Chapter 775 – The Sword Demon
The golden sword light was condensed into a single line—pure and lethal, brimming with chilling killing intent.
The old demon's expression drastically changed. He immediately reverted to his demonic beast form, folding his many bladed limbs tightly around his body to shield his vitals while retreating rapidly, trying to escape this terrifying sword strike.
But the sword was too fast.
Before he could retreat more than a few steps, the golden light, carrying a blade's edge sharper than death, was already right before his eyes.
He clenched his teeth and used his hardened limbs to protect his vital points.
Then—a flash of sword patterns, and golden light bloomed like a double-petaled lotus. Brilliant and deadly.
In an instant—sword qi erupted, and a mist of blood exploded into the air.
Severed limbs were sent flying. Mangled flesh shredded by fragments of shattered blades splattered everywhere.
Ouyang Mu opened his mouth in shock.
Even though this wasn't the first time he'd seen Mo Shixiong's sword control… this level of swordsmanship was beyond imagination—graceful like a painting, yet deadly like a god's judgment. Far more terrifying than any ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivator.
So, each time he saw it—he couldn't help but be overwhelmed.
As the sword qi faded and the bloody mist dissipated, the artifact-forging chamber was left in complete chaos—like it had been washed in blood.
A moment later, a twitching mass of flesh in the center of the room stirred.
The old demon wasn't dead.
He was at the peak of Foundation Establishment.
Mo Hua was only mid-Foundation stage. Even with the power of the Broken Gold Sword Array and his divine sense sword control, it was unrealistic to slay a peak-level demon in one blow.
The old demon's mangled flesh squirmed, and then—like a snake shedding skin—peeled off a layer of bloody, damaged meat, revealing his hunched, aged figure beneath.
But his aura had become significantly weaker.
His face even older.
That last shedding had cost him a massive amount of life force—bringing him closer than ever to his death.
And his expression—now deeply grim—carried a tinge of fear.
That sword… could it be from a Core Formation cultivator?!
"No," the old demon shook his head.
That's impossible. His spiritual power hasn't crystallized—he's still in the Foundation stage…
But what kind of Foundation cultivator… could possibly wield such fearsome sword control?
In this Myriad Demon Prison, where demons are everywhere, who still practices such pure swordsmanship?
And that terrifying sword cultivator was clearly still hiding in the shadows—watching him.
Anxiety and dread gripped his heart. Eyes darting around, he croaked:
"Which fellow Daoist is hiding in the dark?"
"Why not show yourself?"
But there was no reply. No sound. Nothing.
He spread out his divine sense—nothing. The room felt empty.
But he knew someone was there.
The old demon let out a cold chuckle.
"With swordsmanship like that, why stoop to such cowardice—skulking in shadows like a petty thief?"
Mo Hua didn't bother answering.
Instead, he had already drawn his second spiritual sword.
Strike while the demon's weak. Finish the job.
If one sword strike isn't enough… just use another.
With everything ready, Mo Hua locked on with his divine sense again.
The old demon's face twisted in shock.
He felt it—that cold, obscure, ominous sense of suppression descending on him again.
Divine Sense Lock!
Last time, he had been too focused on attacking Ouyang Mu to notice this eerie presence.
But now—injured, panicked, and hyper-aware—he could feel it clearly.
It wasn't a divine sense he had ever encountered before.
In fact—it didn't even feel… human.
A chill ran through him.
He tried to shake it off. But no matter how he moved his spiritual consciousness, that divine sense clung to him like a maggot on rotting flesh. Unshakeable.
His face filled with horror.
"I'm going to die…"
He was at the end of his rope. If that terrifying sword control hit him again—he was doomed.
All his cultivation, his dreams of forming a core… all his century-long plans would vanish.
"No! I can't die!"
How do I survive?!
Driven by fear, he suddenly had an idea.
He whipped his sleeve—and five or six short, sinister swords shot out, each coated with centipede poison, laced with bloodlust, streaking toward Ouyang Mu.
Sure enough—as he attacked Ouyang Mu, the suffocating sense of being locked-on… weakened.
The demonic swords, empowered by peak Foundation Establishment energy, flashed through the air, streaking toward Ouyang Mu with trails of blood-red light.
Ouyang Mu's face changed. He instinctively retreated.
But he couldn't dodge them. He couldn't block them.
At that moment—
FLASH!
A golden streak of light flew from the air, exploding in midair—dispersing the bloody swords with a burst of golden qi.
Sword qi and demonic qi clashed violently.
The air rippled with spiritual pressure—sword fragments and broken blades flew everywhere.
Caught in the shockwave, Ouyang Mu could only cross his arms in defense before he was flung into the corner like a rag doll.
He struggled up—blood on his lips.
He was hurt.
But thanks to the Heart-Protection Mirror Mo Hua had given him, his core was unharmed.
At that moment, the old demon's cloudy eyes suddenly gleamed. He snapped his head upward.
That golden sword had been too strong, too fast—yes, it destroyed his attack—but it also revealed the sword controller's position.
He immediately poured demonic power into another sword.
This one—engraved with serpent runes—was longer than the rest, glowing with a dark red light as it absorbed his energy.
With a flick of his hand, the serpent sword screeched into the air like a bloodthirsty viper, striking the ceiling.
BOOM!
The stone cracked, debris rained down.
And just before the impact—a small figure fell from above, landing inside the chamber.
The old demon sneered.
"All that scheming, and I still flushed you out. Now let me see what sort of monster you really are…"
As the dust settled, the figure grew clearer.
Slender. Fair-skinned.
Face smudged with dirt, a bit grubby—but undeniably handsome and young. Innocent eyes, childlike expression.
The old demon froze.
His pupils shrank.
"A… kid?!"
The one who used that sword—who nearly killed him—was… this innocent-looking child?
No. That's impossible!
His face turned grim. He demanded:
"Boy… who are you?"
Mo Hua smiled sweetly, saying nothing.
The old demon's heart skipped.
Could he be some ancient monster in disguise? A centuries-old freak with a child's face…?
But no. That didn't fit either.
His body was weak. His qi was clean and youthful—not stale or old. No corruption.
Clearly—he was young. No ancient monster.
The old demon's eyes narrowed. A theory formed.
This kid must've had some bizarre encounter. Weak aptitude… but sky-high talent in swordsmanship. That's why he knows such fearsome sword techniques at such a young age.
But he knows nothing else.
That's why he hid in the shadows, relying on sword ambushes!
With this in mind, the old demon glanced from Mo Hua to Ouyang Mu, voice hoarse:
"Little brother… you and that Ouyang brat, are you from the same sect?"
Mo Hua thought for a moment, then replied with a grin:
"You could say that."
His voice rang out crisp and clear—like jade beads falling onto a jade plate, melodious and clean.
The old demon's eyelid twitched.
As expected… just a little brat.
His heart found it increasingly unbelievable, but a glint flickered in his eyes.
"Little brother, no need to beat around the bush. I don't know how you got in here, but you should understand—this is the Myriad Demon Prison. If you're discovered, even with your outstanding swordsmanship, you'll be ripped apart and swallowed alive by hundreds or thousands of demon cultivators."
"Even Core Formation cultivators risk death being swarmed by them, let alone you—a mere mid-Foundation cultivator…"
The old demon's tone softened:
"To tell you the truth, I also have… secrets. Things I don't want outsiders to know. Why don't we call it even, and part ways peacefully?"
Mo Hua shook his head.
"Old liar. Don't take me for a fool. Even if I wanted to let it go, you wouldn't."
The old demon paused, then said amiably,
"Little brother, what makes you say that?"
Mo Hua smiled faintly and replied:
"You've forged your Sword Bone to break through to Core Formation. You're at the final step—how could you possibly back off now?"
"You really think I'm some naive child? Still trying to fool me?"
The old demon's brows furrowed, but then a subtle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"And how would you know… I'm forging a Sword Bone to form a Golden Core?"
"Duh," Mo Hua said bluntly. "Who doesn't want to form a core?"
The old demon's eyes turned slightly cold.
"Then do you know how I'm forging my Sword Bone? How I plan to form my core?"
Mo Hua looked smugly confident:
"Don't think I don't know. Your Sword Bone is already complete. As for the core… you're using Junior Brother Mu as the catalyst, relying on some shady, demonic method to break through."
As he spoke, Mo Hua closely monitored the old demon's spiritual fluctuations.
But clearly, the old monster was an old schemer. At this stage, both sides were on high alert. His divine sense remained unreadable—making it hard to tell if Mo Hua had hit the mark, or only part of it.
Just as Mo Hua was pondering—
Suddenly, Ouyang Mu shouted in alarm:
"Senior Brother Mo! Bad news! That old freak's… eating something!"
Mo Hua blinked in surprise.
Ouyang Mu's expression was panicked.
At first, he had been focused on their conversation. But then he noticed something odd behind the old demon's back. A quick glance—and he was horrified to see two thin segmented limbs extending from the demon's back. The back of his skull had even split open, revealing a squirming insectoid mouth.
Right then, the demon was turned away from Mo Hua, using those limbs to feed a fleshy-red pill into the mouth on the back of his head.
Ouyang Mu had barely finished speaking—
The old demon's face twisted into a vicious snarl.
This Ouyang brat. And this mysterious sword freak brat. Both of them—he was going to kill them, and use their remains as materials for his true-life demonic sword!
His death was approaching. His body was injured. But this… this was his final shot at life—he had to gamble everything.
While chatting with Mo Hua earlier, he had secretly been feeding himself recovery pills.
At the same time, he had done the math.
Ouyang Mu had decent skill in forging—but in a fight? Useless.
The real problem was the sword freak.
That terrifying brat's sword control was excellent—but his body was weak, spiritual power shallow, and he was clearly afraid of melee combat.
Most importantly—he fought entirely at range.
If he could just get close and pin him down, then no matter how great his sword control was, he'd be nothing more than meat on the chopping block!
Victory or death—it all depended on this!
Now—strike first, and he would gain the upper hand!
The old demon's eyes flared with wicked power. His body began to demonize again—even if he didn't have enough time or power to complete the transformation, even half-demonizing into a half-human, half-centipede monster would be enough!
As long as he got in close—this sword brat would never stand a chance!
A demonic wind rose. Blood-red light exploded.
The old demon suddenly launched his attack—fast as lightning.
He even caught a glimpse of Mo Hua's face—"panic-stricken," "flustered," "helpless."
Poor child… he thought.
But there was not a shred of mercy in his heart.
His two bladed limbs, sharp as sickles, slashed at Mo Hua—trying to slice him clean into three bloody pieces.
But then—
Splash! A ripple of light—and Mo Hua vanished.
The old demon froze.
Movement technique?
But he didn't give up. His peripheral vision caught Mo Hua again—and he resumed his wild slashes.
Mo Hua's figure was like flowing water, gliding along the edge of the razor-sharp limbs—barely dodging each one.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
Three more times—Mo Hua dodged them all.
The old demon's fury surged.
Where the hell did this damn brat learn such bizarre movement techniques?!
But now he was riding the tiger—he had to keep going. Dragging his massive centipede body behind him, limbs swinging furiously as he chased and slashed.
He had to finish the job. If Mo Hua created distance again and used his divine sense to control the sword—
he'd die.
Mo Hua's body moved like water, evading every attack.
For a while—stalemate.
Dozens of exchanges later, Mo Hua looked a little worn out. He found a brief lull and said:
"Old liar, give it up. My footwork's too good. You'll never catch me."
The old demon coldly snorted:
"This is me attacking and you running. Even if you dodge a hundred strikes, just one hit is enough to kill you!"
"I've taken a ton of pills—I can keep this up forever!"
His expression was twisted and cruel.
Mo Hua's face grew grim, a hint of anxiety surfacing. But just a few breaths later—he suddenly grinned brilliantly:
"Well, good thing I also set up a whole bunch of formations. I'm done stalling."
The old demon was stunned for a split second.
Then—a cold chill flooded his entire being.
He looked down—and saw, at some point, the ground had been etched with layer upon layer of formation patterns. One of them—shining with golden light like a binding chain—had already wrapped around his limbs.
His pupils shrank violently.
When… when did this brat lay out these formations?!
How?!
A heavy sense of death swallowed him whole.
His expression twisted. He poured every ounce of strength into escaping.
But—it was already too late.
Golden chains constricted. Earthfire exploded.
Gold and flame engulfed the entire chamber.
Mo Hua lightly danced backwards, each step activating another array.
With every step back, a new layer of the formation detonated, enclosing the old demon like a deadly spiral—until he was swallowed whole.
Earthfire and earth-kill formations intertwined—ripping apart everything.
Flames and soil collided, lights flashing chaotically.
Until finally—the formations died down.
The old demon had been completely shredded, nothing left but a pool of scorched flesh and blood.
The evil weapon chamber went quiet.
Only the eerie furnace still crackled faintly.
Ouyang Mu exhaled in relief.
He looked at the ruined center of the formation, that disgusting puddle of meat, and couldn't help but feel a little complicated—this old demon had once been a swordsmith from the Ouyang family of Tai'e Sect.
Then he turned to speak.
"Senior Brother Mo—"
But before he could finish, Mo Hua shook his head.
Ouyang Mu froze.
"What is it?"
Mo Hua's eyes narrowed.
"It's not over yet…"
Mo Hua's eyes narrowed slightly.
Ouyang Mu's heart tightened. He immediately turned to look at the lump of flesh and blood that had once been the old demon—and saw, to his horror, a faint golden-red glow emerging from within the gore.
It was a sword.
The very same sword that had been forged from the old demon's spinal bone—his so-called Sword Bone.
It was also the blade he had painstakingly prepared as his lifeblood demonic weapon, to break through into Core Formation.
Now, that sinister blade glowed with golden light. Blood flowed across it like molten lava, slowly evaporating the last remains of the old demon's flesh and body.
Ouyang Mu's face went pale.
The old demon, in his final moments, had sacrificed his own life and flesh to awaken the demonic sword!
The flesh, evaporated by the sword's twisted aura and wicked flames, released a thin blood mist—and a nauseating stench of cooked human meat.
In mere moments, the demonic mist filled the entire chamber.
Ouyang Mu's head spun, the world became surreal and dreamlike. He couldn't distinguish illusion from reality. His very soul felt like it was being pulled from his body.
Just when he was about to panic, he heard a voice from across the room:
"Tie the black cloth around your forehead!"
Senior Brother Mo!
Ouyang Mu snapped out of it and quickly obeyed, wrapping the black cloth Mo Hua had given him earlier around his head.
The moment the cloth was secured—
All illusions vanished.
No more pain. No more dizziness. No more dreamlike haze.
"Stay where you are. Don't move," Mo Hua instructed.
"Alright."
Ouyang Mu nodded and obediently sat down in meditation as told.
—
Meanwhile, Mo Hua let the illusion take him.
He listened to the whispers in his ear, drifting in the haze—until he finally felt his divine sense pulled away.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a pool of blood.
In the center of the pool—stood a ghastly bone sword.
Around the sword, glowing with faint power, was a formation.
This formation was the very divine pattern the old demon had engraved on the Sword Bone.
The blood pool was eerily quiet.
Mo Hua furrowed his brow, sensing something wasn't right—when suddenly—
A surge of sinister divine will burst out from all around, flooding into the bone sword.
The sword twitched—
Like it had just been injected with a soul, or fleshly essence.
It began to bleed. White bone protruded. Flesh began to grow.
It swelled. Twisted. Mutated—
Until it transformed into a hideous and hulking monster—
A Six-Limbed Bone Centipede Sword Fiend.
Its features and aura… faintly familiar.
It was—the old demon himself.
He had reincarnated into the complete form of this Sword Fiend.
As the transformation completed, he let out a deep, terrifying laugh.
"At last…"
"I've done it!"
"If I cannot form a Core… then I'll continue on as a sword demon! A cursed spirit! A monster of blades and bones!"
Then, his jet-black, wicked eyes turned—and coldly landed on Mo Hua.
After a pause, he frowned.
"Why… are you smaller now?"
This was Mo Hua's divine sense projection, still appearing as a youth before Foundation Establishment.
Mo Hua raised a brow, his gaze icy.
"No matter," sneered the Bone Sword Fiend. His enormous, terrifying form loomed over Mo Hua as he let out a bone-chilling laugh:
"Smaller is better. Makes for a sweeter bite…"
In the blink of an eye, one of its arms morphed into a bone sword, slicing forward with a blinding white arc—cutting toward Mo Hua's neck!
He was no longer human.
He was now a cursed fiend. A sword demon!
Inside his lifeblood weapon, nourished by this blood pool, his power surged to an unprecedented level.
No man. No demon. No monster could match him.
He would chop this little brat into pieces—bite by bite, and devour him as his first offering in his new demonic life!
The bone blade fell—gleaming and merciless.
And then—
It stopped.
Just like that.
The Bone Sword Fiend's wicked grin froze.
Because he saw something utterly incomprehensible.
His sword had been caught.
Caught—by Mo Hua's bare hand.
This pale, soft-faced, delicate-looking youth—tiny compared to the monster—had simply reached out a small hand and gripped the blade.
No injuries.
Not even a scratch.
The bone sword didn't budge.
The Fiend tried to pull it back—tried to twist, to wrench it free—but no matter how much force he used, the sword did not move.
And in that moment—
He realized.
Something… was very, very wrong.
Mo Hua's cold gaze fixed on him.
"You wanted to eat me?"
The Bone Sword Fiend said nothing.
Mo Hua squeezed lightly— Crack.
The bone sword shattered into dust in his palm.
The Fiend stared blankly.
Then gasped, sucking in a sharp breath.
His face turned even paler than his bones.
(End of this Chapter)