Time flies like a shuttle, and it was already a year after the “Plaza Day.” During this year, the power struggles on Earth remained relatively unchanged. At least, the ultimate war between the Senate and the Merchant Guild that people had feared did not come to pass. This was naturally the result of mutual fear between the two sides, but it was also due in part to the mediation of the Emperor of the Empire. As the supreme ruler of the Galactic Empire, the Emperor naturally did not want his stronghold to become a battlefield.
The surface-level compromise between the Senate and the Merchant Guild was that neither side would interfere in the affairs of the sword sects. Therefore, no senator targeted Yang Hao this year, and the Merchant Guild did not provide any support to the Dan Ding Sword Sect.
The struggle between the Ten Sword Sects and the Dan Ding Sword Sect became an undercurrent beneath the calm waters.
After a year had passed, this struggle finally had a clear outcome.
The Dan Ding Sword Sect emerged victorious in the battle for the aristocratic youths, nearly crushing the Ten Sword Sects to the point of suffocation.
Among nearly a million high-ranking aristocrats in the Empire, seventy percent favored the Dan Ding Sect.
This was partly because of the shocking events of “Plaza Day,” and partly because the Ten Sword Sects had lost five of their sacred swords, making it hard for them to convince people with the mainstream ideology of the Empire.
Moreover, the Dan Ding Sect’s cultivation only required swallowing some pills, which was simple and easy, and from time to time, people could even see four dragons flying around the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s estate, a sight not commonly seen elsewhere.
Therefore, the aristocrats flocked to the sect like ducks to water. After several rounds of expansion, the number of outer hall disciples of the Dan Ding Sword Sect exceeded one hundred thousand, while the inner hall disciples, personally selected and trained by Yang Hao, reached a thousand.
Having learned from past experiences, Yang Hao deeply understood that in a real battle, the outer hall disciples were completely unreliable. He accepted them merely to collect tuition fees and to boost the sect’s prestige. The truly valuable individuals were those in the inner hall. Under the guidance of Hun Yuan Zi, Yang Hao indeed taught the Dan Ding Sect’s cultivation techniques to them.
However, he cleverly withheld the most crucial alchemical methods. In other words, these inner hall disciples who had already established their foundations had to rely on Yang Hao to obtain pills. Without these pills, they might not even last three days.
In this way, Yang Hao effortlessly controlled over a thousand aristocratic youths with bright futures.
Through secret arrangements by the Merchant Guild, some of these aristocrats were dispatched to various star systems as governors. The power struggle between the Merchant Guild and the Senate gradually saw new shifts in advantage.
One day, during winter in the imperial capital.
The night was bright with a full moon, and the moonlight shining from the sky was a faint yellow gold—another masterpiece of the Emperor’s image project.
A young noble dressed in aristocratic attire quietly entered the back gate of the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s estate, where someone was already waiting at the door.
The one who came to greet him was none other than Zhu Ge Jian, a figure of extraordinary status within the Dan Ding Group.
Over the past year, Zhu Ge Jian had become a difficult person to meet. As Yang Hao’s influence rapidly expanded, Zhu Ge Jian had also risen to the status of a venerable elder within the sword sect, enjoying a position of reverence and overseeing the entire business of the Dan Ding Group. It was said that most people needed to book appointments weeks in advance just to see him.
But today, the old man braved the cold wind to personally welcome the young noble.
Seeing the young noble, Zhu Ge Jian’s face lit up with delight: “You’re here. Hurry up, we’ve been waiting for you.”
The young noble simply nodded without speaking, his pale face betraying a turbulent mix of emotions.
The two quickly walked toward the Yellow Tower, the most central location in the sword sect’s estate and Yang Hao’s personal residence. Around the Yellow Tower were numerous hidden guards of the Dan Ding Sect, and at the four corners stood four dragon towers, each guarded by a wind-walking dragon.
However, Zhu Ge Jian led the young noble through without encountering any resistance, not even needing to announce their arrival, and directly entered the Yellow Tower.
“Arrived?” Yang Hao put down his work, clearly expecting someone.
“Arrived.” Zhu Ge Jian stepped aside, revealing the young noble. “It’s him.”
Yang Hao nodded and tossed a pill to the young noble. The young man fumbled to catch it, swallowed it with some difficulty, and after a while, a flush appeared on his face.
This young noble was a member of the Dan Ding Sect’s secret hall. Starting a year ago, Yang Hao had Zhu Ge Jian begin preparations for a secret hall, whose disciples were all spies embedded in other factions, specializing in intelligence gathering.
Time flies, and it has been a year since the “Square Day.”
During this year, the power struggles on Earth have remained relatively stable, at least without the ultimate war between the Senate and the Merchant Guild that many feared. This was partly due to mutual deterrence between the two factions and partly because of the mediation by the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. As the supreme ruler, the Emperor naturally wouldn’t allow his stronghold to become a battlefield.
The superficial compromise between the Senate and the Merchant Guild was that neither side would interfere in the affairs of the sword sects. Thus, no senator targeted Yang Hao during the year, and the Merchant Guild refrained from aiding the Alchemy Sword Sect.
The rivalry between the Ten Sword Sects and the Alchemy Sword Sect became a turbulent undercurrent beneath the calm surface.
A year later, this struggle finally reached a decisive outcome.
The Alchemy Sword Sect achieved a resounding victory in the competition for noble disciples, overwhelming the Ten Sword Sects to the point of suffocation.
Out of nearly a million high-ranking nobles in the Empire, an astonishing 70% favored the Alchemy Sect.
This was partly due to the shocking events of “Square Day” and partly because the Ten Sword Sects had lost five divine swords, making their mainstream imperial rhetoric unconvincing.
Moreover, the Alchemy Sect’s cultivation method was simple—just consuming aphrodisiacs—and occasionally, one could even see four dragons soaring above the sect’s estate, a sight rarely seen elsewhere.
Thus, nobles flocked to the sect. After several rounds of expansion, the Alchemy Sword Sect’s outer disciples exceeded 100,000, while Yang Hao personally selected and trained 1,000 inner disciples.
Drawing from past experience, Yang Hao knew that outer disciples were unreliable in actual combat. They were mainly recruited for tuition fees and to bolster the sect’s prestige. The real assets were the inner disciples. Under Hunyuanzi’s guidance, Yang Hao taught them the Alchemy Sect’s techniques.
However, he cleverly withheld the most crucial alchemy methods. These inner disciples, now at the Foundation Establishment stage, relied entirely on Yang Hao for elixirs. Without them, they wouldn’t last three days.
Thus, Yang Hao effortlessly controlled over a thousand promising noble youths.
Through secret arrangements by the Merchant Guild, some of these nobles were dispatched to various star systems as governors. The power struggle between the Merchant Guild and the Senate gradually shifted in new directions.
One winter day in the capital, under a bright moon casting golden light—another grand image project by the Emperor—a young noble quietly entered the back gate of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s estate, where someone was waiting to receive him.
Surprisingly, the greeter was Zhuge Jian, a figure of exceptional status within the Alchemy Group. Over the past year, as Yang Hao’s influence surged, Zhuge Jian had risen to become an elder of the sect, overseeing the entire Alchemy Group’s business. Meeting him usually required weeks of prior arrangement.
Yet today, the old man braved the cold to personally welcome the young noble.
Seeing him, Zhuge Jian’s face lit up with joy. “You’re here! Hurry, we’ve been waiting.”
The young noble merely nodded, his face pale, emotions in turmoil.
The two quickly made their way to the Yellow Tower, the heart of the sect’s estate where Yang Hao resided alone. The tower was surrounded by hidden guards, with four dragon towers at each corner, guarded by four Wind Dragons.
Yet Zhuge Jian and the young noble passed through unhindered, not even needing to announce their arrival before slipping inside.
“You’re here?” Yang Hao set aside his work, clearly expecting them.
“He’s here,” Zhuge Jian stepped aside, presenting the young noble.
Yang Hao nodded and tossed an elixir to the young man, who fumbled to catch it. After swallowing it, color gradually returned to his cheeks.
This noble was a member of the Alchemy Sect’s covert division, established a year ago under Zhuge Jian’s supervision. These disciples were spies planted in other factions, specializing in intelligence gathering.
Yang Hao controlled them with potent elixirs, ensuring their loyalty.
“Speak,” Yang Hao said once the noble regained his composure.
“In ten days, all senators will leave Mount Senate. Their destination is unknown,” the noble reported succinctly. “Only four sword sects will remain to guard the mountain, with no other defenses.”
Yang Hao’s expression remained unchanged, but he took a deep breath and approached the noble.
The man looked up in surprise.
Yang Hao’s eyes gleamed with intensity as an invisible force lifted the noble and pinned him against the wall. Yang Hao’s psychic energy surged, probing the man’s mind.
After a long while, visibly drained, Yang Hao released him, tossing a few more elixirs before dismissing him.
“Boss?” Zhuge Jian was puzzled.
“It’s true,” Yang Hao wiped his forehead. His psychic abilities had grown stronger, allowing him to extract subconscious thoughts from weaker minds, though it was exhausting—nothing like a dragon’s innate talent.
Zhuge Jian didn’t understand why Yang Hao was so fixated on the Senate’s movements. The noble had been part of one of the four guardian sword sects responsible for supplying the Senate. Yang Hao had ordered Zhuge Jian to recruit him at any cost. Today was the first time Yang Hao personally heard news about the Senate.
Soon, Long Yun was summoned.
Within the Alchemy Sect, only Long Yun and Zhuge Jian held higher status—one managed commerce, the other the sword regiments.
Yang Hao hesitated before speaking.
“Trouble?” Long Yun frowned. “Another war?”
Yang Hao’s thoughts were far more complex.
After deliberation, he issued orders: “In ten days, I must undertake a task. If I don’t return, Long Yun will inherit the Alchemy Sword Sect, Zhuge Jian will oversee the Alchemy Group, and He De will govern the Divine Elm Autonomous Territory. If I’m confirmed dead, do not resist. Flee to the Divine Elm Territory immediately—it may be your only chance to survive.”
“Gods! Boss, what are you planning?” Zhuge Jian was stunned. He thought Yang Hao was merely contending with the Ten Sword Sects, but this sounded a hundred times more dangerous.
Yang Hao sighed without answering.
Long Yun slammed the table. “Damn it, Yang Hao! Whatever you’re doing, we’re with you. Don’t talk like this is the end! Who in the Empire dares touch us now?”
Long Yun had a point. The Alchemy Sword Sect’s prestige was at its peak, with even the military showing deference. The Ten Sword Sects were in decline. Unless the nine Grand Senators acted, no one would dare challenge Yang Hao.
And the Grand Senators had to consider the Merchant Guild’s power—they wouldn’t act lightly.
Yet Yang Hao knew the danger ahead surpassed anything he’d faced. “In ten days, I must go to Mount Senate. It’s something I must do—sooner rather than later.”
“Mount Senate?!” Long Yun was truly shocked.
Zhuge Jian turned pale, speechless.
Mount Senate was the Senate’s stronghold, the Ten Sword Sects’ lair, and the resting place of the Supreme One’s physical form. Even the Emperor needed the Grand Senators’ permission to visit. For Yang Hao to infiltrate alone meant certain death.
Seeing their reactions, Yang Hao forced a smile. “I have to go. It’s my destiny.”
“If it’s destiny, then I’ll lead our men with you,” Long Yun vowed.
Yang Hao knew they’d fought alongside him through life and death, but he couldn’t allow unnecessary sacrifices. “Taking men to Mount Senate would be suicide. I’ll go alone—stealthily. I’m not assassinating senators, just retrieving something that belongs to me. No big deal.”
Despite his reassurances, Long Yun and Zhuge Jian knew the risk. Yang Hao wouldn’t have arranged the sect’s succession unless he expected death.
They pleaded with him, but Yang Hao was resolute.
They didn’t know that Yang Hao’s cultivation had stagnated over the year. He desperately needed the two master elixirs Hunyuanzi had left on Mount Senate.
He had no choice.
And with the senators’ departure, the opportunity was too good to miss.
While the capital remained in winter, Mount Senate was perpetually lush with blooming flowers.
Yet on this day, over a hundred senators left simultaneously, their destination unknown—a top-secret matter known only to a few. Mount Senate, though a training ground, was the Senate’s stronghold. For them to abandon it entirely hinted at an even greater secret.
Shortly after their departure, the four guardian sword sects witnessed something shocking.
The four Wind Dragons that had escaped the Beastheart Sword Regiment a year ago reappeared, each lingering near one of the sects.
The leaders of the Cultivator Forest, the Divine Mercy Sword Regiment, the Illusory Feather Sect, and the Yan Family all received urgent reports: the dragons were defecating near their bases.
The disciples weren’t mistaken. The dragons squatted in the woods, straining with constipation.
Like humans, constipated dragons grew irritable.
And irritable dragons might unleash breath attacks or swipe with their claws—disastrous for nearby sects.
The four leaders immediately dispatched nearly all their swordsmen to form defensive lines, ready to kill the dragons at the first sign of aggression.
The abrupt order threw the sects into chaos. Some were on duty, others just off night shifts, and some on leave—all recalled to monitor dragon bowel movements.
Amid the chaos, no one noticed a faint shadow darting past the sects, speeding up the sole path to Mount Senate.
As the shadow ascended, the mountain’s serene weather shifted abruptly—hailstones, sharp as ice spikes, began to fall, piercing skulls on impact.
The swordsmen stationed along the path abandoned their posts, scrambling for shelter.
Unseen in the hail, the shadow—Yang Hao—pressed onward.
Seizing the senators’ absence, he launched a lightning raid. Though the mountain was undefended, discovery by the guardian sects could summon the senators back instantly.
Thus, Yang Hao deployed the four Wind Dragons to distract the sects, then used the Icefall Frost Sword to simulate hail, flushing out hidden sentries.
With the Lightflow Shadow Boots, he ascended safely to Mount Senate’s 3,000-meter elevation, where dozens of temple-like halls stood imposingly on the cliffs—the Galactic Empire’s Senate, revered as a sacred site.
Today, it was deserted.
After a brief pause and consultation with Hunyuanzi, Yang Hao abandoned any thought of looting the Senate and continued upward.
“Speak,” Yang Hao said, seeing that the young noble had regained his spirit after taking the pill.
“In ten days, all the elders will leave Elder Mountain, and their destination is unknown,” the young noble’s information was brief but of utmost importance. “The entire Elder Mountain will be guarded only by four sword sects, with no other defensive forces remaining.”
After listening, Yang Hao’s expression remained unchanged, but he took a deep breath and slowly approached the young noble.
The young man looked up in surprise.
Yang Hao’s eyes emitted an intimidating light, and a tremendous force lifted the noble and pressed him against the wall. Yang Hao’s spiritual power surged forth, fully invading the noble’s mind, beginning to probe his thoughts.
After a long while, Yang Hao, visibly weakened, finally released the young noble, waved his hand, and tossed him a few more pills before indicating for him to leave.
“Boss?” Zhu Ge Jian was puzzled by the situation.
“He’s telling the truth,” Yang Hao wiped the sweat from his forehead. His spiritual power had grown stronger, even allowing him to probe the subconscious of those with weak wills. However, this was still very draining, not comparable to the innate abilities of the dragon race.
Zhu Ge Jian didn’t understand why Yang Hao was so concerned about the Senate’s movements. The noble in question was originally from one of the Ten Sword Sects’ four guardian sects, responsible for supplying materials to the Senate. Yang Hao had ordered Zhu Ge Jian to spare no cost to recruit him into the secret hall. Today was the first time Yang Hao personally received intelligence about the Senate.
Soon after, Long Yun also entered upon Yang Hao’s summons.
Currently, besides Yang Hao, Long Yun and Zhu Ge Jian held the highest positions in the Dan Ding Sect—one managed the business, while the other oversaw the sword group.
Yang Hao remained silent for a moment, as if hesitating over something.
“Something happened?” Long Yun frowned and asked bluntly, “Are we going to war again?”
What Yang Hao was thinking, however, was far more complicated.
After a moment’s consideration, he gave his orders: “In ten days, I have something important to do. If I don’t return, the Dan Ding Sword Sect will be inherited by Long Yun, the Dan Ding Group will be managed by Zhu Ge Jian, and the Shen Yu Autonomous Territory will be overseen by He De. Once it is confirmed that I am in trouble, the two of you must not even think of resistance. Immediately take everyone from the sword sect and the group and retreat to the Shen Yu Autonomous Territory. Perhaps you can still save your lives.”
“Heavens! Boss, what are you planning to do?” Zhu Ge Jian was startled. He had thought Yang Hao was merely going to clash with the Ten Sword Sects, but now it seemed Yang Hao was about to do something far more dangerous.
Yang Hao remained silent, only sighing.
Long Yun angrily pounded the table: “Damn it, Yang Hao, whatever you’re going to do, we’ll follow you. Don’t talk like this. Who in the Empire dares to touch us now?”
Long Yun’s words had merit. At present, the Dan Ding Sword Sect was at the height of its power in the Empire, even the military gave them a wide berth, and the Ten Sword Sects couldn’t even lift their heads. Unless the Nine Elder Stewards took action, no one would dare to touch Yang Hao.
Moreover, the Nine Elder Stewards also had to consider the strength of the Merchant Guild. How could they easily take action?
However, Yang Hao deeply understood that what he was about to face was more dangerous than anything before: “In ten days, I must go to Elder Mountain to do something. It’s something I must do eventually, and it’s better to do it sooner than later.”
“Elder Mountain!!!” Long Yun was genuinely shocked.
Zhu Ge Jian was already pale with fear, unable to speak.
Time flies, and it has been a year since the “Square Day.”
During this year, the power struggles on Earth have remained relatively stable, at least without the ultimate war between the Senate and the Merchant Guild that many feared. This was partly due to mutual deterrence between the two factions and partly because of the mediation by the Emperor of the Empire. As the supreme ruler of the Galactic Empire, the Emperor naturally wouldn’t allow his stronghold to become a battlefield.
The superficial compromise between the Senate and the Merchant Guild was that neither side would interfere in the affairs of the sword sects. Thus, no senator took action against Yang Hao during the year, and the Merchant Guild refrained from offering any assistance to the Alchemy Sword Sect.
The rivalry between the Ten Sword Sects and the Alchemy Sword Sect became a turbulent undercurrent beneath the calm surface.
After a year, this struggle finally reached a decisive outcome.
The Alchemy Sword Sect achieved a resounding victory in the competition for noble disciples, almost suffocating the Ten Sword Sects. Among the nearly one million high-ranking nobles in the Empire, an astonishing 70% favored the Alchemy Sect.
This was partly due to the shocking events of the “Square Day” and partly because the Ten Sword Sects had lost five divine swords, making their mainstream imperial rhetoric unconvincing.
Moreover, the Alchemy Sect’s cultivation method was as simple as consuming aphrodisiacs, and the occasional sight of four dragons soaring over the sect’s estate—something rarely seen elsewhere—made it even more appealing.
Nobles flocked to the sect. After several rounds of expansion, the number of outer disciples in the Alchemy Sword Sect exceeded 100,000, while the inner disciples, personally selected and trained by Yang Hao, numbered over a thousand.
Drawing from past experience, Yang Hao knew that outer disciples were unreliable in actual combat. They were mainly recruited for tuition fees and to bolster the sect’s prestige. The real assets were the inner disciples. Under Hunyuanzi’s guidance, Yang Hao taught them the Alchemy Sect’s cultivation techniques.
However, Yang Hao cleverly withheld the most crucial alchemy methods. This meant that these inner disciples, despite having built their foundations, remained dependent on Yang Hao for elixirs. Without them, they wouldn’t last three days.
Thus, Yang Hao effortlessly controlled over a thousand promising noble youths.
Through secret arrangements by the Merchant Guild, some of these nobles were dispatched to various star systems as governors. The power struggle between the Merchant Guild and the Senate gradually shifted in new directions.
One winter day in the imperial capital, under a bright moon casting golden light—another grand image project by the Emperor—a young noble quietly entered the back gate of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s estate, where someone was already waiting.
The one waiting was none other than Zhuge Jian, a figure of exceptional status within the Alchemy Group. Over the past year, Zhuge Jian had become a revered elder in the sect, overseeing its business operations. Meeting him usually required weeks of prior arrangement.
Yet today, the old man braved the cold to personally welcome the young noble.
Seeing him, Zhuge Jian’s face lit up with joy. “You’re here! Hurry, we’ve been waiting.”
The young noble merely nodded, his face pale, his emotions visibly turbulent.
The two quickly made their way to the Yellow Tower, the heart of the estate where Yang Hao resided alone. The tower was surrounded by hidden guards, with four dragon towers at each corner, guarded by the four Wind Dragons.
Yet Zhuge Jian and the young noble passed through without hindrance, not even needing to announce their arrival before entering the tower.
“You’re here?” Yang Hao set aside his work, clearly expecting them.
“Yes,” Zhuge Jian stepped aside, revealing the young noble. “It’s him.”
Yang Hao nodded and tossed an elixir to the young noble, who fumbled to catch it and swallowed it. After a moment, color returned to his cheeks.
This young noble was a member of the Alchemy Sect’s covert division, established a year ago under Zhuge Jian’s supervision. Its members were all spies planted in other factions, specializing in intelligence gathering.
Yang Hao controlled them with potent elixirs, ensuring their loyalty.
“Speak,” Yang Hao said once the noble regained his composure.
“In ten days, all senators will leave Mount Senate. Their destination is unknown,” the noble reported succinctly. “Only four sword sects will remain to guard the mountain, with no other defenses.”
Yang Hao’s expression remained unchanged, but he took a deep breath and approached the noble.
The man looked up in surprise.
Yang Hao’s eyes gleamed with intensity as an invisible force lifted the noble and pinned him to the wall. Yang Hao’s mental energy surged forth, probing the man’s mind.
After a long while, a visibly weakened Yang Hao released the noble, tossing him a few more elixirs before dismissing him.
“Boss?” Zhuge Jian was puzzled.
“He told the truth,” Yang Hao wiped his brow. His mental prowess had grown strong enough to extract subconscious thoughts from weaker minds, though it was still exhausting compared to a dragon’s innate abilities.
Zhuge Jian didn’t understand why Yang Hao was so concerned about the Senate’s movements. The noble had been part of one of the four guardian sects of the Ten Sword Sects, responsible for supplying the Senate. Yang Hao had ordered Zhuge Jian to recruit him at any cost. Today was the first time Yang Hao personally received intel about the Senate.
Soon, Long Yun was summoned.
Now, aside from Yang Hao, Long Yun and Zhuge Jian held the highest positions in the sect—one managing commerce, the other leading the sword division.
Yang Hao hesitated before speaking.
“Trouble?” Long Yun frowned. “Another war?”
Yang Hao’s thoughts were far more complex.
After deliberation, he issued orders: “In ten days, I’ll undertake a mission. If I don’t return, Long Yun will inherit the Alchemy Sword Sect, Zhuge Jian will take over the Alchemy Group, and He De will govern the Divine Elm Autonomous Region. If I’m confirmed dead, don’t resist. Flee to the Divine Elm Autonomous Region with everyone—it might save your lives.”
“Gods! Boss, what are you planning?” Zhuge Jian was shocked. He thought Yang Hao was merely competing with the Ten Sword Sects, but now it seemed far more dangerous.
Yang Hao sighed without answering.
Long Yun slammed the table. “Damn it, Yang Hao! Whatever you’re doing, we’re with you. Don’t talk like this. Who in the Empire dares touch us now?”
Long Yun had a point. The Alchemy Sword Sect’s influence was at its peak, with even the military showing deference. The Ten Sword Sects were in decline. Only the nine grand senators posed a threat, and even they had to consider the Merchant Guild’s power.
But Yang Hao knew the danger ahead was unparalleled: “In ten days, I’m going to Mount Senate. It’s something I must do—sooner rather than later.”
“Mount Senate?!” Long Yun was stunned.
Zhuge Jian turned pale, speechless.
Mount Senate was the Senate’s stronghold, the Ten Sword Sects’ lair, and the resting place of the Supreme One’s physical form. Even the Emperor needed the nine grand senators’ permission to visit. For Yang Hao to infiltrate alone meant certain death.
Seeing their reactions, Yang Hao forced a smile. “I have to go. It’s my destiny.”
“If it’s destiny, then I’ll lead our men with you,” Long Yun vowed.
Yang Hao knew their loyalty ran deep, but he couldn’t risk unnecessary sacrifices. “Taking men to Mount Senate would be suicide. I’ll sneak in alone. I’m not assassinating senators—just retrieving something that belongs to me.”
Despite his reassurances, Long Yun and Zhuge Jian remained uneasy. Yang Hao’s preparations for the sect’s future suggested he expected the worst.
They didn’t know that Yang Hao’s cultivation had stagnated over the year. He desperately needed the two master elixirs Hunyuanzi had left on Mount Senate.
He had no choice.
And with the senators away, the opportunity was too good to miss.
While winter gripped the imperial capital, Mount Senate remained eternally verdant, blooming with flowers.
But on this day, all senators departed en masse, leaving their stronghold deserted. Only a handful knew the reason.
Shortly after their departure, the four guardian sects noticed something shocking—the four Wind Dragons, lost to the Beastheart Sword Sect a year ago, had reappeared, each near one of the sects.
The leaders of the Cultivator Grove, Divine Mercy Sword Sect, Illusory Feather Sect, and Yan Family received urgent reports: the dragons were defecating near their bases.
The disciples weren’t mistaken. The dragons squatted in the woods, straining as if constipated.
Like humans, constipated dragons grew irritable.
Irritability led to aggression—a flick of their claws or a breath of fire could devastate the nearest sects.
The four leaders immediately mobilized all available swordsmen to encircle the dragons, ready to strike at the first sign of hostility.
The sudden order caused chaos. Swordsmen on duty, off-duty, or on leave were all recalled to monitor the dragons’ bowel movements.
Amid the chaos, no one noticed a faint shadow darting up the sole path to Mount Senate.
As the shadow ascended, the serene weather turned violent—hailstones, sharp as ice spikes, began to fall, forcing the hidden guards to abandon their posts and seek shelter.
Unnoticed, the shadow—Yang Hao—flashed upward through the storm.
Seizing the senators’ absence, Yang Hao had orchestrated this distraction. The four dragons lured the guardian sects’ forces, while his Icefall Frost Sword simulated the hailstorm to clear the path.
With his Lightstream Shadow Steps, Yang Hao ascended unscathed to the 3,000-meter-high cliffs of Mount Senate, where dozens of temple-like halls stood solemnly.
This was the Galactic Empire’s Senate, a place revered as sacred.
Today, it was utterly deserted.
After a brief pause and consultation with Hunyuanzi, Yang Hao abandoned any thought of looting the Senate and continued upward.
Yang Hao planning to storm Elder Mountain alone—was there any outcome other than death?
Seeing the expressions of the two, Yang Hao awkwardly tried to reassure them: “I must go. It’s my destiny.”
“If it’s destiny, then I’ll bring people and fight up there with you,” Long Yun made up his mind.
Yang Hao knew well that these two had shared life and death with him and naturally wouldn’t let him go alone. But after finally achieving the current situation, how could Yang Hao allow unnecessary sacrifices? He smiled, pretending to be relaxed: “If you bring people to storm Elder Mountain, that would really be suicide. I can sneak up there alone.
Besides, I’m not there to assassinate the elders. I’m just going to steal something that originally belonged to me. It’s no big deal.”
Although Yang Hao said this, Long Yun and the others felt that going alone to Elder Mountain was too risky. If Yang Hao didn’t have the determination to face death, he wouldn’t have already arranged for the Dan Ding Sect’s future.
They tried to persuade him a bit more, but Yang Hao was determined.
Time flies, and it has been a year since “Plaza Day.”
During this year, the power struggles on Earth have remained relatively stable, at least without the ultimate war between the Senate and the Merchant Guild that many feared. This was partly due to mutual wariness between the two factions and partly because of the mediation by the Emperor of the Empire. As the supreme ruler of the Galactic Empire, the Emperor naturally wouldn’t allow his stronghold to become a battlefield.
The superficial compromise between the Senate and the Merchant Guild was that neither side would interfere in the affairs of the sword sects. Thus, no senator took action against Yang Hao this year, and the Merchant Guild refrained from offering any support to the Alchemy Sword Sect.
The rivalry between the Ten Sword Sects and the Alchemy Sword Sect became a turbulent undercurrent beneath the calm surface.
A year later, this struggle finally reached a decisive outcome.
The Alchemy Sword Sect achieved overwhelming victory in the competition for noble disciples, nearly suffocating the Ten Sword Sects. Among the nearly one million high-ranking nobles in the Empire, a staggering seventy percent favored the Alchemy Sect.
This was partly due to the shocking events of “Plaza Day” and partly because the Ten Sword Sects had lost five divine swords, making their traditional imperial rhetoric unconvincing.
Moreover, the Alchemy Sect’s cultivation method was as simple as consuming aphrodisiacs, and the occasional sight of four dragons soaring over the sect’s estate was a spectacle unmatched elsewhere.
Naturally, nobles flocked to join. After several expansions, the outer disciples of the Alchemy Sword Sect exceeded one hundred thousand, while the inner disciples, personally selected and trained by Yang Hao, numbered over a thousand.
Drawing from past experience, Yang Hao knew that in a real fight, the outer disciples were unreliable—they were merely there to collect tuition fees and bolster the sect’s prestige. The truly useful ones were the inner disciples. Under Hunyuanzi’s guidance, Yang Hao taught them the Alchemy Sect’s techniques.
However, he cleverly withheld the most crucial alchemy methods. These inner disciples, now at the Foundation Establishment stage, relied entirely on Yang Hao for their elixirs. Without them, they wouldn’t last three days.
Thus, Yang Hao effortlessly controlled over a thousand promising noble youths.
Through secret arrangements by the Merchant Guild, some of these nobles were dispatched to various star systems as governors. The power struggle between the Merchant Guild and the Senate gradually shifted in new directions.
One winter night in the capital, under a bright moon casting golden light—another grand image project by the Emperor—a young noble quietly entered the back gate of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s estate, where someone awaited him.
Surprisingly, it was Zhuge Jian, a figure of high status within the Alchemy Group. Over the past year, as Yang Hao’s influence surged, Zhuge Jian had risen to become an elder of the sect, overseeing the entire Alchemy Group’s business. Meeting him usually required weeks of prior arrangement.
Yet tonight, the old man braved the cold to personally welcome the young noble.
Seeing him, Zhuge Jian’s face lit up with joy. “You’re here! Hurry, we’ve been waiting.”
The young noble merely nodded, his face pale, emotions in turmoil.
The two quickly made their way to the Yellow Tower, the heart of the estate where Yang Hao resided alone. The area was heavily guarded, with four dragon towers at each corner, each housing a Wind Dragon.
Yet Zhuge Jian and the young noble encountered no resistance, slipping straight into the Yellow Tower without even announcing themselves.
“You’re here?” Yang Hao set aside his work, clearly expecting them.
“Yes,” Zhuge Jian stepped aside, presenting the young noble. “It’s him.”
Yang Hao nodded and tossed an elixir to the young noble, who fumbled to catch it and swallowed it. After a moment, color returned to his cheeks.
This noble was a member of the Secret Hall, a covert group Yang Hao had tasked Zhuge Jian with assembling a year prior. Its members were all spies planted in other factions, dedicated to intelligence gathering.
Yang Hao controlled them with potent elixirs, ensuring their loyalty.
“Speak,” Yang Hao commanded once the noble had regained his composure.
“In ten days, all senators will leave Mount Senate. Their destination is unknown,” the noble reported succinctly. “Only four sword sects will remain to guard the mountain. There will be no other defenses.”
Yang Hao’s expression remained unchanged, but he took a deep breath and approached the noble.
Startled, the young man looked up.
Yang Hao’s eyes gleamed with intensity as an immense force lifted the noble and pinned him against the wall. Yang Hao’s psychic energy surged forth, probing the man’s mind.
After a long while, Yang Hao, visibly drained, released the noble and tossed him a few more elixirs before dismissing him.
“Boss?” Zhuge Jian was puzzled.
“He told the truth,” Yang Hao wiped his brow. His psychic abilities had grown stronger, allowing him to extract subconscious thoughts from weaker minds, though it was still exhausting—nothing like a dragon’s innate talent.
Zhuge Jian didn’t understand why Yang Hao was so fixated on the Senate’s movements. The noble had been part of one of the four guardian sects responsible for supplying the Senate. Yang Hao had ordered Zhuge Jian to recruit him at any cost. Tonight was the first time Yang Hao personally received intel on the Senate.
Soon, Long Yun was summoned.
Within the Alchemy Sword Sect, only Long Yun and Zhuge Jian held higher status—one managing commerce, the other leading the sword forces.
Yang Hao hesitated before speaking.
“Trouble?” Long Yun frowned. “Another war?”
Yang Hao’s thoughts were far more complex.
After deliberation, he issued orders: “In ten days, I must undertake a mission. If I don’t return, Long Yun will inherit the Alchemy Sword Sect, Zhuge Jian will take over the Alchemy Group, and Lord He De will govern the Shenyu Autonomous Region. If I fall, do not resist. Flee to Shenyu immediately—it may be your only chance to survive.”
“Gods! Boss, what are you planning?” Zhuge Jian was stunned. He’d assumed Yang Hao was merely contending with the Ten Sword Sects, but this sounded far deadlier.
Yang Hao sighed but remained silent.
Long Yun slammed the table. “Damn it, Yang Hao! Whatever you’re doing, we’re with you. Don’t talk like this is the end. Who in the Empire dares touch us now?”
His words held truth. The Alchemy Sword Sect’s influence was at its peak, with even the military showing deference. The Ten Sword Sects were in decline. Unless the Nine Grand Senators acted, no one dared challenge Yang Hao.
And the Nine Grand Senators had to consider the Merchant Guild’s power—they wouldn’t act lightly.
Yet Yang Hao knew the danger ahead surpassed all else. “In ten days, I must go to Mount Senate. It’s something I must do—sooner rather than later.”
“Mount Senate?!” Long Yun was aghast.
Zhuge Jian paled, speechless.
Mount Senate was the Senate’s stronghold, the Ten Sword Sects’ lair, and the resting place of the Supreme One’s physical form. Even the Emperor needed the Nine Grand Senators’ permission to visit. For Yang Hao to infiltrate alone meant certain death.
Seeing their reactions, Yang Hao forced a smile. “I have no choice. It’s my destiny.”
“If it’s destiny, then we’ll fight our way up with you,” Long Yun vowed.
Yang Hao knew their loyalty ran deep, but he couldn’t allow unnecessary sacrifices. “Taking an army would be suicide. I’ll sneak in alone. I’m not assassinating senators—just retrieving something that belongs to me. It’s no big deal.”
Despite his reassurances, Long Yun and Zhuge Jian knew the risks. Yang Hao wouldn’t have arranged succession if he weren’t prepared to die.
They pleaded further, but Yang Hao’s resolve was firm.
Unbeknownst to them, Yang Hao’s cultivation had stagnated over the past year. He desperately needed the two master elixirs Hunyuanzi had left on Mount Senate.
He had no choice.
And with the senators away, the opportunity was too perfect to miss.
Though winter gripped the capital, Mount Senate remained eternally verdant, blooming with flowers.
Yet on this day, all senators departed en masse, their destination unknown—a closely guarded secret. Mount Senate, though a training ground, was the Senate’s stronghold. Their abandonment of it hinted at something far more clandestine.
Shortly after their departure, the four guardian sects noticed something astonishing.
The four Wind Dragons, lost to the Beastheart Sword Sect a year prior, had reappeared—one near each sect.
The leaders of the Cultivator Grove, Divine Mercy Sword Sect, Illusory Feather Sect, and Yan Clan all received urgent reports: the dragons were defecating near their bases.
Their disciples weren’t mistaken. The dragons squatted in the woods, straining with constipation.
Like humans, constipated dragons grew irritable.
And irritable dragons breathed fire or lashed out with claws—disastrous for nearby sects.
The four leaders immediately mobilized nearly all their swordsmen, forming multiple defensive lines to contain the dragons. At the first sign of aggression, they’d strike to kill.
The sudden orders threw the sects into chaos. Some were on duty, others just off night shifts, and some on leave—all now forced to guard constipated dragons.
Amid the turmoil, no one noticed a shadow darting between the sects, racing up Mount Senate’s sole path.
As the shadow ascended, the mountain’s serene weather turned violent—hailstones, sharp as ice spikes, rained down, capable of piercing skulls.
The swordsmen stationed along the path abandoned their posts, scrambling for shelter.
None noticed the figure flashing through the storm, climbing higher.
It was Yang Hao.
Seizing the senators’ absence, he launched his assault. Though the mountain was undefended, the four guardian sects posed a threat. A single alert could summon the senators back.
So Yang Hao deployed the four Wind Dragons to distract the sects, then used the Frost Jade Sword to conjure hail, flushing out hidden sentries.
With the Lightstream Boots, he ascended unscathed to Mount Senate’s three-thousand-meter peak, where dozens of temple-like halls stood imposingly on the cliffs.
This was the Galactic Empire’s Senate—a place revered as sacred.
Today, it stood empty.
After a brief pause and consultation with Hunyuanzi, Yang Hao abandoned thoughts of looting the Senate and pressed onward.
He had no choice but to go—he had no other options left.
Moreover, the opportunity of the elders collectively leaving was too good to miss.
The imperial capital was still in winter, but Elder Mountain remained unchanged through the seasons, still green mountains and clear waters, with flowers blooming in all seasons.
But on this day, over a hundred elders from Elder Mountain simultaneously left for unknown destinations. This was naturally an extremely secret matter, known only to a few individuals. Although Elder Mountain was said to be a cultivation place, it was actually the Senate’s stronghold. Today, the elders had even abandoned their stronghold, so there must be a more secret reason.
Not long after the elders collectively left, the four sword sects guarding Elder Mountain discovered something that shocked them.
The four flying dragons that had broken free from the Beast Heart Sword Group’s control a year ago had reappeared, each stationed near one of the four sects.
The leaders of the Xiu Shi Lin, Shen Shu Sword Group, Huan Yu Men, and the Yan family simultaneously received urgent reports from their subordinates.
They said that the four dragons were actually defecating near their sects.
The sect members hadn’t mistaken the situation—the dragons were indeed squatting in the woods, their faces flushed red as they struggled with defecation, seemingly suffering from constipation.
Like humans, dragons could also be in a bad mood if they suffered from constipation.
A bad mood naturally led to anger.
If a dragon got angry, it might spit out dragon fire or wave its claws around. In the end, those closest to them—the sects nearby—would suffer the consequences.
Therefore, the leaders of the four sects made an immediate decision, quickly dispatching almost all their sword masters to form multiple defensive lines, surrounding the four dragons. Once any sign of attack was detected from the four dragons, they would immediately join forces to kill them.
This order was issued in a hurry and suddenly, causing chaos among the sword masters of the four sects. Some were supposed to go up the mountain to take their posts, some had just finished their night shifts and were preparing to sleep, and others were on vacation. However, all of them had their holidays canceled and were immediately ordered to watch the four dragons defecate.
How could this not cause chaos?
The four sects guarding Elder Mountain were thrown into complete disarray.
So much so that no one noticed that a faint shadow seemed to flash through the middle of the sects, speeding up the only path leading to Elder Mountain like lightning.
When this faint figure reached Elder Mountain, the previously sunny and bright weather of the mountain suddenly changed without any reason, and it started to hail.
This hail was indeed strange. Each hailstone was sharp like an ice cone, and when they hit people, they could even smash a large hole in someone’s head.
With ice cones falling from the sky, the sword masters who were hidden or openly posted along the path up Elder Mountain naturally could not stay in their original positions. They covered their heads and ran out from their hiding places, trying their best to find shelter under roofs to avoid the hail.
They could only hope this strange weather would end soon, so they could return home and have a cup of hot tea.
Similarly, the sword masters who were busy dodging the hail did not notice that during this chaotic rain of ice cones, a shadow was flashing back and forth, quickly advancing toward the higher reaches of Elder Mountain.
Of course, this shadow was none other than Yang Hao.
Taking advantage of the elders’ collective outing today, he launched a lightning-fast assault on Elder Mountain. Although the Senate had become an empty city, the four guardian sword sects on Elder Mountain were no joke. If Yang Hao’s actions were discovered, perhaps with just an electronic signal, all the elders could return.
So Yang Hao deployed the four Wind-Running Dragons to distract the sword masters in the four guardian sects. Then, using the Icefall Frost Sword, he simulated a hailstorm, driving out the hidden guards along the path.
Then, using the Light Stream Shadow Boots, Yang Hao was able to safely ascend to a place 3,000 meters up Elder Mountain. On the cliff here, there were dozens of grand and solemn halls, standing as if temples.
This was the Senate of the Galactic Empire, a place that everyone revered like a temple.
But today, the Senate was truly empty, with the elders having left so thoroughly that not even a single gatekeeper was left behind.
Yang Hao paused briefly, discussed a few words with Hun Yuan Zi, and finally abandoned the temporary plan of robbing the Senate, continuing his ascent up the mountain.
In Yang Hao’s heart, he was originally somewhat hesitant. He couldn’t figure out what reason could possibly prompt the elders to abandon their old stronghold and venture outside. But for him, no matter what the reason was, today was his only opportunity. If he missed such a perfect timing, Yang Hao feared he might never get hold of those two primary elixirs in his entire life.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was originally some hesitation about what could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold. But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only opportunity. If he missed such a perfect moment, Yang Hao feared he might never obtain those two primary elixirs in his lifetime.
Naturally, that would mean never avenging his sect or assassinating the Supreme One.
The Elders’ Mountain was once called the Copper Furnace Mountain, the millennia-old sanctuary of the Alchemy Sect.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi leading the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, whether in the past or future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Sect. Of the entire Elders’ Mountain, only this place retained its original appearance from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi had perished in battle.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was essentially a protruding platform halfway up the mountain, requiring a detour around half the mountain and traversing several ravines to reach. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with sheer cliffs on three sides—a truly perilous location.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in astonishment. The sight before him far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should be a place for discarded and broken swords, with hundreds or even thousands of rusted, useless blades lying in the open.
Yet, to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, suffused with an oppressive aura of killing intent. Within the small area, tens of thousands of shattered swords were embedded in the ground. Though broken, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly distinct from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
Even after thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Sect still preserved the flying swords of its past generations intact.
This filled Yang Hao with profound emotion.
His heart was so stirred that he didn’t even notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted beside him, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao’s presence.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords trembled violently, then shot out from the crevices of the rocks, hurtling toward Yang Hao with deadly precision.
Even if they were discarded swords, they had once been the flying swords of Alchemy Sect cultivators—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, had no idea what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Oh no! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao dodged the flying swords with difficulty as he asked.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit. That’s why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about it.” Though Hunyuanzi berated himself verbally, his actions showed no remorse. “This Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. My dear disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed inwardly. Having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a very real and formidable assault, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying, no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently unsheathe themselves and ambush him.
If that were all, Yang Hao might still have managed. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him, a bizarre and monstrous creature suddenly appeared.
This creature had been hidden within the Sword Tomb, and Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
With the head of a dragon, the body of a deer, the tail of an ox, and the hooves of a horse, its massive fish-scale-like armor was wreathed in golden-red flames. Yet, it seemed neither fully corporeal nor purely spiritual—an existence difficult to imagine in this world.
The beast immediately spewed a torrent of celestial fire. Already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, Yang Hao had no way to defend against this new attack. Fortunately, he had come prepared, having consumed enough sword elixirs beforehand, filling his body with surging sword energy.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon shot forth with a piercing howl. The sky turned frigid, as if the ice of the Nine Heavens had descended upon the world.
Everything around him froze under the Icefall Frostblade Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was encased in a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao seized the chance for revenge. “Let’s see how you like my Flame Dragon Sword!”
Against a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a millennium-grade inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to unleash a torrent of flames at the beast.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out several thunderous farts, each so loud it seemed like thunderclaps, accompanied by intense heat. If not for his heat-resistant clothing, his pants would have been burned to cinders.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi’s doing. The old man had somehow poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy as flatulence.
“Quiet!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control—Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. Though the old man had always had this ability, he had never used it before.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since they arrived at the Elders’ Mountain.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to the ice encasing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in seconds.
Only then did Yang Hao realize that the Icefall Frostblade Sword hadn’t truly trapped the beast—it had stayed willingly. Because now, the creature began to cry. Who had ever seen a beast shed tears? Yet this strange creature, now prostrate at Yang Hao’s feet, wept loudly. Its tears were fiery red, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin’er… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice trembled with grief, as if reuniting with a long-lost soul.
The creature was none other than the legendary Qilin, the king of all beasts from ancient times. For some reason, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. This most majestic of beasts now acted like an affectionate kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg and weeping as if to shed a thousand years of tears.
Yang Hao’s own tears fell—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand the depth of his master’s sorrow today.
This place was not the Elders’ Mountain but the Copper Furnace Mountain. Not the Elders’ Court but the sanctuary of the Alchemy Sect. It was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass, every tree here had once been touched by him. The owners of every broken sword here had been like family to Hunyuanzi. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet, it had taken a thousand years to see it all again. And now, the Copper Furnace Mountain had become the Elders’ Mountain. The sanctuary of his past was occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast of his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled in silence, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After what felt like an eternity, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself and sighed deeply. “Qilin’er has guarded the Alchemy Sect’s mountain for generations. Every disciple grew up under its watch. It has protected the Copper Furnace Mountain for who knows how many years. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin’er fought to the death and was slain. But even in death, its divine will refused to disperse, becoming a Sword Spirit to guard this tomb. That’s why the Sword Tomb has remained unbroken for a millennium.”
Yang Hao was deeply moved. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Sect, Hunyuanzi’s repeated acts of trust in life and death had made him feel like a true member. Seeing the sect’s ancient sanctuary and its guardian spirit still standing—such loyalty surpassed even that of humans a hundredfold.
A strange conviction took root in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on Qilin’er’s forehead and solemnly vowed, “Qilin’er, I promise you this: I will restore the Alchemy Sect’s sanctuary. This mountain will once again be called the Copper Furnace Mountain, and you will remain its guardian spirit.”
Though his words were not loud, they were resolute. Qilin’er shuddered, its flames blazing brighter, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down. Watching Qilin’er retreat to the side, he steeled himself. “Disciple, we must focus on our mission.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality. They were still on the elders’ territory. He had sneaked in to retrieve the primary elixirs—he couldn’t afford to let emotions jeopardize their goal.
“Master, where did you hide those two primary elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. Surely you’re not that senile?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Not that long. My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s still sharp as ever—still gorgeous, still flawless.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s teasing, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted only a second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just toss them anywhere? But inside a sword? This is the Sword Tomb—there are tens of thousands of swords here! How am I supposed to find the right one?”
“What better place to hide water than in water?” Hunyuanzi sounded oddly proud.
“Sure, sure. If I could stay here forever, I’d take my time. But we’re sneaking around! We need to be quick, or the elders will come back and kill us!” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Sense technique. I’ll describe the sword to you.”
That was actually a decent idea. Yang Hao’s Keen Sense had grown stronger, especially with his enhanced spiritual power. He could now scrutinize every detail within range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a feminine blade.
Swords had genders—male swords emphasized strength and broadness, while female swords were light and agile, slender and thin, often adorned with intricate patterns to distinguish them.
Yang Hao was searching for an ornately patterned female sword, three chi long and only one cun wide, with delicate golden and red engravings. Legend had it that when this sword pierced flesh, blood would seep into the patterns, creating dazzling designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Tomb Sword.”
Amid tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Sense, it took Yang Hao a long time to locate the Crimson Tomb Sword embedded in a cliffside. Miraculously, it was neither broken nor chipped, still perfectly intact, though overgrown with vegetation that concealed it from view.
Yang Hao pulled the sword free with a sharp whistle that pierced the clouds. A red glow flashed briefly along its blade. Rarely had Yang Hao seen a flying sword forged with such devotion by an immortal a thousand years ago. He ran his fingers along its engravings, which didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip cut Yang Hao’s finger. A drop of blood fell onto the blade.
Instantly, the blood was absorbed. The previously unremarkable sword now shimmered with vivid golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi wept again.
This time, he bawled like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort his master. Returning to this place had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. Yet, considering he had wandered the cosmos alone for a thousand years, yearning only to return here—such sorrow was unbearable.
After a while, Hunyuanzi collected himself. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao understood. “My martial aunt’s sword?”
“It was my betrothal gift to her,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not even broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing again. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the sanctuary lost, I told your martial aunt to flee. She was pregnant with my child at the time. She flew away on this sword but was struck down before leaving the Copper Furnace Mountain. Her body was torn apart. Without its master’s spirit, the Crimson Tomb Sword returned here.”
Holding the sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing that immortal battle a millennium ago—swords clashing in the sky, cultivators perishing one by one. Once a top-tier sect, the Alchemy Sect had been annihilated overnight. The brutality of that war was unimaginable.
With Hun Yuanzi, who was familiar with the terrain, leading the way, Yang Hao naturally found the location of the Sword Mausoleum very quickly. This Sword Mausoleum had always been exclusive to the Dan Ding Sect, and the entire Elder Mountain still preserved the original appearance from a thousand years ago when Hun Yuanzi had undergone his corporeal transformation.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Mausoleum was essentially a protruding platform halfway up the mountain. It required circumventing half the mountain and crossing several ravines to reach. The area covered only a few zhang in diameter, with thousand-meter cliffs on three sides, making it extremely perilous.
As Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Mausoleum, he couldn’t help but pause in astonishment. The scenery here far exceeded his expectations. In his mind, a sword mausoleum should naturally be a place to store discarded old swords, especially left outdoors like this, there should probably be hundreds or even thousands of rusted pieces of scrap metal.
Yet, unexpectedly, it was bitterly cold here, with killing intent swirling all around. Within the area of just a few zhang, there were actually more than ten thousand broken swords embedded in the ground. These swords, although already broken, still radiated immortal light, clearly different from ordinary weapons. Any one of them could be sold as a divine artifact in the Empire.
After thousands of years, the Sword Mausoleum of the Dan Ding Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of Dan Ding disciples intact.
This made Yang Hao feel deeply moved.
So stirred was he by his emotions that he didn’t even notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a red circle—a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle erupted from the side, as if a giant beast had been awakened by Yang Hao.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords around him responded to the summons, vibrating incessantly, then flying out of the crevices with a series of pings, speeding towards Yang Hao.
Even though these swords were already discarded, they were once the flying swords refined by Dan Ding cultivators, so their power was naturally self-evident. Yang Hao was startled and attacked without understanding the situation.
Hun Yuanzi, however, shouted, “Oh no! The Sword Spirit! How could I forget about it!”
“What do you mean, Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao asked with difficulty while dodging the flying swords.
“This Sword Mausoleum now has a Sword Spirit guarding it, which is why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about it,” Hun Yuanzi blamed himself verbally, though showing no sign of remorse in his actions. “This… the Sword Spirit will attack any living being that enters the Sword Mausoleum. My good apprentice, you’d better deal with it quickly.”
Yang Hao inwardly sighed; finding such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But those hundreds of flying swords were indeed launching powerful attacks, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying was that no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would immediately pull themselves out of the ground and secretly attack him.
If it were only this, Yang Hao might still be able to handle it. But soon he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Suddenly, a bizarre and strange beast appeared before Yang Hao.
This peculiar beast had originally been hidden within the Sword Mausoleum; Yang Hao stepping into the red circle had awakened it.
It had a dragon’s head, a deer’s body, an ox’s tail, and a horse’s hooves. Its body was covered with massive scales like fish scales. It spewed golden-red flames all over, yet it seemed neither a physical entity nor a spiritual one, making it hard to imagine such an existence in this world.
Without hesitation, this monster spat out a mouthful of celestial fire. Yang Hao, already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, had no way to resist. Fortunately, he had been well-prepared, having swallowed enough sword pills before coming, so the sword qi in his body was already surging and ready to burst forth.
A blue light flashed from Yang Hao’s body, and Shadow Moon whistled as it flew out. The coldness in the air was piercing, as if the Nine Heavens’ Frozen Ice had descended upon the earth.
Everything around him froze under the Shadow Moon Frostfall Sword.
The power of those flying swords immediately dissipated, and they fell back into the Sword Mausoleum. The strange beast was also encased in a massive block of blue ice.
“How dare you sneak attack me!” Yang Hao finally seized the chance for revenge. “Let me show you my Flame Dragon Sword!”
For a fire-elemental monster like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it. Perhaps he could even obtain a millennium-old core.
Yang Hao’s body radiated flames, and Shadow Moon transformed into a fiery attribute, preparing to spew fire at the strange beast before him.
But for some unknown reason, Yang Hao suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He let out several loud farts, each one echoing like thunder. They were also accompanied by intense heat. If Yang Hao hadn’t been wearing heat-resistant clothing, he probably would have burned several holes in his pants.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao sensed that Hun Yuanzi was up to something. Somehow, the old man had poked Yang Hao’s dantian, causing the fully charged Flame Dragon Sword’s qi to be expelled as gas.
“Be quiet!” Hun Yuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control. He knew this meant Hun Yuanzi was taking over his body. In fact, Hun Yuanzi had always had the ability to control Yang Hao’s body, though he had never used this function before.
But today, Hun Yuanzi seemed particularly strange. He was in a bad mood, and since arriving at Elder Mountain, his mood had turned extremely gloomy.
Seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Mausoleum, Hun Yuanzi was even more filled with sorrowful emotions.
Hun Yuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand slowly and extremely gently onto the block of ice that had sealed the Sword Spirit.
The Sword Spirit’s body erupted in flames, and the ice melted within a second.
Yang Hao finally understood that the Shadow Moon Frostfall Sword could not contain this beast. It hadn’t tried to escape because it simply didn’t want to. For the strange beast began to cry—has anyone ever seen a beast’s tears? Now, this strange creature was actually prostrate at Yang Hao’s feet, whimpering. Its tears were fiery red, and when they hit the ground, they scorched the earth black.
“My little Qilin, you are still here…” Hun Yuanzi’s voice was filled with sorrow, as if it were a reunion across lifetimes.
This strange beast was actually the legendary ancient king of beasts, the Qilin, which for unknown reasons had become a Sword Spirit and remained guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand gently stroked the Qilin’s head. This beast, the most dominant king among all, was now as obedient as a kitten, rubbing affectionately against Yang Hao’s leg while continuing to cry, as if trying to shed all its tears from the past thousand years.
Yang Hao’s tears also flowed. He was crying for Hun Yuanzi. Only now did Yang Hao truly understand Hun Yuanzi’s mood today.
This place was not Elder Mountain, but Bronze Cauldron Mountain. It was not the Senate, but the Dan Ding Sect’s cave palace. It was where Hun Yuanzi had once been young, brilliant, and proud, where he had been loved and had loved in return. It was where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, full of ambition.
Every blade of grass and tree here had been touched by him. The owners of every broken sword here had been like family to Hun Yuanzi. Even the guardian spirit beast of the mountain had grown up alongside Hun Yuanzi.
But all of this had waited a thousand years to be seen again. When he saw it once more, Bronze Cauldron Mountain had become Elder Mountain. The cave palace that had once belonged to him was now occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast that had accompanied his youth remained.
How could this not make Hun Yuanzi weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wept loudly in the Sword Mausoleum. The cold wind was silent, as if the world belonged only to these three. Time seemed to stop, and a thousand years passed like a fleeting moment. The past glory was gone, never to return.
After an unknown amount of time, Hun Yuanzi finally stopped crying and said with infinite emotion, “Qilin is the guardian spirit beast of the Dan Ding Sect through the generations. Every generation of our disciples grew up with it. Qilin has guarded the Bronze Cauldron Mountain for countless years. A thousand years ago, when that enemy came up the mountain, Qilin fought to the death. In the end, it was killed. But even after death, Qilin’s divine power did not dissipate. It transformed into a Sword Spirit to guard this Sword Mausoleum, thus preserving it for a thousand years.”
At this moment, Yang Hao was overwhelmed with emotion. Although he had only recently joined the Dan Ding Sect, Hun Yuanzi had repeatedly entrusted him with life and death, making Yang Hao already consider himself a member of the Dan Ding Sect. Seeing the thousand-year-old ancestral home of the Dan Ding Sect and the guardian spirit beast still standing, this loyalty was indeed hundreds of times stronger than that of humans.
In Yang Hao’s heart, a strange belief arose. He stretched out his other hand and placed it on Qilin’s forehead, solemnly saying, “Qilin, I promise, I will definitely restore the Dan Ding Sect’s cave palace, let this mountain still be called Bronze Cauldron Mountain, and let you remain as the guardian spirit beast of the mountain.”
Although Yang Hao’s words were not loud, they were extremely firm. Qilin’s entire body trembled, and its surrounding flames burned even more fiercely. A heart that had been silent for a thousand years began to burn once again.
Hun Yuanzi also finally calmed down. He looked at Qilin slowly stepping aside, regaining his fighting spirit: “Apprentice, it’s time to focus on the main task.”
Yang Hao’s heart tightened, remembering that they were still on the elders’ territory. Today, he had sneaked in to find the main elixirs. He couldn’t let sentimentality ruin the important mission.
“Master, where did you hide those two main elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. Master, you’re not that senile, right?”
“A thousand years is a long time, you know.”
“How long? My little sweetheart, Xin Mei, might have lived for tens of thousands of years, and she doesn’t suffer from senility. She still has a great figure and a beautiful face.”
“I remember now.” Stimulated by Yang Hao, Hun Yuanzi indeed thought of it immediately. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao was happy for a second before quickly becoming disheartened again: “You really know how to hide things. Why put them in a sword? This is the Sword Mausoleum, with tens of thousands of swords. When will you let me find them?”
“Is there a better place to hide water than in water itself?” Hun Yuanzi was actually proud of himself.
“Yeah, yeah, if I could live here and take my time searching, it wouldn’t be a problem. But now we’ve sneaked up here, and we need to act quickly. Otherwise, if the elders come back and catch a thief, they’ll kill me.”
Yang Hao scoffed at Hun Yuanzi’s theory.
“Then quickly use your Perception Spell to search. I’ll tell you what the sword looks like,” Hun Yuanzi said.
This was indeed a solution. Yang Hao’s Perception Spell had become increasingly powerful, especially with the enhancement of his spiritual power, which greatly improved his ability to perceive details. He could now even examine every detail within his range to see if it was what he needed.
The sword Hun Yuanzi described was a female sword.
Of course, swords could be categorized as male or female. Male swords emphasized strength and were generally long and wide. Female swords, on the other hand, were characterized by their lightness and agility, with narrow and thin blades. Many female swords had intricate patterns carved into them to distinguish them.
Yang Hao was searching for a female sword with elaborate patterns. This sword was three feet long and one inch wide, with intricate golden and red patterns etched deeply into the blade. It was said that when this sword struck someone, the blood would seep into the patterns, creating a dazzlingly beautiful design.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was originally some hesitation about what could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold. But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only chance. If he missed such a perfect opportunity, Yang Hao feared he might never get his hands on those two primary elixirs in this lifetime.
And with that, naturally, would come the impossibility of ever avenging his sect or assassinating the Supreme One.
Elder Mountain was once called Copper Furnace Mountain, the millennia-old stronghold of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi leading the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, whether in the past or the future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect. In all of Elder Mountain, only this place still preserved the original state from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi met his demise.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was actually a protruding platform halfway up the mountain, requiring a detour around half the mountain and traversing several ravines to reach. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with thousand-meter cliffs on three sides—extremely perilous.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in awe. The scene before him far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should be a place for discarded and broken swords, especially since it was open-air—he expected to see hundreds or even thousands of rusted, useless blades.
But to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, surrounded by an oppressive aura of killing intent. Within the few zhang of space, tens of thousands of broken and discarded swords were embedded. Though shattered, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly distinct from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
Even after thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of its disciples intact.
This filled Yang Hao with profound emotion.
So overwhelmed was he that he didn’t notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted from the side, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords trembled as if summoned, then shot out from the crevices of the rocks, hurtling toward Yang Hao at terrifying speed.
Even if they were discarded swords, they were still flying swords once refined by the cultivators of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, had no idea what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Oh no! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao asked, dodging the flying swords with difficulty.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit. That’s why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about this,” Hunyuanzi berated himself, though his tone showed no real remorse. “This… Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. My dear disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed inwardly. Having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a very real and deadly threat, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying was that no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently pull themselves free and ambush him.
If it had just been this, Yang Hao might have managed. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him suddenly appeared a bizarre-looking mythical beast.
This creature had been hidden within the Sword Tomb, and Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, and horse hooves. Its body was covered in massive, fish-scale-like armor, and golden-red flames spewed from its entire form. Yet it seemed neither fully physical nor purely spiritual—an existence difficult to imagine in this world.
The beast immediately exhaled a breath of heavenly fire. Yang Hao, already struggling under the assault of hundreds of flying swords, had no way to resist. Fortunately, he had prepared beforehand, swallowing enough sword elixirs to fill his body with surging sword energy.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon shot out with a piercing howl. The sky turned frigid, as if the ice of the Ninth Heaven had descended.
Everything around him froze under the Frostfall Jade Ice Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was encased in a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao seized the chance for revenge. “Let me show you my Flame Dragon Sword!”
For a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a thousand-year inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to unleash a torrent of flames at the beast.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out several loud, thunderous farts, each carrying immense heat. If not for his heat-resistant clothing, his pants would have burned into holes long ago.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi’s doing. The old man had somehow poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy as farts.
“Quiet!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control—Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. Though the old man had always had this ability, he had never used it before.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since arriving at Elder Mountain, growing increasingly somber.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to the ice encasing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in seconds.
Only then did Yang Hao realize—the Frostfall Jade Ice Sword couldn’t truly contain this beast. It hadn’t escaped because it didn’t want to.
Because the beast began to cry.
Who had ever seen a beast’s tears?
Now, this mythical creature crouched at Yang Hao’s feet, weeping loudly. Its tears were fire-red, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin’er… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice was choked with sorrow, as if reuniting with a long-lost soul.
This beast was actually the legendary king of all beasts from ancient times—the Qilin. For some reason, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. The most domineering king of beasts now acted like a docile kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg and whimpering, as if shedding a thousand years’ worth of tears.
Yang Hao’s own tears fell—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand his master’s emotions today.
This place wasn’t Elder Mountain—it was Copper Furnace Mountain. Not the Elder Council’s domain, but the stronghold of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect.
This was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass, every tree here had once been touched by him. The owners of every broken sword here had been like family to Hunyuanzi. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet it had taken a thousand years to see it all again. And when he did, Copper Furnace Mountain had become Elder Mountain. The stronghold of his past was now occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast of his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After who knew how long, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself, sighing deeply.
“Qilin’er is the guardian spirit beast of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect, accompanying each generation of disciples as they grew. It has guarded Copper Furnace Mountain for countless years. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin’er fought to the death and was slain. But even in death, its divine power refused to disperse. It became a Sword Spirit, guarding this Sword Tomb—ensuring it remained unbroken for a millennium.”
Yang Hao was deeply moved. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Cauldron Sect, Hunyuanzi’s repeated life-and-death trust had made him feel truly part of it. Seeing the sect’s thousand-year legacy and its guardian spirit still standing—such loyalty surpassed even that of humans a hundredfold.
A strange conviction rose in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on Qilin’er’s forehead and solemnly vowed, “Qilin’er, I promise you—I will restore the Alchemy Cauldron Sect’s stronghold. This mountain will once again be called Copper Furnace Mountain, and you will once again be its guardian spirit.”
Though his words weren’t loud, they were resolute.
Qilin’er shuddered, its flames blazing brighter, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down, watching as Qilin’er retreated to the side. He steeled himself. “Disciple, we have urgent matters to attend to.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality. They were still on the elders’ turf. He had sneaked in today to retrieve the primary elixirs—he couldn’t let emotions ruin the mission.
“Master, where did you hide those two primary elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. You’re not that senile, are you?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Long? My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s not senile at all. Still has a great figure and looks.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s taunts, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted a second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just leave them out in the open? This is the Sword Tomb—there are tens of thousands of swords here! How am I supposed to find them?”
“What better place to hide water than in water?” Hunyuanzi sounded oddly proud.
“Right, right. If I could stay here forever, I’d take my time. But we sneaked in—we need to finish this fast. If the elders come back and find a thief, I’m dead.” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Sense to search. I’ll describe the sword.”
That was actually a good idea. Yang Hao’s Keen Sense had grown stronger, especially with his enhanced spiritual power. He could now scrutinize every detail within range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords had genders—male swords emphasized strength and were broad and long, while female swords were light and agile, narrow and thin, often adorned with intricate patterns.
Yang Hao was looking for an ornately patterned female sword—three chi long and only one cun wide, with delicate golden and red engravings. Legend said that when this sword pierced someone, their blood would seep into the patterns, creating dazzling designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Tomb Sword.”
Searching among tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Sense, took Yang Hao a long time. Finally, he found it embedded in a cliff face, untouched by time, though overgrown with vegetation.
Yang Hao pulled the Crimson Tomb Sword free. With a sharp whistle, a red light flashed across its blade before vanishing.
Yang Hao rarely saw flying swords forged with the lifeblood of ancient sword immortals. He ran his fingers along the engravings—they didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip cut his finger. A drop of blood fell onto the blade.
Instantly, the blood seeped into the sword. The previously plain blade erupted with vibrant golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi wept again.
This time, he bawled like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort his master. Returning to his homeland had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. But considering he had wandered the cosmos alone for a thousand years, his sole purpose being to return here—such sorrow was unbearable.
After a while, Hunyuanzi collected himself. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao understood. “My master’s wife?”
“It was a token of love I gave her. She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the stronghold lost, I told your master’s wife to flee—she was pregnant with my child. She flew away on this sword, but before she could leave Copper Furnace Mountain, the enemy struck her down with a flying sword. Her body was torn apart. Without its master’s spirit, the Crimson Tomb Sword flew here.”
Holding the sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing the immortal battle of a thousand years ago—swords clashing in the sky, immortals falling one by one. Once a top-tier cultivation sect, the Alchemy Cauldron Sect had been annihilated overnight. The tragedy was unimaginable.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was initially some hesitation about what could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold. But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only opportunity. If he missed this perfect moment, Yang Hao feared he would never get his hands on those two primary elixirs in his lifetime.
Naturally, that would mean never avenging his sect or assassinating the Supreme One.
The Elders’ Mountain was once called the Bronze Furnace Mountain, the millennia-old sanctuary of the Alchemy Sect.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi guiding the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, both in the past and future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Sect. In the entire Elders’ Mountain, only this place retained its original appearance from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi met his end.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was essentially a protruding platform halfway up the mountain, requiring a detour around half the mountain and traversing several ravines to reach. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with thousand-meter cliffs on three sides—extremely perilous.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in awe. The sight before him far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should be a place for discarded and broken swords, with hundreds or even thousands of rusted, worthless blades lying in the open.
But to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, suffused with an oppressive aura of killing intent. Within the small area, tens of thousands of broken swords were embedded. Though shattered, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly distinct from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
Even after thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of its disciples intact.
This filled Yang Hao with profound emotion.
So overwhelmed was he that he didn’t notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted beside him, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao’s presence.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords trembled violently, then shot out from the crevices of the rocks, hurtling toward Yang Hao at terrifying speed.
Even if they were discarded swords, they were once the flying swords refined by Alchemy Sect cultivators—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, had no idea what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Oh no! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao dodged the flying swords with difficulty as he asked.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit. That’s why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about this,” Hunyuanzi berated himself, though his tone lacked any real remorse. “This… Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. My dear disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed inwardly. Having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a real and deadly threat, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying, no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently pull themselves out and ambush him.
If that were all, Yang Hao might still manage. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him appeared a bizarre-looking mythical beast.
This creature had been hidden within the Sword Tomb, and Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, and horse hooves. Its body was covered in massive, fish-scale-like armor, and golden-red flames spewed from its entire form. Yet it seemed neither fully physical nor purely spiritual—an existence difficult to fathom in this world.
The beast immediately exhaled a blast of heavenly fire. Already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, Yang Hao had no way to defend against this. Fortunately, he had prepared beforehand, having consumed enough sword elixirs, and the sword energy within him was ready to burst forth.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon shot out with a piercing howl. The sky turned icy cold, as if the frost of the heavens had descended.
Everything around him froze under the Icefall Frost Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was encased in a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao seized the chance for revenge. “Let’s see how you like my Flame Dragon Sword!”
Against a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a thousand-year inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to blast the beast before him.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out several thunderous farts, each one so loud it seemed to shake the earth, accompanied by intense heat. If not for his heat-resistant clothing, his pants would have burned to ashes.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi’s doing. The old man had somehow poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy as farts.
“Quiet!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control—Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. Though the old man had always had this ability, he rarely used it.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since they arrived at the Elders’ Mountain.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to the ice encasing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in seconds.
Only then did Yang Hao realize—the Icefall Frost Sword hadn’t truly trapped the beast. It hadn’t escaped because it didn’t want to.
Because the creature began to cry.
Who had ever seen a beast’s tears?
Now, this mythical beast crouched at Yang Hao’s feet, weeping loudly. Its tears were fiery red, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin’er… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice was choked with emotion, as if reuniting after lifetimes apart.
The strange beast was none other than the legendary Qilin, the king of all beasts from ancient times. Somehow, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. The once-ferocious king of beasts now acted like a docile kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg and whimpering, as if shedding a thousand years’ worth of tears.
Yang Hao’s own tears fell—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand the old man’s emotions today.
This place wasn’t the Elders’ Mountain—it was the Bronze Furnace Mountain. Not the Elders’ Council, but the Alchemy Sect’s sanctuary.
This was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass, every tree here had once been touched by him. The owners of every broken sword had been like family to Hunyuanzi. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet it had taken a thousand years to see it again. And when he did, the Bronze Furnace Mountain had become the Elders’ Mountain. The sanctuary of his past was now occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast from his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled in silence, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After what felt like an eternity, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself and sighed deeply.
“Qilin’er has been the guardian spirit beast of the Alchemy Sect for generations. Every disciple grew up under its watch. It has guarded the Bronze Furnace Mountain for who knows how many years. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin’er fought to the death and was slain. But even in death, its divine will refused to disperse. It became a Sword Spirit, guarding this Sword Tomb—ensuring it remained unbroken for a millennium.”
Yang Hao was deeply moved. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Sect, Hunyuanzi’s repeated life-and-death trust had made him feel like a true disciple. Seeing the sect’s ancient sanctuary and guardian spirit still standing—such loyalty surpassed even that of humans a hundredfold.
A strange conviction took root in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on the Qilin’s forehead and solemnly vowed, “Qilin’er, I promise you—I will restore the Alchemy Sect’s sanctuary. This mountain will once again be called the Bronze Furnace Mountain, and you will once again be its guardian spirit.”
Though his words weren’t loud, they were resolute. The Qilin shuddered, its flames blazing anew, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down. Watching the Qilin retreat to the side, he steeled himself. “Disciple, we have important matters to attend to.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality. They were still on the elders’ turf. He had sneaked in to retrieve the primary elixirs—he couldn’t let emotions jeopardize their mission.
“Master, where did you hide those two primary elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. You’re not that senile, are you?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Long? My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s not senile at all. Still has a great figure and looks.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s teasing, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted a second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just leave them out in the open? This is a Sword Tomb—tens of thousands of swords! How am I supposed to find them?”
“What better place to hide water than in water?” Hunyuanzi sounded smug.
“Sure, sure. If I could stay here forever, I’d take my time. But we snuck in! We need to finish this fast, or the elders will come back and kill me for trespassing.” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Eye technique. I’ll describe the sword.”
That was a viable plan. Yang Hao’s Keen Eye had grown stronger, especially with his enhanced spiritual power. He could now scrutinize every detail within range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords had gender distinctions. Male swords emphasized strength and broadness, while female swords prioritized agility—narrow, thin, and often adorned with intricate patterns.
Yang Hao was looking for an ornately patterned female sword—three chi long, one cun wide, with delicate golden and red engravings. Legend had it that when this sword pierced flesh, blood would seep into the patterns, creating dazzling designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Mausoleum Sword.”
Searching among tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Eye, took Yang Hao a long time. He finally found it embedded in a cliffside, untouched by time, though overgrown with vegetation.
Drawing the Crimson Mausoleum Sword, its sharp cry pierced the clouds. A red glow flashed across the blade before vanishing. Yang Hao marveled at this thousand-year-old flying sword, forged with a sword immortal’s lifeblood. The engravings didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip cut Yang Hao’s hand. A drop of blood fell onto the blade.
Instantly, the blood was absorbed. The previously plain blade erupted in vibrant gold and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi wept again—this time, bawling like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss. Returning to his homeland had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. After a thousand years of lonely wandering through the cosmos, his only goal had been to return here. That sorrow was unbearable.
When Hunyuanzi finally calmed, he sighed. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao understood. “My master’s wife?”
“It was my betrothal gift to her. She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing again. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the sanctuary lost, I told her to flee—she was pregnant with my child. She flew away on this sword but was struck down before leaving the mountain. Her body… was torn apart. The Crimson Mausoleum Sword, bereft of its master’s spirit, flew here.”
Holding the sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing that ancient battle—swords clashing in the sky, immortals falling one by one. The Alchemy Sect, once a top cultivation sect, had been annihilated overnight. The carnage must have been unimaginable.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was originally some hesitation about what reason could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold. But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only opportunity. If he missed such a perfect moment, Yang Hao feared he might never get his hands on those two main elixirs in his lifetime.
Naturally, that would mean never avenging his sect or assassinating the Supreme One.
The Elders’ Mountain was once called the Bronze Furnace Mountain, the millennia-old stronghold of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi leading the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, whether in the past or the future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect. Of the entire Elders’ Mountain, only this place still retained its original appearance from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi had perished in battle.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was essentially a protruding platform halfway up the mountain, requiring a detour around half the mountain and traversing several ravines to reach. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with thousand-meter cliffs on three sides—extremely treacherous.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in astonishment. The sight before him far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should naturally be a place for discarded and broken swords, especially since it was open to the elements. He expected to see hundreds or even thousands of rusted, worthless blades.
But to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, with an oppressive aura of killing intent swirling around. Within the few zhang of space, tens of thousands of broken and discarded swords were embedded in the ground. Though shattered, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly distinct from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
Even after thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of its disciples intact.
This filled Yang Hao with profound emotion.
His heart was so stirred that he didn’t even notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted beside him, as if some great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao’s presence.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords trembled as if summoned, then shot out from the crevices of the rocks, hurtling toward Yang Hao at terrifying speed.
Even if they were discarded swords, they were still flying swords once refined by Alchemy Cauldron cultivators—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, had no idea what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Damn it! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao dodged the flying swords with difficulty as he asked.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit—that’s why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about this.” Though Hunyuanzi berated himself verbally, his actions showed no remorse. “This… Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. My dear disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed inwardly. Having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a very real and deadly threat, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying was that no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently unsheathe themselves and ambush him.
If that were all, Yang Hao might still have managed. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him, a bizarre and monstrous beast suddenly appeared.
This creature had originally been hidden within the Sword Tomb, but Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, and horse hooves. Its body was covered in massive, fish-scale-like armor, and golden-red flames spewed from its entire form. Yet it seemed neither fully physical nor purely spiritual—an existence difficult to imagine in this world.
The beast immediately exhaled a breath of heavenly fire. Already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, Yang Hao had no way to defend against this new attack. Fortunately, he had prepared beforehand, having consumed enough sword elixirs before coming. The sword energy within his body was already surging, ready to burst forth.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon shot out with a piercing howl. The sky turned frigid, as if the ice of the Nine Heavens had descended upon the world.
Everything around him froze under the Frostfall Jade Frost Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was sealed within a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao finally had his chance for revenge. “Let’s see how you like my Flame Dragon Sword!”
Against a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a thousand-year inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to unleash a devastating strike upon the beast.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out a series of thunderous farts, each one so loud it seemed to shake the earth, accompanied by intense heat. If not for his heat-resistant clothing, his pants would have been burned to cinders.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi messing with him. The old man had somehow poked his dantian, causing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy to be expelled as flatulence.
“Shut up!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his arms lose control—Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. Though the old man had always had this ability, he had never used it before.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since they arrived at the Elders’ Mountain, growing increasingly somber.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to the ice block sealing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in an instant.
Only then did Yang Hao realize that the Frostfall Jade Frost Sword hadn’t truly trapped the beast—it had stayed because it chose to.
Because the creature began to cry.
Who had ever seen a beast shed tears?
Now, this strange beast prostrated itself at Yang Hao’s feet, weeping loudly. Its tears were fire-red, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin’er… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice was choked with emotion, as if reuniting with a long-lost soul.
The beast was none other than the legendary Qilin, the king of all beasts from ancient times. For some reason, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. The most domineering king of beasts now acted like an affectionate kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg and sobbing as if pouring out a thousand years of tears.
Yang Hao’s own tears fell—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand the old man’s emotions today.
This place was not the Elders’ Mountain, but the Bronze Furnace Mountain. Not the Elders’ Court, but the Alchemy Cauldron Sect’s stronghold.
It was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass, every tree here had once been touched by him. Every broken sword here had belonged to someone Hunyuanzi had cherished like family. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet it had taken a thousand years to see it all again. And when he did, the Bronze Furnace Mountain had become the Elders’ Mountain, his former stronghold now occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast from his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled in silence, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After what felt like an eternity, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself, sighing deeply.
“Qilin’er has guarded the Alchemy Cauldron Sect’s mountain for generations. Every disciple of ours grew up under its watch. No one knows how many years Qilin’er has protected the Bronze Furnace Mountain. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin’er fought to the death—and was slain. But even in death, its divine power refused to disperse. It became a Sword Spirit, guarding this Sword Tomb, ensuring it remained unbroken for a thousand years.”
Yang Hao was moved beyond words. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Cauldron Sect, Hunyuanzi’s repeated acts of trust in life-and-death situations had made him feel like a true member. Seeing the sect’s thousand-year legacy and its guardian spirit still standing—such loyalty surpassed that of any human a hundredfold.
A strange conviction took root in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on the Qilin’s forehead and solemnly vowed,
“Qilin’er, I swear—I will restore the Alchemy Cauldron Sect’s stronghold. This mountain will once again be called the Bronze Furnace Mountain, and you will once again be its guardian spirit.”
Though his words were not loud, they were resolute.
The Qilin shuddered, its flames blazing even brighter, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down, watching as the Qilin retreated to the side. He steeled himself and said, “Disciple, we must focus on our mission.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality, remembering they were still on the elders’ turf. He had sneaked in today to retrieve the main elixirs—he couldn’t let emotions jeopardize their goal.
“Master, where did you hide those two main elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. Surely you’re not that senile?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Not that long. My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s still sharp as ever—still gorgeous, still flawless.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s teasing, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted exactly one second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just leave them out in the open? This is the Sword Tomb—there are tens of thousands of swords here! How am I supposed to find the right one?”
“What better place to hide water than in water?” Hunyuanzi sounded rather pleased with himself.
“Sure, sure. If I could stay here forever, I wouldn’t mind searching slowly. But we snuck in—we need to be quick, or the elders will come back and kill us.” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Sense technique. I’ll tell you what the sword looks like.”
That was actually a decent idea. Yang Hao’s Keen Sense had grown increasingly powerful, especially with his enhanced spiritual energy. He could now scrutinize every detail within a range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords had genders—male swords emphasized strength and broadness, while female swords were light and agile, slender and thin, often adorned with intricate patterns to distinguish them.
The one Yang Hao sought was an ornately patterned female sword, three chi long and only one cun wide. Its blade bore delicate golden and red engravings, deeply etched. Legend had it that when this sword pierced a foe, their blood would seep into the patterns, creating dazzlingly beautiful designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Tomb Sword.”
Yang Hao combed through tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Sense, taking a long time before spotting the Crimson Tomb Sword embedded in a cliff face. Miraculously, it was neither broken nor chipped, still perfectly intact, though overgrown with vegetation that concealed it from casual view.
Yang Hao pulled the Crimson Tomb Sword free. With a sharp whistle, its blade flashed red, the light vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Yang Hao had rarely seen a flying sword so meticulously crafted by a sword immortal a thousand years ago. He ran his fingers along the engravings—they didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip, and the razor-sharp blade nicked his finger. A drop of blood fell onto the sword.
Instantly, the blood was absorbed. The previously unremarkable blade erupted in vibrant golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi began to weep again.
This time, he bawled like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss, unsure how to comfort his master. Returning to his homeland had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. But considering the old man had wandered the cosmos alone for a thousand years, his sole purpose being to return here—such sorrow was unbearable.
After a while, Hunyuanzi collected himself. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao finally understood. “My martial mother’s sword?”
“It was a token of love I gave her.” Hunyuanzi sighed. “She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not even broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing again. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the stronghold lost, I told your martial mother to flee—she was pregnant with my child at the time. She flew away on this sword, but before she could escape the Bronze Furnace Mountain, the enemy struck her down with a flying sword. Her body was torn apart. Without its master’s spiritual connection, the Crimson Tomb Sword flew here.”
Holding the Crimson Tomb Sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing the immortal battle from a thousand years ago—swords clashing in the sky, immortals falling one by one. The Alchemy Cauldron Sect, once a top-tier cultivation sect, had been annihilated overnight. The brutality of that war was unimaginable.
“Sigh…” Yang Hao accidentally cut his hand on the sharp edge of the sword, and a drop of blood fell onto the blade.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was originally some hesitation about what reason could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold. But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only opportunity. If he missed such a perfect moment, Yang Hao feared he would never get his hands on those two primary elixirs in his lifetime.
Naturally, that would mean he could never avenge his sect or assassinate the Supreme One.
The Elders’ Mountain was once called the Copper Furnace Mountain, the millennia-old sanctuary of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi leading the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, whether in the past or the future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect. Of the entire Elders’ Mountain, only this place still preserved the original state from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi had perished in battle.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was essentially a protruding platform halfway up the mountain, requiring a detour around half the mountain and traversing several ravines to reach. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with sheer cliffs on three sides—extremely perilous.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in astonishment. The sight before him far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should naturally be a place for discarded and broken swords, especially since it was open to the elements. He expected to see hundreds or even thousands of rusted, useless blades.
But to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, with an overwhelming aura of killing intent. Within the small area of a few zhang, tens of thousands of broken and discarded swords were embedded. Though shattered, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly distinct from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
Even after thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of its disciples intact.
This filled Yang Hao with profound emotion.
So moved was he that he didn’t even notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted beside him, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao’s presence.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords trembled violently, then shot out from the crevices in the rocks, hurtling toward Yang Hao at terrifying speed.
Even though these were discarded swords, they had once been the flying swords of Alchemy Cauldron cultivators—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, had no idea what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Oh no! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao dodged the flying swords while struggling to ask.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit—that’s why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about this.” Though Hunyuanzi berated himself, he showed no urgency in action. “This… Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. My dear disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao inwardly lamented—having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a very real and deadly threat, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying, no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently pull themselves free and ambush him from the shadows.
If that were all, Yang Hao might have managed. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him, a bizarre and monstrous creature suddenly appeared.
This creature had originally been hidden within the Sword Tomb, but Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, and horse hooves. Its body was covered in massive, fish-scale-like armor, and golden-red flames spewed from its entire form. Yet it appeared neither fully physical nor purely spiritual—an existence difficult to imagine in this world.
The beast immediately exhaled a breath of heavenly fire. Already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, Yang Hao had no way to defend against this new attack. Fortunately, he had come prepared, having swallowed enough sword elixirs beforehand, filling his body with surging sword energy.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon shot out with a piercing howl. The sky turned icy cold, as if the frost of the Nine Heavens had descended upon the world.
Everything around him froze under the Icefall Frost Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was sealed within a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao finally had his chance for revenge. “Let me show you my Flame Dragon Sword!”
For a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a thousand-year inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to unleash a torrent of flames at the beast.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out several thunderous farts, each so loud it sounded like an explosion, accompanied by intense heat. If not for his heat-resistant clothing, his pants would have burned into tatters.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi’s doing—somehow, the old man had poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy as flatulence.
“Shut up!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control—Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. Though the old man had always had this ability, he had never used it before.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since arriving at the Elders’ Mountain, growing increasingly somber.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overcome with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to the ice block sealing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in an instant.
Only then did Yang Hao realize—the Icefall Frost Sword hadn’t truly trapped the beast. It hadn’t escaped because it didn’t want to.
Because the beast began to cry.
Who had ever seen a beast shed tears?
Now, this strange creature knelt at Yang Hao’s feet, weeping uncontrollably. Its tears were fiery red, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin, my child… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice was filled with sorrow, as if reuniting with a long-lost soul.
The beast was none other than the legendary king of beasts from ancient times—the Qilin. For some reason, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. The most domineering king of beasts now acted like a docile kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg affectionately while continuing to weep, as if shedding a thousand years’ worth of tears.
Yang Hao’s own tears fell—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand the old man’s emotions today.
This place wasn’t the Elders’ Mountain—it was the Copper Furnace Mountain. Not the Elders’ Court, but the sanctuary of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect.
It was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass, every tree here had once been touched by him. The owners of every broken sword here had been like family to Hunyuanzi. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet all of this had waited a thousand years to be seen again. And when he finally returned, the Copper Furnace Mountain had become the Elders’ Mountain, his sanctuary now occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast from his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled in silence, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After an immeasurable time, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself, sighing deeply.
“Qilin has been the guardian spirit beast of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect for generations. Every disciple grew up under its watch. It has guarded the Copper Furnace Mountain for countless years. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin fought to the death and was slain. But even in death, its divine power refused to disperse—it became a Sword Spirit, guarding this Sword Tomb, ensuring its preservation for a millennium.”
Yang Hao was overwhelmed with emotion. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Cauldron Sect, Hunyuanzi’s repeated acts of trust in life-and-death situations had made him feel like a true member. Seeing the sect’s thousand-year sanctuary and its guardian spirit still standing—such loyalty surpassed that of humans a hundredfold.
A strange conviction took root in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on the Qilin’s forehead and solemnly vowed, “Qilin, I promise you—I will restore the Alchemy Cauldron Sect’s sanctuary. This mountain will once again be called the Copper Furnace Mountain, and you will remain its guardian spirit.”
Though his words were not loud, they were resolute. The Qilin shuddered, its flames blazing anew, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down, watching as the Qilin retreated to the side. He steeled himself and said, “Disciple, we must focus on our mission.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality—they were still on the elders’ territory. He had sneaked in today to retrieve the primary elixirs. He couldn’t let emotions jeopardize their goal.
“Master, where did you hide those two primary elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. Surely you’re not that senile?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Long? My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s not senile. Still has a perfect figure and looks.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s words, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted only a second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just leave them out in the open? This is the Sword Tomb—there are tens of thousands of swords here. How am I supposed to find the right one?”
“What better place to hide water than in water?” Hunyuanzi sounded oddly proud.
“Sure, sure. If I could stay here forever, I wouldn’t mind searching slowly. But we snuck in—we need to finish this quickly. If the elders come back and find a thief, they’ll kill me.” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Eye technique. I’ll describe the sword to you.”
That was actually a good idea. Yang Hao’s Keen Eye had grown increasingly powerful, especially with his enhanced spiritual energy. He could now scrutinize every detail within a range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords had genders—male swords emphasized strength and were broad and long, while female swords prioritized agility, being narrow and thin. Many female swords also bore intricate patterns to distinguish them.
The sword Yang Hao sought was an ornately patterned female sword—three chi long and only one cun wide, with delicate golden and red engravings. Legend said that when this sword pierced someone, their blood would seep into the patterns, creating dazzlingly beautiful designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Tomb Sword.”
Searching among tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Eye, took Yang Hao a long time. Finally, he found the Crimson Tomb Sword embedded in a cliffside, untouched by time, though overgrown with vegetation that concealed it from view.
Yang Hao pulled the sword free with a sharp whistle that pierced the clouds. A red glow flashed briefly along the blade.
Rarely had Yang Hao seen a flying sword forged with such devotion by a sword immortal a thousand years ago. He ran his fingers along the engravings—they didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip cut his finger, and a drop of blood fell onto the blade.
Instantly, the blood was absorbed. The previously plain sword now shimmered with vivid golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi began weeping again—this time, bawling like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort his master. Returning to his homeland had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. But considering he had wandered the cosmos alone for a thousand years, his sole purpose being to return here—such sorrow was unbearable.
After a while, Hunyuanzi collected himself. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao understood. “My master’s wife?”
“It was a token of love I gave her. She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing again. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the sanctuary lost, I told my wife to flee—she was pregnant with my child. She flew away on this sword but was struck down before leaving the Copper Furnace Mountain. Her body was obliterated. Without its master’s spirit, the Crimson Tomb Sword returned here.”
Holding the sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing the immortal battle of a thousand years ago—swords flying through the sky, immortals perishing one by one. Once a top-tier cultivation sect, the Alchemy Cauldron Sect had been annihilated overnight. The brutality of that war was unimaginable.
“Such a divine artifact,” Yang Hao sincerely exclaimed.
But Hun Yuanzi began to cry again.
This time, he cried like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss, not knowing how to comfort his master. Returning to this place after so long had clearly made Hun Yuanzi very fragile. Thinking of how he had wandered alone in the universe for a thousand years, with the sole goal of returning here, the sorrow was unbearable.
After crying for a while, Hun Yuanzi composed himself: “This sword belonged to my wife.”
“Oh,” Yang Hao finally understood. “It’s the Master’s sword?”
“This was the token of love I gave to your Master back then,” Hun Yuanzi sighed. “She cherished it dearly and never parted with it.”
“But why is it in the Sword Mausoleum? This sword isn’t broken either,” Yang Hao asked, puzzled.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was originally some hesitation about what reason could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold. But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only opportunity. If he missed such a perfect moment, Yang Hao feared he would never get his hands on those two primary elixirs in his lifetime.
Naturally, that would mean never avenging his sect or assassinating the Supreme One.
Elder Mountain was once called Bronze Furnace Mountain, the millennia-old sanctuary of the Alchemy Sect.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi guiding the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, both in the past and future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Sect. In all of Elder Mountain, only this place retained its original appearance from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi met his demise.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was nothing more than a protruding platform halfway up the mountain. To reach it, one had to circle half the mountain and traverse several ravines. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with sheer cliffs on three sides—a truly perilous place.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in awe. The scenery here far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should be a place for discarded and broken swords, left out in the open with hundreds or even thousands of rusted, worthless blades.
But to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, enveloped in an oppressive aura of killing intent. Within the small area, tens of thousands of broken swords were embedded in the ground. Though shattered, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly distinct from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
After thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of its disciples intact.
This filled Yang Hao with profound emotion.
His heart was so stirred that he didn’t even notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted beside him, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao’s presence.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords trembled violently, then shot out from the crevices of the rocks, hurtling toward Yang Hao with deadly speed.
Even if they were discarded swords, they had once been the flying swords of Alchemy Sect cultivators—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, had no idea what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Damn it! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao dodged the flying swords with difficulty as he asked.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit. That’s why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about it.” Though Hunyuanzi berated himself, he made no move to help. “This… Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. My dear disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed inwardly. Having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a real and formidable threat, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying, no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently pull themselves free and ambush him.
If that were all, Yang Hao might have managed. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him appeared a bizarre-looking mythical beast.
This creature had been hidden within the Sword Tomb, and Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, and horse hooves. Its body was covered in massive, fish-scale-like armor, and golden-red flames spewed from its entire form. Yet, it seemed neither fully physical nor purely spiritual—an existence difficult to fathom in this world.
The beast immediately exhaled a breath of heavenly fire. Already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, Yang Hao had no way to defend against this new attack. Fortunately, he had prepared beforehand, having consumed enough sword elixirs to saturate his body with sword energy, ready to burst forth.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon howled through the air. The sky turned frigid, as if the ice of the Nine Heavens had descended.
Everything around him froze under the power of the Icefall Frost Sword.
The flying swords lost their momentum and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was encased in a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao seized the chance for revenge. “Let’s see how you handle my Flame Dragon Sword!”
Against a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a thousand-year inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to unleash a torrent of flames at the beast.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out a series of thunderous farts, each one so loud it seemed to shake the heavens, accompanied by intense heat. If not for his heat-resistant clothing, his pants would have burned to ashes.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi’s doing. The old man had somehow poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy as flatulence.
“Quiet!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his arms lose control—Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. Though the old man had always had this ability, he had never used it before.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since they arrived at Elder Mountain, growing increasingly somber.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to the ice encasing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in seconds.
Only then did Yang Hao realize that the Icefall Frost Sword hadn’t truly trapped the beast—it had chosen not to escape. Because the creature began to weep. Who had ever seen a beast shed tears? Yet now, this mythical beast crouched at Yang Hao’s feet, wailing loudly. Its tears were crimson, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin’er… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice was choked with grief, as if reuniting with a long-lost soul.
The beast was none other than the legendary king of all beasts—the Qilin. Somehow, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. The most majestic of all beasts now acted like an affectionate kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg and weeping as if pouring out a thousand years of sorrow.
Tears welled in Yang Hao’s eyes too—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand the old man’s emotions today.
This place wasn’t Elder Mountain—it was Bronze Furnace Mountain. Not the Elder Council’s domain, but the sanctuary of the Alchemy Sect. It was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as history’s greatest genius, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass here had once been touched by him. Every broken sword belonged to someone Hunyuanzi had cherished like family. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet, it had taken a thousand years to see it all again. Now, Bronze Furnace Mountain had become Elder Mountain. The sanctuary he once knew was occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast of his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
Old man, young man, and beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After what felt like an eternity, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself and sighed deeply.
“Qilin’er has guarded Bronze Furnace Mountain for countless generations of the Alchemy Sect. Every disciple grew up under its watch. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin’er fought to the death and was slain. But even in death, its divine power refused to disperse. It became a Sword Spirit, guarding this tomb—ensuring it remained unbroken for a millennium.”
Yang Hao was deeply moved. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Sect, Hunyuanzi’s repeated life-and-death trust had made him feel like a true disciple. Seeing the sect’s ancient sanctuary and guardian spirit still standing—such loyalty surpassed even that of humans a hundredfold.
A strange conviction took root in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on the Qilin’s forehead and vowed solemnly, “Qilin’er, I promise you—I will restore the Alchemy Sect’s sanctuary. This mountain will once again be called Bronze Furnace Mountain, and you will remain its guardian.”
Though his words weren’t loud, they were resolute. The Qilin shuddered, its flames blazing anew, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down. Watching the Qilin retreat to the side, he steeled himself. “Disciple, we have business to attend to.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality. They were still on the elders’ turf. He had sneaked in today for the primary elixirs—he couldn’t let emotions ruin their mission.
“Master, where did you hide those two primary elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. You’re not that senile, are you?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Long? My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s not senile at all. Still has the looks and the figure.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s taunts, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted a second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just leave them out in the open? This is the Sword Tomb—tens of thousands of swords! How am I supposed to find them?”
“Nothing hides better than water within water,” Hunyuanzi said smugly.
“Sure, sure. If I could stay here forever, I’d take my time. But we snuck in—we need to be quick. If the elders come back and find a thief, I’m dead.” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Eye technique. I’ll describe the sword.”
That was actually a good idea. Yang Hao’s Keen Eye had grown stronger, especially with his enhanced spiritual power. He could now scrutinize every detail within range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords had genders—male swords emphasized strength and broad blades, while female swords were light and agile, slender and thin, often adorned with intricate patterns.
Yang Hao was searching for an ornately patterned female sword—three chi long and only one cun wide, with delicate golden and red engravings. Legend had it that when this sword pierced flesh, blood seeped into the patterns, creating dazzling designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Tomb Sword.”
Amid tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Eye, it took Yang Hao a long time to find the Crimson Tomb Sword embedded in a cliff face. Miraculously, it was neither broken nor chipped, still intact though hidden by overgrowth.
Yang Hao pulled the sword free. A sharp whistle pierced the clouds as a red glow flashed across the blade. He rarely saw flying swords forged with such devotion a thousand years ago. Running his fingers along the engravings, they didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip, and the sharp edge cut his finger. A drop of blood fell onto the blade.
Instantly, the blood was absorbed. The previously plain sword erupted in vibrant golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi wept again.
This time, he bawled like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss. Returning to his homeland had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. After a thousand years of lonely wandering through the cosmos, his only goal had been to return here. The sorrow was unbearable.
After a while, Hunyuanzi collected himself. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao understood. “My master’s wife?”
“It was my betrothal gift to her,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing again. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the sanctuary lost, I told her to flee. She was pregnant with my child. She flew away on this sword… but before she could leave Bronze Furnace Mountain, the enemy struck her down with a flying sword. Her body was torn apart. Without its master’s spirit, the Crimson Tomb Sword returned here.”
Holding the sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing the immortal battle of a thousand years ago—swords clashing in the sky, cultivators falling one by one. Once a top-tier sect, the Alchemy Sect had been annihilated overnight. The carnage must have been unimaginable.
In Yang Hao’s heart, there was originally some hesitation—what reason could possibly drive the elders to abandon their own stronghold? But for him, whatever the reason might be, today was his only chance. If he missed such a perfect opportunity, Yang Hao feared he would never get his hands on those two main elixirs in his lifetime.
And with that, naturally, would come the impossibility of ever avenging his sect and assassinating the Supreme One.
The Elders’ Mountain was once called the Copper Furnace Mountain, the ancestral home of the Alchemy Sect for thousands of years.
With the well-acquainted Hunyuanzi leading the way, Yang Hao quickly found the location of the Sword Tomb.
This Sword Tomb, whether in the past or the future, remained the exclusive domain of the Alchemy Sect. In the entire Elders’ Mountain, only this place still preserved the original state from a thousand years ago when Hunyuanzi had perished in battle.
At an altitude of four thousand meters, the Sword Tomb was actually a protruding platform halfway up the mountain, requiring a detour around half the mountain and crossing several ravines to reach. The area was only a few zhang in circumference, with thousand-meter cliffs on three sides—extremely perilous.
The moment Yang Hao arrived at the Sword Tomb, he couldn’t help but freeze in astonishment. The scene before him far exceeded his imagination. In his mind, a so-called Sword Tomb should be a place for discarded old swords, especially ones left out in the open—he expected to see hundreds or even thousands of rusted, broken swords.
But to his surprise, the place was bone-chillingly cold, with an oppressive aura of killing intent swirling around. Within the few zhang of land, tens of thousands of broken swords were embedded. Though shattered, these swords still radiated an immortal glow, utterly different from ordinary weapons. Any one of them, if taken out, could be sold as a divine artifact in the empire.
Even after thousands of years, the Sword Tomb of the Alchemy Sect still preserved the flying swords of generations of its disciples intact.
This filled Yang Hao with overwhelming emotion.
His heart was so stirred that he didn’t even notice his foot unconsciously stepping into a faint red circle.
Suddenly, a soft roar erupted from the side, as if a great beast had been awakened by Yang Hao.
In an instant, hundreds of broken swords around trembled in response, then shot out from the crevices of the rocks, flying straight toward Yang Hao.
Even if they were discarded swords, they were still flying swords once refined by Alchemy Sect cultivators—their power was undeniable. Yang Hao, caught off guard, didn’t even understand what was happening.
Hunyuanzi, however, shouted in alarm, “Damn it! The Sword Spirit! How could I have forgotten about it?”
“What Sword Spirit?” Yang Hao asked, dodging the flying swords with difficulty.
“This Sword Tomb is now guarded by a Sword Spirit, which is why these swords haven’t been stolen by those damned elders. I actually forgot about this,” Hunyuanzi berated himself, though his actions showed no remorse. “This… Sword Spirit attacks any living being that enters the Sword Tomb. Good disciple, you’d better finish this quickly.”
Yang Hao sighed inwardly. Having such a senile master was truly a tragedy in life.
But the hundreds of flying swords were a real and formidable threat, sweeping toward him like a hurricane. Even more terrifying, no matter where Yang Hao hid, the swords embedded nearby would silently pull themselves out and ambush him.
If it were just this, Yang Hao might still have managed. But soon, he faced an even more terrifying opponent. Before him suddenly appeared a bizarre-looking mythical beast.
This creature had originally been hidden within the Sword Tomb, but Yang Hao’s step into the red circle had awakened it.
Dragon head, deer body, ox tail, and horse hooves. Its body was covered in massive fish-scale-like armor, and golden-red flames spewed from its entire form. Yet, it didn’t seem to be a physical entity nor a spiritual one—it was hard to imagine such a form of existence in this world.
The beast immediately spewed a blast of heavenly fire. Yang Hao, already overwhelmed by the hundreds of flying swords, had no way to resist. Fortunately, he had prepared beforehand, having swallowed enough sword elixirs, and the sword energy within him was already surging, ready to burst forth.
A blue light flashed around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon howled into the sky. A chilling aura descended like celestial ice from the heavens.
Everything around him froze under the Frostfall Jade Frost Sword.
The flying swords lost their power and fell back into the Sword Tomb, while the strange beast was sealed within a massive block of blue ice.
“Daring to ambush me!” Yang Hao finally had his chance for revenge. “Let’s see how you handle my Flame Dragon Sword!”
Against a fire-attribute beast like this, the Flame Dragon Sword could silently refine it—perhaps even yielding a thousand-year inner elixir to savor.
Flames erupted around Yang Hao as Shadowmoon transformed into its fiery attribute, ready to blast toward the beast.
But suddenly, Yang Hao’s stomach twisted in pain. He let out a series of thunderous farts, so loud they seemed to shake the earth, and so hot that if not for his heat-resistant clothing, they would have burned holes right through his pants.
“Master, what are you doing?” Yang Hao realized it was Hunyuanzi messing with him. The old man had somehow poked his dantian, releasing all the accumulated Flame Dragon Sword energy as farts.
“Shut up!” Hunyuanzi barked.
Yang Hao felt one of his hands lose control—he knew Hunyuanzi was taking over his body. In truth, Hunyuanzi had always been capable of controlling Yang Hao’s body but had never used this ability before.
But today, Hunyuanzi seemed unusually strange. His mood had darkened ever since arriving at the Elders’ Mountain, growing increasingly somber.
And upon seeing the Sword Spirit guarding the Sword Tomb, Hunyuanzi was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Hunyuanzi guided Yang Hao’s hand, slowly and gently, to rest on the ice sealing the Sword Spirit.
Flames erupted from the Sword Spirit’s body, melting the ice in seconds.
Only then did Yang Hao realize—the Frostfall Jade Frost Sword hadn’t truly trapped the beast. It hadn’t escaped because it didn’t want to.
Because the beast began to cry.
Who had ever seen a beast’s tears?
Now, this mythical creature knelt at Yang Hao’s feet, weeping uncontrollably. Its tears were fire-red, scorching the ground where they fell.
“Qilin, my child… you’re still here…” Hunyuanzi’s voice was choked with grief, as if reuniting after lifetimes apart.
The beast was none other than the legendary king of all beasts from ancient times—the Qilin. Somehow, it had become a Sword Spirit, guarding this mountain.
Yang Hao’s hand rested on the Qilin’s head. The most domineering king of beasts now acted like an affectionate kitten, nuzzling Yang Hao’s leg and whimpering as if shedding a thousand years’ worth of tears.
Yang Hao’s own tears fell—for Hunyuanzi. Only now did he truly understand his master’s emotions today.
This place wasn’t the Elders’ Mountain—it was the Copper Furnace Mountain. Not the Elders’ Council, but the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral home.
This was where Hunyuanzi had once stood peerless in his youth, where he had loved and been loved, where he had cultivated and been hailed as the greatest genius in history, brimming with ambition.
Every blade of grass, every tree here had once been touched by him. The owners of every broken sword here had been like family to Hunyuanzi. Even the guardian spirit beast had grown up alongside him.
Yet, it had taken a thousand years to see it again. And when he did, the Copper Furnace Mountain had become the Elders’ Mountain. The ancestral home was now occupied by his lifelong enemies. Only the spirit beast from his youth remained.
How could Hunyuanzi not weep?
An old man, a young man, and a beast wailed together in the Sword Tomb. The cold wind howled in silence, as if the world held only these three. Time stood still—a thousand years compressed into a single moment. The glory of the past was gone, never to return.
After who knew how long, Hunyuanzi finally composed himself, sighing deeply.
“Qilin has been the guardian spirit beast of the Alchemy Sect for generations. Every disciple grew up under its watch. It has guarded the Copper Furnace Mountain for countless years. A thousand years ago, when that enemy attacked, Qilin fought to the death and was slain. But even in death, its divine power refused to disperse. It became a Sword Spirit, guarding this Sword Tomb, ensuring it remained unbroken for a millennium.”
Yang Hao’s heart swelled with emotion. Though he had only recently joined the Alchemy Sect, Hunyuanzi had entrusted him with life and death multiple times, making Yang Hao feel like a true member of the sect. Seeing the loyalty of the sect’s ancient home and its guardian spirit beast—loyalty surpassing even that of humans—moved him beyond words.
A strange conviction took root in Yang Hao’s heart. He placed his other hand on Qilin’s forehead and solemnly vowed, “Qilin, I promise you—I will restore the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral home. This mountain will once again be called the Copper Furnace Mountain, and you will once again be its guardian spirit beast.”
Though his words weren’t loud, they were firm. Qilin shuddered, its flames blazing brighter, as if a heart dormant for a thousand years had reignited.
Hunyuanzi finally calmed down. Watching Qilin retreat to the side, he steeled himself. “Disciple, we have important matters to attend to.”
Yang Hao snapped back to reality, remembering they were still on the elders’ territory. He had sneaked in today to retrieve the main elixirs—he couldn’t let emotions ruin their mission.
“Master, where did you hide those two main elixirs?”
“Let me think…”
“It’s only been a thousand years. Surely you’re not so senile?”
“A thousand years is a long time!”
“Long? My little lover Xin Mei might be tens of thousands of years old, and she’s not senile. Still has a great figure and looks.”
“I remember now!” Spurred by Yang Hao’s taunts, Hunyuanzi recalled instantly. “I hid them inside a sword.”
Yang Hao’s joy lasted only a second before deflating. “You really know how to hide things. Why not just leave them out in the open? This is the Sword Tomb—there are tens of thousands of swords here. How am I supposed to find the right one?”
“What better place to hide water than in water?” Hunyuanzi sounded proud of himself.
“Sure, sure. If I could stay here forever, I’d take my time. But we snuck in—we need to finish this fast. If the elders come back and find a thief, they’ll kill me.” Yang Hao scoffed at his master’s logic.
“Then use your Keen Sense to search. I’ll describe the sword.”
That was actually a decent idea. Yang Hao’s Keen Sense had grown stronger, especially with his enhanced spiritual power. He could now scrutinize every detail within range to find what he needed.
The sword Hunyuanzi described was a female sword.
Swords had genders—male swords emphasized strength and broadness, while female swords prioritized lightness and agility, with narrow, thin blades often adorned with intricate patterns.
Yang Hao was looking for an ornately patterned female sword—three chi long and only one cun wide, with delicate golden and red engravings. Legend said that when this sword pierced someone, their blood would seep into the patterns, creating dazzlingly beautiful designs.
This sword was historically famous—the “Crimson Mausoleum Sword.”
Searching among tens of thousands of swords, even with Keen Sense, took Yang Hao a long time. Finally, he found it embedded in a cliff face, untouched by time, though overgrown with vegetation.
Yang Hao pulled the Crimson Mausoleum Sword free. With a sharp whistle, it pierced the clouds, its blade flashing red before fading.
Yang Hao rarely saw flying swords forged with the lifeblood of ancient sword immortals. He ran his fingers along the engravings, which didn’t seem as deep as Hunyuanzi had described.
“Ah—” A careless slip cut his finger. A drop of blood fell onto the blade.
Instantly, the blood seeped into the sword. The previously plain blade erupted with vibrant golden and red patterns, glowing brilliantly.
“Incredible,” Yang Hao murmured in awe.
But Hunyuanzi wept again.
This time, he bawled like a child.
Yang Hao was at a loss. He didn’t know how to comfort his master. Returning to his homeland after a thousand years had made Hunyuanzi unusually fragile. The thought of him wandering the cosmos alone for millennia, with only this place as his goal, was unbearably tragic.
After a while, Hunyuanzi collected himself. “This sword… belonged to my wife.”
“Oh.” Yang Hao understood. “My master’s wife?”
“It was a token of love I gave her. She treasured it, never letting it leave her side.”
“Then why is it in the Sword Tomb? It’s not even broken.”
Hunyuanzi fell silent before sighing. “When the enemy attacked, countless sect members died. Seeing the ancestral home couldn’t be defended, I told your master’s wife to flee. She was pregnant with my child at the time. She flew away on this sword but was struck down by the enemy’s flying sword before leaving the Copper Furnace Mountain. Her body was reduced to blood and flesh. Without its master’s spiritual will, the Crimson Mausoleum Sword flew here.”
Holding the sword, Yang Hao felt as if he were witnessing the ancient battle—swords clashing in the sky, immortals perishing one by one. Once a top-tier cultivation sect, the Alchemy Sect had been annihilated overnight. The brutality of that war was unimaginable.
Hun Yuan Zi began to chant an elongated magical incantation, one so advanced that even Yang Hao couldn’t yet master. His continuous, ethereal voice resonated with the Red Mausoleum Sword, which started vibrating intensely in response. The red and golden patterns on the blade floated into the air, intertwining to form eerie blossoms.
Above these blossoms appeared two pills. One was merely fingernail-sized, yet blacker than the deepest night, evoking an immediate sensation of falling into an endless abyss of darkness. The other pill was the size of a longan fruit, pure white like frost, radiating a pristine, holy energy untouched by worldly grime.
Hunyuanzi began chanting a long and profound incantation, one that even Yang Hao couldn’t master at this point. His ethereal and lingering voice resonated with the Scarlet Mausoleum Sword, causing the blade to tremble violently. The red and golden patterns on the sword’s surface floated into the air, intertwining to form bizarre, otherworldly flowers.
Above these flowers appeared two elixirs. One was no larger than a fingernail, yet darker than the deepest night, evoking an endless abyss of darkness at a mere glance. The other was the size of a longan fruit, pure white like frost—utterly untainted by the mortal world, radiating a sacred and holy power.
These two were none other than the **Frozen Silence** and **Frost-Treading** elixirs, two of the Nine Great Core Elixirs of the Alchemy Cauldron Sect.
Back in the day, Hunyuanzi, wielding power close to that of a loose immortal, refined these two core elixirs as a contingency plan in case his cultivation regressed after exacting revenge. He sealed them within the Scarlet Mausoleum Sword.
But fate had other plans. During his final assassination attempt, Hunyuanzi failed spectacularly—worse yet, his physical body was destroyed, and his nascent soul suffered severe damage. From then on, he was forced to drift aimlessly through the vast cosmos. Had he not encountered Yang Hao, he might never have returned to see these two core elixirs again.
“Guess I lucked out,” Yang Hao grinned so wide his face nearly split. He knew full well how difficult it was to refine core elixirs. The Alchemy Cauldron Sect claimed that alchemy alone was enough, but the process was more tedious than any other cultivation method. Now, with two core elixirs in hand, he could ascend two realms in one go—becoming a Sword Saint was no longer just a dream.
Seeing Yang Hao eyeing the elixirs as if he wanted to swallow both at once, Hunyuanzi sneered, “Go ahead, eat them if you want to die. Eat them.”
“Whoa, are these poison? Or maybe they’ve expired?” Yang Hao pinched the elixirs, calculating their age. “They’ve been around for a thousand years—what’s the shelf life of our sect’s elixirs?”
“These elixirs will still work even when you’re old and gray,” Hunyuanzi huffed. “You think they’re candy? Just popping them in your mouth like that will kill you. These are **core elixirs**—two of the Nine Great Core Elixirs of our sect. Others spend their entire lives trying to obtain even a speck of one, and here you are, ready to gulp down both at once.”
“So what should I do?” Yang Hao stared at the two divine pills in his hand, genuinely stumped. “Don’t tell me I have to wait centuries before taking one?”
“You need to find a secluded place for closed-door cultivation. First, purify yourself with a bath and change into clean robes. Then, consume one elixir. After breaking through to the new realm, you must spend two months refining the energy and replenishing the natural qi of heaven and earth. Only then can you take the second one,” Hunyuanzi patiently instructed. “Though the **Frozen Silence** and **Frost-Treading** realms aren’t the most critical, they carry heavy baleful energy. A single misstep could ruin your entire cultivation path. So you must proceed with extreme caution.”
“But what if I take both at the same time?” Yang Hao still couldn’t resist asking.
Hun Yuan Zi, back when his power was nearly that of a loose immortal, had forged these two pills to prepare for a potential power regression after seeking vengeance. He sealed them inside the Red Mausoleum Sword as a contingency plan.
However, fate had other plans. During Hun Yuan Zi’s final assassination attempt on his enemy, he failed once again. Worse still, his physical body was destroyed, and his yuan-ling (embryonic soul) severely wounded, forcing him to wander endlessly through the cosmos. Without meeting Yang Hao, Hun Yuan Zi would never have had the chance to return and see these two pills again.
“Well, looks like I’m the lucky one now,” Yang Hao grinned widely. He fully understood how difficult it was to concoct these principal pills. Though the Alchemist Sect focused solely on pill-making rather than other forms of cultivation, the intricacies of alchemy were more complicated than any other discipline. Now, he had two principal pills in hand, which could elevate him by two cultivation stages—becoming a sword saint was no longer a dream.
Seeing Yang Hao’s eagerness to swallow both pills at once, Hun Yuan Zi sneered, “Go ahead and eat them if you want to die. Eat them!”
“Whoa, are these poisoned? Or maybe they’ve expired?” Yang Hao pinched one pill and pretended to check its date. “I mean, it’s been about a thousand years. What’s the shelf life of pills from our sect anyway?”
“They’re still effective, even after all this time,” Hun Yuan Zi grumbled. “You think these are candy, huh? You can’t just pop them in like that—you’ll die if you’re not careful. These are principal pills, two of the nine most important in the Alchemist Sect. Others spend their entire lives to obtain even a single speck. And here you are, wanting to swallow both at once!”
“So what should I do?” Yang Hao stared at the two divine pills in his hands, genuinely perplexed. “You don’t expect me to wait centuries before taking one, do you?”
“You must enter a secluded retreat first,” Hun Yuan Zi patiently instructed. “Purify yourself with a bath and change into clean robes. Then take one pill and breakthrough to the new stage. Afterward, you must spend two months gradually assimilating the pill’s power and replenishing your cosmic energy before taking the second one. Both the Cold Solitude and Frosted Step stages carry heavy malevolent energy. One misstep could ruin your entire cultivation path. You must be extremely cautious.”
“So what happens if I eat both at once?” Yang Hao still refused to give up.
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