary? She thought it was fine. Didn’t she think her makeup was quite artistic?

With the space now cleared, a gap opened up in the crowd. Just as Sang Ying was about to stand on tiptoe to see, the spectator in front of her, attracted by the youth’s earlier shout, happened to turn around.

Their eyes met.

Sang Ying blinked innocently, her eyelashes shedding a puff of powder.

A few seconds later, a small corner of the spectator area erupted into a series of screams, though they were barely noticeable amidst the roaring cheers of the entire arena.

After a bout of chaos and scrambling, Sang Ying found herself separated from Lengmian without realizing it, pushed to the very front and pressed against the protective restrictive barrier of the railing.

With her view now unobstructed, Sang Ying looked up and immediately spotted the white-clad young man in the air. His sword moves flowed like a swimming dragon and flashed like a startled swan, deftly neutralizing his opponent’s attacks as his sharp sword energy repelled the relentless advances.

Compared to what she had seen on the back mountain a few days ago, his sword techniques seemed even more refined.

For once, Sang Ying fell quiet, her eyes unblinking as she leaned against the railing, watching calmly.

Suddenly, the opponent used an escape technique and vanished. Thick smoke filled the arena, leaving only the young man standing alone.

Sang Ying furrowed her brows, her hands already unconsciously forming a divination formula as she carefully sensed the aura. Her eyes snapped open, and she instinctively called out, “Xie Lingyu, seven steps behind you to the left!”

Her voice was soft, and from her corner, it was completely drowned out by the noisy sea of people in the arena.

To prevent interference and cheating, the competition arena was also isolated by a Restrictive Barrier set up by a powerful cultivator. Those inside could not hear sounds from outside, and even spells like Voice Transmission could not be used.

For some reason, the white-robed youth in mid-air suddenly glanced in her direction.

From afar, through the faint, drifting mist, Sang Ying unexpectedly met his gaze, and her heart trembled instantly.

However, the youth’s gaze soon shifted away, as if it had merely swept past unintentionally. He then swung his sword toward the left rear, delivering a solid strike. His opponent, who had been attempting a sneak attack, was caught off guard and hastily raised a defensive stance.

Sang Ying breathed a sigh of relief. So he was just locating his opponent’s position.

She thought to herself, how could he possibly see her among so many people in the arena? Besides, who would dare look twice at her current appearance?

“Found it! The Demon Ghost is here!”

Suddenly, clamorous voices erupted from behind. Caught off guard, Sang Ying was shoved hard by someone nearby, causing her to stumble. She grabbed the railing, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle.

“Demon Ghost! This is no place for your mischief—”

As Sang Ying turned around, accompanied by a young man’s shout not far away, a Golden Light Magical Artifact Blood Dripper hurtled toward her with a bloodthirsty momentum.

Her gaze instantly sharpened. She clenched a Demon-Shattering Talisman between her fingertips, ready to ignite it with Spiritual Power.

But a pale blue light flashed a step ahead of her. The sound of wind brushed past her ear, and before her eyes, like a gently drifting bamboo leaf, it silently struck down the artifact.

The dimmed Blood Dripper fell to the ground, rolling twice. The eyes of the entire audience shifted in unison from the center of the arena to this corner.

The surroundings fell silent, so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

The pale blue sword sheath slowly flew back and landed gently in Sang Ying’s palm.