Chapter Nineteen: The Legacy of the Spiritual Treasure
A fine misty rain shrouded the world in hazy veils.
The atmosphere in the arena was unusually quiet.
Shen Yu said nothing more.
The man in black, his gaze fixed nervously on the purple wooden sword, looked tense.
Fortunately, that wooden sword—capable of shifting the balance between the two—remained motionless, resting quietly atop the stone platform.
A harsh, involuntary laugh escaped from the man in black.
Shen Yu sighed, gathering all his remaining strength to rise to his feet.
He was prepared to use the power of his very life’s origin to kill his opponent—his last resort.
Bang!
A surge of immense spiritual energy crashed against him, sending Shen Yu reeling once more.
The man in black had broken free of the Guanyin Bamboo’s suppression, rising slowly to his feet, his right hand drawing an arcane sigil. A black chess piece hovered before him once again.
He no longer held back, aiming for a single strike to decide life or death.
...
Shen Yu’s face was calm. Though bloodied, those black eyes remained serene and indifferent, even as the fierce black chess piece flew toward him.
He had originally calculated that it would take his opponent at least until nightfall to break the bamboo’s hold, but after three thousand years, his cultivation had waned, leading to this slight miscalculation.
That one small error had left him at death’s door.
“In the end, it was all a bit too forced.”
Taking a deep breath, Shen Yu slowly unclenched his right fist, transforming it into an open palm.
Amazingly, he had not given up, intending to catch the approaching spiritual treasure—the chess piece—with one hand.
The man in black sneered at the youth’s action. “Naive!”
With that, the energy around the chess piece surged even more violently.
....
Shen Yu paid no heed to the man’s ridicule. He had lived through such moments countless times before, so many that he didn’t even glance at the wooden sword.
“I have encountered many spiritual treasures, even celestial artifacts, but none as proud as you.”
He turned his head toward the ‘proud’ wooden sword, its amethyst blade looking uncanny beneath the moonlight.
For no reason, the youth rolled his eyes and sighed, “My circumstances are not so poor—why am I not worthy of you? Even that lady sword immortal of old was not so hard to please.”
Boom!
In the next instant, Shen Yu’s right hand clenched, and he caught the whistling black chess piece in his palm.
A torrent of spiritual energy burst forth, his long hair flying, sleeves billowing—he looked every bit as if a deity had descended into the world.
The chess piece-shaped treasure quivered with a muffled hum, like a trapped beast.
Blood then began to drip, one drop after another, from the tiger’s mouth of Shen Yu’s right hand.
He had caught the treasured artifact—the life-bonded spiritual treasure of a peak-level practitioner.
...
Moments later, a shadow flashed by.
The man in black appeared a single pace before the youth.
Now the cultivator, ruthless and without a trace of arrogance, struck with the merciless decisiveness of one who had seen Shen Yu’s incredible feat and was determined to kill him at once.
He struck with a palm like rolling thunder.
---
This strike contained all the power he had cultivated in his life. It bore no hidden techniques, just pure force, yet was a killing move—one from which the other could never hope to defend.
“It’s over.”
His gaze at the youth was cold, all his prior frustrations condensed into these final, angry words—but it seemed there was something he had forgotten.
...
A flash of red light, swift as lightning.
Both Shen Yu and his opponent saw that dazzling gleam.
Atop the summit of Treasure Division Cliff, the sound of a blade piercing flesh shattered the night’s silence.
The man’s right palm halted three inches from the youth’s chest.
The chess piece in Shen Yu’s hand ceased to tremble, as if its spirit had fled.
The youth smiled at the scene before him.
That silent red wooden sword had pierced the black-clad man’s chest, skewering his heart before it shot back out.
Blood streaked the sky like crimson fireworks.
The man could no longer utter a word. He stretched out his right hand weakly, then sank to his knees and collapsed to the ground.
Even in death, his eyes were filled with disbelief.
...
The crescent moon slipped behind thick clouds, and the darkness deepened.
The youth stood alone and proud atop the cliff, with only a corpse and a wooden sword remaining before him.
The wooden sword trembled faintly, letting the rain wash its blade clean of blood, then hovered silently before the youth.
Shen Yu sat cross-legged, circulating the spiritual energy in his core to mend his wounds as he gazed at the floating sword.
One stroke, one life taken.
Shen Yu found this sword more and more suited to his temperament.
He spoke: “After so much talk, won’t you show yourself?”
Toward the sword, the youth was warm—none of the aloofness he reserved for people.
No sooner had the words left his lips than the sword emitted a faint purple glow, and a misty figure appeared in the air, her features indistinct.
“My name is Jing Qing.”
The voice of the sword’s spirit was ethereal and lonely—a woman.
Shen Yu nodded slightly. “I am Shen Yu.”
“Shen Yu, can you truly take me to see the world outside?” she asked seriously. “I mean the real outside—the world beyond this entire continent.”
Shen Yu hesitated for a long moment before answering, “I once glimpsed that outside, but when I tried to step into it, I was interrupted. This time, I will set foot there, and leave both your footprints and mine in that place.”
The woman’s spirit watched him quietly, silent for a long while before she asked, “Who is Tianxuan?”
Shen Yu thought for a moment, then replied, “A spirit of a celestial artifact—much stronger than you. I came here to find it, but it’s not here.”
Jing Qing nodded, saying nothing.
Feeling it a bit tactless to praise another spirit before her, Shen Yu quickly added, “Though it’s stronger, it isn’t as beautiful as you.”
Jing Qing let out a soft “Oh,” and asked, “One more thing—what if we meet someone we can’t defeat?”
Shen Yu smiled. “We run.”
Jing Qing nodded. “I like that answer. If you can’t win, you should run. I’m very afraid of pain.”
---
Shen Yu regarded her strangely, wondering if this sword spirit was a little timid.
Jing Qing ignored his expression and continued, “But in my eyes, there is no one I cannot defeat.”
Shen Yu was left without a retort.
Jing Qing went on, “I know you are very strong. The one who died seemed stronger than you, but you seem even stronger than him.”
Shen Yu asked, “Then why didn’t you step in sooner?”
Jing Qing thought for a moment. “I was watching to see if you truly met my standards of ‘not bad.’”
Shen Yu sighed in relief—at least, in her eyes, he qualified.
...
Jing Qing continued, “That lady sword immortal—was she really hard to please?”
Shen Yu was a bit embarrassed. “A little, yes.”
Jing Qing nodded thoughtfully. “You must work harder.”
Shen Yu opened his mouth, uncertain how to reply, sighing inwardly at how, after all this time, even communicating with a sword spirit could be so arduous.
The purple sword glow gradually faded and condensed.
A graceful, elegant figure descended from the sword.
At last, Shen Yu saw Jing Qing’s true form.
She was beautiful—an icy, aloof beauty; but it was her clear eyes, as if able to see through all things, that made the deepest impression.
“Let’s begin,” Jing Qing said, her tone solemn now.
Shen Yu guessed her intent and shook his head. “I don’t care for such things. There’s no need.”
But Jing Qing was resolute. She touched her right finger gently to Shen Yu’s brow.
“You say the world outside is wondrous, and this place is so desolate—so I will go with you to see it for myself.”
“But you already have your life-bonded spirit, Tianxuan. I can only accompany you for thirty years.”
As her figure faded, she transformed into a streak of violet light and entered the youth’s brow.
...
Shen Yu closed his eyes, spirit immersed within his dantian’s spiritual sea.
Upon those boundless, surging waters, a small amethyst sword shone brilliantly.
This was the Sword of Jing Qing.
Shen Yu was surprised—this was the lake of the heart. Only those at the Spirit Wandering stage could enter here, or one could merge with a primordial treasure and let its spirit break through the heart’s barrier.
In the Daoist sects, this was called the “Inheritance of Spiritual Treasures”—using the heart’s lake to nurture one’s life-bonded artifact and inherit its innate essence.
Shen Yu reached out, and the amethyst sword soared upward, emitting a blinding sword light.
“Shen Yu, remember your promise.”
“Believe me—you will not regret today’s choice.”
Shen Yu gripped the wooden sword tightly, and in that moment, the world was filled with sudden radiance.