Li Xiaofei had been to Jiepeng before, before he had been transported by the Moonlight Treasure Box. Back then, he had traveled to this country with his friends as a tourist.
His second visit had been after he had faked his death and escaped following the massacre of the foreign Saints in Haijing City. He had infiltrated Jiepeng with Tsukiha Yaiba. In the end, he had ended up sleeping with the queen and, incidentally, took care of their emperor as well.
Kitagawa Keiko looked at her prized disciple, her eyes filled with admiration and affection.
Two elderly figures, stooped and diminutive, stood unsteadily before a new grave within the Sword Mound cemetery. The deeply lined wrinkles across their weathered faces were etched with grief, hatred and sorrow.
In the past, he might have accepted letting someone like Fujisai Jirō, a disciple of only average strength, serve as a transitional leader while slowly selecting and nurturing a true successor. But now, Kojirō clearly understood that the Sword Sect no longer had the luxury of time to patiently cultivate a new Sword Saint. After a brief moment of hesitation, Kojirō took out his phone and made a call.
The girl placed her delicate hands neatly over her lower abdomen and replied respectfully, “Six years, seven months, eleven days, and eight hours.”
But Asuka and several others had been killed during the exchange conference with Great Xia. The remaining noble disciples like Maeda Daisen now represented the strongest group within the sect.
The roads were narrow, the houses were small, the buildings were short, the elevators were cramped, and the people were short. Even the tourist attractions felt compressed.
Such a genius in the way of the sword, still so young and full of potential, was originally the ideal candidate to succeed Oniba Henzō. But there was a fatal flaw. Ishihara Masami was of common birth. Her parents were fishermen who couldn't even afford a home.
“Masami, how long have you been at Silent Lake?” Kojirō asked, seemingly casually.
The name itself sounded rather pretentious. The fact that the sect could establish its headquarters on Mount Hakutou showed just how exalted and deeply rooted its national religious status was in Jiepeng.
Mount Hakutou was a classic symbol of Jiepeng’s spirit and culture. In the hearts of the Jiepeng people, it held an unparalleled status and was the cornerstone of their spiritual beliefs, earning it the title ‘The One and Only Peak’.
Although Silent Lake was the smallest of the five lakes, it had the most unique character. Its shores were lined with towering cliffs and had complex terrain. It was the deepest lake, with water that never froze year-round. The lake’s surface was a deep blue in color, radiating an aura of profound and unfathomable mystery.
"Perhaps it's time we abandon some of the old traditions," Kitagawa Keiko spoke slowly. Her voice was hoarse and low, like two pieces of century-old decayed wood grinding against one another. It held no beauty, only a withered and rotten tone that seemed to carry the scent of an impending funeral. Her legendary beauty had long become the stuff of myth.
Of course, this time, Li Xiaofei was not here for sightseeing. His first stop was the headquarters of the national Sword Sect of Jiepeng. The Sword Sect's headquarters was located on Mount Hakutou.
Kojirō remained silent. He understood what Kitagawa Keiko meant. The strongest and most distinguished disciples of the Sword Sect were the noble-born. Kawashima Shi, Asuka, Fujisai Jirō, Maeda Daisen, and the others. They had always been the focus of cultivation within the sect.
The Sword Sect headquarters was made up entirely of Tang-style ancient architecture and had a history of six hundred and thirty-seven years. It was situated by Silent Lake, one of the five major freshwater lakes on Mount Hakutou.
“I am willing,” the girl responded without a trace of hesitation.
In response, the Jiepeng government had temporarily sealed off Mount Hakutou and held a state funeral of the highest honor for Oniba Henzō and the fallen Sword Sect masters. Once the noise had passed, only scattered remnants of stillness remained. The bustling shores of Silent Lake finally returned to calm a day later.
However, times had changed. The fall of Oniba Henzō, the rise of the Awakened, interference from the Yiggs people and the dwindling talent among the younger disciples filled Kojirō with deep concern.
“Then,” Kojirō said, “you shall change your name.”
“Are you willing to dedicate everything you have to the Sword Sect?” Kojirō asked again.
Their former glory had long been swept away by wind and rain. Now, standing before the grave of Oniba Henzō, the two of them faced each other in silence.
However, they were still far from being capable of becoming the next Sword Saint. They were nowhere near strong enough to uphold the prestige of the Sword Sect. If one were to consider only talent and strength, there was only one girl in the new generation who met the criteria: Ishihara Masami.
Perhaps some commoners didn’t understand the true power of the Sword Sect and merely regarded it as a regular religion, a symbolic mascot during times of peace. But those who truly held authority knew very well the kind of foundation and strength this ancient sect possessed. It was more than capable of influencing the nation's political landscape.
Ishihara Masami was a genius secretly cultivated by the Sword Sect, and personally taught by Kitagawa Keiko. She had never revealed her abilities or brilliance to the outside world, so few knew of her existence. Even disciples like Fujisai Jirō only knew there was such a person, but they had no idea how terrifying her strength truly was.
The one that left the deepest impression on Li Xiaofei was a place called the White Snake Mound. It was said to be a very famous attraction in Jiepeng, but when he arrived, he found it to be nothing more than a small burial mound with a short stone pillar. Li Xiaofei had been momentarily stunned, thinking the tour guide was joking. This thing wasn’t even comparable to those knock-off Terracotta Warriors outside Xi’an.
Oniba Henzō had upheld the prestige of the Sword Sect for nearly a century, ensuring its honor had never waned. In that sense, he had fulfilled his historical duty. His death was not a burden too great for the Sword Sect to bear. But now, the greatest issue lay in choosing a successor.
That was the reason Ishihara Masami, despite her unmatched brilliance, had remained an invisible figure within the sect for so long. Kojirō deeply admired Ishihara Masami. But he had never once considered making her the next head of the Sword Sect.
This marked his third visit to Jiepeng. Three different timelines. The same country. Yet it gave Li Xiaofei the exact same feeling every time. In this era, Jiepeng was still a well-known developed nation on Earth. It represented advancement, order and quality. Its overall level of development had remained ahead of Great Xia for many years.
The Sword Sect had always been an insurmountable peak in Jiepeng’s martial arts world. Every head of the sect was considered a martial legend in the country.
There were even whispered rumors claiming that the appointment of Jiepeng’s Prime Minister required the blessing of the Sword Sect’s leader. However, the recent fall of the sect leader, Oniba Henzō, the foremost Sword Saint of Jiepeng had changed matters. The death of many other disciples in battle in the just-concluded martial arts exchange conference had forced the Sword Sect's strength to plummet drastically in a very short time.
According to the traditions of the Sword Sect, no matter how monstrous a commoner's talent was, no matter how powerful they became, they could never be granted the position of sect leader or receive the highest level of tutelage.
Time had left too many marks on their bodies. They resembled candles burning to their end, and the light in their eyes flickered like dying starlight, as if it could vanish at any moment. Yet they were now the highest-ranking figures within the Sword Sect.
A short while later, a graceful young girl, dressed in a kimono adorned with pink cherry blossom patterns, arrived at the Sword Mound cemetery.
As for Kitagawa Keiko, who had served as Kojirō’s personal sword-bearer, she was once hailed as the most beautiful woman in the Sword Sect. Her otherworldly talent was nearly equal to Kojirō’s, and she was one of the rare few who had fully realized her potential, stepping into the realm of swordsmanship far beyond the understanding of ordinary people.
However, because she was born into a lower-class civilian family, she was never allowed to become the heir to the Sword Saint. In the end, she could only remain in the shadows, destined to carry the sword behind Kojirō as his sword slave.
But Li Xiaofei always felt that this country and its people carried an unmistakable air of pettiness. This pettiness was not only reflected in the personality of the people but also in their architectural style.
One was Kojirō, the former head of the sect, and the other was his personal sword-bearer slave, Kitagawa Keiko. Kojirō was not just the previous leader of the sect, but also Oniba Henzō’s master. He was once a dazzling figure known as the number one Sword Saint of his era.
“Master,” she greeted Kitagawa Keiko obediently, then bowed at a ninety-degree angle toward Kojirō, her voice full of respect. “Greetings, Honored Sect Leader.”
The girl was momentarily stunned. But a joyful smile bloomed on Kitagawa Keiko’s deeply wrinkled face. The day had finally come.