Stepping into the Sword Hall, Zhou Jiuyu felt a quiet wave of nostalgia at the familiar sight.

But he knew—reality and dreams were different. A dream was just a dream. A moment of sentiment was fine; no need to dwell.

"Follow me," Yu Lianyun murmured, leading the way ahead of him. With each step, her curvaceous figure was subtly hinted at beneath the black Taoist robe.

Zhou Jiuyu glanced once, then looked away. One glance was instinct. Looking away was courtesy.

Well… truth be told, her figure couldn’t hold a candle to his silly maid back home. After growing accustomed to peerless beauty, his tastes had sharpened. Even a top-tier silhouette like this held little appeal. After all, the mind inevitably compared—but such thoughts stayed silent. Speaking them would be rude.

"This young man is promising," Yu Lianyun thought, comparing Zhou Jiuyu to Jing Yuansheng and the others who’d caused a ruckus at the gate. In looks, bearing, and character—he stood clearly above them.

Only aptitude remained to test.

"Place your hand here and sync with the Spirit Energy detector. First step of the trial: gauge your compatibility with Sword God Mountain’s ancient martial arts."

"Understood." Zhou Jiuyu set his palm on it. He, too, wondered his current Spirit Energy tier.

Data flickered to life:

[Spirit Energy Level: Tier 1]

[Spirit Energy Purity: 99%]

"My apologies—the device may be faulty. It’s been unused for ages… Try this newer one. I tested myself on it recently."

Zhou Jiuyu switched detectors. Tested again.

The result… identical. If anything, even more absurd:

[Spirit Energy Level: Tier 1]

[Spirit Energy Purity: 99.96%]

Yu Lianyun rubbed her eyes. Confirmed it wasn’t a hallucination or a misplaced decimal. Her gaze shifted instantly. "A prodigy…"

Then she bit her lip. "But… it’s a pity. With purity this high, your compatibility with Sword God Mountain’s ancient martial arts—or nearly any—is practically zero percent."

Zhou Jiuyu blinked. "Isn’t higher purity better? I thought ancient martial arts and supernatural abilities could coexist?"

Yu Lianyun’s smile turned bitter. "They don’t conflict inherently. Most practitioners hover around 20–30% purity. Even 50% is rare. At that level, martial qi and Spirit Energy can share the body—each claiming half. But you… 99%? I’ve never seen it."

Zhou Jiuyu understood. But his ability was "Dreams Come True." Anything was possible.

"Still," she continued, frowning, "the body is adaptable. You *could* learn martial arts. But… from your perspective? I wouldn’t recommend it. With talent like yours, focus solely on supernatural arts. Dual cultivation won’t yield the gains you imagine."

Before she could finish—Zhou Jiuyu spoke calmly:

"Then this junior withdraws from the trial. Thank you for your guidance, Senior Sword Immortal."

Yu Lianyun: "???"

Wait—this wasn’t the script! She’d *politely* discouraged him! He was supposed to insist, "This junior is determined!" so she could reluctantly accept him as a disciple!

"Think carefully," she said, forcing neutrality while subtly offering another chance.

"This junior has decided. Senior is correct. One path is wiser. Dual cultivation may not benefit me greatly." His tone was clear, resolute.

Yu Lianyun’s smile twisted into something pained. She turned away—a gesture Zhou Jiuyu saw as masterly grace. In truth, she hid her frustration.

*Years the Sword Hall took no disciples. All comers were mediocre.*

*Only Marina Tsukizuki passed.*

*Today—a true prodigy!*

*And I ruined it myself. Why did I open my big mouth?!*

"Then go," she added quietly, "or… would you like to tour Sword God Mountain first?"

Zhou Jiuyu glanced at the fiery sunset clouds. Evening neared. Honestly? He’d rather return home—to sleep, to see his silly maid. He shook his head.

"No need. This junior takes his leave."

Yu Lianyun: "…"

*Could you at least hesitate? This is so embarrassing!*

"Go on, go on," she waved dismissively.

He left without a backward glance.

Watching the Sword Hall doors close, Yu Lianyun smacked her thigh. "Ugh—why mention it? I brought this on myself!"

A soft sigh escaped her. "Perhaps… focusing solely on supernatural arts *is* best for him."

"Ah well. Ah well."

She walked deep into the hall, to a secluded courtyard. Flower-scented air. A pavilion. Within sat a white-robed maiden, ethereal as a painting, gently polishing two swords cradled in her arms with a white cloth. One blade was broken halfway—a fractured remnant. Yet she treated both with equal tenderness.

Yu Lianyun approached softly, bowed. "Master."

The maiden nodded silently, serene as a celestial sword immortal. Yu Lianyun seated beside her, gaze softening as she admired her master’s profile.

"Master… why maintain this broken sword alongside the Feather Spirit Sword? I’ve never seen you use it."

The maiden stroked the hilt. "When a sword breaks and a better one is found… one no longer uses the broken blade."

"And if… the Feather Spirit Sword broke? Would Master seek another?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because no better sword exists in this world." Her voice was clear, ethereal, unwavering.

"I see…" Yu Lianyun knew Feather Spirit held deep meaning. Her eyes drifted back to the broken blade. "Master… is this one important to you too?"

A nod. "Mm. It accompanied me since childhood. I forged it myself. Sadly… it broke."

"What was its name?"

Polishing the hilt, the maiden’s cheeks flushed faintly—a fleeting memory—then softened into gentle warmth.

"It was called White Moon."