Cultivating To Immortality

Chapter 724: Crying Moon

Su Li was somewhat wary, but he didn’t make any other outrageous moves.

He knew the origin of this girl; she was the transformed spirit beast of that Cave Abyss Sect Cultivator.

However, he didn’t know why that Cultivator had sent her here.

She wasn’t breaking the formation, nor was she attacking; she just squatted there, staring, preventing him from killing those two people.

"Hmph, just wait until Young Mountain Lord kills that Cultivator." Su Li’s expression turned sinister: "You’ll be nothing more than a side dish then."

The sky over Qing Valley was covered by dark clouds, and a heavy smell of blood permeated the air.

Fear spread like a plague; some collapsed to the ground, some huddled with their heads in their arms, and cries of despair rose and fell.

However, very quickly, they turned their distorted faces towards that small, thin figure.

"It’s her! It’s this jinx and that beast who brought this disaster!"

The bare-chested man’s eyes were bloodshot, and the woodcutter’s knife in his hand trembled from being gripped too tightly.

His roar was like a spark, burning away the last vestiges of reason from the villagers.

Several young men and farm women followed closely, wielding hoes and sickles, spitting saliva, and uttering many vicious words.

In summary, they had only one thought.

That was to kill her.

"Kill her! That demon crow came back with her!"

Ju Luyi was using her Spiritual Qi to heal Liu Xincheng, and with her already low cultivation, she had no mind to resist.

Liu Xincheng roared, "Are you all crazy?!"

However, these villagers ignored Liu Xincheng’s words; despair had already spread, and they only wanted to kill this disaster-bringing culprit before they died.

The bare-chested man’s left hand reached for Ju Luyi’s throat, and his right hand’s woodcutter’s knife sliced through the air.

Pfft.

A vibrant green leaf appeared out of nowhere, lightly slicing across the bare-chested man’s neck.

His movements suddenly froze, the woodcutter’s knife clattered to the ground, but his head slowly tilted, finally rolling into the dust.

The gushing blood splattered on the faces of those around him, and the frenzied roars ceased abruptly.

Xiao He remained squatting there, her greenish-gold snake eyes casually glanced at the villagers, then turned back, staring intently at Su Li.

...

Everyone’s hearts trembled, and they fell silent, like cicadas in cold weather.

Isn’t she that Immortal Master’s spirit beast?

Why is she so ruthless when she kills?

Is it truly the heavens intending to destroy Qing Valley!?

Su Li wasn’t thinking about these things. This girl had killed a villager, and he would have a headache if Young Mountain Lord questioned him later.

However, before he could worry for long, a young figure slowly walked out of the valley entrance in the distance.

Seeing this figure, Su Li’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Then a wave of fear surged into his heart: "How could it be you!? Where is Young Mountain Lord?!"

Only then did everyone realize that the roar of the tiger demon and the clang of colliding blades in the valley had stopped a long time ago.

The villagers looked at Song Yan, and a desperate hope for life rose from the depths of their hearts.

But recalling the girl’s cruel methods, they didn’t dare to step forward.

"Young Mountain Lord?"

Song Yan casually picked up a demon core: "Are you talking about this?"

So his name was Young Mountain Lord.

Su Li stared blankly at the demon core, his will already on the verge of collapse.

"This... how is this possible?!"

He suddenly jumped up: "Young Mountain Lord’s demonic power is unmatched; even a Qi Refining tenth-level Cultivator would die under his palm!"

"You, you..."

"What tricks are you playing?!"

If that tiger demon was dead, could he, Su Li, still live?

Seeing Su Li’s frantic appearance, Song Yan didn’t bother to say another word to him.

He didn’t even want to bother with the messy affairs of this valley.

He walked towards the valley exit.

"Wait! Let me go, I am a Profound Origin Sect Disciple! You should weigh the consequences..."

Hearing this, Song Yan’s steps paused.

He silently looked at Xiao He, casually making a motion of slitting his throat.

...

Then he turned around, pointed a Sword Qi at the eye of the confinement formation, breaking it, and walked out of the valley with an indifferent expression.

"Hehehe..."

Xiao He covered her mouth and laughed.

"You..."

Under Su Li’s terrified gaze, a sky full of green leaf flying knives overwhelmingly drowned him... Song Yan, who had left Qing Valley, put on the Xuan E Bai Ling Covering Mask.

He slightly raised his eyes to look at the sky, and those tiny yet condensed traces were visible everywhere.

Following the traces of the Dao of the sword seen by the Xuan E Bai Ling Covering Mask, he slowly walked along the mountain path overgrown with wild grass.

The path wound all the way into the depths of the mountains.

About half an hour later, he stopped before the entrance of a narrow valley half-hidden by vines.

Mist filled the valley, and the faint sound of water dripping through rock crevices could be heard.

Pushing aside the drooping withered vines, a small, desolate, secluded valley, no more than ten zhang square, suddenly appeared before his eyes.

The four walls were as steep as if carved by a knife, the valley floor was covered with grayish-white gravel, and in the center stood a solitary, dilapidated house.

The house had been abandoned for who knows how many years; most of its thatched roof had collapsed, revealing a few rotten black beams.

In front of the house was a withered tree, and beneath the tree was a sword.

This Flying Sword was about four chi long, entirely black-purple, with a blade as thin as a cicada’s wing, glowing with a cold, eerie light under the moonlight.

Suddenly.

A black-purple Sword Qi slowly emerged from the sword body, condensing at the very top of the sword hilt.

It actually transformed into the shape of a crow.

It flew up and landed on a branch of the withered tree, a pair of strange blood-colored eyes staring intently at Song Yan.

It was exactly the same as the one he had seen in Qing Valley.

"Caw!"

It let out a cry, but it was much quieter than when it was in Qing Valley.

Then, it dissipated again.

...

Song Yan did not rush to retrieve the sword; instead, he stepped forward and gently pushed open the dilapidated house.

The furnishings inside were simple to the point of solemnity: a cypress wood square table in the center, and a bed.

The items on the table were arranged neatly, almost like sacrificial vessels.

A most ordinary qiankun bag, a few ordinary clay bowls and dishes.

Nothing else.

His gaze shifted, and he saw a pale white skeleton sitting on the bed.

"This Senior... actually passed away in such a place?"

The Spiritual Qi here was not dense, making it unsuitable for an Immortal Cave for Cultivation.

Moreover, it was remote and narrow, also not suitable for quiet recuperation.

Song Yan was silent for a moment, then walked forward, only to find a few small characters carved on the wooden table.

"I, Bai Tao, am a mediocre Sword Cultivator. Whatever is left in this room, latercomers may take it all."

"Do not offer sacrifices."

This Senior was named Bai Tao.

Song Yan had heard that in Qing Valley, Bai was indeed a common surname.

"Is he also a person from Qing Valley...?"

Song Yan put away the qiankun bag in the house, then urged his spiritual power, and the Senior’s skeleton was moved out.

He found a clean spot outside the house, used Sword Qi to dig a grave, and properly buried it.

He casually cut a neat stone tablet and erected it in front of the grave.

"Since I have seen Senior’s remains, it can be considered fate."

Song Yan took out three incense sticks, lit them, inserted them in front of the grave, and bowed.

The Senior was unrestrained, saying there was no need for sacrifices, but since there was this fate, leaving like this would indeed feel wrong.

He stepped towards the withered tree outside the courtyard; the black-purple ancient sword was quietly stuck beneath the tree.

With a flick of his finger, the ancient sword slowly floated up, suspended in front of him.

A wisp of Sword Qi emerged from Song Yan’s palm, starting from the hilt and flowing towards the tip of the sword, removing the dust and moss attached to the sword body one by one.

This sword had no name carved on it.

The Sword Qi in his palm surged more and more powerfully, and he took the opportunity to refine this sword into his Spiritual Artifact.

As expected, the moment the Flying Sword was finished refining, its sword light flashed and it entered the liangyi pearl.

Judging from the previous situation of refining Lord Lin, inheriting the memories of the ancient Sword Cultivator Seniors did not take long.

So Song Yan did not hesitate either; after setting up a simple protective formation around him, he sat cross-legged on the spot, and his Divine Thought entered the Liangyi Realm.

He saw that in the black and white world, the Flying Sword landed beside the Seed of the Dao of the sword.

Ink gathered, condensing into the shape of a crow, perching on the tip of the Flying Sword.

This crow was lifelike, tilting its bird head, seemingly surveying this Small World.

Until it saw Song Yan’s Divine Thought manifest, it let out a strange cry: "Caw!"

The crow flapped its wings, scattering feathers, and flew towards Song Yan.

It transformed into a mass of black ink and surged into his glabella.

The Liangyi Realm was in turmoil, but contrary to expectations, this time, Song Yan felt no discomfort.

He just felt drowsy and fell asleep... Caw!

Caw!

So noisy. What bird is calling?

It hurts. My whole body hurts...

His vision swayed, falling from the sky, crashing into a pile of branches covered in light frost.

He used all his strength to barely stabilize himself.

Caw!

What kind of bird is so noisy! It’s so annoying!

Oh?

It was me.

I am a crow.

I was injured by some cursed child with a slingshot, and I flew unsteadily to this deserted mountain ridge.

It’s so remote here, there shouldn’t be anyone around, so I can recuperate for a while and heal my injuries.

Hmm, after I heal, I’ll go back and peck out the eyes of those little brats.

No! How is there someone here!?

...On a winter moonlit night, the branches were covered with some frost and snow, and the crow was already swaying a bit on the branches.

Suddenly, seeing the young man below the tree wielding a sword, the crow was startled, its bird feet lost balance, and it fell.

"Caw!"

My life is over!

However, the imagined pain of falling to the ground and shattering into pieces did not come.

Instead, it was enveloped by a warm sensation.

The crow opened its eyes and saw the young man’s still childish face.

"Caw!"

The crow instinctively struggled, flapping its wings in the young man’s arms, its feathers brushing against the young man’s cheek and chin.

"Hey, don’t move, don’t move."

After flapping for a long time, it was indeed tired.

The crow was thus carried by the young man into a small mountain hut nearby, its bird claws occasionally twitching, demonstrating an indomitable spirit.

He won’t be stewed, will he?

I heard humans eat everything...

What the crow didn’t expect was that the young man took out a small medicine box from inside the house, muttering to himself.

"It’s a good thing you landed here with me, otherwise, with this freezing weather, your bird life would probably be in danger."

"Does medicine for human injuries work on birds?"

"It probably does."

The wooden house was simple, just a bed, a table, and a stove.

The young man lit a fire, washed the crow’s wing wound with warm water. The bone was broken, so he found thin wooden sticks to fix it and tore off a corner of his clothes to bandage it.

The crow no longer struggled, only occasionally letting out low chirps, as if enduring pain.

"Hmm... whether you live or not depends on you."

The young man placed it on the straw mat by the stove, while he sat at the table polishing his long sword.

Early the next morning, before dawn, the young man was awakened by a rustling sound.

The crow stood on the table’s edge, preening its feathers with its beak; its injured wing drooped, but its spirit was clearly much better.

Seeing him wake up, the crow tilted its head to look at him, then suddenly let out a "Caw!"

As if thanking him.

Days flowed like water.

The crow’s injury gradually healed, but it showed no intention of leaving.

When the young man practiced his sword, it would stand on a nearby branch and watch; when he meditated, it would quietly squat on his shoulder; occasionally, when he left the valley to exchange for some rice and food, he would always see the crow waiting by the hut.

"You’ve really clung to me."

The young man casually tossed a wild fruit to the crow; it deftly caught it and pecked at it in its embrace.

After eating, it cawed twice and landed on his shoulder.

"My name is Bai Tao." A hint of loneliness flashed in the young man’s eyes: "You are my first friend."

One evening, Bai Tao, as usual, practiced his sword by the cliff.

His sword moves were like a rainbow, sweeping up fallen leaves. Suddenly, he noticed the crow was not on its usual branch.

He put away his sword and looked around, only to see it standing on a protruding rock, swaying left and right with his sword moves, as if imitating him.

Bai Tao was somewhat surprised; he deliberately slowed down his movements, and the crow indeed followed along.

"You want to learn swordsmanship too?" Bai Tao looked it up and down: "But how can you learn without hands?"

"Caw!"

The crow squawked in dissatisfaction, flapped its wings, flew to his head, and pecked at the sword hilt with a thud.

For the crow, it didn’t matter if it couldn’t learn.

It would be enough if it could go back and take revenge on those children then.

Winter passed and spring came, Bai Tao seemed to have gotten used to having a noisy crow by his side.

One summer, the young man was about to leave this place.

"Silly bird, I’m leaving."

Bai Tao said, "You are free."

He put on his backpack and walked out of the thatched hut, not daring to look back.

The mountain path wound, and after about half an hour, he suddenly heard the sound of flapping wings behind him.

He saw the crow land on his shoulder, holding a small wild flower in its beak... This kid Bai Tao was indeed blessed with extraordinary fortune, to be favored by an Immortal and enlightened to Cultivate.

Undoubtedly, this was due to the great crow’s good luck.

The great crow was exceptionally gifted, following Bai Tao to listen to the Immortal’s lectures and observe sword Cultivation, consuming morning dew daily, and must have already become an Immortal among crows.

They called themselves what... Sword Cultivators?

Then the great crow was the Crow Sword Immortal.

Bai Tao’s Sect had forged a Flying Sword for him, black-purple, much like the crow’s feathers.

He gave this sword a refined name.

Cry Moon.

Who knows what it means... From then on, a strange Sword Cultivator appeared in the Cultivation World; he was silent and not good at conversation.

But there was always a crow perched on his shoulder.

They traveled many places together, the misty rains of Jiangnan, the sandstorms of Saibei, the crow always by his side.

Until one day, Bai Tao returned to his Sect.

But he found that, apart from himself, all his Senior Brothers and Senior Sisters, all the Elders and Sect Leader, including his own master, had disappeared.

They had gone to a very distant place.

But Bai Tao’s cultivation was still too shallow, so he was left behind to preserve the Sect’s meager Legacy.

In the blink of an eye.

He was alone again.