Chapter 35: The Second Form of the Green Lotus Sword Song—Yin and Yang! Ye Lingling Arrives, Li Zhexian Accepts the Challenge

Night falls.

Cold pools reflect the moon, while thermal springs exhale clouds of steam. The mist of the Ice and Fire Yin-Yang Well interweaves and rises under the starlight—distinct as black and white, yet fused into a singular whole.

A swordsman in white robes treads upon the moonlight, his toes shattering the reflection of the galaxy upon the water’s surface. Li Zhe-Xian descends gracefully into the center of the spring. His mind is clear, his gaze sharp as lightning, possessing a soul-captivating intensity. Sensing its master’s enlightened sword heart, the Green Lotus Sword emits a resonant, crystalline hum.

Sword in hand, Li Zhe-Xian moves. The blade sweeps from the fiery spring to the icy one, sending ripples cascading outward.

"Ice forged into a blade, fire tempered into an edge; only by balancing the hard and the soft can one attain the true essence of the sword."

Whoosh—
Whoosh—

The wind rises, as if in response. The three-foot-six-inch blade is clear and cool like jade. The spine of the sword divides the steel: one side is crimson, like surging magma; the other is icy blue, like the chilling radiance of the polar extremes.

"The Yang is scorching; when the sword strikes, it is like the great sun descending to earth!"

Li Zhe-Xian flicks his wrist, and the crimson flames on the blade roar to life. Each strike carries the momentum of a falling star, the heatwaves distorting the air into transparent, serpentine coils.

"The Yin is frost; when the sword returns, it is like the eternal night sealing the realm!"

Li Zhe-Xian shifts his stance, and the azure frost condenses upon the edge. Where the sword-qi passes, frost patterns spread like spiderwebs; grass and trees crystallize in an instant, shattering into dust at the slightest breeze.

Boom—!!!

The dual-colored sword-qi of ice and fire interweaves and pierces the sky, violently tearing through the night curtain. Li Zhe-Xian leaps high. When he lands, the ground within a ten-foot radius is scorched and cracked on the left, while covered in an inch of ice on the right. It is as if a Taiji diagram of Yin and Yang has manifested with him at its center.

The blade vibrates gently, the icy and fiery phenomena fading away to restore its cool, jade-like luster. Li Zhe-Xian traces the newly formed Yin-Yang fish pattern on the sword’s spine with his fingers, pondering for a long moment before chuckling.

"The second form of the Green Lotus Sword Song is called..."

"Yin-Yang."

"This 'Yin-Yang' form is divided into the Sword of Scorch and the Sword of Frost."

"There are three realms of the sword: the lowest slays men, the middle slays the self, and the highest slays the night."

"If the first form of the Green Lotus Sword Song—'Yaoguang'—was a ray of starlight I stole, where the blade points, it takes both lives and celestial light..."

"Then this second form—'Yin-Yang'—is a thread of the primordial balance I have intercepted; it seeks not only to sever life and death but to glimpse the very fabric of creation."

"Haa..."

Li Zhe-Xian exhales a breath of stale air and tilts his head back to take a long, hearty drink of wine.

"Splendid! Truly splendid!"

"The second form of the Green Lotus Sword Song is complete!"

"I, Li Zhe-Xian, have finally emerged from seclusion!"

The next day.

As the first light of dawn begins to glow, Li Zhe-Xian returns to his small courtyard. From afar, he sees a slender figure standing quietly before his door, clutching a pile of bundles. It is Ye Ling-Ling.

Li Zhe-Xian approaches, noticing the girl has yet to spot him. A mischievous impulse takes hold. He leans close to her ear and lets out a sudden, piercing shout.

"AH—!"

Ye Ling-Ling shudders in shock. Everything in her hands falls to the ground. She remains silent, her cold, delicate face taut as she bends down to retrieve them. Li Zhe-Xian curls his lip and flicks his finger; a supple strand of sword-qi lifts the items from the ground and deposits them steadily into her arms.

"Ye Ling-Ling, what are you doing at my home?"

Ye Ling-Ling bites her lip, glancing at Li Zhe-Xian with her azure eyes before quickly lowering her gaze. She holds out the items, her voice as crisp as a mountain spring:

"For you."

Li Zhe-Xian does not take them. Instead, he looks her up and down, noting her long blue hair dampened by the morning dew, and asks:

"Did your mother send you?"

Ye Ling-Ling is silent. Li Zhe-Xian understands, and asks again:

"Do you come every morning?"

Still, she says nothing.

"Sigh..."

Li Zhe-Xian sighs softly and turns to unlock his door.

"Go back and tell your mother that I have not the slightest interest in the ancient grievances between the Nine-Heart Begonia and the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda."

With these words, he steps into the courtyard. Ye Ling-Ling follows close behind.

Bang—!

The gate slams shut in an instant, nearly hitting the tip of her delicate nose. The girl lowers her lashes, her thin, frail figure standing stubbornly in place, her hands still clutching the gift her mother had sent. Her exquisite face is void of expression. She appears cold and ethereal, yet she resembles a small creature abandoned in the storm—bewildered, lonely, and without shelter.

Li Zhe-Xian puts the matter of the Ye family out of his mind. Having been away for days, the house is thick with dust. He shapes his fingers into a sword and sweeps the air; a sudden gust of wind erupts within the room, scattering the dust. With a flick of his sleeve, the wind gathers the dust into a ball, which he casually tosses outside. After tidying up the corners and organizing his clothes, half an hour passes.

Seeing his cottage refreshed, Li Zhe-Xian nods with satisfaction. Next, he must attend to the yard. He pushes the door open and steps out. Suddenly, his brow furrows as he looks toward the gate; the faint aura outside is still there.

"You haven't left yet?"

Li Zhe-Xian walks over and pulls the gate open. Amidst the creaking, Ye Ling-Ling’s cold yet delicate face appears once more.

"For you."

Beads of sweat dot her forehead as she presents the gift.

"Ye Ling-Ling, are you always this stubborn?"

Li Zhe-Xian’s brows are locked tight, his tone brooking no argument.

"I will never accept anything from your Ye family."

He turns to leave. Ye Ling-Ling’s gaze falls on the clear spring wine gourd tucked at his waist. She blinks her blue eyes and suddenly says:

"Inside... is the vintage my mother gave you."

The air freezes for a moment. Li Zhe-Xian turns abruptly, a warm, spring-like smile blossoming on his handsome face:

"Oh, isn't this Ye Ling-Ling! You shouldn't have brought anything when coming to visit."

Ye Ling-Ling parts her red lips slightly, watching the white-clad youth’s sudden change of heart with a blank expression. Li Zhe-Xian rummages through the pile of treasures, picks out a small, exquisite wine gourd, and enters the courtyard in high spirits.

This time, the gate remains open. Ye Ling-Ling follows him in silently. Seeing the dusty yard, she quietly rolls up her sleeves to clean. Li Zhe-Xian does not stop her; he sits on a stone stool, unplugs the gourd, and takes a satisfied sip. He smacks his lips.

"Hmm, not bad. It has a hint of the lingering charm of flower wine."

"Pity, it still lacks a certain something to be worthy of my Clear Spring Gourd."

Watching Ye Ling-Ling sweep with clumsy but earnest movements, Li Zhe-Xian traces his finger through the air. An invisible sword-qi sweeps across the yard, gathering all the dust into a corner. Ye Ling-Ling sits opposite him, lowering her eyes in silence.

"Can you drink?"

Li Zhe-Xian pushes the gourd toward her. "After all, you were the one who brought it."

Ye Ling-Ling takes the gourd and tilts her head back to take a large gulp.

"Cough! Cough!"

The pungent, spicy liquor rushes to her lungs, and she coughs, covering her mouth. Her cheeks flush with a rosy hue, and a misty sheen clouds her blue eyes. Li Zhe-Xian takes the gourd back, frowning.

"If you can’t drink, don't. I was just asking, not forcing you."

Ye Ling-Ling wipes the wine from her lips, her voice carrying a faint, imperceptible tremor:

"My mother told me to listen to you."

"Whatever you tell me to do, I will do."

Li Zhe-Xian’s brows furrow even deeper.

"What about you? Is there nothing you want to do yourself?"

Looking at the girl’s face—which, rather than being cold, seemed drained of spirit, leaving behind only a numb, submissive fragility—Li Zhe-Xian waves his hand.

"Forget it, never mind that."

"Hmm, any fresh news in Heaven Dou City lately?"

Ye Ling-Ling thinks for a moment.

"Yes."

"A fat man calling himself the Evil Fire Phoenix has arrived in the Imperial City. He has won nearly fifty consecutive matches at the Fighting Arena."

"He has declared that he wants to challenge 'Sword and Wine'."

She pauses, looking at Li Zhe-Xian.

"He says he will shatter Sword and Wine’s blade and kick over his wine."

Li Zhe-Xian’s hand, holding the gourd, pauses for a fraction of a second, then he calmly brings the drink to his lips.

*Clap—*

He sets the gourd on the stone table and stands up. Ye Ling-Ling rises as well.

"Where are you going?"

"The Fighting Arena."