Chapter 53: Whence Comes the Flowing Water

The oral formula flowed through his mind like a stream, leaving no trace behind. Shen Lian did not remember a single word; instead, he felt his sense of self slowly blur, drawing him into a dream.

It was a strange space, where wind, clouds, thunder, lightning, the sun, the moon, and the stars shifted and intertwined. These six phenomena cycled in turn, concealing an eternal, immutable truth of the universe. Shen Lian was dazed, unable to think, until the roar of a dragon shattered the vision, and he awoke.

He had not dreamt for many years, having replaced sleep with meditation to avoid the distractions of dreams. Yet, this dream was magnificent, grand, and utterly bizarre. He could still feel its lingering resonance—profound and subtle—leaving an indescribable sensation in his heart: part joy, part melancholy, and part an unspoken, hollow loneliness.

The east was already turning pale. Ruoxi had risen earlier than Shen Lian, and he smelled the scent of pancakes and clear porridge. Sometimes, a child’s maturity seems to arrive in a single instant. Shen Lian did not dwell on the night’s dream, but he secretly committed the feeling he had upon waking to memory. The seed of mana from his "Great Void Divine Strategy" felt as though it were germinating in the soil of spring.

He ate the porridge and pancakes little Ruoxi had prepared with earnest attention. It was her first time cooking, but it was edible. After all, Ruoxi was a clever child, and under Shen Lian’s guidance, her perceptions were exceptionally keen. If she were to study the sword, ninety-nine percent of the swordsmen in the world would be no match for her. If she pursued anything else, she would be equally top-tier.

However, on the path of seeking the Dao, talent alone is insufficient. It requires destiny, it requires method, and it even requires luck.

Ruoxi watched intently as Shen Lian ate what she had made, more focused than when she practiced her calligraphy. Faced with the little girl’s gaze, Shen Lian transformed a meal that was merely five parts tasty into an experience of ten parts delight.

After finishing, Shen Lian asked little Ruoxi, "Would you like to go out and play tomorrow?"

The little girl asked, "Where to?"

"A temple on the mountain called Xiangji Temple," Shen Lian replied.

"Is it fun?"

"I don’t know; I’ve never been."

"I want to go."

"Oh."

For this adult and child, their daily conversations were always this mundane, yet neither felt it so. Ruoxi enjoyed the liveliness of the world but disliked being a part of it. The bustle and noise were like fireworks during a festival; she preferred to watch silently from a distance, either alone or with her brother, and that was enough to satisfy her.

The little girl’s heart was easily satisfied because she asked for little, and consequently, she had few worries. She did not know she carried a blood feud; Shen Lian had never taken the initiative to tell her. She did not have to live for hatred, and in this, she was much better off than Bai Shaoliu.

***

This was the third time Shen Lian had seen Bai Shaoliu. He could see that the man was no longer as cold and arrogant as before, and was struggling to force a smile.

Shen Lian laughed, "Have you ever smiled at a mirror?"

Bai Shaoliu did not know why Shen Lian asked this, so he shook his head and said, "No."

"I think smiling at a mirror could strengthen your courage."

"Why?"

"Because when you smile, it is quite terrifying."

This was, of course, a joke—not a very funny one—and Bai Shaoliu stopped smiling. Perhaps because he had not used other expressions for so long, his facial muscles were stiff, and the smile did not fully fade, making him look even more awkward.

After a moment of silence, Shen Lian asked, "What have you come to see me for?"

Bai Shaoliu replied, "I came to thank you for saving my life that night." He took a piece of silk from his person, which was covered in diagrams and text.

Shen Lian did not take it, merely saying, "This is the thing they were hunting you for."

Bai Shaoliu nodded.

"Is it worth more than your life?"

"Yes," Bai Shaoliu said, his voice noticeably louder this time.

"And that is why you decided to bring it to me? It seems you must have thought about it for a long time before deciding to bring it here," Shen Lian said softly.

Bai Shaoliu remained silent. For some, life is precious only because it allows one to do what is most important. Shen Lian had allowed him to live, which meant more than just saving his life; it gave him the hope of revenge. Moreover, he felt that only by handing this item to Shen Lian would it stay out of his enemies' hands.

Shen Lian continued, "Do you wish to accept my guidance?"

Bai Shaoliu looked at Shen Lian’s refined and ethereal face. He knew full well how formidable Shen Lian was, but he had never dared to hope to learn anything from him. He already owed him a life; to ask for instruction on top of that felt truly shameless. He had not expected Shen Lian to offer guidance of his own accord. He hesitated.

Shen Lian said, "It seems you do not wish to accept."

"No, it is just that I do not know how to repay you, nor how I might be of service to you," Bai Shaoliu replied, speaking at length.

"Then just owe it to me for now," Shen Lian smiled.

Bai Shaoliu thought he was dreaming as Shen Lian took the silk scroll from his hand. It recorded a set of sword techniques—the "Flowing Water Sword Style." The moves and the oral formula were not particularly exceptional; they were even somewhat crude, with many flaws. Shen Lian glanced at it and handed it back to Bai Shaoliu.

Bai Shaoliu saw no hint of agitation on Shen Lian’s face, and he felt a trace of disappointment. Could this sword manual truly be worthless? Yet, Shen Lian’s next words negated his previous thought.

"This sword style does have its merits. Once mastered, it is indeed enough for you to roam the world and settle your debts of gratitude and enmity," Shen Lian said slowly.

"But I have practiced it for over ten years and have never felt its power."

"Have you ever seen flowing water?" Shen Lian suddenly asked.

"I have." Bai Shaoliu’s very name contained the character for "flow," and the place where he was born and raised sat beside a mountain stream.

"You have seen flowing water, but do you know why water flows?"

Bai Shaoliu was stunned; he could not answer.

"Then go to the Anping Canal and observe why the water flows. Once you know the reason, come back and see me."

Though he did not know the reason, Bai Shaoliu followed Shen Lian’s instruction, for in the path of martial arts, he believed Shen Lian was one of the most formidable people in the world. Of course, he did not know that Shen Lian was not a martial artist, but a practitioner of the Dao.

Practicing martial arts is for strengthening the body and gaining power. Practicing the Dao is for understanding the principles of heaven and earth, seeking longevity and eternity. The two have similarities, but they are fundamentally different.

Having looked over the Flowing Water Sword Style, Shen Lian understood the depth of the person who had written it. This was not merely a sword manual; it was a narrative of a profound truth of the universe. It told of the philosophy contained within flowing water; only by grasping the essence of that flow could one learn this sword style, and only then would it possess true power.

This was a sword style for entering the Dao, not a martial art of the mundane world. If one approached it with the mindset of learning martial arts, attempting to dissect the power of the moves, one would learn nothing at all.