Chapter 775: Sword Bone

Ouyang Mu glanced again at the old demonic cultivator, his expression filled with emotion.

If one counted it up, this old demonic artifact-crafter trapped in the demon nest was, in fact, his own sectmate and clansman—a true… elder of his family?

And after several centuries, his generation was surely far above his own.

Ouyang Mu couldn't help but feel a faint sense of reverence.

The old demonic cultivator looked at Ouyang Mu, his expression complex, his gaze sorrowful.

"Back then, I was just like you—possessing an extraordinary talent for artifact-crafting—but I was quiet, reserved, and spent every day solely forging swords, dreaming of crafting a single sword, unique in heaven and earth, a divine sword… as my lifelong aspiration…"

"A divine sword…"

The old demonic cultivator's expression turned desolate. "Back then, young and reckless, I had no sense of the heavens or the earth—I didn't realize how impossibly distant those two characters were, how utterly… despairing."

He let out a self-mocking laugh. "We call ourselves cultivators, cultivating the path to immortality—but what is 'immortality'? No one has ever known."

"Anything tied to the word 'immortal' is profound, terrifying, indescribable…"

Ouyang Mu's expression turned solemn, and he nodded.

He, too, had regarded forging a "divine sword" as his lifelong Dao aspiration.

But the deeper he cultivated, the more swords he forged, the more he felt the word "immortal" was unattainable.

Perhaps in this lifetime, he would never even touch the edge of a "divine sword."

Not to mention crafting one with his own hands—even a single glance at one would likely be a great luxury.

The old demonic cultivator's cloudy gaze silently rested on Ouyang Mu, his thoughts too complex to fathom; finally, he sighed and continued.

"Several centuries ago, I was still a disciple of Tai'e Sect… of the Ouyang clan."

"At that time, the Ouyang clan had already begun shifting its path—no longer focusing primarily on sword-forging, but using sword-forging as a supplement, prioritizing sword techniques, aiming to become a true sword Dao sect."

"But I didn't want to cultivate sword techniques—I only wanted to forge swords."

"While others abandoned sword-forging to study sword techniques, I remained single-minded, day and night, tirelessly studying the art of forging."

"Being undervalued by the sect didn't matter—as long as I could forge swords…"

Here, the old demonic cultivator bent over, coughing violently, spitting blood.

But he didn't care—he merely wiped away the blood and continued.

"I once thought I would spend my entire life within Tai'e Sect, learning artifact-crafting, practicing sword-forging, until I grew old—but I never expected…"

The old demonic cultivator's expression turned bitter. "During a mountain hunt, I strayed into the dense forest beyond the Ten Thousand Demons Valley, lost my way…"

"Several demonic cultivators discovered me—they began hunting me. My cultivation was insufficient; I couldn't match them. They captured me."

"They opened their bloody maws, intending to devour me—but when they discovered I could forge swords, they spared my life and forced me to forge demonic swords for them."

"I… had no choice."

The old demonic cultivator's expression was blank. "Back in the sect, I once believed I was a cultivator with unwavering Dao-heart, convinced that even facing demons, I could uphold justice and face death without fear."

"But when I truly faced those grinning demonic cultivators, I realized I was wrong."

"I knew nothing about myself."

"I… am a coward."

As he spoke these words, his gaze was cold—as if decades of inhuman torment had worn away his dignity and accepted this helpless reality.

Ouyang Mu's face showed sympathy. "Old… elder, this isn't your fault."

The old demonic cultivator shook his head. "It's done. I am already like this. Now, debating right and wrong is meaningless…"

Ouyang Mu wanted to comfort him further.

But he was tongue-tied and couldn't think of any words.

The old demonic cultivator sighed and continued.

"I surrendered. I betrayed my sect. I betrayed my family. I betrayed my sword Dao."

"Since then, I became a demonic cultivator—a demonic artifact-crafter."

"I abandoned my former identity, dwelling in this dark, sunless Ten Thousand Demons Prison, companions to beasts and demonic cultivators, forging artifacts from human bones, human flesh, human blood—how many demonic swords I've forged for them, I've lost count. And how many people those swords, wielded by demons, have slain—I don't know either…"

The old demonic cultivator smiled, blood on his lips—whether in self-mockery or self-satisfaction, no one could tell.

Ouyang Mu's heart was complicated.

Sword-crafters are like this—even righteous sword-crafters cannot control whether the swords they forge are used to exterminate demons and do good, or to slaughter and commit evil.

How much less so for demonic artifact-crafters who forge demonic swords.

"Now, my time is near. I've amassed countless sins in this lifetime—and finally… it's coming to an end…"

The old demonic cultivator looked at Ouyang Mu. "But before I die, I have one last wish. My entire life has been trapped in this Ten Thousand Demons Prison—unaware of years, unaware of day or night, constantly immersed in artifact-crafting…"

"These techniques—some righteous, some demonic—I've long lost the ability to distinguish them."

"But whether righteous or demonic, they are all the blood and sweat of my life. I must pass them on—or I will die with unfulfilled eyes."

The old demonic cultivator fixed his deep gaze on Ouyang Mu.

"In the entire Ten Thousand Demons Prison, the only one I can pass them to is you."

Ouyang Mu froze, his expression hesitant.

If these were righteous sword-forging methods, he would have been deeply grateful.

But this elder was a demonic artifact-crafter—his entire skillset was likely steeped in bloody, demonic techniques.

He had no desire to learn them.

Unsure what to do, he instinctively lowered his head and glanced at his sleeve—and immediately felt reassured.

"Grateful for your kindness, elder…" Ouyang Mu's expression twisted in further "doubt" before sighing. "I'll learn."

The old demonic cultivator exhaled deeply, his entire body relaxing slightly.

Then, with a touch of pride, he said to Ouyang Mu:

"I was trained by the Ouyang clan of Tai'e Sect—this entire art of sword-forging was forged through countless hammer blows, painstakingly refined…"

"At least within the scope of third-grade forging, I consider myself no worse than any sword-caster."

"I have poured too much heart and soul into studying my Life-Link Artifact."

"Having learned my skills, you will surely be among the best in your realm—even if you can't escape the Ten Thousand Demons Prison and must associate only with these demonic cultivators, you'll still thrive."

"Even the most vicious demonic cultivators won't dare neglect you..."

"If one day you can forge a Golden Core within the Ten Thousand Demons Prison and become a third-grade demonic sword-caster..."

The old demonic cultivator's eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope as he said slowly: "The Young Master might even let you leave, making you his trusted agent to serve him beyond."

"Life outside is far more carefree..."

Ouyang Mu's expression turned startled. "You can leave?"

The old demonic cultivator nodded. "As long as you forge a Golden Core."

"But," he sighed afterward, "forging a Golden Core is no easy feat. In this Ten Thousand Demons Prison, among so many demonic cultivators, not a handful have succeeded in centuries."

"Though it's due to insufficient resources, flawed cultivation methods, and the instability of demonic energy, it still shows just how difficult forging a Golden Core is."

"Still, it's at least something to hope for..."

Ouyang Mu slowly nodded.

Then, with a sidelong glance at his sleeve, he asked as Mo Hua had instructed:

"Old Master, you speak of serving the 'Young Master'... who exactly is this 'Young Master'?"

The moment Ouyang Mu mentioned the Young Master, the old demonic cultivator's expression darkened instantly, his voice trembling:

"Don't ask. Better yet, don't even try to know. You only need to know that here in the Ten Thousand Demons Prison, you obey the Young Master's orders—don't be overly curious, or you won't even know how you died."

Ouyang Mu's heart tightened. He nodded.

"I understand."

The old demonic cultivator's expression eased slightly. "Starting tomorrow, I will formally begin teaching you everything I've learned. First and foremost..."

"... forging your Life-Link Demonic Sword!"

"Mm." Ouyang Mu's expression remained indifferent.

Seeing this, the old demonic cultivator sighed. "I know—even though you've agreed to become a demonic sword-caster, you can't accept it yet."

"You bear the surname Ouyang. You and I share the same sect and clan. I don't wish to force you."

"Here's what I'll do: tomorrow, come to me, and I'll first teach you orthodox forging techniques. Once you've learned them, you can gradually shift from orthodox to demonic—forge demonic artifacts, cast demonic swords..."

"The Ten Thousand Demons Valley is a deadly place. I'm trapped here myself—I can only help you this far. After this, you're on your own."

Ouyang Mu froze, then felt deep gratitude. He bowed.

"Thank you, Old Master."

The old demonic cultivator waved dismissively. "Save the false flattery. Go. Come back tomorrow."

Ouyang Mu bowed, then took his leave, escorted back to his cell by a demonic cultivator.

Inside the demonic artifact chamber, only the old demonic cultivator remained.

"Tai'e..."

His voice was dry and hoarse, like an old crow croaking. He muttered those two words, then suddenly his whole body convulsed violently.

The old demonic cultivator reached up to cover his mouth—but too late. Blood had already spewed from his lips.

He fumbled frantically from his storage pouch, pulling out a heap of red and white pills, and swallowed them whole.

After a while, the coughing subsided.

The old demonic cultivator slumped into a seated position, tilting his head to stare at the grim furnace-fire within the bone forge. In his cloudy eyes glimmered an inexplicable light.

Mo Hua frowned, then slowly departed.

He went to the prison.

Inside the prison, Ouyang Mu was whispering with Linghu Xiao.

Song Yiyi was sneaking food nearby.

He was eating the dried meat Mo Hua had given him. Since it was hard-won, he ate it carefully, tearing off tiny bits and chewing slowly.

The guard demonic cultivator was absent. Mo Hua revealed himself.

The three in the prison were no longer surprised.

Mo Hua came and went without a trace—truly like a ghost.

After a brief exchange, Ouyang Mu remarked with a sigh: "That Old Master... is from the Ouyang clan..."

"I wonder if he can help us escape..."

Mo Hua shook his head. "Stop thinking about it."

Ouyang Mu didn't understand.

Mo Hua said: "That old fraud is lying to you."

Ouyang Mu blinked. "He's not from the Ouyang clan?"

"That's hard to say," Mo Hua mused. "That old man—nine out of ten things he says are lies. At most, one or two might be true."

"That he's a disciple of the Tai'e Sect's Ouyang clan—that might be true. But every other thing he says is highly suspect."

"Think about it," Mo Hua said:

"The dense forest outside the Ten Thousand Demons Valley is extremely dangerous. Why would a mere forging master go there alone, with no reason?"

"Besides, that forest has a formation that confuses spiritual sense—whether cultivator or demonic cultivator, none can find their way."

"If he'd merely wandered in by accident, how could he possibly bump into a group of demonic cultivators by sheer luck?"

"If those demonic cultivators were starving, they'd have devoured him the moment they saw him—why keep him alive as a sword-caster?"

"Unless he told them himself, how would demonic cultivators even know whether he could forge swords?"

"And he's been trapped in this Ten Thousand Demons Prison for centuries, eating raw flesh and drinking blood—how many lives has he devoured? His humanity is long gone. How could he possibly care about clan or sect loyalty?"

"Coming from the same sect, and the same clan — so what?"

"Which is to say, that old thing's words all sound fine on the surface, but when you think about them carefully, there are quite a few flaws…"

Of course, this was only Mo Hua's stated reason on the surface.

In truth, while listening to the old demon cultivator speak, his divine sense had keenly detected that the old demon cultivator's spiritual will had some unusual fluctuations.

As though harboring some other scheme.

Besides that, there was the intuition that came from karmic ties.

When the old demon cultivator spoke, the karmic threads were somewhat disordered.

Mo Hua almost instinctively sensed that there was likely something fishy hidden in those words of his.

The simple-minded Little Mu silently gaped, his heart full of bewilderment:

Just how is Senior Brother's brain wired? How many schemes must he be hiding in there…

Linghu Xiao, who stood to one side, frowned at the words. "If that old demon cultivator has some other scheme, isn't Wood Junior Brother in danger?"

"Yes," Mo Hua nodded. "But then again, none of you have ever been safe. Whether it's Jin Gui, or that old demon cultivator, or the Young Master behind them — they're all plotting against you."

Up to now, the demon cultivators had already employed quite a few methods, openly and covertly.

Right now, on the surface, they'd only targeted Little Mu.

But this was probably only the beginning — Linghu Xiao and Song Jian couldn't possibly be spared either.

Based on the intelligence Mo Hua had overheard during this period.

Of the three, Linghu Xiao's situation was slightly better.

His sword heart was luminous and clear — a once-in-five-hundred-years genius of the Void Sect.

Whether he walked the righteous or the demonic path, he was a "treasure."

Although the demon cultivators had also severed Linghu Xiao's little finger, their attitude was quite respectful — clearly they didn't dare offend him lightly.

By Mo Hua's guess.

These demon cultivators most likely wanted to get Linghu Xiao directly onto the Young Masters' "ship," use "cannon-fodder women" to tempt him, corrode him, drag him into depravity, and make him fall together with them into demonhood — birds of a feather.

As for what kind of "cannon-fodder women" were on the ship.

He himself was still innocent and had seen too little of the world — he couldn't imagine it for now.

But as for Song Jian…

Mo Hua glanced back at Song Jian, who was still gnawing on jerky, and felt a tiny bit of sympathy in his heart.

Song Jian was a hostage.

These demon cultivators probably didn't even intend to "assimilate" him.

It was entirely possible that one day they'd simply cut him down without warning.

Song Jian sensed Mo Hua's gaze, gave a cold snort, and turned his back — seemingly unwilling to look at Mo Hua — but he kept silently chewing his jerky.

Mo Hua sighed inwardly:

"Forget it, this poor kid — I won't tell him, or once he knows, he won't even be able to eat his jerky anymore."

On the other side, Ouyang Mu was feeling a bit down.

He had actually believed that the old demon cultivator truly had not forgotten Tai'a Gate, that he cared for his clan, and wanted to pass down his lifetime's worth of sword-forging arts to him.

Human hearts truly were treacherous…

"Senior Brother Mo, then what should I do? He's teaching me sword-forging — should I still learn?"

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then nodded. "Learn."

"Just pretend you don't know anything. Forget everything I just said, and treat that old thing as an old senior from your Ouyang family — one who, though he went astray, is near the end of his days, and still has a shred of good will left in his heart."

"Whatever he teaches you, learn it normally — after all, it'd be a waste not to."

"If anything else comes up, play it by ear — I'll tell you what to do when the time comes…" Mo Hua said.

"Alright, Senior Brother Mo." Ouyang Mu nodded rapidly.

"But," Ouyang Mu said, somewhat puzzled, "what exactly is that old demon cultivator planning?"

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened slightly.

"We'll find out when the time comes…"

……

The next day, inside the Evil Artifact Room.

The old demon cultivator was once again looking at his sheet of demon-hide paper.

Ouyang Mu was refining white bone, melting refined iron.

Once the white bone was melted, the old demon cultivator put away the demon-hide paper and said in an aged voice: "That's about right. I'll now teach you how to forge your Lifebound Sword Bone."

"Yes." Ouyang Mu, remembering Mo Hua's instructions, nodded.

The old demon cultivator's expression grew solemn as he said slowly:

"Every sword must have a bone."

"This 'bone' refers to the sword's root-bone, the sword's 'spine' — it doesn't necessarily have to be actual 'skeletal bone.'"

"Depending on the sword-forging lineage, the material of the sword bone can be gold and jade, silver and bronze, copper and iron; it can also be wood- or stone-type spiritual objects, and of course, it can equally be demon bone, beast bone, or even human bone and other skeletal remains…"

"For ordinary spirit swords, the sword bone doesn't demand much."

"But a Lifebound Sword Embryo — to be nurtured into a Lifebound Magic Treasure fused with spiritual power and bound to one's very life — places extremely stringent demands on the sword bone."

"In fact, the sword bone itself directly determines the final quality of the Lifebound Spirit Sword magic treasure."

"Only fine bone can forge a fine sword."

"A sword without root-bone is nothing but scrap iron…"

Having finished, the old demon cultivator took out a long section of spine bone from his storage bag, and said with a solemn gaze:

"This is the material used to forge a Sword Bone."

Ouyang Mu looked at the bloodstain on the bone, his expression shifting slightly. "This is… a human bone?"

The old demon cultivator said indifferently, "So what if it's a human bone, so what if it's a demon bone? Any skeleton that can be forged into a superior Sword Bone is a good bone…"

"You must learn to discard, bit by bit, these pedantic notions of right and wrong — otherwise, how will you ever gain a foothold in the Ten Thousand Demon Prison later?"

Ouyang Mu mumbled, "Yes, Senior…"

The old demon cultivator's expression softened slightly. "I'll do the forging. You watch from the side."

"Mm."

After that, the old demon cultivator began formally teaching Ouyang Mu how to forge a "Sword Bone."

This set of procedures was extremely tedious and demanded a very high level of artifact-forging skill.

Mo Hua couldn't really understand it.

When it came to artifact-forging, he only knew some theoretical knowledge — and of course, that also included some knowledge of array design.

When it came to actually forging artifacts, he was utterly hopeless.

He could barely even swing a second-grade forging hammer.

So, while the old demon cultivator taught Little Wooden-Head to forge swords, all he could do was watch from the side.

However, though Mo Hua didn't really understand artifact-forging, there was one other thing he was very concerned about:

"Whose human bone is this, the one used to forge the 'Sword Bone'?"

"This human bone has been hidden away by the old demon cultivator, cherished and valued, deliberately saved to forge his Natal Sword Bone — which means the origin of this bone must be no simple matter…"

Mo Hua stared at the stooped figure of the old demon cultivator for a moment, and a sudden chill crept into his heart.

This bone couldn't possibly be…

The old demon cultivator's own spine, could it?

He had extracted his own spine to forge a Natal Sword Bone?

Mo Hua drew in a breath of cold air.

What kind of sword-forging method is this?

It's far too ruthless.

Mo Hua stared again at the old demon cultivator's bent figure — as if his bones had been pulled out — and the more he looked, the more it seemed to fit.

When an evil cultivator kills someone and strips their bones to forge a sword, that's merely being cruel to others. But this old thing — he's cruel to himself…

"But is there some special significance to forging a sword with one's own bone?"

Mo Hua didn't quite understand.

Inside the evil artifact chamber, the old demon cultivator tempered blood, melted iron, forged bone… all in one fluid motion — his artifact-forging skill was indeed superb.

Ouyang Mu watched without blinking, while also pondering which techniques he himself could learn.

After forging for a while, the old demon cultivator said:

"The next step in the sword-forging process is the blood-sacrifice technique. If you don't wish to learn it, you don't have to watch."

Ouyang Mu hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded.

The old demon cultivator took out a length of refined iron and handed it to Ouyang Mu. "Take this refined iron and quench it in the blood pool over there — we'll need it shortly."

"Yes, Senior."

Ouyang Mu took the refined iron, walked to one side, and placed it into the pool of fresh blood to temper it.

The old demon cultivator glanced at Ouyang Mu, his gaze cautious, and then his withered hand slowly drew a brush from his storage bag.

After that, he used this brush to begin drawing something on the Sword Bone, his movements very furtive.

Although he had sent Ouyang Mu away and avoided Ouyang Mu's gaze, he hadn't avoided Mo Hua.

Mo Hua had been somewhat shocked from the moment he drew out the brush.

This evil swordsmith had put down his hammer and taken up a brush?

What was he going to draw?

Mo Hua was very curious. He then held his breath, tilted his head, and stared for a while — until suddenly his pupils contracted and his mind was rocked to its core.

What this old demon cultivator, who was a master of sword-forging, had been furtively drawing on the Sword Bone was actually…

Divine Dao array patterns?!

(End of chapter)

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