The Edge of the Sword Is Wrong

An old voice came from the beam. The moment Shen Yanqiu raised her sword, she saw her mentor Xuan Qing hanging upside down on the beam, with his blue-grey robe hanging down like a pendulum, and still holding half of an uneaten osmanthus cake in his hand. "The disciple is just repairing the sword manual." When she sheathed the sword, her fingertips rubbed the strange carvings on the hilt. Three days ago, a dense star map suddenly appeared on the inside of the scabbard, which was passed down from the ancestor. Every time she tried to interpret it, the spiritual power of Dantian would penetrate into the hilt of the sword like a skin punctured by needle holes. What's even more terrible is that in the monthly bulletin posted under the mountain gate this morning, it was clearly written next to her name that she owes three or two or seven yuan for the elixir. If she fails to pay the money in three days, she will be expelled from the Qingyun Sect and go to the mortal market town down the mountain to sweep the streets to pay off the debt - just like the unlucky guy who blew up the alchemy furnace last year. Master Xuanqing fell in front of her, and the crumbs of the sweet-scented osmanthus cake fell on the "Basic Breathing Technique". "Do you know why the last three pages of this sword manual are missing?" He suddenly pressed her wrist. Shen Yanqiu was caught off guard and saw the trajectory of countless falling meteors reflected in her mentor's pupils. "Three hundred years ago, your ancestor nailed himself to the Immortal Execution Platform while staring at these three pages." She jerked her hand away, and the Water-Breaking Sword made a sharp buzzing sound in its sheath. The candlelight on the table suddenly turned green, illuminating a new line of words that appeared on the inside of the scabbard: "On the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, the sword holder needs to cut off his spiritual veins to sacrifice to the star track."