Previously, Liu Shi'ai returned to his cottage to study the foundational scripture for entry into the sect, reading it with great concentration and dedication, quickly memorizing all its contents. At that time, the setting sun had not yet set. He began practicing body cultivation as instructed in the text. Initially, he performed various postures; then came swift steps and inverted bridges; finally, a sequence of martial arts forms. The form itself was not difficult, but it required continuous power output. As the duration grew longer, his breathing became increasingly labored—so much so that he could no longer sustain it. Just as he prepared to give up, his chest and abdomen suddenly stirred, and his breath entered a peculiar rhythm—one that perfectly matched the force of each punch he delivered! That rhythm was indeed unusual: sometimes long and flowing, at other times abrupt and urgent, appearing entirely irregular. Yet Liu Shi'ai recognized this pattern instantly—otherwise, he would not have been able to use it. This had been taught to him by Jing Jiǔ in the small village. Though even now he did not know that this method was called Yu Men Tu Xi (Zircon Gate Exhalation), the seemingly rustic and insightful boy clearly understood what it meant. Jing Jiǔ said nothing; merely glanced at him. Liu Shi'ai immediately understood his meaning, and rose to his feet. At the village entrance, Jing Jiǔ had simply looked at him once—and instantly recognized him as an unparalleled natural talent in Dao cultivation. Otherwise, he would not have chosen him. Over this past year, Jing Jiǔ had taught him only the most fundamental aspects of Yu Men Tu Xi—simple yet profoundly important. And thus, Liu Shi'ai’s innate potential had been carefully protected. Everyone at Qingshan Sect, save for the blind, surely noticed and appreciated it. Yet in just half a day, Liu Shi'ai discovered the profound subtleties embedded within this method—surprising even himself, for his intelligence was far better than he had anticipated. "You needn’t thank me," Jing Jiǔ said. "You’ve taught me too—the exchange is mutual." Liu Shi'ai thought: How could chopping wood and cooking meals be compared to spiritual cultivation? Jing Jiǔ added: "Cultivation demands focused calmness. The daily household affairs of the courtyard are handled by the attendants; you needn’t come here constantly." Liu Shi'ai said anxiously: "Lord, have you decided not to keep me?" Jing Jiǔ, who disliked commotion, raised his hand to signal him to stop speaking. He looked out at the courtyard, noting its spaciousness—and realized how time-consuming it would be to maintain cleanliness and order. The intimate duties he had been assigned were now troublingly being handled by someone unfamiliar. "Then let it be," he replied. ... ... Green leaves followed the wind as they drifted down, carried along by the stream toward the lower reaches. Time flowed like water—within a short span of time, over ten days had passed. The Outer Gate disciples at Nan Song Pavilion trained tirelessly every day, showing remarkable diligence. No one dared to slack off. On the cliff plateau, young disciples were seen constantly practicing body cultivation: some in postures, others resting comfortably with limbs supported by trees, and many engaged in martial arts forms. From dawn until dusk, the sounds of punching and shouting never ceased. In early summer, leaves began falling quietly in the forest, and birds grew restless amidst this vibrant activity. At the most intense spots, faint wisps of white vapor were already beginning to rise—almost imperceptible at first, yet steadily forming. Lü Master observed these scenes with great satisfaction, thinking that by the end of the three-month period, a significant portion of the disciples would likely reach the Initial Realm. Then Liu Shi'ai stepped out from the Sword Hall. Lü Master was even more pleased. With a warm smile, he thought: Truly a natural talent—fully living up to expectations. According to his assessment, within just several days, Liu Shi'ai would enter the "Bao Shen" stage of cultivation. Based on this pace, in one year’s time, it was truly possible that he might achieve full mastery of the Bao Shen realm. If Nan Song Pavilion were to produce a disciple who entered the Inner Gate within a single year—then his aspirations would grow ever stronger. Thinking of Meng Shi currently residing at Shangde Peak, his longing intensified even further. Without good fortune in meeting Zhao Lamei, how could Meng Shi have achieved such remarkable progress? Lü Master's gaze followed Liu Shi'ai as he walked toward the small cottage. His expression softened into a frown—the cottage was Jing Jiǔ’s. Neither he nor any of the Outer Gate disciples knew what had transpired over these past ten days. After noon, one would see Jing Jiǔ lying on a bamboo recliner, enjoying sunlight—yet no one could recall where this particular chair came from. Lü Master found himself increasingly convinced that he had missed something crucial. But what truly troubled him was not Jing Jiǔ’s current state—he noticed that even now, Liu Shi'ai still viewed himself solely as Jing Jiǔ's attendant or servant. Despite the recognition and respect from both the sect and the high-level masters, Liu Shi'ai remained oblivious. He continued to perform daily care for Jing Jiǔ as if he were still in the small village—adding to his rigorous training schedule with countless domestic tasks. Every time he witnessed this scene, both Lü Master and the disciples found it utterly absurd—and naturally, their dissatisfaction toward Jing Jiǔ grew stronger. According to Qingshan Sect traditions, outer gate disciples generally enjoyed a high degree of autonomy in their cultivation. Yet Lü Master’s desire for change had grown steadily—now almost uncontrollable. He did not wish this promising young boy with such natural grace and potential to be held back by the current situation. He longed to find an appropriate opportunity to separate him from Jing Jiǔ—and even considered whether he should, under suitable circumstances, request Jing Jiǔ’s departure from the mountain. ... ... At night, when Liu Shi'ai returned to his cottage and pushed open the door, he found Lü Master standing in the courtyard. A bright and intelligent boy, he quickly deduced the purpose of the master's visit—his face now pale with anticipation. Lü Master saw this change in expression and said: "I think I needn’t say any more." Liu Shi'ai held his lips closed, silent. Lü Master had never imagined such firmness from him. He spoke quietly but firmly: "A Dao cultivator should transcend fate and look down upon the common people—how could he remain a servant?" Liu Shi'ai bowed low, saying softly: "Lord has shown me great kindness; I wish to repay it." Lü Master furrowed his brows: "I do not care about your personal ties with him. Once I arrive here, every aspect of my life must be severed—by one sword cut at a time. Our Qingshan Sect cultivates the Way of the Sword and upholds the Heart of the Sword. Does this decision-making strength not exist?" Liu Shi'ai remained low-kneed, his voice trembling slightly: "If Master decides to ask the Lord to leave, then I shall cease my cultivation." Upon hearing this, Lü Master grew slightly angry—how could such a pursuit, long dreamt of by countless ordinary people, be abandoned merely for others? Yet in that very moment, his anger transformed into quiet admiration. Liu Shi'ai’s resolute choice was indeed deeply aligned with the essence of Qingshan Sect's Sword Way. Lü Master looked earnestly into Liu Shi'ai's eyes and said: "I will honor your wishes—and I will not force him to leave. But you must understand that you are a true Dao cultivator, surpassing even your Lord in talent. Regardless of whether you can adapt to this change, the transformation has already taken place. Eventually, he will no longer keep pace with you—drifting apart into the misty clouds, never to meet again. I only hope that before then, you are not overly burdened by his presence." With these words, Lü Master departed from the cottage. Liu Shi'ai lifted his head, a look of uncertainty now visible on his face. Then he turned toward the small courtyard shrouded in night—hesitating slightly. (End of Chapter 11) Chapter Eleven: The Lord Only Feels the Burden of Inconvenience