Chapter 36: The Descendant of the Stars (Part Two)

"Xingchenzi, this sword of yours... it seems to be heavily rusted!" Yufan remarked as he swept his gaze across the blade.

"Well done, Xingchenzi. Although the sword may seem a bit dilapidated, your spirit in using it to resist is truly courageous," Fang Yu said softly.

Yufan’s steps were light yet firm as he approached Xingchenzi, his eyes shimmering with a gentle, profound light. He spoke in a low voice, as if afraid to disturb the tenacity hidden within this quiet moment: "Xingchenzi, may I take a look?"

Receiving a slight nod of permission from Xingchenzi, Yufan slowly extended his right hand. As his fingertips brushed against the hilt, marked by the passage of time, a warm and steady power flowed from his palm.

As the internal energy surged within him, Yufan’s right hand seemed guided by an invisible force, sliding slowly along the blade from hilt to tip. Each touch was accompanied by a faint yet distinct "hissing" sound—the friction of his energy against the rust, which was rapidly being nourished and dissolved away.

On the surface of the blade, the rust seemed to come alive; it flaked off, turning into shimmering specks of metal that traced brilliant arcs in the air before vanishing into nothingness.

Yufan gently handed the restored sword back to Xingchenzi. The blade now sparkled with a cold, pure luster, reflecting the astonishment and gratitude in Xingchenzi’s eyes.

His hands trembling slightly, Xingchenzi took the reborn sword. As his fingertips glided over the spine of the blade, he felt the warmth and strength imparted by Yufan.

At that moment, even the air around them seemed to soften. Snowflakes drifted down, each one like a delicate carving from nature, landing on their shoulders before melting away in silence.

Yufan turned and, from his seemingly ordinary pack—which held countless secrets—carefully withdrew a yellowed, ancient tome. The cover bore the title "Boundless Realm Sword" in primitive seal script, exuding the charm of long-settled time.

"Big Brother, I can't take this. I don't understand it, and I can't accept things from others. My mother taught me that since I was little," Xingchenzi said, sniffing and looking troubled.

"It’s alright. I will teach you. Consider this a loan; when I return, you can give it back to me. How about that?" Yufan said in a gentle voice.

Fang Yu watched the two of them chatting, feeling a hint of drowsiness.

"I’m going to meditate," Fang Yu said, raising one hand to stifle a yawn, her face showing signs of sleepiness.

"Big Sister, you can rest on my bed! I’ll take Big Brother to sleep outside," Xingchenzi said, his eyes filled with innocence and purity.

"Let’s go, Big Brother," Xingchenzi added.

"Haha, Senior Sister, you sleep inside; we’ll sleep out here," Yufan said.

Xingchenzi led Yufan out to a dilapidated house. Following a wooden ladder, Xingchenzi climbed onto the roof, and Yufan followed with a light leap, sitting down slowly beside him.

"I'm so tired. Every day is like hiding like a rat. I only wish for the day I can avenge my mother and father. But common folk like us weren't born into sword-wielding or energy-cultivating families," Xingchenzi said, sniffing while gazing up at the starry sky.

Yufan was deeply touched. He said, "Look forward. Take it one step at a time. Defying fate and seeking revenge for one's parents—thinking about it now, it seems almost laughable."

Xingchenzi’s voice trembled in the night wind, carrying a hint of stifled sobs. His eyes pierced through the sparse clouds, as if reaching for the warmth and pain of distant memories.

Hearing this, Yufan sighed softly. He reached out and placed his hand on Xingchenzi’s shoulder, conveying not just warmth, but firm strength and comfort.

The moonlight washed over them, gilding the dilapidated roof in a soft, silvery sheen.

Yufan’s gaze grew gentle and deep. He spoke slowly: "Xingchenzi, look at those stars. Though they are far away in the heavens and their light is faint, they never cease to flicker. Even if we are born into humble circumstances, as long as we hold an inextinguishable will, we are like these stars—eventually, we will be able to illuminate our own path."

The night deepened, and all was silent, save for the insects and the distant wind weaving the night's prelude.

Yufan and Xingchenzi leaned against each other on the weathered roof. Their breathing gradually grew long and steady, as if they had become one with the night.

Xingchenzi curled up, resting his head gently on Yufan’s shoulder, his small frame hiding endless tenacity and longing. Yufan closed his eyes, a soft smile on his lips, letting the night breeze brush across his face and wash away the exhaustion of the day.

...

The moonlight fell like fine gauze, draping the humble roof in a dreamy silver veil.

The stars were scattered like dust, seemingly within reach, shining quietly upon these two dreamers, adding a touch of tenderness to their visions.

The surrounding air seemed to freeze, and time slowed to a long, languid pace. Only the faint sound of breathing, under the cover of night, quietly wove their peace and hope.

The sky gradually brightened. A pale blue hue crept over the eastern horizon, like a delicate painter dabbing onto a gray canvas.

The first rays of sunlight pierced the clouds, falling gently upon the old roof. The golden radiance intertwined with the silver moonlight, creating a dreamy and serene atmosphere.

Xingchenzi opened his eyes slowly, reflecting the anticipation and curiosity of a new day. He looked up at the moon, which was slowly fading, then turned his gaze to the rising sun, a pure and determined smile spreading across his face.

Yufan was also awakened by the soft light. He moved his shoulder slightly to let Xingchenzi lean more comfortably. The two exchanged a smile; no words were needed, as their mutual understanding and warmth passed silently in the morning light.

The scenery became clear in the dawn. The distant mountains were caressed by a light mist, appearing exceptionally soft and mysterious. Birds began to chirp happily in the branches, their crisp voices piercing the morning silence and ringing in the new day.

Xingchenzi slid nimbly down the wooden ladder and ran lightly toward the simple kitchen. The morning light filtered through the broken window frames, casting a golden outline around him.

He stood on a wobbly stool, his small hands expertly grabbing a bunch of wild greens, washing them carefully. Water droplets danced on the tender green leaves, sparkling with crystalline light.

The porridge in the pot emitted a faint fragrance of rice. Xingchenzi stirred it gently, fearing it might burn. The steam rose slowly, intertwining with the morning light, blurring his figure but sketching a picture of warmth and resilience. His eyes were focused and earnest, as if he were performing a sacred ritual, pouring every bit of his heart into the simple meal.

Fang Yu, already awakened, said, "Xingchenzi, you're up so early to prepare food?"

"Big Sister, you're awake. My mother taught me this from a young age, so it has become a habit," Xingchenzi replied.

Fang Yu sat up slowly. The morning light shone through the window, dappling her face and gilding her soft contours in warm gold. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and looked toward Xingchenzi, who was busy in the kitchen, a wave of warmth rising in her heart.

She saw him standing on the shaky stool, rising on his tiptoes to maintain his balance. His small hands held the greens tightly, washing each leaf with precision. Water droplets slid down his delicate fingertips and fell into the wooden basin, splashing into tiny ripples.

His eyes were focused and gentle, as if pouring all his emotion and hope into these simple ingredients.

Fang Yu sat quietly by the bed, watching this scene, her heart filled with mixed emotions. Xingchenzi’s back appeared small yet resilient in the morning light; his love for life and his perseverance deeply moved her. She walked to the kitchen door on tiptoes, afraid to disturb the peaceful beauty.

After the meal, as the morning sun emerged, the courtyard was filled with the faint scent of food and crisp air.

Yufan led Xingchenzi to a flat stone slab in the yard, where several wooden swords and a sharpening stone had already been placed. Sunlight filtered through the sparse leaves, casting mottled shadows on the slab.

Yufan handed a wooden sword to Xingchenzi. Though light, it seemed to carry endless weight and hope in the morning glow. He patted Xingchenzi’s shoulder, his eyes full of encouragement: "Xingchenzi, the way of the sword lies in a steady heart and hand, watching in all directions and listening to all sides. Today, I will teach you the most fundamental sword technique—'Wind Rising, Clouds Surging.'"

With that, Yufan picked up a wooden sword himself. As he moved, the tip of his sword danced like a dragon or snake, stirring up a gust of wind, as if the wind and clouds were truly following his lead. Every movement was clean and decisive, yet possessed a grace like flowing water, keeping Xingchenzi’s eyes fixed upon him.

The sunlight filtered through the treetops, casting long shadows of the two and weaving them with the surrounding greenery into a vivid picture.

Yufan, dressed in plain clothes, stood tall. Every sword move seemed to contain the steadiness of mountains and the agility of rivers. The wooden sword seemed to come alive in his hands, at times light as the wind, at others heavy as a thousand pounds.

Xingchenzi followed closely behind, his small face filled with seriousness and concentration. Though his wooden sword appeared clumsy, his persistence and effort could not be ignored.

Sweat trickled down his youthful forehead and fell onto the earth, evaporating instantly. His eyes were locked on Yufan’s sword tip, trying to capture every minute change. Each movement of the sword made his eyes shimmer with excitement and longing.

Xingchenzi was quite interested in the way of the sword, his eyes flickering with an innocent yet fiery light. He gripped the wooden sword tightly, as if it were the key to his dreams and courage.

Following Yufan’s demonstration, he attempted to imitate every move. Though initially stiff and awkward, his purity and dedication imbued every movement with vitality.

Sunlight danced through the gaps in the leaves, splashing on his small face; golden light spots jumped and shimmered alongside his sweat. Xingchenzi’s figure flickered in the interplay of light and shadow. Every swing of his sword tip was accompanied by his light breathing, as if dancing with the morning breeze.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them suddenly, his gaze now even more determined. This time, he was no longer simply imitating; he was using his heart to feel the dialogue between the sword and the wind, experiencing the essence and power behind every stance.

The wooden sword gradually became more fluid in his hands. While still far from the flowing grace of Yufan, his progress and growth suggested infinite possibilities for the future.

"This is the foundation. I will now begin the 'Boundless Realm Sword Art'." Yufan’s voice was steady and powerful. The wooden sword in his hand suddenly seemed to turn ethereal, as if no longer bound by gravity. The sword tip tapped the air, creating ripples invisible to the naked eye.

Xingchenzi’s eyes widened. He watched as Yufan’s figure moved left and right, fast and slow. The sword light was like a tapestry, yet left no trace. Each strike seemed to lack a fixed trajectory, yet contained the hidden principles of heaven and earth, merging with the wind, the birds, and even the morning light, reaching an indescribable state of harmony.

Sunlight pierced the leaves, forming beams of light that shone upon Yufan, as if draping him in a mysterious radiance.

His sword moves were sometimes as gentle as a spring breeze, brushing past leaves without harming them; at other times, they were as sharp as autumn winds sweeping away fallen leaves, tearing through the air with a faint whistling sound wherever the blade passed.

Yufan’s voice was low and magnetic, each word seemingly carrying a kind of magic, immersing Xingchenzi’s heart and soul completely. He gripped the wooden sword, its tip trembling slightly. Following Yufan’s instructions, Xingchenzi repeated softly: "First stance, Whirlwind—"

He traced a graceful arc with his sword tip. Though not as fluid as Yufan’s, it held a youthful agility. In the morning light, the sword shadow flickered like dewdrops under the rising sun, crystalline and clear.

"Second stance, Slash—" Xingchenzi shifted his stance, the sword's momentum changing abruptly. The tip plunged downward, carrying a formidable gust of wind. Although it was just a wooden sword, it seemed capable of cutting through all obstacles; the air was disturbed by this power, emitting a faint hum.

Yufan’s voice echoed in the morning light, carrying a dignity and tenderness that could not be ignored. He tapped his sword tip, signaling Xingchenzi to keep the rhythm.

Xingchenzi held his breath, his gaze locked on Yufan’s illusory sword shadow, reciting the mantra in his heart: "First stance, Whirlwind; second stance, Slash; third stance, Wave..." As he recited, the wooden sword in his hand seemed to be imbued with a soul, the tip outlining magnificent patterns in the air.

"Third stance, Wave!" Xingchenzi shouted in a low voice, lunging forward. The sword's momentum swept out like a storm, and where the tip passed, the air seemed to be sliced apart, leaving faint, visible trails.

Though his movements were not as natural as Yufan’s, they were beginning to take shape, each strike containing his dedication and love for the sword.

"Sixth stance, Sword Intent Takes Form!" Yufan’s voice suddenly became soaring and profound. He retreated several steps, raised the wooden sword above his head, and pointed it toward the firmament. A faint current seemed to gather around him, forming ripples visible to the naked eye.

Sunlight refracted through these currents, casting brilliant colors and enveloping Yufan in a dreamlike radiance.

Seeing this, a flash of shock and longing crossed Xingchenzi’s eyes. He gritted his teeth and, imitating Yufan, concentrated all his strength and will into the tip of his sword.

The wooden sword no longer felt like an ordinary object in his hand, but a vessel for his infinite yearning for the path of the sword. He took a deep breath, lunged forward, and the sword tip pierced the air with a sharp whistle, followed by his figure moving like lightning, weaving through the light and shadow.

"Not bad... Xingchenzi, you have great talent. Practice well; when I return, I will check your progress," Yufan said, patting Xingchenzi on the shoulder.

"Yes! I will not let you down, Big Brother," Xingchenzi said, thumping his chest.

"I’ll be waiting for you and Big Sister to return," Xingchenzi said, his eyes filled with a touch of determination.

"Yes," Yufan replied.