Chapter 773: Sword Bone
Ouyang Mu glanced once more at the old demonic artificer, feeling a deep sense of emotion.
If he calculated correctly, this elder—trapped here in the lair of demon cultivators—was technically a fellow clan member. A true… family senior?
And given how many centuries had passed, his seniority was likely far above Ouyang Mu's.
A faint sense of reverence rose in Ouyang Mu's heart.
The old demon artificer looked at Ouyang Mu, his expression complicated, eyes filled with nostalgia.
"Back then, I was much like you… gifted in artifact forging, but dull in temperament. I was quiet, withdrawn, and knew only how to forge swords. I saw the forging of a one-of-a-kind, peerless celestial sword as my life's ambition…"
"A celestial sword…"
The old man's face was full of melancholy.
"Back then, I was young and arrogant. I didn't know the heights of heaven or the depths of earth. I had no idea just how distant—how utterly hopeless—those two words really were."
He gave a bitter chuckle.
"We call ourselves cultivators, striving for 'immortality'—but what even is 'immortality'? To this day, no one truly knows."
"Anything that brushes against the word 'immortal' becomes vast, unknowable… even terrifying."
Ouyang Mu nodded solemnly.
He, too, had always dreamed of forging a "celestial sword."
But the deeper he delved into cultivation and swordsmithing, the more he felt just how unreachable that word truly was.
In this lifetime, he might not even get close to a celestial sword—
Forget forging one himself, even just glimpsing such a sword would be a tremendous luxury.
The old demon's murky eyes rested quietly on Ouyang Mu, his thoughts unreadable. Eventually, he sighed and continued:
"Hundreds of years ago, I was a member of Tai'e Sect—
…a disciple of the Ouyang family."
"Even back then, the Ouyang clan was shifting its focus, moving away from sword forging and leaning into swordsmanship instead. They aimed to become a true sword sect, centered on sword techniques."
"But I didn't want to learn sword arts. I only wanted to forge swords."
"While others abandoned forging to focus on combat, I devoted myself, day and night, to refining my craft."
"Even if the sect didn't value me, I didn't care.
As long as I could forge swords, I was content…"
At this point, the old demon hunched over, coughing violently—spitting up blood.
But he paid it no mind. He wiped the blood away silently and kept speaking:
"I thought I would live out my days in Tai'e Sect—
Studying weapon-crafting, forging swords until old age…
I never imagined…"
His expression twisted with bitterness.
"One day while out hunting in the mountains, I got lost in the dense forest outside Ten Thousand Demon Valley."
"A few demon cultivators found me. They chased me down—
I was no match for them, and they captured me."
"At first, they opened their bloody mouths to eat me—
But when they discovered I could forge swords, they spared my life…
And forced me to forge evil swords for them."
"I… had no choice."
His eyes turned hollow.
"Back in the sect, I always believed I had a strong Dao heart—
That if I ever faced demons, I would uphold righteousness and die without fear."
"But when I was staring into those twisted grinning faces,
I realized how wrong I was."
"I didn't understand myself at all."
"I… was a coward."
As he said this, his gaze turned cold and numb. Years of inhuman torment had long worn away his pride and left only quiet acceptance.
Ouyang Mu said softly, "Senior… this isn't your fault."
The old demon shook his head.
"Things are already like this. Look at me—what's the point in debating right or wrong anymore?"
Ouyang Mu wanted to say something comforting,
But he wasn't good with words and couldn't find the right thing to say.
The old demon sighed and went on:
"I gave in. I surrendered.
I betrayed my sect, my family, even my swordsmith's Dao."
"From then on, I became a demon cultivator—an evil swordsmith."
"I cast off my former identity, staying trapped here in this sunless pit called the Ten Thousand Demon Prison—
Living among beasts, working with demons.
Using human bones, flesh, and blood to forge weapons."
"To this day, I don't know how many evil swords I've crafted for them—
Nor how many people have died under those very swords…"
He let out a bloody laugh. Whether it was bitterness or pride, it was impossible to tell.
Ouyang Mu's emotions were tangled.
Such was the fate of a swordsmith—even righteous ones had no control over how their blades were used.
Whether they were used for justice or slaughter depended on the wielder.
All the more true for evil swordsmiths.
The old demon continued:
"Now, my time is nearly up.
I've committed many sins in this life…
But at least, it's coming to an end."
He looked at Ouyang Mu.
"But before I die, I have one wish.
I've spent nearly my entire life imprisoned here in Ten Thousand Demon Prison—
I've lost all sense of time, day or night—
But I've never stopped studying the art of weapon refinement."
"My methods… some righteous, some evil…
By now, even I can't tell them apart."
"But whether good or evil, it's all my life's work.
If I don't pass it on, I won't die in peace."
His gaze sharpened.
"In all of Ten Thousand Demon Prison, the only one I can teach… is you."
Ouyang Mu froze, hesitant.
If this were righteous swordsmithing, he would be grateful beyond words.
But this elder was an evil swordsmith, and his techniques were undoubtedly dark and bloody.
He didn't want to learn them.
Still unsure what to do, he glanced down at his sleeve out of habit—
And instantly felt a bit more confident.
"Since you think so highly of me…" Ouyang Mu hesitated a bit more, then sighed and said:
"I'll learn."
The old man let out a long breath, visibly relaxing.
Then his expression turned proud:
"I trained under the Ouyang family of Tai'e Sect.
My sword-forging skills were forged through relentless trial and error…"
"At the very least, within the scope of second-grade weapon refinement, I dare say I am not inferior to any swordsmith."
"I've also poured my heart and soul into the study of lifebound artifacts."
"Once you master my craft, you'll stand out even among others at your level.
Even if you never leave Ten Thousand Demon Prison—
You'll still thrive among the demon cultivators."
"Even the most vicious of them won't dare treat you lightly…"
"And if one day, you reach Core Formation and become a third-grade evil swordsmith—"
His eyes sparkled with hope.
"The Young Master may even let you leave this place…
And serve as his trusted subordinate."
"Life outside… is far more free."
Ouyang Mu's eyes widened in surprise.
"You can leave?"
The old man nodded.
"If you can reach Core Formation."
Then he sighed again:
"Of course… Core Formation is easier said than done.
In all the centuries of this prison, even with all these demon cultivators—very few have ever reached it."
"It's not just the lack of resources, or flawed techniques, or unstable demonic power—
It's that Core Formation itself… is just that hard."
"Still… it's something to hope for."
Ouyang Mu slowly nodded.
Then, stealing another glance at his sleeve, he asked as instructed by Mo Hua:
"Senior… You mentioned 'serving the Young Master'—
Who is this Young Master?"
The moment he mentioned "Young Master," the old demon's face went cold. His voice trembled:
"Don't ask.
It's best you never know."
"Just remember: In this prison, everything follows the Young Master's orders.
Don't be curious.
Or you won't even know how you died."
Ouyang Mu's heart chilled.
"I understand."
The old demon's tone eased a bit.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll formally begin passing on my life's work to you.
First… we'll begin with—"
"—Forging a lifebound evil sword!"
"Alright." Ouyang Mu's expression was calm.
Seeing this, the old demon sighed.
"I know…
You agreed to become an evil swordsmith with your mouth,
But your heart hasn't accepted it yet."
"You bear the Ouyang name—same sect, same clan.
I won't make things hard for you."
"So how about this—tomorrow, I'll start with righteous smithing techniques.
Once you've learned those…
You can slowly transition from righteous to demonic, forge evil artifacts, and cast evil swords…"
"This valley is a cursed place.
I'm bound by fate.
This is all I can do to help you.
After that… your survival is up to you."
Ouyang Mu paused, then bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Senior."
The old demon waved a hand dismissively.
"Spare me the hollow sentiment.
Go on—come back tomorrow."
Ouyang Mu gave a respectful salute, then was escorted by a demon cultivator back to his cell.
Inside the Evil Artifact Workshop, only the old demon remained.
"Tai'e…"
The old voice rasped like a withered tree branch beneath a dying crow, barely audible as the old demonic artificer muttered the name under his breath. Then, quite suddenly, his entire body began to tremble violently.
He reached up to cover his mouth, but it was too late—blood gushed from between his fingers.
Shaking all over, he fumbled through his storage pouch and pulled out a random assortment of red and white pills, shoving them into his mouth all at once.
After a while, the coughing eased.
The old demon's hunched body slowly sat down. Tilting his head, he stared into the eerie flames of the bone-white forging furnace. In the depths of his murky eyes, a strange gleam flickered faintly.
Mo Hua frowned slightly, then quietly turned and left.
He made his way to the prison.
Inside, Ouyang Mu was chatting softly with Linghu Xiao.
Nearby, Song Jian was secretly nibbling on something.
He was chewing on the jerky Mo Hua had given him—meat was rare, so he tore off tiny pieces, chewing carefully and savoring each bite.
With no demon guards around, Mo Hua revealed himself.
The three inside the prison didn't even blink—they were already used to this.
Mo Hua came and went like a ghost. Honestly, it was starting to feel like he was one.
They exchanged a few words, after which Ouyang Mu sighed and said,
"I still can't believe… that old senior is actually from the Ouyang family…"
"I wonder if he might help us escape?"
Mo Hua shook his head.
"Don't count on it."
Ouyang Mu looked confused.
Mo Hua explained:
"That old man's a liar. Everything he told you was just a story."
Ouyang Mu blinked.
"Wait, he's not from the Ouyang clan?"
"That part might actually be true," Mo Hua admitted thoughtfully.
"He probably was from the Ouyang family and Tai'e Sect.
But out of every ten things he said, eight or nine were lies.
At best, one or two might be true."
"Think about it…" Mo Hua said,
"What's a weapon refiner doing wandering alone in that deadly forest outside Ten Thousand Demon Valley?"
"That forest is covered in formation arrays. Divine sense can't navigate in there—not for cultivators, not for demonfolk either."
"If he just 'accidentally wandered in,' what are the odds he'd bump into a bunch of demon cultivators at the exact wrong time?"
"And if those demons were starving, they wouldn't hesitate to eat him alive.
Why would they keep him around just because he might know how to forge swords?"
"And they wouldn't have known unless he told them."
"Besides, he's been trapped in this hellhole for centuries—living off raw flesh and blood. Whatever humanity he once had is long gone.
You really think he still cares about clan or sect ties?"
"Same sect, same family—so what?"
"So yeah, everything he said sounds believable…
But when you really think about it, there are holes everywhere."
Of course, that was just what Mo Hua said on the surface.
The truth was—
While listening to the old demon speak, Mo Hua's spiritual sense had picked up subtle disturbances in the man's divine will. Faint signs… that he was hiding something.
And then there was his intuitive sense of karma.
When the old man spoke, the karmic threads around him twisted and tangled.
Mo Hua instinctively knew—something was off in his story.
Simple little Ouyang Mu sat there, mouth slightly agape, baffled.
In his heart, he couldn't help but wonder—
Just how many layers does my senior brother's brain have…? How many traps is he running in there?!
Linghu Xiao frowned and asked,
"If that old demon's hiding something, doesn't that mean Brother Mu is in danger?"
"He is," Mo Hua nodded calmly.
"Then again, were any of you ever really safe? Whether it's Jin Gui, or that old demon, or the so-called 'Young Master' behind the scenes—
They've all had their eyes on you."
So far, the demon cultivators had tried many overt and covert tactics.
For now, their focus was on Ouyang Mu.
But that was likely just the beginning. Linghu Xiao and Song Jian weren't going to be spared for long.
Based on all the intelligence Mo Hua had quietly gathered—
Of the three, Linghu Xiao's situation was slightly better.
He had a sword heart that shone clear—an exceptionally rare talent in the Chongxu Sect, the kind they only saw once in five centuries.
Whether he joined the righteous path or fell to the demonic side, he was still a precious commodity.
Though the demons had already severed Linghu Xiao's little finger, they still treated him with a strange kind of reverence—clearly afraid to offend him too easily.
Mo Hua's guess?
These demon cultivators were probably planning to invite Linghu Xiao aboard one of the Young Masters' infamous "pleasure boats"—using sweet temptations to rot him from the inside, break his resolve, and pull him into their ranks as a fellow demon.
As for what kind of temptations were on those boats…
Well, Mo Hua was still pretty pure, and hadn't seen much of the world. He couldn't quite imagine it.
But Song Jian…
Mo Hua glanced at him.
Still sitting in the corner, silently chewing jerky like a squirrel hoarding scraps.
Mo Hua felt a flicker of sympathy.
Song Jian was nothing more than a hostage.
These demons probably didn't even plan to "convert" him.
There was a very real chance they might just kill him one day—and that'd be that.
Song Jian noticed Mo Hua's gaze, snorted coldly, then turned his back.
He clearly didn't want to see Mo Hua—
But he still kept chewing his jerky in silence.
Mo Hua sighed in his heart.
Forget it… That poor kid. Better not tell him the truth.
If he finds out, he might not even be able to eat his meat jerky anymore…
On the other side, Ouyang Mu looked quite down.
He'd really thought that old demon was a lost sheep—
Still loyal to Tai'e Sect, still thinking of the clan—
That he just wanted to pass down his life's sword-forging techniques to someone before he died.
The human heart truly is sinister…
"Senior Brother Mo… what should I do, then?" Ouyang Mu asked.
"He's going to teach me sword forging—should I still learn from him?"
Mo Hua thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Learn."
"Just act like you don't know anything.
Forget everything I just said.
Keep pretending that old man is just a misguided senior from your Ouyang family—someone nearing the end of his life, who still holds a shred of goodness in his heart."
"Whatever he teaches you, just learn it. No reason not to."
"If anything happens later, play it by ear. I'll guide you."
"Understood, Senior Brother!" Ouyang Mu nodded earnestly.
"But…" he asked hesitantly, "What is that old demon planning?"
Mo Hua's gaze sharpened.
"We'll find out… in time."
...
The next day, inside the Evil Artifact Workshop— The old demonic artificer was once again examining his sheet of demon-hide parchment.
Ouyang Mu was busy refining white bone and smelting fine iron.
Once the bone was fully refined, the old artificer stowed away his demon-hide sheet and said in a hoarse, solemn voice,
"It's about time. I'll now teach you how to forge your lifebound sword bone."
"Yes, Senior," Ouyang Mu replied, remembering Mo Hua's instructions.
The old demon's expression grew serious as he began,
"Every sword… must have a bone."
"This 'bone' refers to the sword's core framework—its spine. It doesn't necessarily have to be literal 'bone'."
"Depending on sword-crafting tradition, the sword bone's material can be gold, jade, silver alloy, iron or copper—it could also be spiritual materials like wood or stone. Of course, it might even be demon bone, beast bone… or human bone."
"Ordinary spiritual swords aren't too particular about this."
"But when forging a lifebound sword embryo—something that must be nurtured with your own essence until it merges with your life force and becomes your core artifact—the requirements for the sword bone become extremely strict."
"In fact, the sword bone directly determines the final grade of your lifebound sword."
"Only with the best bone… can you forge the best sword."
"A sword without a spine is nothing but scrap metal."
With that, the old demon retrieved a long piece of spine bone from his storage pouch, holding it with reverence.
"This is the material to be used for forging your sword bone."
Ouyang Mu's expression changed slightly when he saw the bloodstains on the bone.
"Is this… human bone?"
The old demon replied indifferently,
"So what if it is? Human or demon—it doesn't matter. If the bone can be forged into a top-grade sword spine, then it's a good bone."
"You need to start shedding those outdated notions about right and wrong. If you want to survive in the Ten Thousand Demon Prison, you'll have to let go of those things."
"Y-yes, Senior…" Ouyang Mu mumbled.
Seeing that, the old demon's tone softened slightly.
"I'll handle the forging. You watch."
"Mm."
And with that, he began formally instructing Ouyang Mu in the craft of forging sword bones.
The process was long and complex, with extremely demanding techniques.
Mo Hua, watching from the shadows, could barely follow any of it.
His understanding of forging techniques was mostly theoretical. He knew some basic array-design principles, but actual refining? He was garbage at it.
He could barely swing a second-grade forging hammer properly.
So, as the old demon taught Ouyang Mu, Mo Hua could only observe from the sidelines.
However—while he didn't understand the refining technique itself, there was one thing that caught his attention:
"That human bone used to forge the sword spine… whose is it?"
"The way this old demon carefully stored and preserved it… it must be important."
Mo Hua stared at the hunched figure of the old demon for a moment—then suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.
"Wait… don't tell me…"
"That spine bone—is his own?"
"Did this old freak pull out his own spine to forge this sword?"
Mo Hua gasped quietly.
"What kind of swordsmithing technique is that?! That's just—insane!"
He looked again at the old man's hunched form—like his back had literally been hollowed out. The more he looked, the more convinced he became.
A demonic smith who kills others to forge weapons from their bones is cruel, yes.
But this old freak? He was cruel… to himself.
"But… is there some special meaning to forging a sword with your own bones?"
Mo Hua couldn't quite understand the logic.
In the Evil Artifact Workshop, the old demon was now bleeding into the iron, quenching with blood, tempering the bone… the whole process was smooth and masterful—his smithing skills were top-notch.
Ouyang Mu watched every movement without blinking, trying to commit every detail to memory, figuring out which parts he could learn and use.
After a while, the old demon said,
"The next step in forging the sword requires a blood ritual. If you don't wish to learn that part, you can look away."
Ouyang Mu hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly.
The old demon handed him a piece of refined iron and said,
"Take this to the blood pool and quench it. We'll need it in a moment."
"Yes, Senior."
Ouyang Mu took the iron and walked over to the side, placing it into the pool of fresh blood for quenching.
As he turned away, the old demon's eyes glinted slightly. His gaze grew cautious. Then, with a bony hand, he slowly reached into his storage pouch…
And pulled out—a brush.
He looked around, then began carefully painting something onto the sword bone. His movements were extremely secretive.
Though he'd managed to keep Ouyang Mu from seeing…
He hadn't escaped Mo Hua's gaze.
From the moment that brush appeared, Mo Hua had felt a jolt in his heart.
"This guy… he's not swinging a hammer—he's using a brush now?"
"What the hell is he drawing?"
Mo Hua held his breath and focused, tilting his head to get a better view—then suddenly, his pupils shrank.
His mind shook.
"This old demon… this master swordsmith…"
"What he's sneakily inscribing onto the sword bone—"
"Is actually… Divine Dao Array Runes?!"
(Chapter End)