Xuzhou was located in the southeastern region of the Great Qi cultivation world, bordering the territory of the demon clans. As such, the Heavenly Sword Sect, second only to Luoxia City among the Seven Great Powers, not only wielded immense influence but also bore the responsibility of maintaining stability across the southeastern frontier.
Because of this, the sect enforced extremely strict regulations. Any cultivators wishing to ascend the mountain to study the Sword Steles had to do so under close supervision by disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect.
On the morning of the seventh day of the month, Song Changsheng led his group up the mountain. After passing a rigorous inspection at the mountain gate, they were guided by a sect disciple toward the Forest of Sword Steles.
As a powerful sect that had stood tall on this land for over a thousand years, the Heavenly Sword Sect boasted nine sword peaks and two sacred grounds.
The nine sword peaks represented the sect's nine sword techniques. Each peak had its own master, and only Purple Mansion cultivators could assume the position.
At present, however, the sect had only six peak masters. Including the sect leader, there were seven Purple Mansion-stage experts altogether.
The two sacred grounds referred to the Forest of Sword Steles, which was open to the public, and the Sword Pool, which was only partially accessible to outsiders.
The Forest of Sword Steles was located within a dense bamboo grove at the base of the main peak, Ten Thousand Swords Peak. When Song Changsheng and the others arrived, they found many people already there, young and old alike, with varying levels of cultivation. The rumors were true: anyone could come to comprehend the steles.
But what puzzled Song Changsheng was that the bamboo grove was filled with stone tablets arranged in circles. Even after scanning the area, he couldn't tell which ones were the true sword steles.
Sensing his confusion, the disciple leading them smiled and explained, "Senior may not know, but our sect has a total of 118 sword steles, each one containing a unique sword technique."
"There are seventy-two first-rank steles, thirty-six second-rank, and nine third-rank. The techniques of our nine peaks originate from these steles."
"What about the last one?" Song Qingxi asked curiously.
The disciple pointed toward a sword-shaped stone tablet in the very center and said, "That's the final one, the Wordless Stele. It's the stuff of legend. Everyone who observes it gains a different insight. As for its rank… well, that's hard to define."
Song Changsheng suddenly understood, so this is the origin of the Forest of Sword Steles.
But soon, a new question arose in his heart. He quickly asked, "Fellow Daoist, based on what you've said, doesn't that mean your sect's entire sword inheritance is all here?"
The disciple nodded calmly and pointed to a stone tablet in the distance. "Indeed. All of our sword techniques originate from here. The sword style I cultivate was comprehended from that very stele."
Song Changsheng looked around and noticed quite a few cultivators in Heavenly Sword Sect robes meditating before the steles. He was silently shocked.
In this world, cultivation methods and techniques were extremely valuable. Core techniques, in particular, were considered the lifeblood of a sect or clan.
Take, for example, the Song Clan's third-rank core scripture, the Moon Essence Refinement Scripture. Only those of Song blood could cultivate it, and even then, only a portion of it at a time.
Not only was duplication strictly forbidden, but anyone wanting to practice it had to place a seal in their spiritual sea. If subjected to soul searching or possession, the technique would self-destruct.
All of this was to prevent core methods from leaking out.
After all, no cultivation technique was perfect. No matter how high its rank, it inevitably had some kind of flaw or vulnerability.
If such flaws fell into an enemy's hands, they could exploit them to suppress or counter you in battle, an extremely dangerous prospect.
That's why most cultivators kept their techniques tightly guarded. It wasn't about being stingy; it was a matter of survival.
But the Heavenly Sword Sect openly placed their techniques here in the Setel Forest, allowing anyone to observe them freely. That was something virtually unheard of elsewhere.
The disciple, evidently no stranger to such questions, replied with a hint of pride, "The sword has no constant form, and techniques have no fixed shape. A mere stone stele, so what if the whole world comprehends it?"
His tone was steeped in arrogance, but no one doubted the truth behind his words. The Heavenly Sword Sect's long-standing dominance and continued growth over the centuries were proof enough.
Although these steles contained techniques but not true laws, Song Changsheng still felt deep admiration. After all, techniques were a cultivator's most direct means of attack, and it took immense confidence to share them so freely.
"Your sect's generosity is truly admirable," Song Changsheng said with heartfelt respect.
The disciple nodded politely. "The forest is right ahead. Seniors and fellow Daoists, please proceed. A word of caution: comprehending the sword steles is highly draining on one's mind. Don't overextend yourselves. The period for insight ends just before the forest reopens next time."
"Much obliged, Fellow Daoist…"
Before Song Changsheng could finish his polite exchange, Song Qingxing was already striding into the forest with the sword "Wuhen" (No Trace) that he had purchased from the Heaven's Armory Pavilion.
His intentions were clear; he made straight for the Wordless Stele, completely ignoring all the other sword steles as if they held no value to him.
The Heavenly Sword Sect disciple, still nearby, nodded discreetly to himself. Everyone knew the Wordless Stele was the most treasured of them all, but very few could resist the allure of the many exquisite techniques surrounding it. To make such a resolute choice so quickly was rare indeed.
After a moment's thought, he called over a fellow disciple who was stationed in the stele forest to maintain order. "Senior Brother, keep an eye on that young man. If he shows promise, consider recommending him to the sect."
The other disciple gave a brief nod. "It's part of my duty. No need to say more."
...
The Wordless Stele stood over thirty feet tall, its entire surface jet-black and smooth as a mirror, clearly reflecting the images of those before it.
At this moment, seven individuals were already seated cross-legged before it, quietly meditating and seeking enlightenment.
Song Qingxing found a cushion and sat down, entering a meditative state instantly.
"Since we're here, you should all take this chance to comprehend as well. Just remember not everything can be swallowed at once," Song Changsheng said, taking little Lingyun from Song Qingxi's arms and nodding to Redfire and Song Qingxi.
Once the two had departed, Song Changsheng began wandering the stele forest with the child in his arms, casually taking in all 117 stone steles like a stroll.
Some sword steles he merely glanced at in passing; others he paused before, studying them with focused attention, though never for more than a quarter of an hour.
His unorthodox behavior baffled the disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect, who were secretly observing him. Was he here for sightseeing?
Yes… and no.
Song Changsheng cultivated both body and spirit, and also dabbled in the arts of forging and formation. He simply didn't have the time or energy to delve deeply into swordsmanship.
Besides, the patriarch of the Song Clan, Song Taiyi, was renowned for his swordsmanship. If Song Changsheng had truly wanted to walk that path, he would have done so long ago.
Still, holding to the belief that "stones from other hills may polish jade," he decided to take advantage of this rare opportunity to broaden his understanding of the sword.
His comprehension was far beyond the ordinary. After completing his circuit of the steles, he had gained quite a bit. He also noticed something curious: once he copied down the inscriptions from the sword steles, they lost their power.
"There must be some kind of special arrangement here. One must be physically present to comprehend the swordsmanship from these steles. No wonder they don't forbid copying," he realized.
By the time he finished, it was already the morning of the second day. Song Qingxing was still sitting like a statue before the Wordless Stele. Song Qingxi, too, was seated in meditation before a second-tier sword stele.
Even the Redfire Old Ghost had, as if guided by fate, positioned himself before a third-tier sword stele.
Though they each chose the stele most aligned with their nature, they had only ten days. Whether they would truly gain enlightenment remained to be seen.
With little to do, Song Changsheng fed some beast milk to the now-hungry Lingyun and made his way to the Wordless Stele.
"They say each person perceives something different. I wonder what you'll show me," he murmured.
Sitting cross-legged before the stele, Song Changsheng quickly entered a profound state of insight.
The moment he closed his eyes, he felt as though his consciousness had been transported across space. When he opened them again, he found himself in a grand hall.
Inside, many young cultivators sat in silence, all watching the front of the hall where a three-legged bronze cauldron stood. Orange flames licked its base, crackling as they burned.
An elder with snow-white hair and beard, his bearing dignified and immortal-like, stood beside the cauldron, holding a copper sphere the size of a pigeon egg. He addressed the crowd:
"What I shall demonstrate next is the usage of the Sword Pellet."
"This one here is a first-tier Sword Pellet. Please, observe."
He tossed the pellet into the air. A flash of sword light erupted, and a thick copper pillar set up as a target was instantly cleaved with a deep gash.
The Sword Pellet then returned to the elder's hand, but it no longer resembled a sphere. Instead, it had transformed into a soft ribbon-like form, winding gently around his finger, slowly spinning.
With his sharp eye, Song Changsheng could tell that it was, in fact, a specially forged flying sword. Sealed within it was the sword intent of a master swordsman. The user needed only to channel spiritual power into it to unleash a deadly sword strike.
Once the stored sword intent was exhausted, the Sword Pellet would lose its function.
"Now, I shall teach you how to forge one," the elder said, retrieving various materials and beginning the refining process.
A realization dawned upon Song Changsheng. So this is my fortuitous opportunity...
...
Meanwhile...
"Where… am I…"
In a dim, shadowy cave, the Blood Consort struggled to open her heavy eyelids. Her entire body felt like it had fallen apart; even the slightest movement caused stabbing, unbearable pain.
Although Bai Zhengchun's sword strike had been launched in haste, it had nearly cleaved her in two. If not for her mastery of the Blood Demon Grand Art, which gave her incredible regenerative abilities, she would have ended up like the branch leader in Xiang Prefecture, forced to abandon her physical body to escape.
Due to the severity of her wounds, her mind was still dazed. But she vaguely remembered that she had relied on a contingency plan to escape from Luoxia City. Afterward, exhausted and injured, she had passed out in a birch forest a thousand miles away.
Looking around at the dim, enclosed space, she could immediately tell this was not where she had collapsed.
Though her body couldn't move, she could still use her spiritual sense.
Extending her consciousness outward, she quickly gathered her surroundings. She was in a cramped mountain cave. The entrance lay straight ahead, covered with climbing vines like a curtain, through which faint light seeped.
To her side, muddy water dripped slowly from cracks in the stone wall.
She licked her cracked, red lips. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious; her throat felt like it was on fire. But in her current state, she couldn't even move a finger.
Just then, she heard a rustling sound from the cave entrance.
Her heart leapt.
Someone's coming?
Sure enough, a burly figure pushed aside the vines at the cave entrance and stepped inside. He was a weathered-looking middle-aged man, his face rugged and unkempt, with a beard that hadn't been trimmed in who knows how long, giving him a disheveled, almost defeated appearance.
Only his deep, penetrating eyes stood out. When they met your gaze, it felt as if they turned into a vortex, ready to draw in your very soul.
He wore a somewhat tattered black robe, and before he even came close, a strong stench of alcohol hit the air.
Perched on his shoulder was a large, crimson bat, exuding a dangerous aura.
Blood Concubine's eyes widened in fury, and she gritted her teeth. "Hun Wugui, you dare show your face before me!"
Her sworn enemy now stood before her. She tried to struggle upright, but her body lacked the strength. She could only watch helplessly as he drew nearer.
Hun Wugui crouched down in front of her and slowly extended his hand, placing it on her snow-white abdomen. A horrific wound lay there, nearly cleaving her in two.
A strange energy swirled around the wound, constantly eating away at Blood Concubine's spiritual power, preventing it from healing.
"What are you doing? Get your filthy hands off me!" She burned with rage at the warmth of his touch. If she could move, she would've already leapt up and killed this bastard!
Hun Wugui said nothing. A dark light glowed from his palm as he gently swept it across the wound.
Wherever the dark light passed, Blood Concubine felt a tingling sensation as if something inside her was beginning to mend and grow anew.
She froze in surprise. He was… healing her?
After finishing, he tore a strip from the hem of his robe and loosely wrapped it around her wound. His voice was calm as he said, "There's residual Blood Fiend Qi in the wound. It'll take a long time to fully recover.
The one who hurt you was no ordinary opponent; their aura was filled with bloodthirst and malice. I can think of only one person who fits that description… but he should already be dead."
Blood Concubine wasn't in the mood to answer. Her mind was a complete mess. Everything happening now left her feeling dazed and uncertain.
Seeing her unresponsive, a flicker of sorrow appeared in Hun Wugui's eyes. He took out a golden-etched flask and held it to her lips. "You've been unconscious for three days. You must be thirsty. This is morning dew."
Staring at the face she so deeply hated, Blood Concubine's expression turned complicated. She said through clenched teeth, "Why are you doing this? I'm the helm master of the Bian and Ling provinces, an enemy sent by the Hierarch to take your life."
Hun Wugui fell silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I don't care which province you command, or what mission you've been given. In my eyes… you're still my little sister."
"Shut up!
You're a traitor to the cult. You betrayed the Hierarch, you betrayed the Blood God!
From that moment on, you became my enemy!
Even if you saved me, I won't thank you. I'll still kill you!"
Blood Concubine suddenly grew agitated. Her face twisted with hatred as an intense killing intent surged from her.
Pain flickered across Hun Wugui's weathered face. Siblings turning against each other, there was no greater sorrow in the world.
With a sigh full of melancholy, he said, "Focus on recovering. Once you're well enough, I'll tell you the truth. And if you still wish to kill me, then I won't stop you."
-support me in Patreon for more chapter, 230+ chapters in there
patreon.com/LordoftheReader