Chapter 183: Sword Immortal

The thunderbolts were as thick as a man’s embrace, flashing down upon the Great Snow Terrace in the blink of an eye, blasting nine massive craters. Fortunately, the spectators remained unharmed. The terrace was split into two halves, divided by Xuanyuan Jingcheng, the Confucian scholar. Nine bolts, each like a purple serpent, struck the side where the venerable Xuanyuan Patriarch stood. The old man, too proud to dodge, clenched his fist—large as a bowl—and slammed it into one of the purple lightning columns. Upon contact, the earth trembled and mountains shook. A chaotic, web-like network of flame-light rippled across the Great Snow Terrace. The venerable Patriarch of Huishan stood firm, though one sleeve of his robe was completely burned away, crackling with residual purple lightning. He resembled a divine general of the Thunder Division, a feat of mortal strength defying heavenly might.

Xuanyuan Guoqi possessed extraordinary strength and profound cultivation, having long surpassed the ages of confusion and acceptance, attaining the wisdom of fate. Yet even he felt his heart surge upon witnessing this scene. Within Huishan, only he had the standing and the cold temperament to exchange a few words with the austere Xuanyuan Dapang. But even that was merely conversation—never on equal footing. Despite Xuanyuan Guoqi being a Grandmaster of the Sword Path, he still spoke with bowed head and reverent tone before the Patriarch.

Before the decline of the Zijin Villa, the Xuanyuans of Huishan were matched in fame by the Geshus of the North. Their martial cultivation heritage was deep and enduring, drawing from many schools. The direct lineage descendants of Huishan, aside from their refined secret techniques, were nurtured according to their individual talents. Xuanyuan Guoqi was hailed as a prodigy with an innate sword embryo from childhood, so he began training in sword arts at an early age. Among the current generation of the Jing-character generation, there were three individuals. Following tradition, when they turned one year old, they underwent the “grasping ceremony” to determine their inclinations. Each chose differently: Xuanyuan Jingcheng picked up the *Spring and Autumn Annals*, while Xuanyuan Jingyi and Xuanyuan Jingxuan selected two martial cultivation manuals. In the next generation, with many offspring, the choices became more varied. Xuanyuan Qingfeng chose a jade ruyi scepter, while Xuanyuan Qingmang, the eldest son of Xuanyuan Jingyi, selected a string of bells. The choices were as diverse as could be. Though the parents of this generation had their own conflicts, the children remained relatively close, without scheming or rivalry, often gathering to drink osmanthus wine and sip early spring tea.

Just as Xu Fengnian was about to ask a question, Old Sword Sage tilted his head and scratched his ear, seemingly disappointed at not finding any earwax, and grumbled, “Open your eyes wide and watch carefully. What comes next is something worth a thousand pieces of gold—techniques may seem plain, but after returning to simplicity, the key lies in the flow of internal energy and timing. For swordsmen like us, in the end, sword techniques are nothing more than horizontal, vertical, diagonal, thrusting, or flicking. Why do ordinary men wield swords stiffly, while skilled swordsmen can generate sword auras, and sword immortals can sever heads with flying blades? When a sword is swung, unless one exerts to the utmost, reaching the peak of speed, otherwise, if the energy flow is smooth, seeming fast at first, it can suddenly slow, leaving the opponent’s counterattack to fall into emptiness. Then, when the opponent shifts, it accelerates again. If the opponent shifts again, even if they manage to respond in time, they will have lost the initial momentum. This is the simplest principle. When experts exchange blows, physical strength is the foundation, but the true brilliance lies in strategy, courage, and ruthlessness. I remember when the top martial expert of the Northern Deserts once went to Liuchansi Monastery and was blocked by the White-robed Monk. They seemed not to truly fight, not even throwing a single move, just standing still. One was a Martial Sage, the other a Bodhisattva incarnation who could have become the Buddha himself. Surely they weren’t just dozing off, right? But why didn’t that martial peak expert of the Northern Deserts strike? Ah, that’s the true subtlety of the Realm of the Indestructible. The so-called top-tier Realm of the Indestructible experts of today are far inferior, mere reputations without substance. Xuanyuan Jingxuan, now dead, boasted of advancing from King Kongto Mystic Revelation, but not even King Kongremained unbroken!”

Suddenly, the rainwater across the Great Snow Terrace was lifted into the air by Xuanyuan Jingcheng’s energy, rising violently.

After the nine thunderbolts, more heavenly lightning followed.

In an instant, strange phenomena arose—great torrents of water met purple lightning.

Old Sword Sage narrowed his eyes and said, “Xiao Xu, if you don’t want your attendants to be caught in the crossfire and meet their doom, tell them to retreat now. I only promised to protect your life. As for the others, with this chaotic, unpredictable heavenly disaster descending, I don’t have the patience to shield them from calamity.”

Xu Fengnian waved his hand, signaling everyone except Huangman’er and Qingniao to withdraw from the Great Snow Terrace.

Xuanyuan Jingyi and the two senior guests were shaken to their core. Despite having witnessed countless grand spectacles, their faces turned deathly pale. Especially Xuanyuan Jingyi, who bore a guilty conscience—his heart and liver felt like they were about to rupture. His elder brother’s muttered words, “I shall enter the Immortal of the Land realm,” carried more weight than a thousand warnings or threats. The Immortal of the Land realm? In a hundred years of martial cultivation history, aside from the young prodigy Qixuanzhen of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, universally acknowledged as a Heavenly Talent, and the long-reigning “Second Under Heaven” Wang Xianzhi of Martial Emperor City, who had held his position for half a century, people could only speculate whether they possessed such Divine Power, never daring to confirm. Such was the rarity and mystery of the Immortal of the Land realm. Unlike the other three realms of the First Rank, this realm of harmony with heaven and earth was beyond comprehension. Over five hundred years, many martial prodigies had briefly reached the peak, but their states were fleeting, like a swan’s footprint on snow—merely a temporary mark before returning to the heavens. Few attained the transcendence of Qixuanzhen, which is why he was regarded as the only immortal in five hundred years to rival the Patriarch Lv.

On the Great Snow Terrace, Xuanyuan Jingcheng once again surprised everyone by abandoning distance and engaging the Patriarch in close combat.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng and Xuanyuan Dapang charged forward together. The latter moved in a straight line, scattering wind and rain, and leapt up with a knee strike aimed at Xuanyuan Jingcheng. Xuanyuan Jingcheng placed both hands on the Patriarch’s knee and slid backward, splashing countless droplets of water. This transcendent Confucian scholar did not attempt to deflect the thousandfold Overbearingforce but instead redirected it sideways. As Xuanyuan Dapang was still airborne, Xuanyuan Jingcheng leaned forward and slammed his elbow down, driving the Patriarch’s body harshly into the ground of the Great Snow Terrace. That was not enough—Xuanyuan Jingcheng kicked him, sending the old Patriarch flying sideways for dozens of zhang. Seizing the momentum, Xuanyuan Jingcheng pursued. Xuanyuan Dapang, mid-air, clawed his fingers into the ground, suppressing the tide of defeat. He then slapped his palm against the ground, finally propelling himself back upright. As Xuanyuan Jingcheng approached, he threw a double-fist strike forward!

Xuanyuan Jingcheng, expression calm, grasped the two fists with his bare hands, holding firm without budging. Behind him, a vast expanse of space was compressed by the immense energy pressure, causing the wind and rain to evaporate in an instant. Xuanyuan Jingcheng raised his hands upward and softly said, “Let me send the Patriarch to the heavens.”

Xuanyuan Dapang soared skyward.

Heavenly lightning struck down from above.

A thunderous boom echoed.

On the ground, Xuanyuan Jingcheng did not relent. He clapped his palms together in a single motion. The rainwater that had been flowing down the edges of the Great Snow Terrace surged forth like two azure dragons, roaring into the sky. The two dragons streaked across the terrace’s sky, slamming into Xuanyuan Dapang, who was already struggling to resist the heavenly lightning, leaving him no strength to move.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng lightly stepped off the ground, his figure soaring into the air. He grabbed the waistband of the old Patriarch and, after landing, began running. After twenty zhang, he suddenly stopped and hurled Xuanyuan Dapang straight westward, as if intending to throw the Patriarch of Huishan off the Great Snow Terrace itself!

A farewell to the Western Paradise?

As Xuanyuan Dapang’s body neared the cliff’s edge, it unexpectedly dropped, barely landing on the cliffside. His face, once dignified and composed, was now streaked with blood and rain, no longer bearing the calm demeanor of a great master.

The old man was enduring, waiting—for his eldest grandson’s shortcut to the Immortal of the Land realm to drain his life force! Xuanyuan Dapang’s attainment of the Realm of Celestial Phenomenawas earned step by step. As long as seven or eight meridians remained unbroken, his energy sea would not be exhausted. But Xuanyuan Jingcheng, who had taken the shortcut to ascend, was like building a pavilion in the air—no matter how majestic it appeared once completed, it would inevitably collapse. Taking a breath, Xuanyuan Dapang felt his chest and abdomen burning as if on fire, the pain piercing his very bones. Such a terrifying injury, which had not occurred in many years, had long faded from memory. The last time he had felt such pain was during his internal power contest with Qixuanzhen on the Demon-Slaying Platform. As for someone like Gu Jiantang, his so-called defeats were merely due to losing a single move or technique. Since they had not fought to the death, Xuanyuan Dapang’s losses were never truly severe.

Just as Xuanyuan Dapang was about to seize the moment to recover, Xuanyuan Jingcheng appeared leisurely before him. The scholar, nearly a Confucian Saint, softly said, “To follow virtue is like climbing a mountain—though difficult, it can reach Kunlun. To collapse into vice is like falling from Kunlun—useless even if you stand atop it. Old Patriarch, you truly should read those books you once deemed useless. Martial arts can be learned from manuals, but attaining the Immortal of the Land realm cannot be achieved by stacking hundreds or thousands of martial cultivation scriptures.”

Xuanyuan Dapang roared in fury, “You dare lecture me with grand principles?!”

Xuanyuan Jingcheng’s seven orifices no longer merely seeped blood—they now poured it forth, no longer crimson but a shocking black. Yet the scholar’s expression remained calm. As Xuanyuan Dapang swept his leg sideways, Xuanyuan Jingcheng stepped onto the old Patriarch’s knee, sending him crashing into the rain-soaked ground with a thunderous boom.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng smiled gently, “When Xuanyuan Jingcheng speaks, Old Patriarch may treat it as idle wind. But now, when an immortal speaks, why do you remain so arrogant and ignorant?”

A thick thunderbolt struck precisely where Xuanyuan Dapang had landed, but the Patriarch, sensing it in time, rolled away in a manner unbecoming of his status, narrowly escaping death.

Xuanyuan Jingyi watched in stunned silence, lips trembling.

Xuanyuan Guoqi’s ancient sword dared not emit even a single vibration, fearing that any resonance might attract unforeseen heavenly calamity.

A single hair’s pull affects the entire body.

The more enlightened a cultivator, the more they could stir the heavens and earth. Xuanyuan Guoqi knew well that on this Great Snow Terrace of Huishan, aside from the Patriarch, he himself was most likely to be caught in the crossfire of this catastrophe.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng coughed a few times—what should have been a faint sound rang sharply and piercingly in the ears of the experts present.

Xuanyuan Dapang’s face lit with hope. He darted forward, no longer fighting to the death, only seeking to increase the distance from Xuanyuan Jingcheng—farther, the better.

Was face worth more than life itself?

Xuanyuan Jingcheng did not pursue. He turned his gaze toward the entrance of the Great Snow Terrace, but did not see the familiar figure he expected. His eyes dimmed slightly. Covering his mouth, he turned to face the old Patriarch and calmly asked, “Any final words for the descendants of Huishan?”

Xuanyuan Dapang feigned deep thought, stalling for time.

Truthfully, Xu Fengnian felt a grudging admiration for Xuanyuan Dapang’s shameless audacity. As the lofty Patriarch of Huishan, one of the most elite figures in the entire martial world, he had abducted women for dual cultivation, seized wives and daughters, and when at a disadvantage in battle, he disregarded his status and dignity. His martial prowess was unquestionable, but his shameless face was even more formidable. As the Prince pondered, the middle-aged scholar, hailed by the Old Sword Sage as a Confucian Saint, suddenly turned his gaze toward him. Xu Fengnian’s body stiffened, but the old man in the sheepskin cloak inexplicably ignored him, instead gazing blankly toward the Demon-Slaying Platform of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, leaving behind a figure not particularly tall.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng looked toward the Prince, coughing intermittently as he spoke, “After settling family matters, I shall share some martial insights with Qingfeng. She will relay them to you, as thanks for the Prince’s perilous ascent today. Alas, I won’t have the chance to invite you for a pot of osmanthus wine. Qingfeng’s method of warming wine is truly exquisite.”

Xuanyuan Jingcheng turned to Xu Longxiang, his gaze filled with appreciation, “What a Born under the stars Realm of the Indestructibleyou are! The monk Li Baiyi of Liuchansi will not be lonely anymore. Allow me to add one more word, Young Prince—do not rashly enter the Realm of Celestial Phenomena. After entering the Mystic Revelation Realm, you will be Invincibleunder heaven. Know that entering the Realm of Celestial Phenomenameans resonating with heaven and earth. A commoner with jade invites thieves, but a Celestial Beingwith jade invites calamity.”

Xu Fengnian bowed deeply, “Xu Fengnian thanks the Master for your guidance.”

Xuanyuan Jingcheng nodded, then addressed Xuanyuan Guoqi without turning to face him, his tone calm and indifferent, “Please, Father, descend the mountain. You need never return in this lifetime.”

Xuanyuan Guoqi laughed bitterly, “You?!”

At that moment, two guests behind Xuanyuan Jingyi simultaneously struck, killing him instantly.

Xuanyuan Guoqi stood frozen.

It was understandable for Huang Fobao to be close with his son—everyone in Huishan knew of their bond. But when had Hong Biao allied with Xuanyuan Jingcheng?

Xuanyuan Jingcheng coughed violently, “Hong Biao’s current martial cultivation was all cultivated by me. I am no mere bookworm, to spend twenty years only reading.”

Xuanyuan Guoqi’s heart turned to ash.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng waved to the two senior guests, “Escort him down the mountain.”

Xuanyuan Guoqi, furious, sneered coldly, “With them?!”

Xuanyuan Jingcheng smiled faintly, “I expected as much.”

He looked down at his chest, stained red then black with blood. Above the Great Snow Terrace, dark clouds swirled into a massive, eerie vortex, covering the entire Zhaoyao Mountain.

This scale of phenomenon was only a hair’s breadth away from the ascension of Qixuanzhen.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng slowly knelt, proclaiming loudly, “Heaven displays myriad signs, earth bears all things. Heaven and Earth above, Xuanyuan Jingcheng kneels to the heavens and earth, seeking death!”

“Xuanyuan Jingcheng seeks death!”

His voice echoed endlessly.

Not only Huishan’s Niuniu Ridge, but even the ten thousand Daoists of Dragon-Tiger Mountain heard clearly.

Heaven and earth trembled.

At this moment, Xuanyuan Guoqi’s expression was nearly despairing. He unsheathed his ancient sword, Baopu, and flew off the cliff of the Great Snow Terrace, his figure fleeing in panic.

Simultaneously, something poured down.

A purple lightning bolt.

As thick as a mountain peak.

Except for a tiny square space where Xuanyuan Qingfeng stood, as if no matter how the winds and thunder raged across the world, her father, Xuanyuan Jingcheng, in his final moments, still shielded a small, tranquil haven.

Old Sword Sage carried Xu Fengnian, Xu Longxiang, and Qingniao away from the terrace with a drifting motion, the umbrella still in hand.

Xuanyuan Dapang tried to leap off the Great Snow Terrace but was forcibly dragged back into the column of purple lightning.

The heavenly tribulation.

Flashed and vanished.

The vast Great Snow Terrace fell silent, no thunder, only wind and rain. In the end, only Xuanyuan Qingfeng remained, truly alone.

Xuanyuan Jingcheng and Xuanyuan Dapang perished together, their bodies reduced to nothing, not even ash left behind.

After a moment of numbness, Xuanyuan Qingfeng let out a heart-wrenching, hoarse scream, collapsing into the rain-soaked ground.

Xu Fengnian slowly returned to the Great Snow Terrace, his heart a storm of emotions.

Seeing Xuanyuan Qingfeng curled there, sobbing.

With a sigh, Xu Fengnian walked over and held the umbrella over her—not for her sake, but because what Xuanyuan Jingcheng had done deserved this small courtesy from Xu Fengnian toward the daughter of this Confucian Saint.

The rain continued to pour.

As she did not rise, Xu Fengnian continued to hold the umbrella.

Old Sword Sage Li Chungan gazed at this scene, his eyes wide.

Then, in his eyes, sorrow, loneliness, nostalgia, and remembrance mingled.

That year, he had carried that woman up the Demon-Slaying Platform in the same heavy rain, holding an umbrella just like this.

The world did not know that the Sword Sage had once been misled by Qixuanzhen. Losing the wooden cow and ox was nothing. Losing an arm was nothing. These were not the true reasons for Li Chungan’s sharp decline in cultivation. Even during the twenty years trapped beneath the Listening-Tide Pavilion, Li Chungan did not escape from his self-imposed prison.

Once Invincibleto the world, what of oneself?

Li Chungan recalled her dying countenance. She had already been unable to speak a single word, but now, was it not simply the words “no regrets”?

Li Chungan stepped to the edge of the Great Snow Terrace cliff, behind him the same scene as that day—man and woman, umbrella in hand.

When she was pierced through the chest by a sword, she had smiled faintly and whispered, “If heaven had not given birth to you, Li Chungan, the world would have been very dull indeed.”

Li Chungan roared, “Swords, come!”

All the swords of Huishan’s swordsmen, numbering in the hundreds, flew from their sheaths, rushing toward the Great Snow Terrace.

The Daoists of Dragon-Tiger Mountain sent forth their thousands of peach-wood swords, a grand procession flying toward Niuniu Ridge.

Two waves of flying swords.

Darkening the heavens and blotting out the sun.

On this day, Sword Sage Li Chungan returned to the realm of the Immortal of the Land once more.