On the ninth day after Xu Xian entered his meditative state, the sixth floor of the tower rose, and its doors swung wide.
A golden radiance filled the floor, and an aura of overbearing kingship swept outward. Within the light, one could faintly see a golden dragon soul swimming through the air.
“Dragon qi?”
Another dragon? The previous sword, Thunder Punishment, had its edge tempered by the thunder dragons of the thunder pool. Could this sixth Two-Character Sword also be related to dragons?
But where did this thick, hegemonic aura of a monarch come from? Was it a dragon emperor?
Xu Xian pondered to himself...
The answer,
Lay within the pool.
With a wave of his sleeve, Xu Xian swept all the remaining spirit stones into the Divine Sword Pool. He stood up and, with resolute steps, threw himself into the Sword Tower.
The scene shifted, and he found himself standing atop the Divine Sword Pool.
The Old Tortoise was startled awake. It opened its eyes and looked over. After a gap of four hundred years, it was seeing Xu Xian again. The youth who had been at the peak of the tribulation transcendence stage in the ninth mortal stage back then had now crossed his lightning tribulation and become an immortal. A celestial grace now lingered within his eyes.
The tortoise was not surprised by this. It had sensed long ago that this Sword Mound had broken through a spatial barrier and set foot in the Upper Realm.
A few days ago, the entire sea of swords beneath the Divine Sword Pool had grown restless. Tens of millions of swords had surged out of the mound to charge into the mortal realm, just as they had four hundred years ago.
When they returned, their sword aura was stained with a deathly baleful qi. That aura stirred memories that had been dormant in the depths of its heart for a very long time—it was something that did not belong to Fanzhou, and it was certainly not a good omen.
Even though the four sword pools below were far away and it couldn't be one hundred percent certain, the tortoise had already made its guesses.
Seeing Xu Xian today, now having entered the Immortal Realm, its guesses were practically confirmed. However, it still didn't understand why the baleful aura of the Boundary Sea was present, given that the path of ascension from Fanzhou should lead to the Heavenly Sword Province.
After entering the sword pool, Xu Xian walked toward the seven remaining ancient swords. One of them responded to him, just as had happened during the previous two times.
The Old Tortoise knew Xu Xian was here to draw a sword. It didn't say a word or even offer a greeting; it simply extended its limbs and head from its shell, lying on the ground to watch quietly.
It watched as another sword was about to emerge, and as a new sword intent began to grow.
It was very curious. The last sword was called Thunder Punishment and contained a trace of the Heavenly Dao’s might. What kind of sword would today’s be?
Naturally, Xu Xian, who was about to draw the sword, felt the same curiosity.
He arrived before the sword that had been waiting for him for so long. He paused, ignoring the chatter of the Little Book Spirit. Glancing back at the Old Tortoise, he said with a hint of playfulness, “You want to know too?”
The Old Tortoise was taken aback before stubbornly replying, “None of my business.”
Xu Xian chuckled and looked away. He slowly raised his right hand until he gripped the hilt of the sword. “Then let me see the story that belongs to you...”
The world inverted, and the sky turned dark. As expected, the moment Xu Xian gripped the sword, his divine sense was dragged into the memory within the sword intent.
From high above the river of years, he looked down and salvaged a past that had long since vanished—the glory that belonged to this sword.
Traversing the boundless starry river and falling through the vast deep space, Xu Xian’s consciousness was like a meteor, rushing past the ancient Cangming and sinking into a continent.
This time, the story began in a small, ancient town.
The town was not large, housing only a few hundred families. Paths crisscrossed between green bricks and red tiles. The river was jade-green, the willow leaves were vibrant, and the peach blossoms were a brilliant red...
It was a bustling place with wisps of cooking smoke. Children returned early from school, busy flying their kites in the eastern breeze.
Xu Xian’s perspective zoomed in, following a gust of wind as it blew across the riverbank, leapt over high walls, and passed through long streets, tea houses, and crowds of men and women. It dove into narrow alleys.
He felt as if he were physically there, experiencing the local scenery, until the loud cry of an infant rang out.
Waa— waa—
The sound echoed in all directions.
“Old Man Wang, she gave birth! It’s a big, healthy boy!”
“Hahaha! My Wang family finally has an heir...”
Xu Xian’s consciousness ascended, revealing a small courtyard. It was long and narrow, clearly not the home of a wealthy family. The father was a rough man in his forties.
However, at the source of that crying, there was a thin golden thread, imperceptible to mortals, hanging solitary and reaching upward.
Xu Xian followed the thread. It went up through the clouds, past the atmosphere, and beyond the azure sky until it reached the boundless starry sea of the vast universe.
A single star shone for him. Its starlight rippled outward, revealing a flash of brilliant white that fell back toward the mortal world, finally crashing into that small courtyard.
Boom!
The entire town was shaken.
In the center of the courtyard, a black stone the size of two fists lay at the bottom of a crater several meters deep.
A heavenly anomaly? A fated one?
Xu Xian pondered as he observed. His ears were filled with chaotic noise. People hurried in and out of the small courtyard, arguing, discussing, slandering, deliberating, worrying, and panicking...
It was a mess, and Xu Xian couldn't hear clearly, but he knew the stone was not simple—and the infant was even less so.
Time began to accelerate. The images before him played like a recording on fast-forward—ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times faster...
When the child was one year old,
The town suffered a locust plague.
When the child was two years old,
The town suffered a drought.
When the child was three years old,
The town suffered a flood.
The child was regarded as an ill omen by the villagers, who wanted to kill him as a sacrifice to the heavens. His father fought desperately to protect him, and the family was eventually driven out of the village.
They drifted from place to place until they settled in another land, where the father became a butcher.
When the child was eight, he began to admire swordsmen and dreamed of becoming a sword immortal. All day long, he used swords made of bamboo or wood to slash at plants, fish, and insects, fantasizing about traveling the world with a blade.
To indulge his son's interest, the father used that strange stone to forge an ordinary-looking iron sword and gifted it to the boy.
The boy was overjoyed, but after swinging it a few times, he was gasping for breath.
He grew to dislike it,
Because the sword was too heavy!
It wasn't as good as his bamboo swords.
The father laughed and said that this was the number one sword in the world.
That was why it was heavy...
If the boy could swing it three hundred times a day, he would eventually be able to wield it and become invincible in this world.
The boy was skeptical and abandoned the sword in a storehouse.
The sun and moon rotated, and the seasons changed. The mortal world was in turmoil; smoke rose from fires of war, lords vied for supremacy, and bandits roamed the land.
The boy’s father was intercepted and killed by bandits while out, and his mother became bedridden with illness. Corrupt officials levied heavy taxes, eventually killing his mother and destroying their home.
At twelve years old, the boy was a lucky survivor.
To avenge his parents, he took the sword from the storehouse and began to practice his swings every day.
By day, he slaughtered pigs and sold meat. Every day, he swung the sword three hundred times, then five hundred, then a thousand, then three thousand...
He became self-taught.
He executed the bandits,
Assassinated the corrupt officials,
And raised his sword in rebellion.
At this point, time accelerated even more. The scenes before him jumped frantically.
Counties,
Provinces,
The Imperial City,
The entire world.
The youth traveled across the mountains and rivers.
He became a soldier, then a general, then a rebel leader who rose up with a single call.
He became a king,
Then an emperor,
Ruling over all under heaven.
Everything was changing, but the only constant was that iron sword, which accompanied him day and night as he swung it relentlessly.
From within the mortal world, he glimpsed the path of immortality...
And set out on a new journey...
He fought against men, against immortals, against gods, and against the heavens. His appearance became fixed, with only the profundity in his eyes deepening as time passed.
He unified the mortal realm, unified the world, and unified the entire human realm.
He campaigned against the Upper Heavens,
And brought them under his rule.
Ten provinces,
A hundred provinces,
A thousand provinces.
Mortals,
Immortals.
King,
Emperor,
The peak of the Dao...
Until one moment, he stood at the summit of the starry sky, dominating the entire Ancient Desolate and becoming a titan of the world.
Yet, he still swung his sword every day.
In just a brief moment, Xu Xian understood the man's life. It was long, yet also short. Ten thousand years? A hundred thousand years?
Xu Xian couldn't remember clearly.
He only remembered the man in the story and his sword.
The iron sword forged from the stone that had been born into the world alongside him.
He had swung that sword every day until he was invincible in the world.
Through his tempering, the iron sword had transformed from a simple blade into an immortal sword, a divine sword, and finally, a supreme divine weapon.
In the final scene,
He stood amidst the vibrant landscape of his realm, holding his sword high as he roared toward the sky,
“My sword is Jiangshan, unrivaled under heaven!”
His voice was thunderous, echoing through the starry river, unceasing for ten thousand years...
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