Chapter 1457: The Secret of the Sword Embryo

Shi Hao was stunned, standing frozen in place. How could such a thing happen? It was kowtowing—what origins did this sword embryo have?

Burial beings were eerie, mysterious, and powerful, so terrifying that even warriors from the otherworld would pale at the mere mention of them. Today, a formidable burial being had been disturbed and emerged, yet here it was, behaving in such a manner.

Its form was imposing, standing nearly ten feet tall, with a pair of broad, rotting wings on its back. Dark mist churned around it like a demonic god emerging from the depths of hell.

There was no doubt—this burial being was incredibly strong. Its silver pupils were sharp as blades, and even from a distance, they made one’s flesh ache as if it were about to split apart.

Shi Hao’s captive, the young warrior from the otherworld, had turned deathly pale, utterly terrified.

At this moment, in his eyes, Shi Hao was nothing short of a demon king. Even a burial being was bowing to him? This defied all reason, sending chills down his spine.

Because of his position—thrown to the ground by Shi Hao—his perspective was skewed. He didn’t realize the burial being was paying homage to the sword embryo, nor did he believe this crude-looking sword held any significance.

What he saw was Shi Hao standing there calmly, looking down at the burial being as it kowtowed, exuding arrogance and confidence, not moving an inch.

In truth, Shi Hao was frozen stiff, unprepared for this outcome, unsure how to respond.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine—he sensed a surge of killing intent. Immediately, he raised the sword embryo to guard himself.

Because the burial being, after finishing its worship, abruptly lifted its head and locked its piercing silver eyes onto Shi Hao, radiating an unmistakable murderous aura.

Whoosh!

A gale howled, and black mist surged as the burial being reached out with a pitch-black hand, striking decisively at Shi Hao.

Worshiping the sword embryo was one thing, but submission was another. Though it revered the sword, it held no respect for Shi Hao—it sought only to kill him outright.

Shi Hao swung the sword embryo and retreated swiftly. He harbored no illusions—escape wouldn’t be easy. Expecting a legendary burial being to submit was unrealistic.

Splat!

The captive on the ground, still confused, was crushed into a bloody pulp by the black hand. He died unjustly, his face frozen in bewilderment.

Clang!

Shi Hao brandished the sword, parrying the massive hand in a desperate struggle. He refused to surrender, even if the odds were slim.

Strangely, the burial being recoiled from the sword embryo, its innate fear preventing it from touching the blade.

This was contradictory—it worshiped the sword yet sought to kill its wielder. Its emotions were complex, its silver pupils flickering with eerie light.

“Mo da gu kan…”

It spoke in an ancient, incomprehensible tongue, so archaic that even Shi Hao, who had encountered many languages—even those of other realms—couldn’t decipher it.

Of course, he knew it was absurd to expect understanding. Burial beings were ancient beyond reckoning, predating even Anlan and Yu Tuo, their origins lost to time.

Then, dark light shimmered at the burial being’s brow, spreading like ripples as it released an eerie divine sense.

This time, Shi Hao vaguely grasped its meaning through the psychic waves: it demanded to know how the sword embryo had come into his possession.

The message was muddled, its consciousness clashing with his, saturated with nether energy devoid of life.

Shi Hao remained cautious, retreating to avoid psychic corruption.

“What is the origin of this sword embryo?” he countered, seizing the initiative.

“Mo da gu kan ai mo…” the burial being hissed coldly.

At that moment, Shi Hao realized this was no mere reanimated corpse—it had memories, willpower. Burial beings were likely a race, mysterious and powerful, slumbering in burial grounds, awaiting some unknown, earth-shattering event.

Much of this wasn’t his speculation alone; his captive had shared theories from the otherworld’s immortals.

The burial being ignored Shi Hao’s questions, intent only on extracting answers from him.

Boom!

The black claw struck again, devastating the terrain. Shi Hao coughed blood, narrowly avoiding a direct hit.

This time, when he raised the sword embryo, the burial being hesitated, torn between fear and resolve, before lunging forward.

Shi Hao was baffled—why did something so powerful fear this sword?

Hum!

The void trembled as the sword emitted a radiant glow.

Then he understood. The burial being shuddered, retreating frantically, unwilling to approach the ancient blade.

Under the pressure, especially the burial being’s deathly aura, the sword erupted in brilliance, its light like a divine rainbow illuminating the battlefield.

A rain of luminous particles cascaded, the sword’s radiance eclipsing the heavens, dazzling and pure as if heralding an ascension to immortality.

Upon the blade, a humanoid figure materialized, soaring amidst the light—a mark upon the sword now manifesting in reality.

The spectacle was breathtaking, as if witnessing a celestial ascension.

But this wasn’t all. Beneath the divine imagery lay another scene, the true source of the burial being’s terror.

Below the flying immortal, in the dimness beyond the light, stretched an expanse of ancient burial grounds—countless graves, abyssal pits, and caverns, a landscape steeped in blood beneath a crimson sunset.

Blood flowed like rivers, silently flooding the burial sites.

A modest, cracked grave held a bronze coffin, untouched by the blood. Upon it sat a humanoid figure, knees drawn to its chest, gazing motionlessly at the bloody horizon.

The image was indistinct, yet horrifying, sending shivers down Shi Hao’s spine.

This was the sword’s other face—beneath the divine lay the macabre.

One sword, two imprints, two scenes, now revealed simultaneously.

Above: an immortal ascends in holy light.

Below: a blood-soaked burial ground, a figure seated on a coffin.

The burial being recoiled in terror, clearly fearing the figure upon the coffin.

How could this be?

Shi Hao had always known the Great Luo Sword Embryo as sacred, a weapon of immortals, yet now he saw its darker aspect.

“I never knew… beneath the flying immortal was this.” He stared at the sword, where faint traces of the burial scene now flickered into view.

This sword was far more ancient and mysterious than anyone had imagined.

In the Three Thousand Provinces, some believed it was a natural treasure, unearthed from a primordial mine. Its past wielders had all met gruesome ends—it was cursed.

In the Nine Heavens, some thought it resembled a long-lost immortal king’s blade.

Even in the otherworld, warriors like He Wushuang had recognized it, claiming it was as ancient as the Immortal Refining Pot, yet dismissing it as forged from scraps.

But now, it was clear—everyone had been wrong.

This sword’s history was unimaginable, tied to the ancient burial grounds, known even to the burial beings.

Burial beings predated this era—even Yu Tuo and Anlan had to excavate their secrets.

Shi Hao was certain: this sword spanned epochs, its roots unfathomable.

Now, as the sword hummed, displaying both the celestial and the sepulchral, the burial being retreated in fear—terrified of the figure upon the coffin.