The Heavenly Sword Palace was divided like the heavens themselves — layers of sky stacked one upon another, each holding those deemed worthy of its air.
The Inner Court floated above, shrouded in divine mist and sword qi so pure it could slice through thought. Below it lay the Outer Disciple Court, a sprawling mountain range covered in jade pavilions and blade-shaped peaks that pierced the clouds.
It was here that Lin Feng began his new life.
When he arrived, the atmosphere was stifling. Even the air hummed with celestial laws that bent the body and soul. Every disciple he saw radiated strength — each aura burned with Saint-level power or higher. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, and edged like unsheathed swords.
"That's the new ascendant?" "The mortal who fought Senior Jian Wuhen?" "Hmph. A trick. If he faced a true Saint, he'd be dust."
Such whispers followed him wherever he walked.
Lin Feng ignored them. His focus was calm, unwavering. He had endured worse — ridicule, betrayal, death itself — all far below the heavenly sky. He would endure again.
The Outer Court's overseer, Elder Zhao, a stooped man whose eyes glimmered with hidden sharpness, handed Lin Feng his jade insignia.
"Lin Feng, lower realm ascendant," he said, his tone half-condescending. "You'll be assigned to the Jade Sword Peak. You'll cultivate there, take missions, and prove your worth. Fail within one year, and you'll be expelled from the Heavenly Sword Palace."
Lin Feng bowed slightly. "Understood."
The elder studied him a moment longer before murmuring, "This realm will crush you if you do not adapt. The laws here reject the weak."
Lin Feng smiled faintly. "Then I'll force the heavens to accept me."
---
The Jade Sword Peak was a lonely place — smaller and less radiant than the others. Sword qi constantly drifted through the air, but it was wild and untamed, tearing at his meridians with every breath.
For ordinary cultivators of this realm, it was nothing.
But for someone who had only recently ascended, it was agony.
For days, Lin Feng sat in silence upon the stone platform, his body trembling as invisible threads of divine energy slashed through his veins.
Blood spilled from his lips more than once.
Yet, his eyes never closed.
So this… is the true power of the Higher Realm… The air itself rejects me.
He clenched his fists and summoned the Azure Sword Art. Streams of azure light coiled around him, forming ethereal dragons that howled within the storm of energy.
Every cycle of breath was torture — yet with each breath, his control grew sharper. He didn't resist the pressure; he let it crush him, mold him, burn away every trace of weakness.
He recalled his master's words before he ascended:
"In the higher realm, your foundation is your greatest treasure. Guard it. Temper it."
And so he did.
Hours turned to days. Days into weeks.
His body began to adapt — the energy that once tore at his meridians now flowed more smoothly, fusing with his core. His sword aura grew calmer, colder, deadlier.
---
The Ninefold Nirvana Pill
Three months passed before he opened the small jade case the Envoy had left him. Inside lay a single pill — perfectly round, glowing with nine concentric halos of divine light.
The Ninefold Nirvana Pill.
A legendary treasure said to help a cultivator step into Saint Realm by tempering body, soul, and will through nine cycles of rebirth. Few dared to consume it; even saints had perished under its torment.
Lin Feng placed it on his tongue.
Instantly, his world exploded.
His veins turned molten, his soul burned like oil on divine fire. His flesh cracked as golden blood spilled out — yet his sword intent wrapped around him, protecting what little remained of his consciousness.
"If this realm wishes to destroy me… then I'll ascend through its destruction!"
The first nirvana cycle began — flesh destruction. His muscles dissolved into pure energy and reformed, harder than spirit steel.
The second — soul refinement. His spiritual sea shattered and recondensed, vast and serene.
The third — will tempering. His mind faced illusions of despair, his failures, his fears — and he cut them down with one sword.
Each cycle broke him. Each cycle remade him.
By the ninth, even the heavens above Jade Sword Peak were trembling, thunderclouds spiraling as if to bear witness.
A sword cry pierced the night.
When the storm cleared, Lin Feng sat cross-legged amid a pool of faint golden light, his eyes glowing faintly blue. The aura he released was no longer that of a God Realm cultivator.
"Saint Realm," he whispered.
But unlike the saints of this realm — his aura was purer, steadier, more balanced. It was not the forced might of a higher realm birth, but the tempered blade of a man who had carved his own path to power.
---
The Whisper of the Azure Sword
As his energy settled, a hum echoed in his mind — the Azure Sword Art unfurling its higher verses, the ones sealed to those below Saint Realm.
New sword diagrams formed before his consciousness: ethereal runes that moved like galaxies, each stroke containing the rhythm of heaven and earth.
He raised his sword and swung lightly.
The world trembled.
Space folded for an instant, and a faint azure arc split a distant boulder in half.
"Azure Sword Art — Second Form… Heavensunder."
It wasn't power that awed him — it was precision. Control. Depth.
He could feel it now — that faint link between sword intent and law comprehension. The path toward the Celestial Dao was no longer invisible.
A new resolve filled him.
---
The Outer Court Challenge
The next morning, when Lin Feng walked through the training grounds, the atmosphere shifted.
Those who had mocked him days ago now turned in silence. The weaker disciples instinctively stepped aside — their instincts screaming of danger, even if they couldn't sense his full aura.
But not all bowed.
A group of young saints blocked his way, their robes bearing the mark of the Silver Blade Faction — the most dominant force in the Outer Court.
Their leader smirked. "So the mortal survived. You've got some luck."
Lin Feng's gaze met his — calm, detached. "Move."
Laughter erupted. "You think breaking into Saint Realm makes you one of us? You're still an insect."
The youth thrust his hand forward, releasing a burst of saintly pressure.
Lin Feng didn't even move.
A faint azure light flickered in his eyes — a wisp of sword qi cut through the pressure like paper. The youth stumbled backward, his palm bleeding.
Gasps echoed across the courtyard.
Lin Feng sheathed his sword and walked past him.
"Luck," he said quietly, "has nothing to do with survival."
---
That night, word spread like wildfire through the Outer Court.
The ascendant from the lower realm — the one they mocked — had not only survived the heavens' rejection, but had entered the Saint Realm in three months and silenced a Silver Blade disciple with a glance.
Elder Zhao, watching from his peak, smiled faintly.
"He's beginning to stir the heavens already… The last person who climbed this fast became a Palace Lord."