Chapter 326: The Return (Part 1)
The Sword Pool was within the Zhou Garden—this was a legend, and also a conjecture held by many people over many years.
More than a thousand years ago, Zhou Dufu burst onto the scene, and several hundred years ago, he vanished without a trace. This warlike peerless genius had issued countless challenges to the continent's strongest warriors. His unfathomable realm and strength were largely honed through these battles. On his path to becoming the number one expert under the stars, countless foes fell beneath his blade, the Two Severing Saber.
In the Battle of Luoyang, before the heroes of the world and countless experts of the Great Zhou, he defeated Emperor Taizong. Outside the Snow Old City, before countless Demon Clan experts, he defeated the Demon Lord. At the Heavenly Book Mound, he defeated the Pope. At the source of the Red River, he defeated the White Emperor, and many, many more... It could even be said that, looking across the centuries of history, any true expert had once been his defeated opponent.
In truth, aside from those legendary battles mentioned above, most of the so-called world-shaking fights did not occur in the mortal realm but within the Zhou Garden. The Zhou Garden was Zhou Dufu's small world; fighting there gave him many advantages, even the ability to manipulate things. This seemed highly unfair, but his opponents had no objections, because he was Zhou Dufu. He disdained such tactics and had no need for them. He simply did not want the mediocre masses to witness his battles. His opponents, naturally, were even less willing to have the world see their defeats. So those battles took place in the Zhou Garden, with no spectators and no recorders. The specific details of those fights were known only to the participants themselves; only the final, predictable outcome was ever revealed.
Countless experts fell to his blade. Some died, some lived, but their swords all remained in the Zhou Garden, kept there by the Two Severing Divine Saber, ranked second on the Hundred Weapons List.
Those swords were no ordinary objects; many were divine weapons on the Hundred Weapons List. For instance, the Dragon's Roar Sword worn by a prince of the Great Zhou royal family, or the famous sword named Sky Covering, wielded by the current head of the Lishan Sword Sect, which ranked among the top ten on the Hundred Weapons List. Legend had it that all these famous swords left behind in the Zhou Garden were thrown by Zhou Dufu into a mountain pool—that pool was the legendary Sword Pool. If the Sword Pool truly existed, it was a monument Zhou Dufu erected for himself. Those peerless swords within the pool were his achievements and glory.
The thing every cultivator who entered the Zhou Garden most wanted to do was find the Sword Pool. Zhou Dufu's inheritance might be hard to locate, but any sword from the pool was a divine weapon that could greatly enhance a cultivator's combat power. Not to mention what it would mean if one could inherit the legacy of those ancient experts through those swords. How could this not drive people to obsession and madness? Yet no one had ever found the Sword Pool. In fact, no one had ever found a single sword in the Zhou Garden. This only proved the rumors of the Sword Pool—those vanished famous swords must be hidden somewhere within the Zhou Garden.
As time passed, the Sword Pool grew more mysterious and its status in the hearts of cultivators rose ever higher, even surpassing the Zhou Garden itself, becoming a true legend of the cultivation world. But was it really true that no one had ever found a sword in the Zhou Garden? Then why did Qi Jian and Liang Xiaoxiao, upon entering the Zhou Garden, unhesitatingly follow that stream upstream? Why did Zhuang Huanyu go there too? Why could Chen Changsheng sense that sword intent by the cold pool, and why were the Demon Clan's assassins waiting for them there?
Whether in the human world or the demon domain, many forces had already vaguely uncovered certain clues about the Sword Pool. Was it because someone had picked up the scabbard of an ancient sword in the forest by the stream many years ago? No, the real reason was that several hundred years ago, a peerless genius of the Lishan Sword Sect had once picked up a sword in that cold pool at the end of the stream.
That peerless genius of the Lishan Sword Sect was named Su Li.
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But where exactly was the Sword Pool? That cold pool led to the large lake by the cliff, and that large lake led to the small lake near the grassland in front of Mu Valley. Yet there were no swords in these pools or lakes. If one crudely connected all these clues, linking these points into a line, one could see that line pointing deep into the grassland. Did this mean the legendary Sword Pool might be in the grassland?
In fact, this was precisely the deduction of the vast majority of cultivators. Human cultivators and Demon Clan members had trampled every inch of this Zhou Garden. After hundreds of years, they still hadn't found the Sword Pool. So the greatest possibility was that it was hidden in this grassland, because this was the only area yet to be explored. Unfortunately, this deduction could never be proven. No one who entered the Never-Setting Sun Grassland had ever returned. So those who didn't enter the grassland could never see the true picture within.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong had entered this grassland. They could see the truth, though they might not be able to send that truth back to the human world outside the Zhou Garden. That sword intent guided them deeper into the grassland, as if leading them to the truth. Yet they saw Zhou Dufu's tomb, but still no trace of the Sword Pool.
Now, that sword intent was within his body. He was certain this sword intent came from the Sword Pool. He just didn't know which famous sword from hundreds of years ago it belonged to, or which famous person.
The rain grew heavier, and the wind weaving through the tomb became increasingly fierce. A few green leaves from Xu Yourong's parasol tree had earlier been shaken by the aura to the base of a giant rock, stuck there by rain and snow, but now they were swept up by the gale. The green leaves, carried by the wind, rolled along the ground, came to Chen Changsheng's feet, then floated up, brushing against the corner of his robe.
Ssss! A sharp, piercing sound arose, drowning out even the noise of wind and rain in that instant.
That green leaf was sliced into countless shreds by the invisible sword intent. Just as they began to flutter, they were scattered by the wind and rain.
On the sacred path hundreds of feet away, Nanke's small, rain-soaked face seemed to grow even paler.
This scene made her more vigilant and uneasy, because she had never seen such powerful sword intent. Yes, here she silently thought the word "never." Her teacher, Black Robe, didn't use a sword. Her father, the Demon Lord, didn't use a sword. The Demon Commander didn't use a sword either. But there were still countless sword-wielding experts among the Demon Clan. Yet she had still... never... seen such powerful sword intent. If just this sword intent was so sharp and aggressive, how terrifying would it be if the sword itself still existed? Hundreds of years ago, which peerless expert was the master of this sword intent, having cultivated the sword path to such a level!
Raindrops fell on the short sword's blade, making a pattering sound, washing the bloodstains clean. It shone brightly, like a mirror.
Chen Changsheng looked at this sword, his eyes also bright like mirrors.
In the Three Thousand Daoist Scriptures, there were countless explanations of sword intent, but only one was accepted by the orthodox state religion—sword intent was sword consciousness.
Sword consciousness was not the sword's divine sense, nor its intelligence, nor a living spirit. It was the residual information of the swordsman's combat awareness and experience, accumulated over a long time and attached to the sword. To explain it in a more understandable but less accurate way: sword consciousness was the sword's knowledge. Sword consciousness was residual information, or rather the essence of that information, the crystallization of combat awareness. But it was not a concrete, objective existence, could not be calculated, and could not be simulated. When fed back into a human's spiritual world, it was merely a feeling.
He was now sensing that feeling.
From this sword intent, he felt absolute confidence, supreme sharpness, contempt for heaven and earth. He felt this sword intent's resistance to, even hatred of, this grassland. He felt a strong longing for freedom. But the strongest feeling was still joy—a joyful, leaping delight.
At first, the swordsman was gone, but the sword remained. Later, the sword was also gone, leaving only the sword intent. This sword intent could not leave this grassland. It was trapped, or rather imprisoned, here for a very long time. For hundreds of years, it had thought of nothing but leaving. Now it had found a possibility of escape, so it came to meet Chen Changsheng, like a caged bird about to be released.
But he didn't know that the sword intent's wild joy came not only from the possibility of escape but also from the delight of reuniting with an old acquaintance.
That enormous, terrifying shadow occupied half the sky. The other half was filled with dark clouds. Night had fallen. The light mass at the edge of the grassland was dim and lifeless. The Zhou Tomb in the pouring rain grew deeper and darker, like a massive black mountain. If Chen Changsheng weren't inside this black mountain, he would surely have thought of that huge black obsidian coffin in the tomb.
Let's leave together.
Chen Changsheng turned to look at Xu Yourong, then said to the sword intent.
He looked toward the sacred path in the pouring rain, toward Nanke.
Nanke was looking at the Southern Cross Sword in her hand. There was a clear notch on the blade, the result of their earlier clash. This sword was certainly extraordinary, a famous sword on the current Hundred Weapons List. Yet... it was not as sharp as the ordinary-looking short sword in Chen Changsheng's hand.
Every sword has its own strongest point? She snapped out of the shock brought by the sword intent and the news of the Sword Pool, understanding many things. She raised her head to look at Chen Changsheng at the end of the sacred path, her expression once again indifferent and cold.
"So what? That sword intent is indeed very powerful, but in the end, it was still a defeated opponent before the Two Severing Saber. Do you think you can defeat me with this sword intent? Or do you hope to leave the Zhou Garden with it?"
She looked at Chen Changsheng and said, then spread her arms. Clear light illuminated the tomb in the pouring rain. Her wings turned into flowing light and vanished. Her two maids, Hua Cui and Ning Qiu, knelt in the rain behind her, heads bowed, not daring to speak. Only their pale faces could be faintly seen; they were probably badly injured by the sword intent earlier.
"The sword body of this sword intent has likely turned into scrap metal, or even ash. That's why it could leave the Sword Pool. Without the sword body, it's just a sword intent that can only be consumed, not replenished. How long can you sustain it? Not to mention that sword intent is sword consciousness. With your current realm, you can't comprehend this kind of sword consciousness at all. You don't understand the sword techniques. You probably can't even unleash a thousandth of its power. So, what makes you think you can defeat me?"
In the pouring rain, as her still-youthful voice rang out, Nanke's sword momentum slowly but unceasingly increased, her aura growing more and more ferocious.
Chen Changsheng knew she wasn't bluffing. If a swordsman's realm and cultivation were strong enough, then whether meditating or fighting, every moment was spent tempering sword intent. But if the sword intent's realm was higher than the swordsman's, then in battle, the sword intent would be constantly consumed without being replenished.
"Most importantly, since I'm inferior to you in sword intent, why should I compete with you in that?" After saying this, Nanke raised the Southern Cross Sword.
She still stood a hundred feet away, a great distance from Chen Changsheng. She had retracted her wings and didn't seem to be trying to close the distance. The most important change was that this time she raised the sword with both hands. Her body was small, even thin. The Southern Cross Sword was wide, long, and straight. Raised into the air by her two small hands, the scene looked somewhat strange, like a child preparing to play with a large iron hammer—a stark contrast.
Seeing this scene, Chen Changsheng instantly guessed how she would strike and realized he had made a grave mistake.
Since his greatest reliance now was this powerful sword intent, he shouldn't have let her stay so far away.
Different swords have different strengths; a single sword has many facets. Sword intent was just one part of a sword. Besides that, there was sword momentum and the amount of true essence attached to the sword. These were all components as important as sword intent. Nanke's strike was meant to use distance to affect the sword intent, forcing him to fight with sword momentum and power.
A flash of sword light illuminated the dim sky and the tomb in the pouring rain.
A dark blue sword glow detached from the Southern Cross Sword's blade, trailing a fiery tail like a meteor, and slashed toward Chen Changsheng at the end of the sacred path!
Chen Changsheng's fingers gripping the sword hilt were slightly white, and his lips were also pale, whether from injury or the cold rain.
A weak but exceptionally certain voice sounded behind him: "Use the umbrella."
The one who came up with the method was not the sword intent; sword intent couldn't speak. The speaker was Xu Yourong. Chen Changsheng didn't understand why she said this, but along the way, he knew her realm and strength, especially her insight, far surpassed his own. Most importantly, he trusted her deeply. So without any hesitation or thought, he raised the yellow paper umbrella.
With his movement, that sword intent entered the yellow paper umbrella.
It wasn't entering; it was returning.
He didn't understand why he had this feeling, but he felt that this represented the true return of that sword intent. Even the entire world seemed to sense the return of this sword intent. The grassland became incredibly quiet. The beast tide surged, with countless demonic beasts letting out terrified, restless, or furious roars. Even that terrifying shadow in the sky seemed to fade slightly in that instant.
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(It's been a long time since I've written something so bitter. I'm a bit unaccustomed to it. I'll work hard tomorrow and definitely not be this late. Also, that guy Cangtian Baihe's "Invincible Summoning Spirit" has been adapted into a mobile game and is now on the Apple Store. Even more infuriating, it's endorsed by Angelababy. Students who like games, go show your support.)