“Come.”


    The three-inch flying sword hovering before him swiftly expanded to three feet long, resembling a typical longsword.


    Reaching out, Qin Yun grasped the divine sword.


    Although it wasn’t fully complete, it was already unimaginably sharp, capable of slicing through iron and stone like tofu. However, Qin Yun was reluctant to use it casually, knowing any damage would be deeply regrettable.


    “I inherited the Sword Immortal’s legacy when I was thirteen, filled with joy and excitement, only to discover how incredibly difficult it was to knock on the gates of the Immortal Sect,” Qin Yun said with a sigh. “If one doesn’t enter the sect before twenty, there’s no hope for a lifetime. I was nearly nineteen when I finally succeeded.”


    Cultivation is divided into three major realms: Postnatal, Prenatal, and Primordial Spirit.


    The Postnatal realm is further subdivided into twelve levels of Qi Refinement, each increasingly challenging.The Prenatal realm consists of three stages: Virtual Core, True Core, and Golden Core.As for the Primordial Spirit realm? That’s the stuff of legends.


    “Knocking on the gates of the Immortal Sect” refers to the breakthrough from the ninth to the tenth level of Qi Refinement. This critical step involves transforming true Qi into true essence—a monumental milestone marking the true beginning of cultivation.


    But such a step incurs heavenly jealousy.


    For example, any attempt to record the tenth level’s cultivation method on paper would result in the words vanishing instantly. Attempting to verbally teach it to others leaves one speechless, physically unable to articulate the words.


    The saying "Failing to enter the Immortal Sect before twenty means a lifetime of regret" stems from the fact that before twenty, the body is still growing, brimming with vitality and limitless potential. At this stage, one’s chances of successfully forming true essence are highest. Once past twenty, as the body peaks and begins its decline, the possibility of knocking on the gates diminishes to near impossibility.


    “At thirteen, I achieved the Unity of Sword and Body and reached the ninth level of Qi Refinement in the same year. Joining a second- or third-rate sect would have been effortless, and knocking on the gates of the Immortal Sect should have been simple. But the inheritance I received came from an eight-hundred-year-old Sword Immortal, Master Chen—a legacy of the highest order among all cultivation paths. However, it’s also ten to a hundred times more challenging than ordinary methods,” Qin Yun lamented.


    “In the world of cultivation, they say, ‘One sword breaks ten thousand techniques.’ That sword refers to the flying sword of the Sword Immortal.” Qin Yun shook his head. “But I had only the inheritance, no mentor to guide me. The Sword Immortal’s legacy is far harder to master than ordinary techniques.”


    “I received the legacy at thirteen, left home at fifteen, survived countless life-or-death battles, and even ventured to the northern frontier.”


    “By nearly nineteen, I finally knocked on the gates of the Immortal Sect,” he said with a sigh, reflecting on his journey.


    Without a mentor or elder’s guidance, Qin Yun had relied solely on his determination and hard work to forge his path.


    “Hmm? Daybreak already?” Qin Yun noticed the faint light filtering through the window.


    “Return.”


    With a thought, the three-foot divine sword in his hand rapidly shrank, becoming as thin as a strand of hair before burrowing into the skin of his forefinger. It traveled along his meridians, eventually returning to his dantian, where it spun into a compact, shiny silver ball, no larger than a grain of sand.


    The sword embryo rested within his dantian, nourished constantly by his soul and true essence.


    Getting up, Qin Yun glanced at the remnants of star-patterned steel on the ground, reduced to waste during the forging process. With a flick of his true essence, he swept the fragments into a small ball and discarded it into a nearby bamboo basket. He then placed the remaining star-patterned steel into a cloth pouch, carefully hiding it under his clothes in a locked chest imbued with his true essence seal.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Opening the door, he stepped outside.


    The morning air was crisp and cool. Servants at the Qin residence were already busy cleaning and preparing breakfast.


    …


    After washing up, Qin Yun changed into a fine silk robe, adopting the demeanor of a nobleman. While traveling in foreign lands, he dressed modestly to avoid attention, but now that he was home, as the second son of the Qin family, he couldn’t afford to tarnish their reputation.


    “Good morning, Second Young Master.”


    “Good morning, Second Young Master.”


    As Qin Yun strolled through the estate, the servants greeted him respectfully.


    Looking at the familiar paths, pavilions, and courtyards, he felt a deep sense of nostalgia. Before long, he arrived at the training yard.


    The yard featured weapon racks and archery targets along the far wall.


    “The training yard.” Qin Yun smiled, recalling memories of his father and elder brother training there, as well as his own sweat-filled childhood spent mastering the sword. He could still see his mother seated by the stone table, smiling warmly as she watched them.


    The realm of ‘Unity of Sword and Body’ was a profound milestone, but beyond it lay the elusive ‘Flawless’ state.


    Flawless represented the pinnacle of a Postnatal being, granting perfect control over every aspect of one’s body. Once achieved, even years of neglect couldn’t erode one’s mastery of the sword.


    Although daily training was no longer necessary, Qin Yun still maintained the habit of practicing each day.


    “Whoosh.”


    The sword at his waist slid from its sheath.


    Standing still, he moved only slightly, wielding the sword with fluid precision. Despite its seemingly slow movements, the blade emitted a misty glow, akin to drizzling rain in March—a mesmerizing, dreamlike performance that evoked the beauty of poetry and art.


    At the edge of the training yard, his elder brother, Qin An, watched curiously but refrained from interrupting.


    It wasn’t until Qin Yun finished his practice and sheathed his sword that Qin An spoke. “Second Brother, why is your swordplay so slow? Though it’s undeniably beautiful—more so than the sword dances of those courtesans—it’s far too slow to kill anyone.”


    “Haha,” Qin Yun laughed. “This is my self-created ‘Rain Sword Technique.’ What you saw is only one facet of it.”


    “One facet?” Qin An mused. “Alright, you’ve always been extraordinary. At ten, you defeated me. By fifteen, you were the undisputed leader of our generation in Guangling County. Back then, I could still somewhat comprehend your skill, but now I can’t even begin to understand your swordsmanship.”


    With a chuckle, Qin Yun deflected, “Big Brother, why are you here so early? It’s not even time for breakfast, yet you’ve come all the way from South City to West City?”


    “We haven’t seen each other in six years. Naturally, I want to spend more time with you,” Qin An said with emotion. “I often worried about you while you were away, afraid you might never return. But enough of that! Strangely, for the past six months, I’ve felt exhausted every morning despite no apparent illness. But today, I feel surprisingly refreshed.”


    Qin Yun’s heart stirred.


    Today was different? Could it be because the cat demon didn’t drain his energy last night?


    “Perhaps it’s because I was worried about you. Now that you’re back, my heart is at ease, and I’m fine again,” Qin An speculated.


    “Worried about me? If that’s the case, why only in the past six months, not the previous five years?” Qin Yun teased. “You’ve been afflicted by demonic energy.”


    “Demonic energy?” Qin An’s expression shifted.


    Qin Yun didn’t hold back, knowing his brother’s resilience. Having endured many hardships together in their youth, Qin An could handle such revelations.


    “I noticed it yesterday,” Qin Yun explained.


    “Then why didn’t you say anything?” Qin An asked, puzzled.


    “To avoid alerting the demon. A desperate creature is dangerous. I waited until I uncovered the truth and resolved the threat before telling you,” Qin Yun replied. “Don’t share this with anyone else.”


    “Of course,” Qin An agreed, “but am I alright now?”


    “Don’t worry, you’re fine.” Qin Yun smirked.


    With that, he pulled out a prepared talisman. “This is a ‘Healing Charm’ I borrowed from a friend. I can’t draw these myself.” Infusing the talisman with his true essence, it ignited spontaneously, releasing an invisible force into Qin An’s body. Qin An immediately felt a cool sensation washing over him, dispelling his lingering discomfort.


    “Most of the demonic energy has been purged,” Qin Yun said. “What remains is minor and will fade in a few months. Your body’s natural vitality is remarkable.”


    Qin An sighed in relief but then asked, “Why would a demon target me, a simple merchant? Could it be because of Father?”


    “Yes,” Qin Yun confirmed. “I’ll explain everything once Father returns.”


    Reassured, Qin An changed the subject. “Thirteen years old and already at the ninth level of Qi Refinement—I always knew you’d enter the Immortal Sect. Judging by your abilities, you’ve truly stepped into the path of cultivation.”


    Qin Yun smiled but offered only a modest reply. “Knocking on the gates of the Immortal Sect wasn’t easy.”


    …


    After breakfast with their mother, the brothers chatted until a servant approached to report, “Second Young Master, someone is here to see you. He claims to be a friend.”


    “A friend? You just returned yesterday, and someone’s already here to visit?” Qin An asked curiously.


    “Let’s see who it is,” Qin Yun said as he stood up.