If only I were really a man...
...
The light from the pile of firewood in the Daoist Temple was dim.
Su Bei gently wiped the two swords in the Sword Box, feeling the fresh stream of qi flowing through his body, and muttered to himself, "The sword must be nurtured."
The Qingping Sword was already second nature to him, but his control over Missing Departure still fell short.
All the myriad techniques of the world did not stray from their roots; countless cultivators since ancient times had sought the great immortality that would prevent death. Only a cultivator who had achieved minor immortality truly deserved the title "Immortal," having begun "achieving Dao." For a Sword Cultivator, the sword nurtured the person, and the person nurtured the sword. Though not to the exaggerated extent of becoming one with the sword, if one sought to reach the ultimate end of cultivation, they had to, at the very least, cultivate their own Sword Spirit.
A Sword Spirit of their own.
