My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 725 - 444: Bamboo Horse Returns to Grade A, Sword Song Echoes for Ten Thousand Miles

Chapter 725: Chapter 444: Bamboo Horse Returns to Grade A, Sword Song Echoes for Ten Thousand Miles

Behind the closed door of Xia Chong Zhai, the atmosphere in the hall was slightly eerie and desolate.

In the hall, a large group of people were either sitting or standing, yet they deliberately lightened their breaths, making not a single sound.

Their eyes were fixated, unblinking, on the woman who had just softly spoken the two words, "First Class" in the center of the room.

This woman’s figure was slender and graceful, with a pair of long, autumn-like eyes, beneath which was a faint tear mole, her face as beautiful as a delicate flower, magnificently stunning.

At the moment, she was the focal point of everyone’s gaze in the hall.

She was dressed in a trailing skirt of pale indigo, embroidered with intricate patterns of begonia branches and leaves using delicate gold and silver threads, adorned with thousands of genuine pearls from the North Sea, on the broad-sleeved blouse were clouds woven with dark gold threads.

The tiny beaded tassels on the skirt’s hem of this autumn-eyed woman twinkled like starlight, brilliant as a stream of colorful clouds.

Draped over her arms was a long trail of light purple smoky gauze, tightly secured with gold inlaid jade around her lotus-like arm bend, her plain hands resting in front of her abdomen, exuding an ethereal fairy aura.

The three thousand black strands of this autumn-eyed woman were coiled, her hair accessories complex, with a purple ribbon occasionally exuding wisping purple aura, quite eye-catching.

It seemed she had meticulously prepared her dress and makeup for the evening banquet, elegant yet transcendent, both ethereal and noble.

At that moment, this autumn-eyed beauty ignored the others, whispering softly to the young scholar beside her on whom she relied, then turned her head back, closed her autumn eyes, and slightly raised her delicate chin.

The slender hiltless small sword that appeared earlier an inch above her left shoulder had now moved to the position above her right shoulder—it seemed to be hovering over some invisible object.

Qingmei avoided that spot in the air, joyously circling around it!

The two long-resonant sword cries that had appeared earlier were now gone, but the autumn-eyed woman was sitting upright, head raised, eyes closed.

She seemed to be listening very carefully to something, completely motionless, like a goddess statue perched on a cliff edge.

In the silent hall, the drop of a pin could be heard.

The innkeeper man at the door, arms crossed, tilted his head and listened with keen interest.

Qi’er Zhao, who had suddenly stood up, had also restrained the excitement on her small face, and at this moment she was tightly gripping the sword hilt at her waist, tilting her head, biting her lip to listen, yet the little girl’s face was still flushed, her small chest undulating greatly, as if unable to suppress certain emotions.

Within Xia Chong Zhai, aside from these three sword cultivators surnamed Zhao, Zhao Rong and the others were utterly bewildered.

They tried to imitate the former group’s way of listening, but moments later they reopened their eyes, the curiosity and puzzlement in their eyes deepened.

Because, aside from the varied slight breathing sounds in the hall, where was there any other sound?

Though they didn’t understand, they were quickly distracted, their gazes gathering on... Zhao Lingfei’s exposed jade skin.

At this moment, the orange glow that added to the dim ambiance also fell on her exquisite egg-shaped face and bare pale neck, yet offered a sense of unrivaled brilliance.

Upon closer look, Zhao Lingfei’s snow-white skin seemed to faintly emit a hazy pale white light.

Just like the divine lady descending during moonlight, holy and peerless.

Making one feel self-conscious, unable to muster any thoughts of blasphemy.

Fan Yushu, Jia Tengying, Li Xueyou, Jingzi and others were in awe.

Zhu Yourong’s eyes twinkled as they rested on the autumn-eyed woman who resembled a goddess.

A small fox demon held a small rice bowl, tilting its head dazedly watching.

For a moment, the miraculous vision on Zhao Lingfei’s delicate body stunned everyone on the scene.

Her profile was breathtakingly beautiful, in an odd posture of listening with her head raised, giving off an impression of sanctity and impenetrable mystery...

However, unlike the respect or solemness of the others, Zhao Rong’s expression momentarily froze.

He wanted to glance downward, but resisted.

Under the table, a slender fair hand quietly reached over, willingly clasping Zhao Rong’s right hand resting on his thigh.

It was Qingjun’s hand.

He was extremely familiar with it.

Zhao Rong did not look down, remaining silent, as his right hand flipped over, interlocking his fingers with hers.

Then, he felt her grip tighten more and more, and even... tremble slightly.

The young scholar glanced at his wife’s exquisite, closed-eyed profile, along with her seemingly dignified and calm demeanor.

He suddenly understood, finding it a bit amusing.

Qingjun had been beautiful since childhood, so much so that at first glance she naturally seemed like an outstanding and perfect goddess, high and unapproachable, her intelligence and cultivation talent equally genius-like.

This was also the subconscious impression most people had when they first saw someone like Qingjun with her outstanding looks.

Just like the disciples of Taiching Palace who thought of her this way, always viewing her as a cold and elusive white moonlight...

Just like the people who were stunned at the moment.

However, only her childhood sweetheart husband, Zhao Rong, knew that besides being beautiful with a reserved and cool demeanor, and extremely skillful in cultivation and jealousy, Qingjun wasn’t that different from the noble ladies from cultured families in the valley below.

She was also a seventeen-year-old springtime girl who would fall in love, blush, and think of home, a petite woman needing her husband’s protection and care, with an ordinary and cute side to her.

It’s just that ever since she ascended the mountain to cultivate, she’s had to bear so much, having no choice but to be strong alone, gradually becoming outwardly cold, hiding her gentle side from outsiders.

But in Zhao Rong’s eyes, she was forever the little girl from his childhood who followed him everywhere, lifting her scholar’s dress with one hand, raising a butterfly kite high with the other, joyfully and anxiously calling ahead to him, "Slower, slower, wait for me," as she cried.

And forever the gentle petite wife who lay on their bed at Dongli Small Pavilion during the day, weakly moaning, "Don’t look...don’t look...don’t do this... no," softly pushing him when he playfully teased her, catching her breath in shy exasperation... hmm, whenever Zhao Rong mischievously tried to disengage and leave, she, in turn, would hum like a little piggy, resisting with closed eyes until she suddenly realized what was happening, then darted her beautiful eyes open wide, hurriedly reaching out to clasp him, her two fair hands tightly clasping his head for fear that her mischievous husband would truly dare to leave her...

At this moment, Zhao Rong sensed Zhao Lingfei’s nervous excitement, perhaps also a bit of disbelief that her childhood friend could return to First Class? Afraid it was all a hallucination.

Although she never mentioned the issue of Bambino falling in rank in front of Zhao Rong, now it seems, Qingjun still cherished this little fellow, just like she did with Qingmei.

After all, they’re beings meant to accompany one’s entire life, how can one not care?

In Qingjun’s heart, it should be like her child, going by the name of the two swords.

It’s just that Qingjun was afraid he’d blame himself, so she never mentioned Bambino.

Zhao Rong pursed his lips, exerting strength in his hand to grasp his wife’s trembling fair hand tightly.

He then turned his head and asked:

"Innkeeper, this cup of wine..."

Zhao Xifu was standing with arms crossed, eyes closed and without opening them, his face seemed to reveal some impatience, interrupted:

"This is your wine, has nothing to do with me, if there’s a problem don’t come looking for Xia Chong Zhai."

Zhao Rong was momentarily taken aback, nodding his head.

Glancing at the innkeeper man who was saying otherwise.

He tightened his wife’s hand again, and the latter seemed to calm down slightly under his comforting company, her fair hand no longer trembling.

Zhao Rong raised his eyes, looking at his wife’s profile, eyes closed.

At that moment, her entire body seemed to be enveloped in an increasingly bright, soft moonlight.

Holy and solemn, impenetrable.

He softly asked, "Qingjun, what... what are you listening to?"

Zhao Lingfei did not open her eyes, but her red lips parted slightly, earnestly saying, "It’s the sword cry, brother Rong, Bambino is...crying, it’s...it’s very happy."

Sword cry? What is that sound, why didn’t I hear it...Before Zhao Rong could question further, the sword spirit within his heart lake spoke up:

"Every time a First Class Sword is birthed in this world, it is a wondrously splendid creation, once a First Class Sword is present, it emits a ’sword cry’ that can be heard for a thousand miles, the higher the grade of a First Class Sword, the farther and higher the sword cry travels.

"Ahem, it’s actually that second sword cry you all heard a moment ago, except you non-sword cultivators can’t hear it after the initial, actually, this Bambino’s sword cry never stopped, even traveled farther and louder, but only sword cultivators with their life-bound flying sword can hear it... Sword cultivators probably within thousands of miles can hear it."