The old man, carrying a long sword, slowly walked toward Xu Ming.
He looked just as he had in the cave—unkempt hair, hunched back, resembling an ordinary vagabond. Yet, with the sword in his hand, he exuded an indescribable sense of harmony, as if he was born to wield it.
Over the past year of trials, Xu Ming had encountered many sword cultivators, sparred with many, and even killed quite a few. But he had never seen a sword cultivator like this.
The old man reminded Xu Ming of the legendary masters in the stories—unruly and disheveled in appearance, yet utterly uncompromising in skill.
“You’ve picked up a lot of random sword techniques, haven’t you?” the old man said as he studied Xu Ming. “I see the Bingyang Sword Technique from the Wanjian Sect and the Qinghai (Azure Sea) Sword Technique from the Northern Seas. Two completely unrelated styles.”
He continued, “You’re from the Central Plains, aren’t you? And clearly not a disciple of the Wanjian Sect. How did you manage to learn these two techniques?”
Xu Ming saluted with his sword. “The Bingyang Sword Technique was taught to me by a friend who is currently training at the Wanjian Sect. As for the Qinghai Sword Technique, I didn’t even know its name until now—I stumbled upon it by chance in some ruins.”
He intentionally left out the part about his sister teaching him. Even though it wouldn’t matter much if he mentioned it—what could this old man do, go to the Wanjian Sect to complain about his sister leaking their techniques? Still, it was better to be cautious and keep that detail to himself.
“Hmm,” the old man nodded, seeming to accept Xu Ming’s story, though in truth, he didn’t care at all about the explanation.
“To think I couldn’t fool you, senior,” Xu Ming quickly changed the subject. “Could it be that you’re familiar with both the Northern Seas and the Wanjian Sect?”The old man let out a cold chuckle.
“Familiar? Hardly. I’ve just had a few fights in both places, that’s all.
You sword cultivators are an easy read. Just from how you stand, I can tell what kind of move you’re about to make. Is there any sword technique under the heavens I haven’t seen?
And you lot are so rigid. Aside from that kid Jiang Luoyu from 3,000 years ago, every single one of you just practices the same old sword techniques handed down by your ancestors. None of you even think about improving or innovating. You all act like everything passed down is flawless. What a joke.
Sword techniques, spells, formations—it doesn’t matter what it is. You need to infuse it with your own understanding. Otherwise, what’s the point of time? Just to let it slip away?”
The old man’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce through Xu Ming. “And you—” he said, his voice cutting like a sword. “You’ve never even undergone proper training in the way of the sword, have you? You haven’t tempered your sword. You haven’t grasped the essence of the sword. You haven’t taken a single proper step down the path of swordsmanship.
I don’t understand it. Someone like you, unrefined and untrained, yet your sword aura is so sharp, your sword intent so strong. Are you really more of a genius than I am?”
Xu Ming: “…”
Not exactly a genius—his progress had a lot to do with his cheat-like abilities, which occasionally rewarded him with sword aura and intent.
Still, the old man’s words struck a chord. Xu Ming realized he couldn’t keep relying on shortcuts. After leaving this place, he would need to seek out proper training and systematically hone his skills.
“Enough,” the old man waved dismissively. “Time is short. The sect master of the Tianxuan Sect has arrived. My avatar is holding him off outside the cave, but it won’t last long.
Whether you can learn my sword technique will depend on your own fortune.”
“Please, senior, impart your teachings,” Xu Ming said with a respectful bow.
The old man studied the young man before him, stroking his beard. “This sword technique of mine was forged through ten thousand years of cultivation. I’ve dueled tens of thousands of sword cultivators, read countless sword manuals, touched innumerable swords, slain countless men, and even felled an uncountable number of dragons. It is the culmination of all my experiences. ṘÅꞐȪꞖÊȿ
If this sword is unleashed, it can split the heavens and earth, make the Great Dao tremble, open the Gates of Heaven, and shatter the Abyss of the Underworld.”
Xu Ming: “…”
He wanted to retort but held back.
He wasn’t sure if the old man’s sword technique was truly as formidable as he claimed. If it was, how had this legendary figure ended up imprisoned here by the four holy lands and the five great sects?
“You brat, I know exactly what you’re thinking,” the old man said with a disapproving glance, his tone carrying the petulance of a stubborn elder.
“Back then, I was on the brink of comprehending this sword technique. That’s when those sanctimonious old fools from the holy lands and sects ganged up on me. But being imprisoned here for three thousand years turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I meditated day and night, refining my understanding of the sword path.
And now, I’ve perfected it. If those old coots dared to challenge me today, I’d send them running with their tails between their legs!”
“…”
Xu Ming respected the old man but couldn’t shake his skepticism.
“You little punk!” the old man snapped, his expression souring further. “If you keep looking at me with that doubt in your eyes, I’ll end you right here!”
“Forgive me, senior. I meant no offense,” Xu Ming quickly replied, though his thoughts betrayed him.
Regardless of his doubts, he had to smooth things over and give the old man a way to save face.
“Enough,” the old man said, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t care whether you meant offense or not. The bottom line is, if you can’t master this sword technique, you’ll die here.”
“Catch.”
The old man tossed his sword to Xu Ming.
The moment Xu Ming caught it, his pupils constricted.
Countless waves of sword intent surged into his mind!
His head throbbed with excruciating pain, and his body wavered, barely able to stay upright. The sword in his hand stabbed into the ground, and his right hand trembled uncontrollably as he gripped it.
Sweat poured from his forehead as veins bulged on the back of his hand and across his temples. It felt as though tens of thousands of swords were tearing his mind to shreds.
For a moment, Xu Ming even considered ending it all by slamming his head into the ground.
“If you can’t endure this, then you’re not worthy of learning this sword technique. Just die here,” the old man said, stepping forward to pat Xu Ming on the shoulder.
That seemingly casual pat hit Xu Ming like a mountain, forcing him to his knees.
Around him, swords materialized, stabbing into the ground one by one. They surrounded him layer upon layer, encasing him completely.
It was as if Xu Ming himself had become one of the swords.
As if this place was destined to be his grave.
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