Demon Sword Sect’s Undercover
Chapter 200 - 200 199 Bridge to the Purple Mansion

200: Chapter 199 Bridge to the Purple Mansion 200: Chapter 199 Bridge to the Purple Mansion The youths strode away, and Hou Niao didn’t even bid farewell.

To meet is destiny; to part is also destiny.

In conversations with several old patrons, he learned quite a bit about the various happenings in Fufeng City over the past two years.

It was a small country and a small city, with no military affairs and far removed from the cultivation circles.

Although life was as placid as water, there had been no events worth making a fuss over in the last two years, not different from more than two years ago.

Following his advice, Uncle Sun had already returned to his hometown to live out his twilight years, which dissolved the last thread of attachment Hou Niao had to Fufeng City.

Suddenly, he wondered if there was any point in entering the city anymore?

To live in peace and return home in silk robes, for whom was he doing this?

The city’s prominent families?

Even if they licked his boots, would he derive any pleasure from it?

The obsequious respect of the government officials?

What could that bring him?

How many more fathers had Sister Hua’s son called out to?

Thinking it over, he couldn’t find a single person worth a glance, and for some unknown reason, his desire to visit came to an abrupt end, unable to muster the slightest interest.

He hadn’t expected that his initial return home as a wanderer would feel like this, the eager emotions he once thought he had consumed along the way, leaving nothing behind.

Homesickness is a poem, what matters is the emotions it encompasses, not where the poem is inscribed.

In the dusk and setting sun, Hou Niao drained his last cup of wine and also enjoyed the sincere freebie from the limping Liuzhen.

Hou Niao had helped him so much that he wouldn’t have had the chance to open his shop here; he sensed this might be his last opportunity to repay, so…

Hou Niao didn’t refuse; he liked such acts of courtesy.

In Fufeng City, he too had a faithful following.

Stepping out of the pub, slightly intoxicated, he set foot on Wei Bridge; in that moment, memories of the past and hopes for the future rushed at him.

This familiar stone bridge, its unevenly worn balustrades, he remembered every detail, every pothole on the bridge had been measured countless times by his footsteps.

Night was falling, the pedestrians thinned out, and even the flowing water of the Wei River began to blur beneath his feet, dark and somber like a mighty black dragon, meandering into the distance.

He just stood there motionless, as if merging with the bridge, with the water, becoming one and no longer distinguishable from each other.

Time slipped away bit by bit until the pub closed, until there were no more passersby, until the city gates were shut with the fall of rocks.

Because the Water Demon occasionally appeared, people chose to return to the cities, towns, or villages after the night’s quiet.

Without special circumstances, no one wished to wander around at night, not even the wildest young adventurers.

One river, one bridge, one person, they all fused into a single picture, harmonious with the universe, peaceful in the passage of time.

In Hou Niao’s eyes, everything around him grew darker and more indistinct.

He even felt a sense of unreality.

Where exactly did this bridge lead?

It was no longer just the banks of the Wei River or the lands of Sanjiang and Fufeng.

It felt more like homesickness itself, one end connected to him and the other unknown.

He closed his eyes, imagining himself as a wisp of homesickness, drifting forward along the bridge.

He knew there had to be a road ahead, so he groped his way, slowly but surely, one step at a time.

In this silence, a shrimp head suddenly emerged from under Wei Bridge, greedily eyeing the odd figure standing motionless; instinct drove it to leap up, take a bite, and drag the human into the river; but reason told it not to, as this human was a cultivator.

Its antennae trembled in the air, trying to grasp the spread of the human’s qi in the atmosphere to determine the human’s true state before deciding its next move.

In a place like Anhe, where the water system is so well-developed, such events are not uncommon.

The shrimp felt it very strange that this human’s breath was moving irregularly without any pattern; one moment he would be fasting, another moment he would be essence building, and then, unexpectedly, he would briefly jump to Bridge Connection, which made him hard to predict.

Was he possessed by madness?

Or was it due to the cultivation technique?

The shrimp decided to try something out.

It was quite an experienced shrimp that had weathered little storms, well aware of the cunning and deceitful nature of humans.

So it bent its body into a bow and sprang out of the water over three feet high, then swiftly fell back into the water.

Nothing happened.

No techniques came crashing down, no sword light flashed…

nothing at all.

The shrimp decided to jump a little higher—three feet was indeed a bit low, even ordinary fish could leap that high.

It wasn’t even close to the bridge deck, nor did it surpass the bridge pier.

With a splash, this time it jumped ten feet high, roughly half the distance from the water surface to the bridge deck.

At its apex, it intentionally waved its little pincers.

The human cultivator still showed no reaction, motionless, as lifeless as a wooden chicken.

The shrimp made up its mind.

It had some knowledge of human books and knew the saying “third time’s the charm.” If it hesitated now, even that courage would be tested away.

What was the use of jumping higher if it dared not attack?

This time, it just happened to leap to a position level with the human cultivator and then, it saw the human open his eyes and smile at it.

That smile almost scared the shrimp out of half its soul; it felt as though something was being drawn out of its body.

Like losing its backbone—though of course, it didn’t have a backbone, only a shrimp line…

When an object shifts from rising to falling, there must be an instant when its speed reaches zero, the perfect moment to snap its pincers or bite down, but also the best opportunity for others to strike it.

That sword had no force to speak of, nor could one see any Qi Gang, it simply extended out casually, as though the shrimp had moved its body towards it.

The longsword pierced accurately through the gap between the second and third segments of the shrimp’s body, flicking upwards, and a long piece of shrimp line was drawn out.

Only then did the shrimp start to feel intense pain.

It fell into the water and faintly heard the human cultivator mumbling, “To eat shrimp one must remove the vein, with soy sauce, minced garlic, and salt…”

Hou Niao saw this.

At that moment, a certain understanding formed between him and Lonely Sword.

An instant connection not only allowed him to manifest his Sword Consciousness but also see the other end of the bridge with greater clarity.

On the other end of the bridge was the Purple Mansion.

One couldn’t explain the magic of that moment, but Cultivation was itself magical, bringing unexpected fortunes like Bridge Connection and Sword Consciousness, a double boon.

Hou Niao finally found the Inner Secret of his Purple Mansion.

It seemed like a void, half blue, half yellow, as if it were the heaven and earth.

Within the solid yellow, a tiny blade of grass seemed to be breaking through the soil.

It was a peculiar grass that looked like a sword yet also like an orchid?

Sword Orchid?

He could feel the Circulation of Breath gently circulating in his own Purple Mansion.

As it moved, the blue and the yellow kept slicing into each other, with the dividing line seeming like a string.

Indeed,

Locking through the Circulation, ascending and descending within the three-inch field.

Not relying merely on breath control and counting breaths, it happens naturally.

Nine transformations without loss, the fire power is complete.

The Fetal Breath diffuses and spreads.

It is essential to maintain the balance of Yin Yang.

The breathing and whispering all depend on the Xun, continuously.

The marvel is in the preceding string and the following string.