Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The sword in Shang Xi's hand scraped against the whetstone, producing an ear-piercing shriek.
On its edge, blazing sword-qi flickered dangerously, making even seasoned hearts tremble.
His strange action set the surrounding Star-Seizing cultivators on edge, their spirits taut as bowstrings.
Though they outnumbered him, and their cultivation far exceeded that of the frail, weathered man before them
This man was a Pure Yang disciple!
A blood-soaked name backed by countless corpses of mighty cultivators.
Even if he couldn't move, even if he'd been carried here on a stretcher, these Star-Seizers would still show him full respect.
Even if he had but one breath left, none of them would dare to cross the line.
For all who had scoffed, all who had dismissed the Pure Yang swordsmen were long since dead.
Before this old man sharpened his blade, they exchanged glances, but no one dared to speak, much less stop him.
And so, beneath the empty sky, only the harsh sound of grinding steel echoed.
...
Meanwhile, Jing Qian sped toward Ruins Province, his sword-light tearing through the heavens, covering a hundred thousand li each day, soaring over endless mountains and rivers.
Ruins Province lay at the northern border beyond the Divine Dynasty's heartlands. Beyond it stretched Fear Province, a domain teeming with mountain-ghosts, separated only by the Northern Pass.
The entire province was a vast, lifeless basin. Spiritual energy was desolate; not a blade of grass grew. The land was hardened like glazed rock, as though struck down by Zhu Rong's fiery fist, driven deep into the earth's crust.
Only around Ruins Sword Mountain was there a circle of lush forest, small in size, yet standing out like a green jewel amid desolation.
Jing Qian was no longer the cautious youth he once was. Having cleared the Academy Feast and been certified by the Divine Dynasty, his status had changed. He now carried himself with a newfound confidence.
The identity of a Pure Yang Ruins disciple granted him a unique political weight. In dealings with other branches of the Divine Dynasty, it was an unshakable badge of legitimacy.
Thus, he passed freely through Ying Province and You Province into Ruins Province, meeting little resistance. On the few occasions he did, he didn't even bother engaging, just shifted his sword-light and flew on.
His mind was consumed by thoughts of his next stage of cultivation. Once he entered the Pure Yang Ruins and inherited its legacy, he could finally condense his Dharma Manifestation without restraint and seize his long-awaited breakthrough.
He had already delayed too long. Impatience gnawed at him.
At the Academy Feast, he had successfully condensed the upper-grade Dharma Manifestation, the Dao Sovereign Fishing the Void, tasting its true might.
Now his thirst for advancement burned hotter than ever.
Anyone who tried to block his path now would earn his eternal enmity.
His eyes shone like lightning. With his Worldly Insight pushed to the limit, he scanned thousands of li across the barren province.
There, he locked directly onto Ruins Sword Mountain.
But as he raced toward it, six overwhelming auras suddenly locked onto him.
Each one carried suffocating malice, a warning not to approach.
Jing Qian could see clearly that these were all Star-Seizing experts, and not merely ordinary ones, but among the strongest of their rank.
Any single one of them was stronger than the Qiongqi that haunted his mind.
Their hostile intent was naked coercion, barring him from the Pure Yang Ruins.
But Jing Qian had no intention of being turned aside.
He had finally found his true home; how could anyone stop him?
Without hesitation, he slipped into the Sumeru Dimension, easily shaking off their lock, and shot straight for Ruins Sword Mountain.
The next instant, he stepped back into the world, standing directly before the white ox.
Without delay, he bowed deeply to the old sword cultivator astride it and said:
"Disciple Jing Qian, having passed the Academy Feast's selection, comes to enter the Pure Yang Ruins and inherit its Dao. I beg admission."
The oppressive tension broke.
Though six mighty Star-Seizers unleashed waves of vast power, not one could touch the lone old man, the youth, and the ox in the center.
Shang Xi stopped sharpening his blade. His gaze fell on Jing Qian, studying him.
Then, the pure-white eye at his brow opened wide. From it surged a killing intent as sharp as heaven's blade, locking onto Jing Qian.
In an instant, Jing Qian felt as though a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood rushed toward him, ready to swallow him whole.
At that moment, within his sea of consciousness, the Qingping Sword Casket flared with light. Its sword-qi, drawn as if by instinct to Shang Xi's aura, lashed out without thought.
A torrent of dazzling sword-light slashed straight toward Shang Xi.
Thus, Jing Qian's "apprenticeship bow" became a strike of steel and fire!
Shang Xi, however, showed no displeasure at all. On the contrary, in his cloudy eyes flickered a rare spark of delight.
This sword-qi finally carries a trace of Pure Yang's true flavor!
In the past three thousand years, Shang Xi had accepted more than a few disciples, yet most of them lacked the innate talent required to inherit the legacy of Pure Yang Heaven.
Jing Qian, without doubt, was the finest disciple he had ever encountered.
He had long abandoned hope of passing on his sect's inheritance, yet unexpectedly, heaven had opened a new path, spring had returned in his twilight years.
Shang Xi burst into hearty laughter:
"Good! Good! Good!
It wasn't in vain that I endured these extra years before death.
Today, let me slay a Star-Seizer as a gift to celebrate my disciple Jing Qian!"
His laughter rolled across heaven and earth, twined with the resounding cry of swords. The rusty iron blade in his hand suddenly roared like a dragon.
"Disciple," Shang Xi declared, "you take the first strike. Let me see the depth of your cultivation."
Without hesitation, Jing Qian turned and unleashed his most powerful sword strike.
He burned six flesh buds, invoked the Heaven-Sundering Sword Stance, and overlaid it with the Self-Burial Sword. Its brilliance blazed beyond compare.
His sword light locked onto a blood-robed cultivator fleeing at great speed across the horizon.
This man's eyes brimmed with malice as he wrapped himself in a surging river of blood, fleeing into the distance.
Yet even as Jing Qian's lightning sword bore down, he showed no panic. His figure burst like a bubble and merged seamlessly into the blood river.
Jing Qian's chosen target was none other than Blood Cang, a Star-Seizing grandmaster of the Blood River Sect, bearer of the low-grade bestowed title Blood River Crossing, his strength already brushing the threshold of the Upper Three Realms.
By Jing Qian's own limits, his sword alone could not possibly slay Blood Cang.
But this strike was not just a sword; it was a raven's omen of death, a headsman's verdict.
With Shang Xi standing at his back, Jing Qian's sword pointed at someone, and then that person was already dead.
Jing Qian's sword light was swift, but just before it reached the blood river, Shang Xi moved.
He merely flicked his iron sword, sharpened for seven long days.
A sword light immeasurably greater than Jing Qian's surged forth, racing along the same trajectory, overtaking Jing Qian's light and striking the blood river first.
Though unleashed later, it arrived earlier, cutting the blood river to ash in a single stroke.
The mighty Star-Seizing master, Blood Cang, perished without lasting even a moment before Shang Xi's sword.
That strike obliterated ninety-nine percent of his vitality, severing his power, spirit, flesh, and soul, leaving only a final shred of life.
And Shang Xi deliberately left him alive, barely as a gift for Jing Qian.
When Jing Qian's sword light followed through, Blood Cang's last blood-skin offered no resistance.
Thus, this mighty Star-Seizer ultimately died under Jing Qian's sword, his bestowed title, Blood River Crossing, seized in turn.
Once again, Jing Qian had slain a foe across multiple realms, wresting away another sacred title.
Closing his eyes, he felt the power of the new title flow into him.
Above, the remaining five Star-Seizers had already fled to the borders of Ruins Province, unwilling to fight further.
Even Blood Cang's own heir-disciple, Blood Tu—himself a Star-Seizer fled with all speed, with no thought of revenge.
The plan to besiege the Pure Yang Ruins had collapsed. Lacking the will to stake their lives against Shang Xi, they could only retreat.
Shang Xi sheathed his sword and stood tall, but a harsh cough racked him, blood flecking his lips. His body sagged, weakened.
Meanwhile, within Jing Qian's sea of consciousness, the title Child of Sumeru absorbed the essence of Blood River Crossing, completing a set of three low-grade titles. A critical moment of advancement began.
Within a single year, Jing Qian had secured the titles Son of Thunder, Daughter of Ghosts, and now Blood River Crossing, a string of fortunes unmatched.
Of these, the most difficult was Blood River Crossing, yet Shang Xi had delivered it to him by hand.
His mid-grade title was already forming. For now, he roused from meditation.
Seeing him awake, Shang Xi spoke:
"Come with me up the mountain."
He spurred the old white ox upward, gliding toward Sword Mountain, and Jing Qian followed close behind.
As they flew, Shang Xi said:
"Our Pure Yang Heaven is sparse in number. Within this realm, it is only you, me, and this old ox. We don't fuss with empty ceremony. Be at ease, no need for stiffness.
Entering my sect is destiny. Don't be fooled by our lack of disciples; there are still deep foundations here, waiting for you to uncover.
If your cultivation keeps pace, when I die, all of it will be yours.
I'll bring you into the sect first, then you and I will speak at length."
They landed beneath Sword Mountain. Shang Xi dismounted, ascending the stone steps on foot.
The mountain was steep. His strength failing, he climbed shakily. Jing Qian wanted to help, but Shang Xi waved him off.
Step by step, Shang Xi climbed, speaking as he went:
"This mountain beneath your feet was born of my grandmaster-aunt's final sword strike, three thousand years ago. Since you've cultivated the Sword Casket, you should feel the sword-qi within."
"My master's aunt was a Heaven-Mending cultivator of the Third Grade, one of the most brilliant talents our Pure Yang Heaven ever saw, her gifts far greater than mine.
Had calamity not struck, she surely would have succeeded Grandmaster Ren Chong, guarding our sect for ten thousand years."
Jing Qian needed no prompting. The moment he stepped upon Sword Mountain, he had already felt its sword-qi.
The thousand-zhang peak was shaped like a giant sword, plunged straight into the earth.
The entire mountain was one seamless mass of greenstone, infused with boundless sword-qi, unyielding, solid as vajra, thrust deep into the planet's core.
Jing Qian knew what he was sensing. The quality of sword-qi within this mountain far exceeded his expectations.
If the fundamental sword-qi within his Qingping Sword Casket was measured as "one"
Then, Shang Xi's strike against Blood Cang had been "thirty."
But the sword-qi locked within Sword Mountain?
It exceeded "one hundred."
And more importantly, through the Sword Mountain beneath his feet, Jing Qian clearly sensed a massive ape's head sealed deep within the earth.
The ancestral master's sword was driven straight into the ape's brow, piercing its forehead at the point corresponding to the sea of consciousness.
That terrifying giant ape, red-faced and tusked, hideous beyond measure, was still alive!
Even the faint trace of its aura, leaking past the mountain's suppression, was so overwhelming it stabbed painfully into Jing Qian's spirit sense.
By rank, this severed head was at least of the Second Grade Fisherman class, the same level as the eyeless one, the old angler, and the Wuchang Emperor Jing Qian had once encountered.
Judging from the thoroughness of the seal, this ape had undoubtedly been one of Pure Yang Heaven's mortal enemies.
If it were ever to break free, the present Pure Yang Ruins would stand no chance of resisting.
He and Shang Xi were, in truth, sitting atop a colossal powder keg.
Jing Qian withdrew his spirit sense, unable to hold back his question:
"Master, what exactly was this 'great calamity'? Was that ape sealed beneath the Sword Mountain part of it?"
Shang Xi gave him a sidelong glance before replying:
"You could sense Wu Zhiqi? Hmph, your spirit sense is not bad."
"Yes. That second-grade great fiend was one of the invaders who stormed our Yingfu World during the great calamity.
To subdue that beast and resist the tribulation, my grandmaster-aunt burned out her life, our sect's disciples were nearly annihilated, and only I survived by sheer chance."
"As for the calamity itself… it began because some damned elder of Yanfudao, while wandering the void, provoked a power he never should have crossed."
"He managed to flee quickly enough, but the enemies traced the trail straight to our Yingfu World.
And wouldn't you know it, at the time our sect's Patriarch Yuanyang had returned home for rest. When trouble came knocking, he simply cut the intruder down with one sword stroke."
"That only added insult to injury, enraging our foes beyond measure.
These so-called grandmasters care only for their own moment of satisfaction. After stirring up blood-deep grudges, they wandered off into the depths of the void to pursue their own cultivation, leaving us behind to suffer the retaliation."
"And those enemies were no trifling matter. Failing to find the true culprits, they vented their fury on our world.
Three thousand years ago, six Second-Grade powers attacked together, intent on destroying us."
"The Ying Clan, Yanfudao, and our Pure Yang Heaven burned through all of our foundations just to hold them off.
But look at the outcome. Pure Yang Heaven was virtually wiped out, leaving only me alive.
Yanfudao fared even worse. Their core cave-heaven, Yanfu Di, was shattered, their disciples slaughtered, their inheritance cut off.
If not for the last Yanfuzis tricking two of those Second-Grade enemies into the chaos of the void currents, our world might truly have perished."
"As for the Ying Clan, don't be fooled by their prosperity today, as if untouched by calamity.
Back then, their greatest prodigy, the Ying Emperor, was forced to wed into another realm, made into the furnace cauldron of a human Empress in exchange for troops to survive.
That single calamity drained our Yingfu World's vitality, leaving us broken for three millennia, never again able to advance to the rank of a Sea Realm.
And even now, our enemies have never abandoned their grudge.
Of the blame, Yanfudao carries sixty percent, and Pure Yang Heaven, forty percent. The others bear little responsibility."
"When I'm gone, if you ever have the fortune to meet Patriarch Yuanyang upon his return, spit in his face on my behalf!"
Shang Xi's brief explanation contained far too much. The implications were staggering, and Jing Qian found himself overwhelmed, questions crowding his mind faster than he could voice them.
But Shang Xi saw his turmoil and said:
"These are matters for later. You and I will have years yet to speak of them. For now, let me lead you through the formalities of initiation."
By then, the two had climbed to the edge of the Sword-Grinding Cliff atop the mountain's hilt.
Jing Qian's eyes were instantly drawn to the strange treasure before him.
The Sword-Grinding Cliff was a true treasure of the sword path.
Every disciple of Pure Yang Heaven, when forging their Sword Casket, mixed in a measure of powdered stone from this cliff.
Thus, so long as they remained within the realm, their sword-qi was linked to the cliff, leaving behind a sliver of their intent upon its surface.
Standing before the cliff, Jing Qian felt it clearly: boundless sword intent, as though thousands upon thousands of sword cultivators stood with drawn blades, all aimed directly at him.
Without sufficient cultivation and a firm heart, simply standing here would shatter a man's courage and soul.
At this moment, Shang Xi spoke solemnly:
"This Sword-Grinding Cliff is the root of our Pure Yang Heaven's lineage. It holds endless mysteries.
You have already refined the Sword Casket and accumulated a fundamental sword-qi. Now unleash it, strike the cliff with your root sword-qi!"
Jing Qian froze for a moment, glancing toward Shang Xi in search of confirmation.
But Shang Xi's expression was grave, and he nodded firmly, leaving no room for doubt.
Jing Qian drew a deep breath, eyes fixed on the cliff.
There had to be a profound reason for this demand. But to unleash his fundamental sword-qi in reality was akin to ransacking his own treasury.
Within the Qingping Sword Casket lay the accumulation of over a hundred years of essence and effort; he could no longer even calculate how much Life Essence he had poured into it.
This root sword-qi was the very foundation of his combat power, the keystone of his ability to challenge foes far beyond his realm.
To spend it here would grant him a fleeting surge of power, but leave him weakened for a long time afterward.
Though it could be replenished eventually, the lost opportunities would be immeasurable.
Still, Jing Qian chose to trust Shang Xi.
"Hold nothing back," Shang Xi ordered. "Strike with all your strength!"
Hearing this, Jing Qian no longer hesitated. He decisively unlocked the Qingping Sword Casket, unleashing a strike of his fundamental sword-qi.
This sword carried the entirety of the Sword Casket's divine mysteries. The Fate Locking Needle was fused within, while six budding heart-flesh nodes were sacrificed to empower it with the Six Paths Samsara Sword Momentum.
Unless he burned away other foundations of cultivation, this was the true ceiling of his offensive power.
Such a sword-qi was already comparable to the strike Shang Xi had used to slay Xue Cang Jing Qian's full potential and heritage, erupting in a single blow!
The sword burst forth like a dragon leaping from the abyss, and in an instant, cleaved onto the Sword-Grinding Cliff. Yet the strike, brimming with his accumulated essence, vanished as though a dragon plunging into the sea, no ripple, not even the faintest mark.
The cliff devoured it utterly, leaving behind no trace at all.
But in the very next heartbeat, the cliff roared to life. The countless sword scars carved upon its face began to shine one after another.
Jing Qian distinctly felt boundless sword-qi surge forth from those scars.
And all of it locked onto him, each strand intent on cutting him down.
An overwhelming sense of life-and-death dread pressed into his heart, so heavy he instinctively wanted to evade.
Just then, Shang Xi barked at his side:
"Don't dodge! Endure it!"
Under his words, Jing Qian rooted himself to the ground, forcing himself to face the cliff's full might head-on.
In only a few breaths, every scar on the cliff lit up. From each scar burst a sword ray, all striking toward Jing Qian.
He did not evade; he let them hit.
In that instant, he was shredded by sword-light, suffering death by a thousand cuts.
The agony of ten thousand blades tearing through his body nearly ripped his consciousness apart.
And yet… his flesh remained smooth and unbroken, without the faintest mark.
Though the sword-light struck him, not a shred of its force leaked outward. Instead, every strand burrowed into his body, coursing through his meridians before surging straight into the sea of consciousness.
There, the empty Qingping Sword Casket stood wide open, eagerly absorbing every wisp of sword-qi.
These rays, born from his own fundamental sword-qi and purified by the cliff, were now even finer and more refined.
More importantly, the sheer quantity of force far exceeded his original reserve.
After nearly an hour of absorption, Jing Qian realized with shock: his fundamental sword-qi had not only been fully restored, but its capacity had doubled!
He was utterly stunned.
His most vital cultivation foundation had skyrocketed twofold. From now on, every sword strike would consume the same power as before, yet its might would be doubled.
At that moment, Shang Xi spoke again:
"Congratulations. To draw out the Sword-Grinding Cliff with your root sword-qi, this is your initiation ceremony.
From this moment on, you are formally entered into Pure Yang Heaven, acknowledged as a true disciple."
"In the last three thousand years, I've taken many students, yet none achieved what you did today. They could only remain as outer disciples.
You alone have stepped through the gate. You are my only true inheritor.
At last, the lineage of Pure Yang Heaven is continued!"
A look of relief and satisfaction crossed Shang Xi's weathered face.
"As a true disciple, every time you advance a realm, you may return to this cliff and unleash your root sword-qi once more.
The cliff will refine it and send it back to you doubled. This will save you immeasurable effort in condensing sword-qi.
It is the foremost privilege of our sect's heirs.
And you can invoke the cliff before even condensing your dharma-Manifestation; you are blessed with talent and fortune, both supreme.
When you finally forge your Manifestation, you may strike here again, gaining yet another doubling.
At my level, your strength may one day surpass mine."
At this, Shang Xi sighed. A disciple of such caliber, had he lived three thousand years earlier, before the calamity, might have reached heights far greater.
But now, Pure Yang Heaven could offer far less support.
Shang Xi flicked a sword-light toward the cliff. Its sheer face split open, revealing a doorway.
He stepped through, turning back to Jing Qian.
"Come. Let us finish the rites of apprenticeship, and I shall pass the sect's inheritance to you."
"Yes, Master!"
Jing Qian followed close behind, stepping with Shang Xi into the heart of the Sword-Grinding Cliff.
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