Chapter 339: The True Inheritance
The shadow of the Golden-Winged Great Peng arrived in the sky hundreds of miles before the mausoleum. Golden light scattered from the edges of its wings, yet it cast darkness over the tomb. In that darkness, its eyes resembled two burning divine flames. Nanke's black hair danced in the wind, her petite body silently suspended between those two clusters of flame, appearing extremely small in comparison. Yet she gave off a feeling—an unbreakable connection had formed between her and the Golden-Winged Great Peng. In other words, she had now become the divine soul of the Golden-Winged Great Peng.
As golden light blazed, a terrifying pressure beyond imagination descended upon the grassland, followed by a hurricane. Even the most violent storms over the Southern Sea could not match this. Shattered grass blades writhed wildly in chaos; the filthy water on the ground was pulverized into mist. Not a single demon beast could remain standing—they all collapsed to the earth. The ten thousand broken swords floating in the air around the mausoleum swayed and pitched incessantly, like countless ships on a raging sea, at any moment they could be swallowed by the shocking giant waves.
Accompanied by a cold, supremely arrogant cry, the Golden-Winged Great Peng flapped its wings and accelerated toward the mausoleum. It felt as if the very sky were pressing down upon the tomb. The golden light at the edges of its wings scattered and re-gathered, like leaping flames, as if about to come alive. Then the entire grassland began to burn—blood and water alike erupted into roaring fire.
On the burning grassland, the black ocean of countless demon beasts also caught fire, becoming a sea of flames. Whether high-tier demon beasts or native field mice, all stood within the fiery sea, gazing with reverence and awe at the pair of wings spanning hundreds of miles in the sky, letting out nearly maddened roars.
As the Golden-Winged Great Peng drew closer, the burning grassland grew brilliantly bright, but the mausoleum at its center became even darker. The ten thousand broken swords struggled desperately against the gale brought by those two giant wings, flying to assemble before the tomb.
Densely packed, the ten thousand broken swords formed a semicircular sword formation in front of the mausoleum. Chen Changsheng stood at the center of this grand formation, appearing equally minuscule in comparison. Yet he was the divine soul of this formation. His left hand still gripped the yellow paper umbrella; he had not withdrawn that sword intent from the ten thousand broken swords. He knew well that after the brutal battle against the beast tide, many of those broken swords were on the verge of collapse. If he withdrew the Li Mountain sword intent now, without the Golden-Winged Great Peng needing to do anything, those swords would perish.
All he could use now was the sword intent of the Dragon's Roar Sword. But centuries had passed—was this sword's intent still strong enough? Gazing at the approaching Golden-Winged Great Peng, he silently felt the pride and familiarity within the Dragon's Roar Sword. Yes, it was a pride that felt familiar, even intimate, as if it were something he was born to possess.
This inexplicable intimacy caused his mind to tremble violently. Like when Zhe Xiu had his episodes, his heart rate doubled in an instant, and the flow of true essence through his meridians accelerated countless times. The hand gripping the sword hilt trembled, trembling more and more violently until his entire body shook.
Even the snowfield within his body began to tremble.
The thick snow that had once covered this snowfield was the fruit of countless nights of arduous cultivation since his fate-star was fixed at the National Academy—the purest starlight. It had been burned away several times during the Grand Examination and the battles of the past dozens of days, leaving only a thin layer now.
Thin snow is easily loosened. With the vibration from outside, snowflakes shook free from the plain, flung into the air. Meeting the light refracted from the spherical lake, they burst into violent flames with a roar. The starlight snow flakes instantly burned into clear water, then into water vapor, transforming into the purest true essence. It filled his body and flowed forward along the dry, even cliff-like cracked meridians, advancing without pause… For Chen Changsheng, this was an excruciating process, but he uttered not a single groan. He only stared at the Golden-Winged Great Peng drawing ever closer to the mausoleum, persisting, letting the vibration continue to burn the snowfield, letting the true essence continue its invasive advance within him.
At a certain moment, that true essence finally reached his wrist. The vibration from within his heart met the vibration from the sword hilt, merging into one, becoming an indescribable battle intent!
The Dragon's Roar Sword was damaged, its sword intent not what it once was, but its battle intent remained!
With this proud and stubborn sword intent, Chen Changsheng gripped the Dragon's Roar Sword and thrust it toward the Golden-Winged Great Peng in the sky!
A clear, distant, and enigmatic dragon's roar rang out from the stone platform before the mausoleum's main gate!
A breathtakingly brilliant sword light, carrying an almost tangible dragon's breath, broke through dozens of miles of distance, arriving in the sky, slashing between the two divine-flame-like eyes of the Golden-Winged Great Peng!
Nanke was there…
Compared to this sword light of the Dragon's Roar Sword, she was tiny, just a small black dot. But her expression did not change. She extended a single finger toward that blindingly bright sword light.
Through the connection of the soul wood, she and the Golden-Winged Great Peng were already one. She was the Golden-Winged Great Peng, possessing power and spiritual height near the sacred domain.
She needed only one finger to block the sword light of the Dragon's Roar Sword.
From the grassland and the mausoleum, a strange black mass appeared between the Golden-Winged Great Peng's eyes.
That mass was at Nanke's fingertip—the result of two immense forces colliding.
The next moment, that black mass vanished instantly. Faintly, many tiny cracks appeared in the air, indicating that even real space was beginning to collapse. At the same time, a tremendous sound echoed across the grassland sky, like a thunderclap.
A gale instantly descended from the high sky to the ground, then swept a thousand miles away. The stubborn green grass among the mausoleum's cliff rocks was all torn into the sky, blown to unknown places. Even the moss clinging to the lower cliff rocks was stripped away, and the very surface of the stone grew brittle. The burning black ocean in the grassland surged into great waves. Beneath the Golden-Winged Great Peng's divine-flame-like eyes, at least several hundred low-tier demon beasts were directly shaken to death. In the sword formation before the mausoleum, dozens of swords wobbled precariously.
Chen Changsheng did not hear the thunder in the sky, nor did he notice these scenes. He stared at the Dragon's Roar Sword in his hand, because at that very moment, an extremely faint sound came from the sword.
It was the sound of breaking.
The Dragon's Roar Sword had snapped. The upper half of the blade fell into the puddle before him with a soft splash.
That soft sound was thunder in Chen Changsheng's ears.
A thunderclap exploded on the stone platform before the mausoleum's main gate—boom!
Amid the gale, Chen Changsheng's body was hurled backward dozens of yards, crashing heavily against the stone door. A faint dust rose.
His face pale, blood surged to his throat, but he swallowed it back. He felt as if every bone were broken, yet he stood up again. Because although the Dragon's Roar Sword was broken, its battle intent remained. But…
Even with such violent battle intent, even with the support of ten thousand swords, was he still no match for the Golden-Winged Great Peng?
Chen Changsheng looked at the broken sword, noticing that the fracture was very neat and smooth, yet it didn't seem fresh. Then he recalled that when he first grasped the Dragon's Roar Sword, he had vaguely seen a faint line on its blade.
Now he understood—that line was a knife scar.
Countless years ago, Chen Xuanba had brought this sword to the Garden of Zhou and was defeated by Zhou Dufu's blade. Though he died, he refused to fall. This sword, though already broken, stubbornly refused to let its opponent see the damage. Until countless years later, this proud sword once again faced an equally powerful foe and could no longer bear it.
Holding the broken sword, silent, slow, he walked back to the edge of the stone platform, gazing at the dim sky.
That Golden-Winged Great Peng—for reasons unknown, it needed to merge with Nanke—but it had proven its power.
Nanke had vanished, truly merged with the great peng. Those two divine flames remained holy yet violent, coldly staring at the tiny figure in the middle of the mausoleum, drawing ever closer.
The heavens changed color; dark clouds churned. Tens of thousands of lightning bolts, like snakes, flashed continuously above the mausoleum.
The Dragon's Roar Sword was broken. Which sword should he use now? The Mountain and Sea Sword? The Fasting Sword? Or should he unleash all ten thousand swords?
At that moment, he suddenly felt a surge of heat at the tiger's mouth of his right hand.
He had not yet let go of the Dragon's Roar Sword. This heat came from the remaining half of its blade—this was the sword intent of the Dragon's Roar Sword. This proud sword intent, with reluctance and attachment, left the Dragon's Roar Sword's body. In an instant, the half-blade that had been proud, stubborn, and blindingly bright became dim and lifeless, as if dead.
That sword intent entered Chen Changsheng's body, then flowed into the short sword at his waist.
Though his sword heart was already complete, constrained by his level of cultivation, his sword intent had never reached full maturity. That was why he had to borrow the Li Mountain sword intent through the yellow paper umbrella to command the ten thousand swords in slaughtering the beast tide. For this reason, his sword intent and the short sword had never truly merged. To put it another way, this seemingly ordinary short sword deemed his sword intent unworthy of it.
Until now, the sword intent of the Dragon's Roar Sword had arrived.
The short sword was still in its sheath, but it began to hum faintly.
Chen Changsheng understood the Dragon's Roar Sword's meaning. This was inheritance.
He felt a pang of sorrow.
The Dragon's Roar Sword had passed its sword intent to the short sword, then died. But the short sword had come alive.
Now, he could only hope that the Dragon's Roar Sword could continue its life—or rather, its pride—in this way.
Then, he needed victory.
He gently placed the half of the Dragon's Roar Sword on the ground, stood up, grasped the hilt of the short sword, and drew it out.
With his movement, a sun appeared before the mausoleum's main gate.
This sun rose with the short sword's blade from the sheath's mouth, illuminating the dark mausoleum and the grassland.
It was countless golden rays of light.
It was an incomparably bright sword.
An overwhelming, unmatched aura was born, stunning every living thing around the mausoleum.
A profound silence fell.
The sword intent of the Dragon's Roar Sword had perfectly merged with the short sword. Just like when Chen Changsheng had first gripped the sword, it felt as if they were meant to be together. But this was not enough.
The soul of this sword had not yet awakened.
…
…
(In my original plan, I intended to finish this section directly. But as I mentioned yesterday, there have been many family matters recently, and today it's inexplicably cold—I suspect I might have caught a cold. So I'll trouble everyone to wait one more day. Tomorrow, we'll settle the outcome and have a good thrill.)