Love Travels through Time (My father who traveled through time and space to cultivate immortality came back to pick me up) - Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Swordsmanship Lesson
Xiang Heng was about to activate the formation disk when Jing Ran had to make a choice.
“Uncle, can I stay?”
Xiang Heng’s hand paused, though he wasn’t surprised.
When a mortal enters the world of cultivation and witnesses its mystical powers, it’s only natural to desire immortality.
But Xiang Heng did not encourage it.
“Little brother, this path—”
This path is not easy. In this world, many cultivate just to survive.
Yet, this young man had excellent innate talent and exceptional comprehension.
Now that he had the will to enter the path of cultivation, cutting off his path would be akin to killing his parents.
Xiang Heng said, “How about this—I’ll send you back first, so you can say goodbye to your parents. After some time, I’ll come pick you up.”
This would cost Xiang Heng quite a bit of effort, but thinking about how his mistake in bringing the wrong person here might have caused great suffering to the boy’s parents, he couldn’t bear the guilt.
Jing Ran, however, shook his head and refused.
“Isn’t it said that those who cultivate should sever worldly ties? Let them think I’m dead. They’ll grieve for a while, but then they’ll move on. Besides, I have a younger brother. If they knew I had gone to cultivate, they would worry about me for the rest of their lives.”
Xiang Heng was momentarily speechless.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt this young man was truly suited for cultivation—particularly the path of emotionless Dao.
Xiang Heng agreed, “Alright, if you regret it, let me know anytime. But I must warn you—once you reach the Foundation Establishment stage, returning will no longer be easy. The formation disk won’t be able to withstand it.”
Jing Ran stepped off the formation disk and cupped his hands in a formal salute.
“Many thanks.”
On his way back, he happened to run into Xiang Tianqing.
The eldest daughter of Silver Sand City wore a red dress, her tall figure as striking as a blooming peach blossom.
Jing Ran nodded slightly in greeting and stepped aside to continue walking.
Xiang Tianqing, however, turned to glance at him before retracting her gaze and looking toward the high platform where Xiang Heng stood.
Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to say, “Father.”
Her emotions had always been conflicted.
She wished for her father’s wish to be fulfilled—for him to bring his biological daughter back.
Yet deep down, she felt uneasy and bitter.
Father said he cared for both daughters equally.
But was that truly possible?
Blood ties… were different, after all.
As Xiang Tianqing looked around, someone in the crowd was also observing her with spiritual consciousness.
A man with a pair of long, elegant hands was casually admiring his own fingers, tapping them idly.
“‘Both daughters are equally loved’?” He sneered.
“These lowly mortals always manage to displease the young lady.”
In the Ten Thousand Bones Cave.
Xiang Haikui sat cross-legged with the Tian Kuang Sword resting on her knees, ready for her first-ever sword lesson.
Qi Yin sat down as well, the iron chains on him clinking, sparks flying as they struck the ground.
“Normally, when I teach a disciple, I select a sword that suits them, gift them a matching sword manual, and leave them with one piece of advice.”
Qi Yin said, “Before using a sword, learn to use your brain. No matter how strong a sword is, it is merely an extension of the arm.”
Xiang Haikui nodded like a pecking chick.
“Disciple understands!”
“But,” Qi Yin suddenly changed his tone, “you are different. You don’t need to use your brain.”
Qi Yin’s gaze dropped slightly, landing on the Tian Kuang Sword on her lap.
“This sword comes from an ancient sword sect. When it entered my sect,
the sect’s grandmaster spent his entire life forging twelve divine swords. They were: Tian Tong, Tian Shang, Tian Jie, Tian Xian, Tian Can—”
Tian Kuang was the last of the twelve divine swords.
“The cultivation method of these divine swords is unlike ordinary ones.”
Xiang Haikui was puzzled.
“How is it different?”
Qi Yin said, “The training method for each divine sword is sealed within its sword realm. Take up the Tian Kuang Sword.”
She followed his instruction.
“Close your eyes and perceive it with your heart.”
This was difficult for her.
After much effort, her consciousness finally entered the “sword realm” of Tian Kuang.
The training method was simple—one had to be mad enough.
The sword only recognized those who were truly mad.
When one was mad enough, they would generate something called “mad intent.”
The sword would absorb this mad intent, and when enough was accumulated, the wielder would enter a berserk state—like activating an ultimate move in a game.
During this state, the wielder would grow dragon horns, their lips would turn black, looking as if they had been demonized.
Upon reaching the highest level, the wielder would merge with the sword and transform into a black flood dragon.
After seeing all this, only one thought filled Xiang Haikui’s mind:
That grandmaster must have been a gamer who transmigrated here, right?
Her voice trembled.
“Master… am I really going to cultivate myself into a flood dragon?”
Qi Yin replied, “Tian Kuang is originally a demonic sword, best suited for unruly and unrestrained demon cultivators. It requires no spiritual roots.”
She pulled a long face.
“Oh.”
Qi Yin suddenly snapped, “Are you discriminating against demon cultivators?”
“How could I?”
Xiang Haikui was baffled by his sudden anger and quickly explained.
She was just feeling unfairly treated.
Others cultivated swordsmanship that was elegant and dashing—one strike, and the entire land shone with cold light.
Meanwhile, she was about to turn into a monster, relying on brute strength to fight head-on.
Qi Yin furrowed his brows, about to scold her, but seeing that she was a female disciple, he held back his temper.
“Many years ago, there was a flood dragon. The dragons of his world saw his kind as inferior, a disgrace to their bloodline, and sought to exterminate them.”
As he suddenly told this story, Xiang Haikui listened intently while glancing at the black dragon coiled around her sword.
That flood dragon had suffered greatly—hunted, driven into exile.
When he finally built a home, his wife and children were slaughtered.
He swore to reach the pinnacle of power and take revenge.
“He struggled beyond imagination, and finally, when he reached the peak of his tribulation, on the verge of transforming into a true dragon, he glimpsed his fate.”
Haikui asked curiously, “What fate?”
Qi Yin sighed.
“A lonely star of calamity. At one thousand years, he would become a dragon; at three thousand, a celestial dragon; at six thousand, a heavenly dragon.”
Haikui marveled, “So is he a heavenly dragon now?”
No.
If he had ascended, how could he have been forged into a sword?
“Mm.”
Qi Yin sighed again.
“After glimpsing his fate, he realized his whole life’s struggles had been meaningless.
His parents’ deaths, his suffering—it wasn’t his enemies’ fault.”
Did he get revenge?
No.
The true culprit behind his clan’s massacre was fate itself—himself.
Heaven had given him a great destiny, and his family was merely sacrificed for that divine purpose.
So, instead of ascending, he crashed headfirst into Heaven’s peak, rejecting his fate.
The sect’s grandmaster collected his remains and, with his permission, forged the Tian Kuang Sword from his dragon pearl and bones.
Was that madness or insanity?
The line between the two was thin, and no one could judge his right or wrong.
After a moment of silence, Haikui ran her fingers along the sword’s black dragon engraving.
Something in her gaze changed.
Qi Yin asked at the perfect moment, “Heaven willed for the flood dragon to ascend through endless tribulations, to grant him immortality.
Now, if Heaven wishes to destroy you, what will you do?”
Xiang Haikui gritted her teeth.
“I will live—live a free and unrestrained life!”
