Chapter 114: The Broken Blade Mountain

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On the Spirit Wasteland Continent, cultivation is revered, with three thousand paths, each possessing its own unique merits.

Today, the grandest sects without question are the three teachings of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism.

If one talks about the largest numbers and the lowest entry barriers, it would be the warriors of the world, led by Qing Emperor City and the Tang Dynasty Training Grounds.

When it comes to the most enviable and devastatingly powerful, none can compare to the sword cultivators of Sword Immortal City in the northern lands of Central State.

However, in the Eastern Ancestral Continent, besides the flourishing Daoist sects, there is another type of cultivator who is most feared.

The Guiyun Immortal Sect is slightly stronger than Broken Blade Mountain.

Yet, within the cultivation world, there is a saying: it is better to provoke the Daoist immortals of Guiyun Immortal Sect than to challenge the blade cultivators of Broken Blade Mountain. This speaks volumes.

Blade cultivators enter the Dao through their blades, giving off an aura of overwhelming force and ferocity. More importantly... they do not fear death.

Every powerful blade cultivator fights without regard for their own life, unleashing the most powerful and brutal blade techniques.

They neither hold back nor understand how to, with only one goal: to end their opponent’s life.

Naturally, no one wishes to have grudges with this band of blade maniacs.

The woman from Broken Blade Mountain is the craziest of them all.

Even among the great cultivators of the Nine Sacred Grounds, Broken Blade Mountain is not taken seriously, but this female sword immortal who wields the blade commands their utmost respect.

Many rumors surround her, but one is most convincing.

She ventured into the Southern Barbarian Demon Domain, then the Northern Demonic Realm, and returned alive.

That alone speaks volumes.

To ordinary cultivators, she is revered like a deity, and the title “Blade Immortal” was born from this.

...

Ten thousand miles away in the Eastern Ancestral Continent, a mountain range shrouded in mist and haze stretches out. Clear springs flow between the peaks, and countless purple bamboos grow there, each thick enough for two people to embrace, towering into the clouds.

Though it is midsummer, this vast bamboo forest is chillingly cold; the biting wind howls like blades.

Countless disciples are meditating and cultivating inside. Occasionally, a breeze stirs the surrounding mist, revealing countless broken blades plunged into the ground across the mountainside—knives, spears, swords, halberds—all exuding an aura of deadly menace.

A hundred meters above the bamboo forest, on a cliff edge, stands a simple courtyard, usually calm and undisturbed, occasionally swept by disciples’ gazes filled with undisguised reverence.

But after a shattering strike earlier, the blade qi cut through the sea of clouds, causing countless disciples to look up in shock and confusion.

Elder Li Moran had not left the mountains for many years. Why did she suddenly draw her blade today, and where was this strike aimed?

...

Beside the bamboo grove, a delicate-featured girl stood with her right hand shading her forehead, tiptoeing to gaze into the distance, looking playful.

The only incongruous thing was the enormous greatblade strapped to her back, nearly twice her height.

The blade qi faded into the air, and the girl turned her gaze toward the courtyard.

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Under a giant bamboo in the courtyard, a tall figure sat cross-legged, barely distinguishable as a woman.

The girl hesitated slightly and nervously asked, “Master?”

Over these many years, apart from a few renowned grand cultivators in the cultivation world, her master, who had already reached the Dao through blade techniques, had never drawn her blade again.

More importantly, the girl could clearly sense that her master’s mood now was not good, even quite terrible.

The girl was sure that even when her master lost a fight last time, she had never been this unhappy.

“Yun Yu is dead.”

A voice devoid of any emotion came from within the courtyard.

The girl was startled and asked, “Who dares to do such a thing?”

The wooden door of the courtyard slowly opened, and the tall woman finally stepped out.

This woman, revered by the world as the Blade Immortal, had a plain, even somewhat unattractive appearance.

But strangely, her aura was extraordinary, like majestic mountains and flowing waters—so grand that one could overlook her looks, even her gender, feeling only awe and fear.

“I don’t know her. Her realm is not high, and her methods are somewhat strange.”

The tall woman looked at her expressionlessly.

“Master, my condolences!”

The girl bowed slightly, though she felt little emotion — she never liked that person.

After suppressing her shock, the innocent girl felt a pang of pity.

Pity for someone so reckless.

Unlike the idle gossip spreading outside, the girl knew that her master had lent the Yunxia Mirror to another elder to give to Yan Yunyu—not because Yan Yunyu was her favored young man, as such a notion was utterly ridiculous.

The truth?

Only that Yan Yunyu was her master’s own biological son—the very Blade Immortal the world spoke of.

This truth was cliché but real; even she was stunned and speechless when she first learned it.

“Yan Nantian really is a failure. How could I have ever been interested in him?”

“That man is dual-cultivated in Dao and sword techniques, and seems to have some background.”

“Forget it. Let’s sever the worldly ties and die together. What do you think?”

Li Moran asked.

Her tone was casual, calm, even ruthless.

In theory, cultivators aspire to transcend emotion; the higher their state, the less they care for worldly attachments. For a grand cultivator like Li Moran, this was natural and not surprising.

But the girl hung her head, silent.

Because her master was never one for many words—perhaps she had spoken more today than in the past few years combined.

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The girl’s pity deepened. She thought, killing her master’s own son was surely courting death.

...

After a long moment,

The Blade Immortal gazed toward the horizon and said, “He’s not dead yet.”

The girl blinked in surprise, but before she could fully react, a sleeve brushed across her eyes.

Confused, she looked up and saw her master lightly waving her sleeves.

He’s not dead.

Thus, two sleeves meant two blades.

“Ah!”

The girl could no longer contain her shock and gasped.

When the fairy of the Upper Third Realm from the Yaochi Sacred Ground came, her master had struck three times.

But three strikes were enough to decide victory or defeat.

...

Ten thousand miles away,

A wave of energy surged through the sky.

On the high platform above Qianliu City, only ruins remained. Countless trembling civilians huddled in corners, weeping.

At the top of the round platform, Shen Yu thrust the wooden sword Jingqing into the blue bricks and stood proudly.

The only difference was that Shen Yu’s right hand, resting on the sword’s hilt, trembled slightly, and fresh blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Earlier in the sky, everyone had only witnessed the arc-shaped blade qi traveling thousands of miles collide with a sudden majestic red glow.

After the explosion of spiritual energy, countless civilians were thrown into chaos, some knocked unconscious.

But before there was time to react,

Two bolts of thunder descended, and the entire sky above Qianliu City was engulfed in dusk.

Black clouds pressed down, and wind and thunder approached.

Shen Yu silently observed the scene, then turned his hand and drew the sword back.

Calmly, he said, “Come again.”