Chapter 1
The spring rain was a gentle murmur, painting the world in hues of tranquility.
There was a young boy, his waist girded with a simple wooden sword. In his right hand, he carried a time-worn bamboo basket, and on his back, a gourd of wine swayed with each lively step. His straw shoes seemed to barely touch the ground, as if he was part of the breeze that playfully scattered peach blossoms onto his slightly damp hair and the frayed edges of his blue shirt. There was an air of quiet grace about him, a youthful elegance that was as natural as the wind itself.
He moved with a purpose through the rain-soaked forest, his eyes alight with a clarity and wisdom beyond his years. At just eleven or twelve, he seemed to dance with the rain, embracing the storm as a companion on his journey.
His name was Gu Yusheng, a name that whispered tales of bravery and innocence.
A year had passed since the day a great demon threatened Qingpingzhou, casting a shadow over the land. It was the last time Gu Yusheng had seen his father, a figure of strength and resolve, who had walked away from Qingyun Gate to confront the demon. His father's parting look, firm yet filled with affection, was a memory that lingered in Gu Yusheng's heart, as vivid as the day it happened.
Now, at the foot of Qingping Mountain, amidst a forest of blooming peach trees, there lay a lone grave.
To Gu Yusheng, the wooden sword and the gourd of wine were more than just objects; they were relics of his father, keepsakes of a hero.
Surrounding the solitary grave, the grass grew lush and untamed, a testament to the passage of time. The spring rain continued to fall, scattering petals of peach blossoms like a delicate tapestry. It was a stark reminder that the strong and steadfast presence of his father, once a constant like the sword on his back, was no more.
In silent homage, Gu Yusheng placed the gourd of wine before the grave and raised his eyes to the dim, overcast sky. The rain fell softly, weaving a pattern like tears, mirroring the sorrow in his heart.
And there he stood, lost in a sea of memories, for a long, long time.
Gu Yusheng unsheathed the wooden sword from his waist and struck at a nearby peach branch, causing petals to flutter down, covering him in a cascade of blossoms.
"Sigh."
The boy let out a soft sigh.
He gazed intently at the wooden sword in his hands, his slender fingers gently caressing it, his face showing a mix of affection and reminiscence.
In the peach blossom forest years ago, as a young child, he rode on his father's shoulders, his face filled with wonder as he observed the world around him.
"Daddy, you carry this sword every day, but I've never seen you use it. Do you really know how to use a sword?" the child had asked curiously.
"A little," his father had replied.
"Daddy, will you teach me swordsmanship, please?"
"No, my teacher once said that only after cutting down all the peach blossoms on the mountain do I have the right to teach others. But I can make you a wooden sword."
"Daddy, let me see your sword."
"Don't touch it, it's a Guardian Sword."
"What is a Guardian Sword?"
"Yusheng, you're still young. When you grow up, you'll understand."
Memories unfolded one after the other.
Gu Yusheng took a deep breath, plucked a few peach blossoms, and dropped them into his wine gourd. He spoke aloud, "Dad, today Qingyun Gate is accepting new disciples. I plan to join and pursue my cultivation. If you're watching over me, please bless me with the chance to find a master. Once I have mastered the sword, I promise to cut down all the peach blossoms on this mountain and slay the demons that torment our people."
Gu Yusheng took a sip of wine from his gourd, the fiery liquor stinging his heart, as if awakening deeper emotions within.
In this moment, the twelve-year-old frail boy seemed to grow a bit older, more determined.
Armed with a wooden sword and carrying a wine gourd, he made his way towards Qingping Mountain.
Rich young heirs on their spirited horses passed by Gu Yusheng, kicking up dust and mud that clung to him. They were all headed to Qingyun Gate, each with ambitions of their own.
The path without his father’s guiding presence felt endlessly long.
Yet, Gu Yusheng's gaze remained unwavering, unafraid of the muddy shoes or the wetness seeping into his clothes.
The road to Qingyun Gate, once a trail of joyful childhood memories, now bore the imprint of his father’s heroic yet tragic end, deepening its significance in his heart.
“Hey, look who it is? If it isn’t Gu Yusheng.”
A luxurious carriage drawn by two horses parted its curtains, revealing a boy about Gu Yusheng’s age.
It was Lu Chen, a childhood companion from Qingyun Town.
His father, too, had been a cultivator of Qingyun Gate, who had returned safely from the demon-slaying mission years ago and now held a prestigious position as an elder of Qingyun Gate.
The privileges of a distinguished lineage were evident: a carriage drawn by two horses, attended by servants, the epitome of grandeur.
Childhood friends once, their paths had diverged over the years.
Gu Yusheng looked up at Lu Chen, meeting a pair of eyes filled with smug arrogance.
Lu Chen gestured, and the carriage came to a halt. The servants eyed Gu Yusheng with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Today, as another member of the Lu family was to enter Qingyun Gate, the servants knew well their young master’s thoughts.
It was an opportunity for entertainment at another's expense.
With a slight smirk, Lu Chen taunted, “Gu Yusheng, are you actually commemorating your cowardly father?”
Gu Yusheng clasped his sleeves tightly, his knuckles whitening as he held back his emotions. He spoke firmly, "My father was not a coward."
"He was," Lu Chen retorted, his voice slightly raised.
The servants and maids by the carriage snickered behind their hands.
A year ago, three hundred cultivators from Qingyun had journeyed to Qingpingzhou to slay demons. Among them was Gu Yusheng's father, Gu Bai. Normally, dying in such a battle was considered a glorious sacrifice, and the returning spirits would be welcomed by the people.
But that year, many perished, almost to the point of annihilation. Gu Bai never returned, and his companions only brought back his unsheathed sword.
Soon after, rumors circulated in Qingyun Town. It was said that Gu Bai had lacked the courage even to draw his sword in the face of demons, that he had been chased across Qingpingzhou and eventually devoured by a great demon.
"Gu Bai is a coward" became a common topic of gossip in Qingyun Town.
"He is not," Gu Yusheng bit his lip in response.
For years, he had held onto the belief that his father, who had walked into the peach blossom forest with a sword, was a heroic demon-slayer.
"He is," Lu Chen spread his hands, his eyes landing mockingly on the wooden sword at Gu Yusheng's waist. "If you don't believe it, ask anyone in Qingyun Town."
"He is not a coward!"
Gu Yusheng's fists clenched inside his sleeves, his frail body trembling slightly, his lips white from biting down hard.
"Well then, he isn't, haha."
Lu Chen cracked his whip, urging the horses forward.
The horse hooves splattered mud on Gu Yusheng once more, as he stood motionless, lost in his thoughts.
Laughter echoed from inside the carriage.
"The coward's son is also going to cultivate in the mountains."
That piercing voice was not carried away by the spring breeze but instead rang clearer in his ears.
"He is not."
Gu Yusheng's voice was barely audible, even to himself. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he looked up, his eyes red and swollen.
In his vision, Qingping Mountain loomed high, so high that Gu Yusheng could never see its peak.
But in his heart, his father's figure seemed even taller.
"Daddy, how high is Qingping Mountain?"
"Yusheng, you can't see the peak because you're in a deep abyss. Only by climbing up can you stand at the peak and look at the world from above."
"Daddy, have you ever reached the peak?"
That year, Gu Bai didn't answer. Perhaps he had said something, but it was carried away by the wind, and Gu Yusheng never heard it.
"One day, I will climb to the highest point of Qingyun and see for myself," Gu Yusheng vowed, gripping his wooden sword.
If his father had once reached the summit, he wanted to follow in his footsteps.
If his father had never seen the view from the top, then he was even more determined to do so himself.
To see just how high this mountain was.
To witness the vast expanse of the world.
"It’s good for a young man to aspire to see the world from above, but don’t forget to watch the path under your feet," came a voice.
Gu Yusheng turned around to find an elderly man quietly following him.
The old man wore tattered clothes, his hair and beard streaked with white. His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones prominent. His age was indeterminable, and he was notably short. He carried a large, elongated black wooden case on his back, resembling a case for a qin or perhaps a sword.
With his bamboo cane touching the ground, Gu Yusheng noticed a large pit right in his path.
"Thank you, sir," Gu Yusheng bowed respectfully.
The old man leaned on his cane, gasping for breath. The drizzle fell on his old clothes and graying hair, making his silver strands flutter wildly as his robe billowed in the wind. Only the wooden case on his back remained untouched by the rain and dust.
His cloudy eyes glanced over Gu Yusheng's wooden sword and then at the gourd on his back, momentarily brightening.
"Young man, may I have a sip of your wine?"
Gu Yusheng hesitated, then said, "This wine was used to commemorate my father."
"You are still young. Even if your father were alive, I could still have a drink," the old man replied.
He beckoned Gu Yusheng to sit beside him and rest.
Gu Yusheng approached and silently handed the wine gourd to the old man.
The elder uncorked the gourd, sniffed it gently, and sighed, "Excellent peach blossom wine," before draining it in one gulp.
Gu Yusheng's eyes widened in surprise. Over the years, living frugally, the wine he brewed was nothing special, merely infused with a few peach blossoms – hardly fine liquor. Yet, seeing the old man's weathered face, as if he had weathered a lifetime of hardships, Gu Yusheng felt a pang of empathy. He wondered if, without striving for more, he might end up the same, finding his only joy in a flask of mediocre wine.
This thought only strengthened his resolve.
"This year's peach blossom wine is gone, but I'll return for another flask next year," Gu Yusheng declared.
The old man stroked his beard, satisfied, and handed back the gourd.
Gu Yusheng hung the gourd on his back, his gaze lingering on the wooden case the old man carried. Summoning his courage, he asked, "Sir, what's inside that case?"
"A sword," the old man replied calmly, his gnarled finger pointing at the wooden sword at Gu Yusheng's waist.
"Shall we trade?"
Gu Yusheng instinctively clung to his wooden sword, his eyes fixed on the case. He could just make out the mysterious inscriptions on it, even more profound than those on the demon-suppressing stele at the entrance of Qingyun Town. Surely, the sword inside was extraordinary.
But the thought of trading was fleeting.
This wooden sword was crafted by his father, who had searched the peach blossom forest for the finest piece of wood, carving it day and night. The yin and yang on the sword guard, the two lifelike figures...
Gu Yusheng remembered his father drinking for half a month under the peach trees as he carved the other figure.
"I won't trade," he replied decisively.
The old man seemed to smile.
"What a pity."
"Sir, may I see the sword unsheathed?"
Gu Yusheng asked impulsively, his eyes filled with longing.
For a year, he had been haunted by sleepless nights and regrets. He had never seen his father draw his sword.
He had died without ever doing so.
Like a nightmare.
The people of Qingyun Town said his father was a coward who dared not draw his sword in the face of demons.
Gu Yusheng harbored resentment.
Resentment that his father had not drawn his sword.
If only he had, he wouldn't have been buried under those peach trees. His name could have been inscribed on the demon-suppressing stele as a heroic spirit.
"Yes, you may."
Without a moment's hesitation, the old man set aside his bamboo cane and slowly stood up.
His figure, no longer frail, seemed to grow in the spring breeze. His face, weathered by time, now bore an intense gaze. He stood tall and straight, the sword case on his back humming sharply.
As his words fell, the sword was drawn.
A wisp of green sword light, as if seeping from the wooden case, flowed like silk rain in the empty mountains.
The entire world was bathed in a brilliant, unobstructed light.
The sword energy that emerged pierced the heavens like stars in broad daylight.
The sword's radiance surged towards the constellation of Taurus.
"In a world of strife, the sword is drawn, the hardest task is to slay demons. Silk rain brews peach blossoms, guiding you into Qingyun!"
The old man's voice was a whisper.
As Gu Yusheng's vision cleared,
The world fell silent.
He looked around,
But the old man had vanished.
Suddenly, there was the sound of rumbling carriages and whistling horses, a path leading straight to Qingyun.
Gu Yusheng stood before the gates of Qingyun Mountain!
