The long sword flicked upward, sending the wooden puppet soaring, revealing its blank reverse side.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh! Changsun Jing could only see the sword weaving like dragons and snakes, dancing with ethereal grace. Even with his sharp eyesight, he could barely catch glimpses of the sword tip, unable to fully grasp the entire transformation.
Within a short time, he sensed shifts of lightness and heaviness, slowness and swiftness, feints and realities, layer upon layer unfolding, yet not the slightest bit chaotic.
As the sword was withdrawn, the puppet landed back into the box, precisely facing upward with its blank side. Black hair-like strokes adorned its surface, bearing sixteen characters:
“Grateful for your guidance, I dare not forget; inscribing my aspirations with the sword, beginning our journey of Dao together.”
Changsun Jing gazed intently. Each stroke seemed spontaneous, elegant and unrestrained—some heavy, some light, some bold, some refined, some ancient, some delicate—showcasing the essence of swordplay. Yet, they appeared overly deliberate, displaying too much. Each stroke differed from the next, deviating from conventional character structures, appearing disordered and chaotic.
However, when viewed as a whole from a distance, they formed a harmonious unity, as if naturally formed, with no stroke or structure appearing misplaced. The sword intent was smooth and inclusive, embracing myriad forms!
If the Sword Emperor’s challenge was akin to a lotus rising from clear water—simple yet elegant—and his chess moves were unremarkable, then the Divine Shock Sword’s response was like a peerless beauty adorned with exquisite refinement. Her charm was not diminished by heavy adornment; instead, it heightened her mesmerizing allure.
Like comparing West Lake to Xi Zi, whether in heavy makeup or light, it was always fitting!
“Another ‘peerless sword technique’…” Changsun Jing sighed once again.
Ru Yi Monk shared a similar perspective, focusing intently on the puppet: “If a novice swordsman obtained this puppet and studied it day and night, he could grasp a formidable sword technique. It would indeed be a martial arts marvel.”
To someone with his discerning eye, these thirty characters separately embodied the Sword Emperor and the Divine Shock Sword’s profound comprehension of swordsmanship. They distilled the most fundamental and essential variations into strokes, each concealing a pinnacle-level technique. The first fourteen and the last sixteen characters respectively formed two seamless sword techniques—one akin to a dragon soaring into the heavens, the other resembling ethereal clouds painting a dazzling night sky!
For the Sword Emperor and the Divine Sword, this might have been nothing more than the outcome of their distant swordplay. However, for those below the level of Grand Masters, it represented two unparalleled sword techniques capable of inciting bloodshed throughout the martial world. How much one could comprehend depended entirely on their innate talent or understanding of sword arts!
Changsun Jing, a true martial artist, diligently memorized every stroke and nuance. After a long while, he reluctantly tore his gaze away, feeling the excitement of witnessing a martial legend: “Even if this ‘Divine Sword Puppet’ does not surpass the great martial arts masterpieces in the future, it will certainly rival them. Possessing it is equivalent to obtaining two supreme sword techniques, sufficient to establish a lineage that lasts for generations.”
In awe and admiration, he momentarily forgot the presence of the onlookers. Too overt praise might embarrass others, making it seem like flattery. He privately named the puppet the “Divine Sword Puppet.” Had it contained cultivation acupoints or techniques, he would have ranked it alongside the greatest martial masterpieces.
“Amitabha Buddha, so be it,” Ru Yi Monk had no further words to add.
Meng Qi listened with a smile, making no attempt to interrupt Changsun Jing and Ru Yi Monk’s conversation. Only after they calmed down did he instruct the imperial general to deliver the puppet to the Sword Emperor.
After leaving the courtyard, the general made his way toward the imperial palace but suddenly turned into a secluded alley.
He wasn’t deaf—he had heard every word spoken by Changsun Jing and Ru Yi Monk!
Moreover, as an imperial general, his martial arts skills were decent, and he had his own discerning eye!
“Peerless sword techniques, two sets of peerless sword techniques…” His breathing quickened. Though he had long stagnated, his physical body had aged, and he had passed the age for further breakthroughs, he had children and grandchildren to consider!
With these two sword techniques in hand, even without corresponding supreme internal martial arts, one would be enough to dominate the martial world. If he could encounter further opportunities to compensate for his shortcomings, he might even become the strongest under the heavens, or even reach the realm of the Demon Empress!
At that point, founding a sect or becoming a powerful clan would bring glory to his family name!
He hurried home, retrieved the necessary tools, and copied the thirty characters from the puppet onto white silk. Though much of the original essence was lost, he dared not directly keep the puppet or forge it himself—after all, the Sword Emperor’s eyes were piercingly sharp. He could only settle for this method. As long as he captured seventy to eighty percent of the essence, it would still be a treasure!
After finishing the transcription, he paused in thought, then added an annotation next to the first fourteen characters: “Zhènxié Sword Technique.”
It captured the Sword Emperor’s intent to suppress evil and protect the righteous.
The latter sixteen characters were even easier to name. He directly wrote: “Jingshen Sword Technique.”
As he named them, he felt as though he was participating in history itself. It was as if his family would flourish from this moment onward, and future generations studying the sword techniques would see his ancestral handwriting and feel eternal gratitude toward him.
What he never expected was that the “Divine Sword Puppet,” along with the “Suppressing Evil” and “Startling God” sword techniques, would later trigger countless upheavals in the martial world, giving rise to numerous legendary figures.
After finishing the copy, he carefully removed the imprint traces from the puppet and hastily returned to the palace to report.
The aged and frail Sword Emperor knelt in meditation, his sword laid before him. He accepted the puppet, carefully examining Meng Qi’s response. The general broke into a sweat, for despite his caution, some faint traces remained after the copying process.
He had initially thought the Sword Emperor would simply skim over the reply before discarding the puppet, much like the Divine Shock Sword had done. Encouraged by this belief, he had preemptively copied it. Never did he anticipate the Sword Emperor would scrutinize it with such meticulous attention.
“In just five years, he has reached such a level. No wonder I dreamed of crossing swords with him…” The Sword Emperor glanced at the general but remained silent. He handed the puppet to his young disciple, “Heavenly Scale Sword” (Cheng Tian Jian), Song Ming.
Even before Meng Qi had slain the Living Buddha, it seemed he had already resolved to face Meng Qi in battle!
“Perhaps it is the pull of fate’s unseen forces,” Song Ming murmured with a faint smile.
The Sword Emperor shook his head, as if withholding something.
As Song Ming was about to ask further, he suddenly uttered a soft “Hm?” His gaze locked onto the puppet. As a swordsman, his instincts compelled him to stare, entranced.
“This contains the essence of my sword techniques and those of the Divine Shock Sword. Study it carefully, and you shall gain much. I have never written down my teachings or compiled any manuals. This puppet shall be my legacy,” the Sword Emperor said in a hoarse voice.
As he spoke, a faint sound of sword qi echoed through the air, like whistling winds. Tiny holes appeared across the puppet’s surface—precisely mirroring the acupoints of the human body—while sword marks indicated the flow of true qi, representing the corresponding circulation method of his sword technique.
Finally, he sighed: “To encompass countless techniques within a single form—his ambition is truly grand. If one could deduce the true qi circulation and inner cultivation methods of the Divine Shock Sword from its swordplay alone, it might help me break through the haze ahead. Yet, merely observing the sword techniques alone won’t unveil its secrets…”
Song Ming regained his composure, smiling bitterly: “Master, I always believed my sword techniques had reached mastery, the pinnacle of human skill. Now I realize I was but a frog at the bottom of a well!”
The imperial general nearly fainted from fear when the Sword Emperor glanced at him, but fortunately, the Sword Emperor said nothing.
Now, slowly regaining his senses, he suddenly recalled something: there were rumors in the martial world that the Sword Emperor cherished talents and often gave ordinary martial artists opportunities…
“Enough, you may leave now. Tomorrow may be my final battle. I wish to spend some quiet time with my old companion,” the Sword Emperor’s voice carried a hint of weariness.
…
Sunset Peak lay to the west of the capital. Each evening, from afar, it appeared draped in a golden glow, its hues varying between golden yellow and crimson red depending on the season, exuding a dazzling beauty.
Near the summit, the Demon Queen, clad in white gauze, stood beside a tree, not proceeding further upward, for approaching any closer would interfere with the two figures atop the peak.
For a Grandmaster like her, witnessing a duel between peers was an invaluable experience that no material wealth could substitute. Therefore, upon hearing the news of the Sword Emperor challenging the Divine Shock Sword, she immediately made arrangements for various contingencies and set out alone without hesitation or delay.
Her beautiful eyes flickered as she gazed toward a nearby boulder. Though she could not see him, she clearly sensed the presence of the National Preceptor on the other side of the rock.
Five years ago, after failing to assist the Crown Prince in his bid for the throne, he had taken the imperial grandson and vanished into the world. Now, he had come to witness this duel.
Only Grand Masters dared approach such a duel between equals. Changsun Jing, Ru Yi Monk, and others had chosen a pavilion farther away, barely able to make out the summit.
This match was not publicly announced, and only a few well-informed individuals gathered, keeping the atmosphere calm and uncluttered.
Within the capital, Right Chancellor Wang Derang paced back and forth in the Council Hall, frequently glancing toward Sunset Peak, as if he longed to rush there immediately.
However, he bore the heavy responsibility of guarding the imperial city and could not easily leave.
“The Emperor has issued a decree: Chancellor, please escort him to Sunset Peak to witness the duel,” a eunuch entered the Council Hall.
Wang Derang’s face first brightened, then furrowed: “How can the Son of Heaven stand beneath a dangerous wall?”
“The Emperor says, ‘How can a disciple not attend when his master fights his final battle?'” The eunuch had already received instructions.
Mentioning the path of a disciple, Wang Derang finally softened: “Very well.”
…
Atop Sunset Peak, after many years, Meng Qi once again faced the Sword Emperor.
The Sword Emperor appeared even older than before, his wrinkles and age spots more pronounced. Yet his tall, imposing figure remained unbent, standing as straight as ever. His presence felt strangely ethereal, as if he were both here and not here at all.
Even without moving, Meng Qi felt the same pressure he had experienced when facing He Jiu and Wang Siyuan. Unfortunately, the Sword Emperor possessed no techniques of External Manifestation or Dharmakaya.
Thinking of this, Meng Qi sighed: “Elder, are you well?”
The Sword Emperor replied calmly: “I am near death; there is no question of being well or unwell. I never imagined that a whim from years ago would allow me to meet you as my opponent. Truly, the world is wondrous.”
Facing the Sword Emperor directly, Meng Qi clearly sensed his own external devil sealed within the old man. Yet, it was not possessing him—it was as if the Sword Emperor had captured it.
Hesitating slightly, Meng Qi asked: “Elder, what of the presence within you?”
“That?” The Sword Emperor smiled faintly for once. “No need to worry. If you win, I shall naturally pass into Nirvana, and it shall perish with me. If you lose, it won’t survive long either.”
Without further explanation, his expression turned grave: “Prepare yourself.”
Meng Qi closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and cleared his mind. His inner world naturally activated, his spirit seemingly extending infinitely, traversing the earth, mountains, rivers, and the azure sky, the blazing sun, the dark and terrifying void, and the countless brilliant stars…
This sensation… Meng Qi seemed to perceive the presence of primordial energy as an ocean, drawing from it with every breath, while the power of heaven and earth faintly revealed itself before him.
To the Sword Emperor, the figure before him seemed to dissolve into emptiness, as if transforming into the boundless night sky, embracing all things.
Thus, he raised his sword.
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