Chương 36: Cutting Wind Sword Technique

Rowan The sky was a pale, dusty brown, and a small black moon hung in the distance. Inside the bloodstone, Rowan stood in front of the Ostra's shop again. It didn't cost any spirit stones to enter this time. Once he had spent the spirit stones, it seemed to be permanently open for business. He opened the door, peeking his head inside the dark antique shop. No one was inside.

"Hello?" he called out. When no response came, he decided to step past the threshold, looking at the collection of jade slips surrounding him. The sign claimed the store was open, but Shopkeeper Ostra was nowhere to be found. Rowan didn't dare touch the jade slips without permission. Slips often had curses or enchantments on them for protection, similar to his father's Codex of Dry Fire.

He constrained himself to daydreaming about the incredible scriptures they must hold, whetting his appetite for his future purchases. Scritch. He spun in a slow circle. One jade slip after another scraped against the wooden shelves and fell. Before they hit the floor, they transformed into spotted brown moths, the color of old parchment. The moths flew together, the flapping of their wings dull and loud, coalescing into the figure of a man.

Their spots expanded and thinned, forming the darkness of his nostrils and the whites of his eyes.

"Senior Ostra?" he asked in amazement.

"Yes," said the man, fixing his glasses and adjusting his uniform.

"I see you have accumulated some store credit. What do you desire?" Rowan didn't hold back. He pulled out the threadbare red spatial pouch he had looted from the Flood Dragon's body in Blackscale Cove.

"I've had this for a while, but I'm not sure how to open it. Any ideas?" It had been a mystery weighing on his mind, and nothing he tried even got as much as a response from the pouch. Rowan was sure Ostra would be able to help, and he was willing to spend points if necessary. Any number of treasures could be inside. He placed the pouch on the counter. Ostra gave it a speculative stare for a moment before he picked it up.

He pushed his glasses up his nose, squinting at the item from several different angles, testing the weight and feel of the pouch.

"Ah. I believe this is a Nascent Soul artifact," he said sagely.

"While I can, and likely will, give you the techniques I've learned to pick this lock, they are currently beyond your reach."

"I figured," said Rowan with a sigh. He reached for the pouch, only for the man to pull it away.

"However…" The man trailed off.

"You may not need to force it open it at all." Rowan lowered his hand, pausing.

"Please go on, senior."

"Locks at this level don't rely on passcodes or bloodline enchantments, which can be easily fooled, but an individual's Dao. Your body was created from the owner of this pouch's Water Essence, wasn't it?"

"That may be true, senior, but it refuses to open for me. I've already tried a few methods. No matter how hard I pull at it, the knot won't loosen."

"Have you tried asking it to open?" Rowan stared at him, stupified.

"It's a high-level spiritual object - undoubtedly, it's aware that its owner has passed on, and that you carry her Dao. If you say a few kind words, perhaps it'll acknowledge you as her heir."

"But… I robbed her corpse…"

"Lad, the relationship between you and that Flood Dragon is closer than mother and son." With a sigh, Rowan took the red pouch back from the shopkeeper.

"Greetings, Honored Pouch… This one knows you were waiting for a long time in that cave. I have a lot of admiration for your past master." There was no response.

"Even a scrap of her power could annihilate me without a trace, yet, she also helped me form my Supreme Five Element Physique, which fixed the issues of my cultivation and allowed me to pursue the Dao." Rowan waited, with his eyes pinned to the counter. He didn't want to see Ostra's expression. When nothing happened, Rowan took a deep breath.

"I owe your master my life. I hope you will one day find this one acceptable, but will you consider opening up for me in the meanwhile?" Nothing continued to happen for just a moment, but then, there was a slight twitch from the pouch, and then the opening loosened with a slight sag, as if the pouch had found Rowan's flattery as embarrassing as he had.

"It worked," remarked Rowan with awe, his eyes sparkling.

"Thank you for trusting me, Honored Pouch." He turned to Shopkeeper Ostra and cupped his fist, bowing.

"Thank you, Shopkeeper Ostra!" The man nodded, picking at the skin along the edges of his fingernails.

"You still have forty-one points to spend. Let's find something useful for you." Not wanting to seem greedy or impolite, Rowan gritted his teeth and stuffed the pouch into his sleeve without looking at the contents within. Rowan, who now had one of the biggest thorns in his side solved for free, was suddenly at a loss.

"I have a spiritual art and a Divine Sense scripture. My Forgegod Spirit Root and Bloodwood lineage can be considered forms body cultivation. For now, the one thing I'm seriously lacking is a good sword technique." His qi weapon was being forged at that very moment too. It would be great if he had a technique to go along with it. Ordinarily, he might have saved up for a while to afford a great scripture, like his Ensouled in Wood manual. But he didn't have the time.

The tournament was approaching quickly, and he needed a good showing if he was going to win any of the prizes. Not to mention, his performance would dictate which sect team he was placed in. Giving up these things for only forty-one points of store credit wasn't worth it. Ostra seemed to understand his concerns without Rowan having to voice them.

"I have many, some of which will be good to learn today, some of which will be good to learn after you've spent lifetimes walking this long road. If you need to learn how to swing a sword today, I cannot guarantee it, but I'll make my best attempt to find something that will not likely close off roads unseen."

"I know how to swing a sword," protested Rowan, who spent a lot of his time proving that during Instructor Sutter's training classes.

"Are you not asking me for the first sword scripture you'll be cultivating?" rebuked Ostra. Rowan winced internally. Ostra smiled thinly.

"Cheer up. There are some people who would claim that even I have yet to learn to swing a sword. But that's why no one enjoys speaking to sword cultivators." Sheesh. Wonder what Ostra thinks about music cultivators, then? Rowan was afraid to ask. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I'll be participating in a tournament soon, so something versatile would probably be best." He put a finger to his chin.

"On the other hand, I have an upcoming duel with an Earth path cultivator in the near future. Senior, do you have any suggestions?"

"Hmm…" Shopkeeper Ostra went to the shelves, pulling out one scripture, reading it, and shaking his head before pulling out another. This went on for several minutes before he finally chose one, a note of approval on his face.

"Cutting Wind Sword Technique." Rowan took the slip hesitantly.

"Wind?"

"Your best chance of defeating an Earth cultivator is by avoiding all of his attacks and countering with speed. Just as Wood grows upward, the wind blows across. Not to mention, trees need the stress of wind in order to mature and not fall due to their own weight. You are a very heavy tree. Wind can temper your cultivation base without causing any elemental conflicts."

"No elemental conflicts?"

"When you cultivate this, always keep in mind that wind is not an element, but a reaction of elements meeting," explained Ostra. The jade slip was yellowed, just like all the others.

"How many points?"

"It's a rank-two scripture. I'll take forty." Rowan nodded, putting the slip away.

"What can I get for one point?" Ostra pointed his thumb at a section of the eastern wall.

"I've got some odds and ends there. Have a look. Be careful." The man wasn't lying. Some of the jade slips were broken in half, others contained only a few lines of text. There were slips of poetry, and slips with sheets of strange music. There were some broken weapons mixed in with them, creating a hazardous pile as tall as Rowan. Rowan dug through them carefully before gingerly prying loose a slip with a portrait of a blue heron landing in a lotus pond.

There was a distinct sound of glass breaking somewhere deep in the pile, but Ostra didn't seem to care. Rowan admired the portrait. The waves of the pond undulated gently, and the feathers of the bird ruffled slightly in an unseen breeze. Shimmering scales of fish flashed beneath the water. It was a Divine Meditation Portrait painted with watercolors more vibrant than Rowan had ever seen. He'd found a steal. Divine Meditation Portraits were rare.

As far he knew, Elder Patino owned the only one in all of Righteous Mountain Sect. Meditating on such an artifact was amongst the few concrete ways to improve Divine Sense.

"Acceptable choice," praised Ostra.

"Why was this in the one point pile?"

"My trade is in rare antiques," said Ostra.

"That portrait might be well-drawn, but is neither rare nor an antique." He gave a testy glance at the piece, then turned away. Under his breath he muttered, " Such a melodramatic pose. Amateur." Rowan opened his mouth to ask who the amateur in question was, but the scenery cracked and fell away in a cloud of brown dust. Shouting. Rowan sucked in a breath, leaning forward on the cot at the sudden shift. He had returned to the real world to the sound of loud voices and an insistent knock on his door.

It took him a second to remember he wasn't in his dorm, but recovering from qi fatigue in a private room in the sect's Medicine Hall. His new painting was rolled up in one hand, and the new sword scripture was in the other. He immediately shoved both into his sleeves. They weren't nearly as valuable as Ensouled in Wood, but both would be incredibly hard to explain if someone came in to check on him.

"I told you, Junior, I'm not here on the behalf of Fross. This is official sect business." Rowan knew he'd heard the voice before, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Sure you aren't," snapped Lavinia.

"Elder Schell said he'd come personally to pick Rowan up. Your 'Official Sect Business' can be discussed with-""I'm sorry, Senior Brother," said Lee, who was trying to save Lavinia from herself.

"We've been very worried about Rowan. Please excuse my Junior Sister's manners. Is there something we can help you with?" Just some inner disciple making trouble, then. Various people had been at the door at the strangest hours the entire week. Two days ago, after the sun had set, Barrett Fross had come knocking with a group of his cronies, but he'd run into Senior Sister Nila delivering a leftover bowl of homemade ginseng soup. Rowan ignored the conversation for a moment, unable to hold back any more.

He fetched the Flood Dragon's pouch and upended it onto his bed, shaking the pouch.

"Yes - either move out of the way, or fetch Rowan Helsing for me. I don't care if he's comatose or cultivating. The elders have sent me personally to fetch him. He must come out. Now."

"It's not often a member of the illustrious inner sect gives us the gift of his time," said Lee, who had lifelong experience in dealing with unruly customers.

"Could you do me the favor of introducing yourself again?" Despite Rowan's shaking, nothing fell out of the pouch. It seemed like the bag was empty. Rowan sighed in disappointment. Not even a few spirit stones? Even Daoist Apex had a couple… He shouldn't be pressing his luck. A spatial pouch at the Nascent Soul level was already a magnificent treasure - not to mention, it would only open for him. He could probably fit every item he ever came across for the rest of his life into the pouch and never run out of room.

"To think that I need to introduce myself in my own sect," said the man, a sharp quality to his voice.

"Very well. I am Florimond Sutter."

"My mistake," said Lee, warmly.

"I have heard of you - Instructor Sutter often mentions you as an example of someone we should emulate," he said, lying through his teeth.

"Is that true?" Florimond immediately went from angry to pleased.

"Now, now, don't make me feel bad for not visiting my granduncle more." Rowan finally placed the voice. It was that inner disciple who'd shown up to the orphanage with Baudelain Fross and the bureaucrat from the Dao Court. He stood up, slipped on his boots, and opened the door.

"Rowan!" cried out Lavinia happily.

"Good morning, Junior Brother!" said Florimond Sutter. His curly hair had been tamed into a topknot, which secured a golden headdress that curved over his head like the awning of a cafe. He was wearing a ridiculous number of inner robes beneath his disciple robes, padding out his chest and shoulders.

"I'm here to escort you to the party."

"Party?" mumbled Rowan, drawing his brows together.

"A celebration for your great deed, of course. Come. The common people deserve a chance to admire you."

"The sect has been preparing all morning. It's being held in the city," said Lavinia.

"If we're going, I need to change into something presentable." Rowan sighed. He didn't want to go to any party. But this was also a responsibility of being a righteous disciple - not just fighting demonic cultivators, but representing the sect as a symbol of hope. Florimond mentioned the common people. If the kids he had chased out of the orphanage were there, he wanted to see them, to make sure they were doing well and had found a new place to live.

"I'll go for a bit," he agreed. His gaze slid to Lee.

"Did you know about this?" The large boy shrugged sheepishly.

"You know the people of this city. They'll take any excuse to throw a party, and for once there's actually a good reason." As Rowan, Lee, and Florimond walked down the mountain, Florimond couldn't help but return to his earlier conversation with Lee.

"My uncle will likely tell his future students many stories about young Rowan," said the inner disciple.

"I'll make sure that when I have tea with him that I give him more specifics about the big incident. I'll tone down the impact that I personally had in the affair, of course. I wouldn't want the old man to bore his pupils with my contributions when our fellow sect brother's bravery should be the focus."

"The impact that you personally had?" repeated Lee.

"Were you the inner disciple involved in the Highwater situation?"

"Yes, I was there with the Dao Court, but don't you worry about it," said Florimond.

"It was a tense, traumatic affair. With how modest young Rowan seems to be, I suppose he hasn't spoken much about it. Of course I should have known the hostility I encountered was just well-deserved loyalty." Florimond Sutter was right about one thing at least. Rowan hadn't, in fact, mentioned that inner disciple to Lee. After all, he hadn't even known the man's name. Over the course of the past few days, Lee had excitedly questioned him for as many details about the incident as Rowan could remember.

The boy had also listened sympathetically to Rowan's frustrations about how people seemed more excited to celebrate than horrified that a demonic cultivator had been living under their noses for so long. As they turned the corner onto the steps that led towards the city gates, Rowan froze at the sight that greeted him. For the first time ever, the Eastern Gate was thrown wide open. In front of the gate, there were groups and groups and groups of disciples milling on the steps leading down from the Outer Courtyard.

Even cultivators who had long since returned to mortal life had dug out their old, faded sect robes for the occasion. Past the gate, crowds lined the cobblestone streets so thickly you couldn't tell one person apart from another. It wasn't a little party. It was a damn parade.