Chapter Twenty-Five: The Wooden Sword

Green light!

Tiny points of green light flowed outward from the body, merging with other emerald hues to form a vast, verdant ocean. Within this sea, the most powerful essence was concealed, all drawn from human bodies. When the essence was depleted, the flesh began to wither and shrivel at an alarming rate.

Beside him, Guan Chao acted decisively, capturing the dissipated spirituality from Xu Zhong and forcing it back into his body.

At that moment, sword-light howled through the air.

The sword-light struck the Ghost Mother, sending her flying.

And that ocean of essence fell like rain, returning to those whose vitality had been drained.

“If you doubt me, you may journey to the... Celestial Realm yourself!”

Just as before, Xu Zhong never heard the name of the Celestial Realm.

Perhaps that place was a taboo for the entire cultivation world...

“Where is this Celestial Realm?” The Ghost Mother was suppressed by the Sword Spirit.

The Sword Spirit was powerful; it was the true founder of the Infinite Sword Sect.

It was the ancestor, the first patriarch, one of the most supreme cultivators in the world.

“He can help you find it!” The Sword Spirit pointed.

Suddenly, Xu Zhong crossed space and appeared right before the Ghost Mother.

Confusion was the only color in his mind.

“He has received the true transmission of the master's swordsmanship,” the Sword Spirit pointed to the mountain behind: “He is the only one who can activate that sword!”

Sword?

Xu Zhong was utterly bewildered.

But in the Ghost Mother's memory, there was indeed a sword—one that had once suppressed her.

That sword was the original vessel for Zhou Jing's swordsmanship, and after he cleansed it of dust, his swordsmanship evolved, but that sword remained unchanged.

Later, he exchanged it for another sword and nurtured a sword spirit.

Now, that sword spirit stood before her, subduing her.

“Miss Yun, I have made it very clear: two thousand five hundred years ago, when the master left, he never returned. Five hundred years after that, the sword brought the master's Five Luminaries back to the Celestial Sword Realm.”

“The master's Five Luminaries are now the Sword-Crafting Hall, Sword-Nurturing Hall, Sword-Washing Pool, Sword Tomb, and Sword Prison atop Inquiry Sword Mountain.”

“That sword is hidden in these five places. Not even I can awaken it.”

Man chooses sword, sword chooses man.

The sword, bereft of its master, sealed itself away and fell into slumber.

Only a similar, identical swordsmanship could awaken it.

The disciples of the Celestial Sword Realm learned the swordsmanship as it evolved after the master's heart was cleansed, not the original technique.

Only Xu Zhong could awaken it.

Then, under the escort of the Sword Spirit and Ghost Mother, Xu Zhong was taken to the Sword-Washing Pool.

The pool was crystal clear, as calm and unruffled as a person's heart.

By the pool, cultivators cleansed their swords, removing dust from the blade and purifying the sword’s heart.

Some cultivators even used stones found in the pool as whetstones.

Upon closer inspection, Xu Zhong noticed those stones contained a wild, turbulent sword intent.

It seemed they were not merely honing the swords themselves, but their own sword hearts and intents.

One hand pressed the blade, the other pushed and pulled the hilt, and as the whetstone struck, sword intent burst forth, suppressing their own sword intent.

Their sword intent, too, was being sharpened by the stones, growing ever keener.

“Release your sword intent!” The Sword Spirit stood behind him, letting a divine light cascade down, flowing like mist, shielding Xu Zhong’s body.

Xu Zhong swallowed and summoned his sword intent.

A mighty river surged out from him, countless starlights tumbling and shooting forth within it.

At that moment, the Sword-Washing Pool resonated.

In the next instant, the pool erupted with a torrent of sword intent, like a roaring river, or the sharpest blade, striking straight at Xu Zhong’s brow.

The Heavenly Gate trembled, and faint sword energy entered his mind.

A hand reached from behind, palm open, pressing downward.

The turbulent pool calmed once more.

Xu Zhong was startled into a cold sweat.

“It seems it’s not here,” said the Sword Spirit, then lifted the clouds and ascended further.

The next stop was the Sword-Nurturing Hall.

The Sword-Nurturing Hall brimmed with vitality and spirituality.

Cultivators dwelled here, wielding magic, extracting the five-elemental energy from Inquiry Sword Mountain, and blending it with yin and yang from the heavens and earth, injecting it into their swords.

Yin and yang dispelled ignorance and turbulence, the five elements laid the foundation of wisdom, and a point of spiritual light was infused into the blade—eventually refined into a sword spirit.

“To refine a sword spirit, you need a soul!” said the Sword Spirit behind him.

“Our Infinite Sword Sect raised many spiritual beasts, nurturing them until death, then extracting their souls and infusing them into the blades, merging them with the spiritual light—thus a sword spirit was born.”

Xu Zhong was shaken, though his face remained impassive.

“It seems the sword isn’t here, either.”

From the Sword-Nurturing Hall, they moved to the Sword-Crafting Hall.

Outside, a hot wind could be felt.

Earth fire surged, celestial fire descended.

Upon opening the hall, molten iron flowed, and with the flick of a switch, it could be guided into the Sword-Crafting Hall.

Xu Zhong gazed at the source—a golden tree, aflame yet lush with leaves, its trunk linked to the earth-veins, producing sap like lava, able to easily melt spiritual ores.

Wood born from fire—an oddity.

But he didn’t dwell on it.

The heat here ignited the old afflictions in his body, sweeping them away—remnants left from refining the dragon crystal.

These weren’t mere filth, but lingering magical residue and fragments of soul.

“Master Zhenyan didn’t completely refine the insect eggs in my body!” Xu Zhong realized he still carried these afflictions, and keenly absorbed all he could from the Sword-Crafting Hall.

“Sword-crafting cultivators here mainly practice two arts: the Eye Technique and the Hammer Technique,” the Sword Spirit explained.

“The Eye Technique is called ‘Subtle Perception,’ and the Hammer Technique is ‘Three Feet.’”

“Subtle perception reveals the minutiae, hence the name; the blade is three feet long, thus the hammer technique.”

Subtle perception allowed one to discern the finest details, observe the grain of ores, judge the intensity of earth fire.

Xu Zhong watched as a cultivator’s pupils glowed faintly, controlling the force of the hammer’s descent.

The sword blank, cast from spiritual iron, was flawless, and as the hammer struck its edge, a dent appeared, the furnace roared, and the bellows groaned.

The hall was filled with the sound of hammering and the bellow’s rush.

The cultivators raised their hammers, striking the blanks again and again, seemingly aimless.

Xu Zhong noticed that as they hammered their blades, they used the vibrations to shake their internal apertures, expelling impurities, keeping their spiritual energy pure and circulating.

They were refining not just the blades, but themselves.

Xu Zhong recalled a verse: “Action is meditation, sitting is meditation; speech or silence, movement or stillness, the body remains serene.”

Cultivation had no fixed form, for the energy of heaven and earth was everywhere.

With every breath, spiritual energy could be drawn.

Xu Zhong gained insight.

“Not only spells can be imprinted in the body; cultivation methods can be as well.”

When cultivation methods are engraved within, every action becomes practice.

But Xu Zhong could not imprint such methods in himself—it required every character to be embedded in each meridian, every inch of flesh.

The sword was not here.

Thus, Xu Zhong was swept along like tumbleweed between two winds.

The Sword Tomb!

The Sword Tomb was shrouded in dense mist.

Draw near, and ghosts within the mist would emerge, clawing and lunging at them.

Yet they could not leave the tomb.

For these specters, it was a different kind of sword prison.

“As time passes, people accumulate malice, and so do sword spirits,” the Sword Spirit sighed.

“These ghosts are all sword spirits sent into the tomb. Perhaps one day, I shall join them,” he said, a touch of self-mockery.

“What should I do to release my sword intent?” Xu Zhong asked.

“No!” The Sword Spirit shook his head.

“It has long sealed itself away, unable to sense the outside world.” None knew sword spirits better than he.

“You must feel it, awaken it. The only way is to realize your own swordsmanship—the deeper your understanding, the closer you come to finding it!”

Xu Zhong was puzzled.

“Imprint!” The Ghost Mother explained, “A sword spirit is like an imprint of swordsmanship. The deeper your understanding, the easier it is to activate the imprint.”

Xu Zhong roughly understood.

A sword spirit was like the imprints within him, and swordsmanship, like spiritual energy—the richer it was, the easier to trigger the imprint.

“But how can I have sudden insight? My reserves are exhausted,” Xu Zhong said, spreading his hands.

“I will enhance your wisdom!” The Sword Spirit declared, “Grant you enough swordsmanship insight.”

Xu Zhong sat cross-legged, and the Sword Spirit stood behind, performing the technique of spiritual resonance to enhance his intellect.

Xu Zhong felt the spiritual light occupy his entire mind, endlessly parsing his swordsmanship, reflecting every detail in a mirror.

In that instant, Xu Zhong felt the flow of two thousand years.

The Sword Spirit poured the sediment of his own years into the resonance.

Two millennia of wind and frost—rivers become farmlands, change is the world’s only constant.

Seasons turn, dynasties rise and fall, mountains and rivers endure...

In change and stasis, Xu Zhong grasped a thread of spiritual light.

The imprint of swordsmanship within him was fully activated, and suddenly, starlight in the Celestial Sword Realm converged into a mighty river flowing toward him.

“He wants to forge sword energy in one go,” the Sword Spirit understood, and opened the realm, revealing the true sky.

Outside, it was day.

Yet, at that moment, the azure sky bloomed with starlight, countless points drawn into a surging river, unstoppable as a rainbow.

The starlight gathered outside Xu Zhong’s body, finally pouring into the gourd.

The accumulated sword energy was refined by the metal essence, like drops of water settling into an imprint.

This imprint existed within the sword and throughout the world.

Whenever Xu Zhong drew his sword and released his intent, the imprint would activate, transforming starlight into sword energy.

Xu Zhong forged the imprint, while the Sword Spirit frowned, having sacrificed a century’s cultivation.

At that moment, the Sword Tomb shook; countless swords awakened, circling the sky and conveying a single thought to Xu Zhong.

“Choose me!”

But they quickly fell silent, for a wooden sword had awakened.