Chapter 661: The First Mountain
"Your sword, lend it to me for a moment," Zhang Ruochen said.
Mu Jiji had already gone to challenge Ancient God Mountain last month, so he wouldn't be going today. He took a blue sword from his back and handed it to Zhang Ruochen.
"Whoosh!"
Zhang Ruochen drew the sword a short distance from its sheath, and a blue sword light radiated out, carrying a sharp fluctuation of sword Qi.
"A tenth-rank True Martial Treasure, it'll do for now."
Zhang Ruochen returned the sword to its sheath and, with unhurried steps, arrived at the foot of the first mountain.
Looking ahead, he saw a smooth, green stone wall covered in densely packed characters.
It was said that only those who had reached the Half-Saint realm were qualified to leave a single character on the stone wall of the first mountain. Each character contained the sword intent of a Half-Saint and had merged with the entire Ancient God Mountain.
Zhang Ruochen's gaze settled on one of the characters, the word "Dao."
"Whoosh!"
That "Dao" character immediately emitted a white light, detached itself from the stone wall, and transformed into a translucent middle-aged Daoist priest, who flew down and landed before Zhang Ruochen.
"Defeat me, and you pass the first trial."
Without giving Zhang Ruochen much time to think, the middle-aged Daoist extended a hand and grasped at the void. In the next moment, a three-foot-long sword condensed in his hand.
The middle-aged Daoist took sixteen consecutive steps, splitting into sixteen figures, and simultaneously thrust his sword, striking at sixteen vital points across Zhang Ruochen's body.
Zhang Ruochen remained remarkably calm. He closed his eyes, and with a "shua" sound, drew the blue sword. He twisted his arm and thrust it backward and downward. The sharp sword tip accurately pierced the middle-aged Daoist's heart.
From start to finish, Zhang Ruochen didn't move his feet, his movements flowing like clouds and water.
The middle-aged Daoist's body immediately turned into a wisp of white light, flew back to the stone wall, and transformed back into the character "Dao."
"So simple to pass the first trial of the first mountain?"
Zhang Ruochen smiled faintly, opened his eyes, and looked around. Many Sacred Transmission disciples were still fighting against translucent figures.
Most of them were failing.
Only a few managed to defeat the translucent figures and pass the first trial of the first mountain.
Han Qiu and Pang Long had both successfully passed the first trial, but Xun Hualiu had failed.
At the foot of the first mountain, the trial tested a cultivator's sword Dao cultivation. Clearly, Xun Hualiu's sword Dao cultivation was far inferior to Han Qiu's and Pang Long's.
Zhang Ruochen stepped onto a steep, treacherous mountain path and headed toward the mountainside.
Han Qiu had been watching Zhang Ruochen. Seeing his figure ahead, she immediately used her movement technique to catch up and land beside him. "I never expected your sword Dao cultivation to be so formidable, defeating the guardian in a single move," she said.
Zhang Ruochen remained unruffled, glancing at her. "It's just the first trial of the first mountain. Nothing remarkable."
Han Qiu's beautiful eyes were very bright, clear with black and white distinct, her eyelashes long and curved. She smiled charmingly. "Saying that doesn't really suit your personality."
"Oh?" Zhang Ruochen said.
"The you from before didn't know what modesty was. The way you looked at me wasn't as clear as it is now." Han Qiu's red lips were exceptionally glossy, curving into a captivating arc.
Zhang Ruochen asked, "What kind of look was that back then?"
"Back then, your eyes were full of lecherous light, as if you wanted to strip the clothes off my body." Han Qiu said with a smile, showing no embarrassment at all.
This wasn't Zhang Ruochen's first encounter with Han Qiu; he was quite familiar with her personality, so he wasn't surprised by her bold way of speaking.
"Lin Yue, I feel like you've been possessed by a ghost, completely changed into a different person. That person feels very familiar to me, yet somewhat strange."
A hint of teasing appeared on Han Qiu's pretty face, her bright eyes fixed on Zhang Ruochen's, trying to see if his gaze would change.
"Just think of it as me being possessed by a ghost," Zhang Ruochen said.
He activated his movement technique, and with a "shua" sound, dashed forward, leaving a series of afterimages on the mountain path.
Han Qiu stared at Lin Yue's retreating figure, her glossy red lips slightly pursed. She muttered to herself, "Too similar. How can two people's auras be this alike? Could that guy really have come back from the dead?"
The mountainside of the first mountain was at an altitude of four thousand meters, surrounded by steep cliffs. If someone accidentally fell, even a Fish-Dragon realm cultivator would be severely injured.
On the cliff face, iron beams as thick as buckets were driven out, forming thirty-zhang-long iron bridges that extended outward, suspended in midair.
Zhang Ruochen followed one of the iron beams to a spot in midair and looked down. The Sacred Transmission disciples below were smaller than ants. Falling from here would be terrifying.
At the end of each iron beam stood a wooden pavilion with vermilion pillars and golden glazed tiles, like immortal pavilions suspended in the sky.
After waiting about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, a Sacred Transmission disciple at the fifth change of the Fish-Dragon realm came out. He seemed to have failed the second trial, sighed, and headed down the mountain.
Zhang Ruochen pushed open the door and entered the pavilion.
Inside, on the wall directly ahead, hung a painting of a woman in a white Daoist robe, striking a sword-dancing pose.
The woman in the painting was extremely beautiful, giving a fresh and refined feeling.
Suddenly, the woman in the painting actually began to move. She took seven steps, and the sword in her hand changed twelve times.
In an instant, the woman in the painting stopped again, becoming motionless once more.
Was that really a painting?
A woman's voice echoed in the pavilion, seemingly coming from the painting. "Within one hour, replicate the sword move just now and cultivate it to at least the Minor Achievement level, and you pass this trial."
Zhang Ruochen showed an expression of admiration. He extended two fingers and gently touched the painting. "Interesting."
That touch wasn't meant to desecrate the woman in the painting but to confirm whether the painting was a space treasure.
In fact, it wasn't.
Based on his guess, the Sacred Soul of some Half-Saint had attached itself to the painting, merging with the ink, creating such a miraculous phenomenon.
The sword move the woman in the painting had just performed was one move from a Ghost-grade low-rank sword technique.
He not only had to memorize the footwork and hand gestures of the sword move but also analyze the flow of true Qi. The key point was that he had to cultivate the move to Minor Achievement within an hour.
This trial tested the cultivator's comprehension ability.
For other Fish-Dragon realm cultivators, they probably couldn't even clearly see the woman's moves in the painting, let alone comprehend the sword move and cultivate it to Minor Achievement. It would be as difficult as reaching the heavens.
But for Zhang Ruochen, it wasn't too hard.
Zhang Ruochen sat cross-legged on the ground. In his mind, he used his Sword Heart Illumination to simulate the sword move the woman in the painting had just performed, breaking down the footwork and hand gestures. Then, he began to practice it in his Qi Sea.
It only took him half the time it takes to burn an incense stick to successfully cultivate the sword move, reaching the Minor Achievement level.
He performed the sword move once, and the woman's voice sounded again from the painting: "Second trial, passed."
Zhang Ruochen turned to leave the pavilion but suddenly stopped.
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes, and he decided to test something.
So, he pressed his hand on the sword hilt, drew the blue sword like lightning, channeled all his true Qi, lifted off the ground, and thrust his sword at the painting on the wall.
"Bold!"
Suddenly, a strong white light surged from the painting. The figure of a woman in a white Daoist robe rushed out of the painting like a ghost. She also thrust her sword quickly, unleashing over a hundred sword Qis that crashed into Zhang Ruochen.
"Bang!"
Zhang Ruochen crashed through the pavilion's door, flew backward, crossed the iron bridge, and slammed heavily into the steep stone wall, leaving a human-shaped indentation.
Then, his body slid down onto the narrow mountain path. He stared warily at the pavilion suspended in midair.
The intense white light quickly retracted back into the painting.
A cold female voice came from the pavilion: "Considering this is your first offense, I'll spare you this time. If there's a next time, I'll hand you over directly to the Enforcement Hall."
Zhang Ruochen looked at his arm. His sleeve was completely shredded, revealing a bare limb.
"What formidable sword technique," Zhang Ruochen muttered to himself.
That scene had startled all the Sacred Transmission disciples on the mountainside.
Everyone's gaze turned to Zhang Ruochen, puzzled about what he had encountered.
Han Qiu walked over, glanced at the suspended pavilion, and asked in surprise, "What happened?"
Zhang Ruochen returned the blue sword to its sheath, remaining extremely calm. "I wanted to test if that painting was aggressive, so I thrust my sword at it. And this is the result."
Everyone on the mountainside was dumbfounded, their jaws nearly dropping to the ground.
Han Qiu was also stunned for a moment, then laughed heartily. "You actually dared to strike at the guardian? I really have to see you in a new light. With that kind of rule-breaking behavior, the guardian definitely won't let you pass this trial."
"But I already passed."
With that, Zhang Ruochen didn't look back and continued along the narrow mountain path toward the summit of the first mountain.
The Sacred Transmission disciples on the mountainside were all petrified, staring incredulously at Zhang Ruochen's back.
"He passed the second trial of the first mountain?"
"How could it be so fast? I remember he only entered the pavilion for the time it takes to burn half an incense stick."
"When did Liangyi Sect have such an impressive figure? I've never heard of him before."
Pang Long felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Zhang Ruochen's retreating figure, muttering repeatedly, "Lin Yue only has his current strength because of some lucky encounter. How could his comprehension be this high? Impossible... it's definitely impossible..."
Whether they believed it or not, Zhang Ruochen was already on the path to the summit.
"There are two hundred and sixteen pavilions on the mountainside of the first mountain, each with a painting inside, totaling two hundred and sixteen paintings. If it were just a single Sacred Soul, the painting couldn't have such powerful attack capabilities. That means each painting contains a complete Sacred Soul."
"When a Half-Saint or Saint dies, their Sacred Soul dissipates. How did Liangyi Sect manage to keep the Sacred Souls of their deceased saints from dispersing?"
Zhang Ruochen looked up at the summit of Ancient God Mountain, faintly feeling an ancient and majestic pressure bearing down. Mist and colored clouds cascaded down like a seven-colored waterfall, appearing both magnificent and mysterious from a distance.
He sighed. "It must be the power of Ancient God Mountain that keeps the Sacred Souls of Liangyi Sect's past saints from perishing. My father was right—Ancient God Mountain is indeed very mysterious, as if it truly hides some great secret."
The higher he climbed, the stronger the "force" emanating from Ancient God Mountain became, constantly assaulting Zhang Ruochen's will.
The "force" released by Ancient God Mountain was as terrifying as a Saint's "Saintly Might."
The third trial tested the cultivator's will.
Only by breaking through the "force" of the first mountain and reaching the summit could one pass the third trial.
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