My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Qin Qingluo seemed to have anticipated this. Facing the fiercely thrust spear that came straight at her, she neither retreated nor dodged. Instead, she tilted her spear downward, swiftly maneuvering beneath Chen Yi's spear, then flicked it upwards. Like a skillful move that used four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, Chen Yi's thunderous, crane-like thrust was effortlessly neutralized.

Seizing this opening, Qin Qingluo not only deflected Chen Yi's spear but also slammed hers down forcefully. The impact stirred up gusts of air, scattering the lingering moisture in the surroundings.

The spear strike was like the moon itself coming down.

Chen Yi gritted his teeth and raised his spear, thrusting the spearhead directly against the middle section of hers. The violent collision caused his tiger's mouth—the webbing between thumb and index finger—to split and bleed.

"Years with sabers, months with staffs, but a lifetime with spears"—Chen Yi's spear seemed incapable of matching Qin Qingluo's skill.

Amidst the swirling bamboo leaves, Chen Yi's figure suddenly retreated, while Qin Qingluo seized the moment to chase him down. Her spear lashed out like a dragon; every thrust was a killing move.

However, an astounding turn of events unfolded.

At first, Chen Yi parried and defended wearily against Qin Qingluo's storm-like spear strikes. Yet, as time passed, his movements grew increasingly composed and orderly, while the previously dominant Qin Qingluo seemed to grow more frantic.

Finally, one of Qin Qingluo's spear thrusts missed its target, slicing only through thin air. The gust stirred by the spear shredded a falling bamboo leaf but could do no more than that.

Bang!

Chen Yi twisted his body, swinging his spear horizontally. The spearhead struck dead center on the middle section of Qin Qingluo's spear—precisely the point most susceptible to force.

The intense impact reverberated through Qin Qingluo's spear, shaking her towering frame and forcing her back two steps.

Without hesitation, Chen Yi swiftly withdrew his spear, steadied it, and thrust the tip directly toward Qin Qingluo's face!

In that instant, Qin Qingluo's mind went utterly blank.

Her body seemed to move on its own, as though it no longer belonged to her.

When she snapped back to her senses,

she saw blood spilling forth, splattering across her face.

Qin Qingluo crouched slightly, bending backward, while the spear she held firmly in her hand had impaled Chen Yi's shoulder. Blood trickled from the tip of the spear, soaking Chen Yi's garments.

Without realizing it herself, she had unleashed the finest spear thrust she had ever delivered in her life.

Before Qin Qingluo could react and finish her enemy off with a decisive thrust,

Chen Yi had already taken several steps back, opening his bloodstained lips slightly. His teeth were tinged with crimson: "I lost."

Qin Qingluo snapped back to reality, gripped her trembling spear tightly, and raised her gaze to ask, "You did it on purpose?"

"No." Chen Yi shook his head lightly. "At that moment, I had entered a state of selflessness. Moreover, you possess the radiance of glazed light, ensuring you wouldn't die. Why would I need to intentionally lose to you?"

Qin Qingluo fell silent for a moment. She vaguely grasped something yet could not put it into words.

It was as though this thing defied description—neither born nor destroyed, neither tainted nor pure, akin to the void.

"Returning to the Void after refining the spirit?"

Qin Qingluo paused in brief astonishment.

At this moment, Chen Yi looked at her and posed a question:

"Why do you practice spear techniques? To become the number one in the world, to conquer kingdoms, or simply for some small family reason?"

Qin Qingluo was perplexed by his inquiry. She hadn't truly thought through why she practiced spear techniques. Since her youth, amidst countless clashes of blades and swords—if she didn't train with a spear, she couldn't survive. Without training with a spear, she would die, and so would Zhu E.

After a long silence, she responded neither casually nor deliberately: "For peace of mind."

Chen Yi casually tapped the blood from his wound and caught a drifting bamboo leaf. He stopped the bleeding and continued gazing far away.

On the distant hillside, soldiers pushed aside piles of earth, revealing a burial ground that had been long prepared. The chilly wind howled.

Li Wenhu stood silently, watching as Hu Youxing's coffin was slowly lowered. His figure appeared especially thin and frail amidst the mountains.

Qin Qingluo also followed his gaze, looking into the distance.

At this moment, Chen Yi's question reached her ears: "In refining the spirit back to the void—what is spirit?"

"Someone once told me that martial intent is spirit."

"And what do you think?"

Qin Qingluo contemplated briefly before replying, "Heart's tranquility is spirit."

Chen Yi didn't look at her as he lowered his gaze to the spear in his hand, then asked:

"When you thrust your spear at me—was your heart at peace?"

Qin Qingluo watched the coffin sinking into the soil and said, "My heart was not at peace."

As she spoke, the winter bamboo leaves couldn't withstand the cold wind. They fell in succession, blending into the sound of the cascading waterfall. At this moment, an old man was burying his disciple.

The elder stood before the coffin for a long, long time, motionless. His emotions—whether grief or joy—were indiscernible. At last, he suddenly threw aside the broken spear in his hand, turned around, and disappeared silently into the mountains and forest.

"Is your heart at peace?" Chen Yi questioned again.

"My heart is not at peace." After hesitating, Qin Qingluo shook her head again.

Chen Yi then responded, "And that is why your heart is at peace."

Qin Qingluo was initially puzzled, but soon a realization dawned upon her. As the mountain wind carried the bamboo leaves toward her, she suddenly grasped the truth.

Refining the spirit back to the void—returning the spirit to nothingness.

Her "heart's tranquility" was her spirit.

Because her heart was restless, in that very restlessness lay her peace.

Qin Qingluo stood by the lakeside, and in just a moment, she felt as though she had lived a lifetime.

She surveyed her surroundings but could no longer catch sight of Chen Yi. Alone, she stood before the cascading waterfall, under the heavy twilight, pondering deeply over the concept of refining the spirit back to the void.

Communicating the heart through the sword.

The way Min Ning had passed this knowledge to him, he now passed it on to Qin Qingluo.