Chapter 1039: Chapter One Thousand and Thirty-Five: Omen of Doom

Seven days remain until the Demon Sword Forum.

These seven days were set by the elders of Lun Dao Mountain.

Their purpose was to allow disciples of each sect to prepare.

Because the Demon War was an unexpected situation, the preparation time was made even more generous.

In the disciples' quarters.

Mo Hua was still fully absorbed, deducing battle scenarios, analyzing cause and effect, when a knock came at the door; he opened it and, seeing the visitor, looked astonished:

"Gatekeeper? Why are you here?"

The Grand Void Gatekeeper gave Mo Hua a long, deep look, then took a token from his sleeve and handed it to him.

"This is the sect token of the Three Mountains united, newly forged, and only this one exists so far—take it for now."

"Within this token, the lineages of the Three Mountains are interconnected."

"You may exchange it freely using merit points."

"Moreover, this sect token is special—both the Gatekeepers of Tai'e and Chongxu have granted you high-level permissions."

"The lineages you can exchange will not be of low rank."

"The Demon War is coming; if you need anything, choose directly from within."

"Cultivation techniques, Dao arts, array methods, artifact forging—anything, all can be exchanged."

"This is for the Sword Forum, for the sect—during the Forum, exchanging lineages will not deduct your merit points."

"The lineages you exchange may also, as a special exception, be temporarily lent to other Forum disciples, as long as it serves the upcoming Forum—everything is permitted."

"I have already informed the elders. Whatever you need, speak freely—the Sword Forum is under your command."

Mo Hua stared in disbelief for a moment, then solemnly accepted the token with both hands.

The Grand Void Gatekeeper said no more, only gave Mo Hua a gentle look, patted his shoulder, and turned to leave.

This meant he, as Gatekeeper, fully supported Mo Hua.

Mo Hua felt warmth in his heart, yet his shoulders grew heavy.

He looked down at the token in his hand.

The token was ancient, majestic, exquisitely refined and luxurious, brand-new—the Grand Void Sect token of the united Three Mountains.

This was the standard template for such tokens.

Clearly, in the future, the Grand Void Sect would gradually implement this new form of sect token.

A unified sect token to fully merge the disciples of the Three Mountains into one sect.

As Mo Hua knew, when such tokens were forged, to distinguish them, a sequence number was etched within.

Mo Hua gently traced the token.

This was the first token forged after the Three Mountains' unification, imbued with the lineages of all Three Mountains—the Grand Void token.

Then the sequence number within this token must be—

Mo Hua's gaze shifted slightly; he returned to the disciples' quarters, sealed the windows and door with an array, sat at the table, and sank his spiritual sense into the new sect token.

The token's name was still Grand Void Token.

But Grand Void was now divided into Three Mountains.

Not only the original Grand Void Sect's lineages, but also those of Tai'e and Chongxu, were clearly categorized and displayed in the "Merit Seal."

The Grand Void Sect, Tai'e Sect, and Chongxu Sect had each once been among the Eight Great Sects.

That meant the Grand Void token in his hands now encompassed the rich Dao treasures of three of the Eight Great Sects—roughly half of the entire Eight Great Sects' legacy—truly extravagant beyond measure.

That is to say, the Grand Void Token now in his possession encompasses the profound Daoist teachings of three of the Eight Gates, equivalent to half of the entire legacy of the Eight Gates of Qian Academy—truly extravagant beyond measure.

While browsing the Chongxu Mountain "Merit Seal," Mo Hua discovered a special gift.

It seemed to be an exceptional offering from the Chongxu Gatekeeper:

"Chongxu's True Deciphering Sword Manual."

This was Chongxu Mountain's most core sword qi technique, its foundational sect heritage, the very supreme sword art practiced by Xiao Xiao.

Tai'e's Opening Mountain Sword Array, Chongxu's True Deciphering Sword Manual, Grand Void's Spiritual Mind Sword Transformation.

This truly proved the saying:

"Tai'e forges spiritual swords, Chongxu cultivates sword qi, Grand Void transforms sword intent—"

Mo Hua's heart trembled slightly.

Now, he truly possessed the foundational heritage of all Three Lineages.

This was something he had never anticipated.

He had once merely dreamed of it, never believing he would actually reach this day, gathering all Three Grand Void Lineages.

And now, he had obtained them openly and legitimately.

This was because the coming Demon War was of utmost importance.

It was also the trust and entrustment of the Three Mountain Gatekeepers.

Behind the scenes, the Gatekeepers must have held numerous discussions and negotiations.

Even Master Xun, surely, had worked tirelessly behind the scenes for him—

Yet none of them had spoken of it.

Mo Hua let out a quiet sigh, turned his head, and gazed out the window toward Grand Void Mountain.

Toward the mountain where he had lived and cultivated for nine years, and suddenly felt a resonance, a spiritual communion, with the Grand Void mountain range.

This was his sect of learning.

A resonance of linked minds.

This was the sect where he studied.

Here, there were fellow disciples, elders, sect masters, and Old Mr. Xun.

All of these people had treated him very well.

And he too was bound to Grand Void Gate by shared fate, sharing its honor and disgrace.

Mo Hua's gaze was gentle yet firm, and his heart gradually settled on a resolve.

He would take first place.

Even if not for himself—for the junior brothers who had shared day and night with him, for the kind and approachable elders, for the sect masters of every mountain who trusted him, for the old ancestor who had been quietly planning behind the scenes and had cared for him in every possible way.

He would still take that first place.

For Grand Void Gate, he would fight for a future.

He would stand at the pinnacle of the Qianxue Sword Debate.

And he would let Grand Void Gate take its place at the summit of the myriad sects of the entire Qianxue State Realm.

No matter who stood in the way.

The gentleness faded from Mo Hua's face, and a golden glint flashed in his eyes.

Let it be the Si Sect, the Eight Gates, the Twelve Streams—anyone who blocks me, I'll—kill them all.

Afterward, Mo Hua formally began preparations for the Asura Sword Debate.

With the Sanshan Daoist Treasury as his foundation, with the full support of the sect master, and with Grand Void Gate's delegation of authority, Mo Hua could do far more.

Other matters were beyond his authority.

But at least when it came to the Sword Debate, Mo Hua's word was absolute, and he had already taken on the air of Sanshan's "little sect master."

All the elders were cooperating.

All the disciples trusted this senior brother of theirs.

Mo Hua's derivation of the Asura Battle was not yet complete, but the general approach had already taken shape.

Moreover, some of the preparations he had previously made for the Heaven-rank Sword Debate could be put to direct use.

Mo Hua began his intensive preparations.

Forging special armor, Daoist robes, and spirit artifacts.

Gathering Sanshan's formations to patch the gaps in his own formation knowledge.

Especially some rare, unconventional formations with special functions—those had to be completed as well.

The three mountains shared their inheritances, opening up some key legacies to the debating disciples to strengthen their combat power.

Opening up some rare cultivation resources.

Together with Linghu Xiao, researching the superior sword art of Chongxu Mountain—the True Art of Chongxu Sword Dissolution.

Considering the attribute variations of this sword art, examining from the principles of sword Qi the similarities and differences between the Water Moon anomalous attribute and the Five Elements principles, to solve the problem of amplifying sword Qi—

These were not Mo Hua's tasks alone.

All of Grand Void Gate was mobilized in an orderly fashion.

And the vast cultivation resources and inheritances contained within the Sanshan Daoist Treasury were brought into full play by Mo Hua through karmic derivation and calm scheming.

At this moment, it was not only Grand Void Gate.

All the sects participating in the Sword Debate were carrying out rigorous preparations for the upcoming Asura Battle.

Many sects were plotting methods against Grand Void Gate.

Some wanted revenge, some wanted to eliminate hidden threats, some wanted to tear a piece of flesh from Grand Void Gate, and others simply went with the tide, adding insult to injury—a great many prodigy disciples were all sharpening their blades against Mo Hua.

Between them and Mo Hua, there was the simplest, purest "grudge."

No matter what, Mo Hua had to die!

The entire Qianxue State Realm was shrouded in a tense and murderous atmosphere.

Time passed little by little—unaware, seven days flew by in a flash.

The final match of the Earth-rank Sword Debate, the Asura Battle, finally began—this was the most crucial battle.

It was the Earth-rank decisive battle.

If they won, there was still fighting to be done; if they lost completely, then the Heaven-rank Sword Debate was out of the question.

Grand Void Gate.

Before the battle, the three mountain sect masters personally saw off the debating disciples.

The Grand Void Sect Master said a few words like "do not fear failure, do your best" and "win or lose, you are the pride of the sect," to encourage the disciples.

Afterward, everyone set off, heading to the Sword Debate.

But before departure, the Tai'a Sect Master still couldn't set his mind at ease, and taking advantage of when no one was looking, secretly asked Mo Hua:

"Can we hold onto first place among the Eight Gates?"

Mo Hua's expression was somewhat haggard.

Over these past days, he had been deriving without stop, his divine sense repeatedly pushed to the brink of exhaustion, then recovered through meditation, cycling over and over.

Even though Mo Hua's divine sense was powerful, his mind was somewhat overdrawn, and his complexion was slightly pale.

But even so, his gaze remained clear and bright.

Because he had racked his brain and thought deeply, he also exuded a calm, profound, and steady composure in the face of change.

"I'll do my best—"

Mo Hua said to the Tai'a Sect Master with a faint smile.

The Tai'a Sect Master let out a slight breath of relief.

Clearly Mo Hua was only at Foundation Establishment, and still just a disciple, but for some reason, he carried an air that put people at ease.

His words, and that faint smile, made people feel inexplicably reassured.

"Good."

The sect leader of Tai'e nodded.

His only requirement is this.

Do your best to hold onto the top spot among the Eight Great Sects—

In this turbulent tide, merely holding that rank is like burning high incense, blessed by ancestors...

Time arrived; the disciples of Taixu Sect set out toward Lun Dao Mountain.

Meanwhile, across Qianxue Province, every sect and every Lun Jian disciple were departing for the Lun Dao venue.

Disciples of each sect, clad in colorful dao robes, resembled a vast, orderly, and imposing river of a hundred hues—vividly distinct yet unified—as they converged into the heart of Qianxue Province, the ancient Lun Dao Mountain.

Lun Dao Mountain was teeming with people like mountains and seas.

The entire Qianxue Province was emptied of its populace.

This was the largest and grandest Lun Jian in history.

On the Guan Jian Tower.

Distinguished guests ascended the tower, their ranks clearly demarcated.

The Son of Heaven, Daozhou's noble clans, court ministers—all of noble status—gathered here.

Tall towers stood in rows, faintly exuding elusive spiritual energies; no one knew what kind of elusive, dragon-like masters were watching the battle.

At the very center of the upper levels stood a grand hall.

Its flying eaves glowed with vermilion splendor, elegant and ancient.

Inside the hall, the sound of shattered void echoed continuously.

One by one, elderly elders emerged from the void and took their seats in order.

Any knowledgeable observer who saw these elders would be shaken with awe and dread, for these elders were none other than Dong Xu.

These were the Dong Xu ancestors of the various noble families and sects of Qianxue Province.

Ancestors watching the battle was an exceedingly rare occurrence.

In past years, even during the finals of the Son of Heaven Lun Jian, Dong Xu ancestors rarely appeared in person to watch from the Guan Jian Tower.

This was the first time so many Dong Xu ancestors had gathered in the Guan Jian Tower.

From the Four Great Sects: the Qiandao Sect's Shen family ancestor, the Tianjian Sect's Xiao family ancestor, the Long Ding Sect's Ao family ancestor, and the Wanshao Sect's Duanmu ancestor.

From the Eight Great Sects: the Taixu Sect's Xun Mr., the Tai'e Mountain's Ouyang ancestor, the Chongxu Mountain's Linghu ancestor, and the ancestors of the Duanjin Sect, Guishui Sect, Lingxiao Sect, Jin Gang Sect, Zixia Sect—and many others.

And from the Twelve Streams, several sect ancestors.

And from the hundred sects of Qianxue, a few scattered ancestors.

All were present.

These ancestors varied in appearance: some leaned on canes with white hair, some had youthful faces and crane-like hair, some were handsome middle-aged men, some were bent and aged, some were massive dragon-like men, some were withered old women, and some were immortal-like maidens with youthful faces—all utterly devoid of any spiritual aura.

Yet their eyes were deep as bottomless abysses.

These twenty-odd Dong Xu ancestors were the true foundation and pillars of the great noble families and sects—terrifying figures who shook entire regions.

Now, they had all gathered in one hall, watching the Jian together in the Guan Jian Tower.

Inside the hall, it was eerily silent.

All the Dong Xu ancestors remained speechless; some sipped tea alone, some closed their eyes to meditate.

Their cultivation was too high, their lives too long; time had worn away too much emotion, and few things could stir their hearts.

Some ancestors, due to their Dao cultivation, had grown utterly indifferent.

Even the rise and fall of clans and sects meant little to them.

Mortal affairs were dull; in their eyes, only the "Dao" and the "Immortal" remained.

Their every action was an extreme pursuit of the "Dao," a quest to ascend to "Immortality."

Some ancestors pursued fame and power, expanding their clans and developing their sects—yet even this stemmed from their own "Dao."

Bloodline and power were both forms of Dao.

Dong Xu cultivation demanded colossal amounts of spirit stones.

Their need for spirit items was even more terrifying.

This required vast power structures and abundant resources to sustain them.

Without the support of clans and sects, they could never focus entirely on seclusion and cultivation to advance their realms.

To break through beyond Dong Xu—to the elusive, almost mythical realm recorded only in ancient texts.

Of course, as long as one did not become an Immortal, even a Dong Xu was still human.

Being human meant possessing seven emotions and six desires.

Not all Dong Xu were serene.

Some Dong Xu ancestors had very volatile tempers.

For instance, the Ye ancestor of Dalaomen, with his sword-like eyebrows and long beard, rugged features, frequently glared angrily at Xun Mr. of Taixu Sect.

In Dalaomen, his most beloved disciple, the sword prodigy he had most anticipated, was meant to dominate the Lun Jian and shine brilliantly.

Yet he was slain in a single strike by a disciple of Taixu Sect.

The key point: this disciple was not even a swordsman.

His sword technique didn't even qualify as sword technique.

The Dalaomen ancestor's face was utterly shattered; even recalling it filled him with shame.

But given the solemnity of this occasion, he could only suppress his anger and remain silent.

Xun Mr. could sense this fury, yet he merely sipped tea quietly, pretending nothing had happened.

Outside the Dong Xu Hall, the sect leaders had also gathered on the Guan Jian Tower.

The Mistress of Baihua Valley and several court-dressed women from Daozhou whispered among themselves about something.

The heads of the other four sects, the eight gates, and the twelve schools were all present, none absent.

This Blood Arena battle's impact was so great that it left every sect head trembling with dread, their hearts unease.

Even the heads of the Four Major Sects could not remain calm.

What they feared was not the Grand Void Gate.

The Grand Void Gate was the target of all, its life or death a matter of moments.

What they feared was the threat from the other Four Major Sects at the Blood Arena's final moment.

Once the Blood Arena began, it became a meat grinder—killing until the end, with no distinction between sects; any sect's prodigy might face a coordinated slaughter by the prodigies of the other three sects.

In the midst of slaughter, danger loomed everywhere.

In the shifting tides of offense and defense, possibilities multiplied endlessly.

Who could break through the encirclement and survive to the end? No one knew.

And since the Blood Arena carried high points, this meant that if, in the subsequent Heaven-character Sword Debate, no one pulled ahead in score, the Blood Arena's first-place finisher would very likely become the overall Sword Debate champion.

Which of the Four Major Sects would win the Sword Debate's top rank was already largely decided from the start of this Blood Arena.

Therefore, the heads of the Four Major Sects could not possibly remain calm.

As for the Grand Void Gate's Three Mountains' heads, their state of mind need not be mentioned.

Given the Grand Void Gate's current situation, merely preserving its ranking was already a great stroke of fortune.

Even if its ranking did not drop too far, it would still be acceptable.

Beyond that, they had no room for any delusion.

No one knew better than they that the Four Great Mountains of Qianxue were four unscalable "mountains."

Outside the Observation Tower.

In the viewing stands of Dao Ting Si.

The Grand Void Gate's elders, along with Foundation Establishment early, middle, and Gao San disciples, nearly all the students, were also watching.

This was a battle that decided the sect's fate.

For them, it was equally crucial.

But now, the situation looked dire; everyone's hearts were hanging in suspense.

On the Feng family's seating, Elder Zhang, Zhang Lan, Gu family's Gu Hong, and other elders—Dao Ting Si's Gu Changhuai, Xia Diansi—

were all watching.

They all knew, to varying degrees, the current situation, and held their breath, silently worrying for Mo Hua and the Grand Void Gate.

Even Elder Zhang, having watched so many of Mo Hua's Sword Debates, had developed a certain fondness for this Grand Void Gate prodigy who "seemed" to have learned his Zhang family's Flowing Water Step, and did not wish to see Mo Hua lose.

Or at least, not lose too badly.

Yet among the viewing stands, most cultivators still took pleasure in their misfortune:

"Honestly, isn't Mo Hua finally done for?"

"One person chasing him, he could dodge; a team chasing him, he could escape;"

"But when an entire sect—or even ten or more sects—send dozens after him, where can he hide now?"

"Where can he run?"

"Unless he digs a hole, hides inside, and crouches there until the end—"

"What are you thinking?"

"His abilities have long been studied inside and out—"

"If his concealment technique hadn't been exposed earlier, maybe he could have 'survived' till the end."

"But unfortunately, by now, in this Sword Debate, every card he had has already been played; now trying these petty tricks—"

"Who's he fooling?"

"Others will definitely be watching for him—"

"That's true."

"Just watch—this round, the Grand Void Gate is doomed."

"That's true, but this tournament format—doesn't it seem unfair to the Grand Void Gate?"

"You don't understand—the cultivation world has always been unfair."

"People are born into different families, possess different spiritual roots, unequal luck, varying lifespans, fortunes that shift between smooth and rough—all of it is unfair—"

"The Blood Arena is no different."

"It tests whether you can fight with all your might to survive in utter despair, using any means necessary to win this round—no one will reason with you."

"If you blame anyone, blame the Grand Void Gate for its bad luck."

"Blame themselves for offending so many sects."

"Blame them for taking in Mo Hua, that damned 'plague-bringer'—"

"Why not take anyone else, but Mo Hua?"

"Exactly—the Grand Void Gate deserves this. They brought it on themselves—"

As the crowd chattered, a figure steeped in scholarly air quietly slipped in.

Someone sharp-eyed spotted him and immediately said:

"White Brother, weren't you saying you wanted the 'Devouring Spirit Sword'?"

"A loser accepts his fate!"

"Exactly!"

Bai Xiaosheng loved to boast and talk big, but he had a good temper and never put on airs, so some Foundation Establishment cultivators also goaded him.

Bai Xiaosheng, who had quietly slipped into the crowd, heard this and felt his head ache.

He really was blowing smoke before.

They mocked Mo Hua: "What sword could he possibly understand?"

"Look at him—he can barely hold a sword."

"If he really can wield any sword technique, I'll swallow my top-grade sentient sword right here in public!"

Then Mo Hua slashed that Da Luo Sect member to death with one sword.

Bai Xiaosheng felt as if he'd swallowed a fly.

But he refused to admit it.

"It's not that I broke my word or refused to swallow my sword—it's that Mo Hua's technique isn't swordplay at all."

"His is a heretical path."

"It has nothing to do with 'sword.'"

"His sword control? That's just fooling ghosts—"

"I'm a man of my word—if he truly knows swordplay, I'll definitely swallow my sentient sword."

"I'll stake this here: if I don't swallow it, I'll recognize Mo Hua as my father—"

"Fine, it's a deal!"

On the observation terrace of the Shangguan family.

Wen Renwan held Yu'er in her arms, watching the battle; she worried for Mo Hua and waited for his appearance.

Around them, voices roared in a deafening clamor.

Amid the noise, Wen Renwan suddenly grew dizzy, her vision blurring, drenched in blood.

The scene from her old nightmares rose again in her mind.

Blood rained from the sky, demons and monsters danced wildly.

Yu'er's face was covered in blood, his skin pale white, eyes hollow and staring at her.

His blood had drained, his organs ripped out, his spiritual awareness sucked dry—

He asked her in a cold voice: "Mother, why didn't you save me?"

Wen Renwan's heart seized with terror; she clutched Yu'er tightly.

The next instant, a clear voice rang out:

"Mother, what's wrong?"

All the bloody illusions vanished; Wen Renwan looked down and saw Yu'er gazing at her with innocent confusion.

Wen Renwan's face turned pale, her smile stiff: "Nothing—"

Yu'er relaxed, nodded obediently, and turned back to look at the Sky Painting Screen.

Wen Renwan stared at Yu'er, instinctively holding him tighter, afraid that if she blinked, if she slipped even for a moment, her only child would vanish—

But the tighter she held him, the greater her terror grew.

Her chest ached as if being torn apart—