Chapter 658: Forging Great Sun Sword Cultivators from Corpses

On the open plain, in the morning sunlight, four steppe warriors engaged in a life-or-death battle before the eyes of the tribespeople.

One side consisted of an early Qi Condensation cultivator accompanied by two Peak Body Refinement centurions—relatives by marriage to the chieftain, loyal to the core, sharing honor and disgrace, forced to step forward, or the new chieftain would not spare them.

The other side had only one person: a young swordsman of early Qi Condensation.

The chieftain dared not risk it; he had once incited it, but the herders watched coldly, just as they had twenty years ago when he challenged the previous chieftain, refusing to participate—his usual oaths of loyalty were a joke.

Blood sprayed, a sword-wielding arm flew off and landed on the ground; the warrior screamed in agony.

Jiang Ding watched this scene with indifference.

This was the unique custom of the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong's steppe realm among mortals—an ancient knightly system where the stronger swordsman claimed everything, and the weak deserved death.

Between life and death, immense potential would be unleashed, triggering a breakthrough in the swordsman's will—this was the core tenet of the Great Sun Sword Pavilion.

Thus, the cultivators and mortals who died were seen by them as mere soil, incapable of evoking any resonance; the losers were never disciples of the Sword Pavilion, and so it should be.

This combat was not a performance of martial forms, flashy and ornate, full of varied postures.

After only a dozen strikes, Chieftain Tuhe had already fallen to the ground, his thigh severed at the root, blood pooling beneath him as he shrieked in pleading: "Spare me! Mengge, spare me! I once spared you—please, spare me!"

Beside him, the two Peak Body Refinement centurions lay decapitated, their severed arms lying nearby, the hot steam from their neck stumps slowly cooling.

Tuhe had a higher realm and two subordinates, but his sword technique was insufficient; the gap in power from his realm was not great enough, so he died.

His only achievement was a deep, bone-exposing gash on his opponent's face, blood dripping steadily, soaking his eyelids.

"Tuhe, you're old."

Mengge laughed loudly: "I still remember how, when you killed my father and my entire family, your sword was sharp and cruel, always risking your life—how is it now that you hesitate, your blade not even drawn, already thinking how to protect yourself without a scratch?"

"Is it because your woman was too seductive, her breasts too large, making your sword go limp?"

"Hahahaha!"

He roared with laughter, stomping his foot on Tuhe's face: "I'll take care of your wife and daughters for you—I won't kill you, just watch well!"

"Damn bastard…"

Tuhe abandoned all hope, cursing with venomous hatred.

"Hail the chieftain!"

The herders of the Tahe tribe no longer glanced at him; over a dozen, sensing the shift, fled immediately, while the rest approached the young swordsman, knelt on one knee, and offered their loyalty according to the steppe's long-standing custom.

"Hahahaha, this day…"

Mengge's face flushed with excitement; his lifelong ambition fulfilled, he was overwhelmed with emotion, extending his arms: "This is not the end—it's only the beginning. When my sword path advances further, I shall conquer the surrounding lands, march toward challenging the Ten-Thousand-Man Tribe, become a Ten-Thousand-Man Commander, and the name of my Zha family shall echo across all directions…"

"Chieftain, that day will come."

"It certainly will."

The surrounding herders flattered him eagerly.

Some elderly herders, however, wore faint looks of daze.

It seemed that twenty years ago, Tuhe had said something similar—different words, but nearly the same meaning.

No one knew how long this new chieftain would last.

"A world where everyone lives in fear, their spirits perpetually tense."

Jiang Ding judged, then turned away, no longer paying attention.

After flying another ten days, he finally crossed the mortal steppe realm and began encountering first- and second-rank spiritual veins, inhabited by numerous Foundation Establishment and Qi Condensation cultivators.

Without exception, all their weapons were flying swords.

And they were pure flying swords—no dao, spear, halberd, jade ruyi, or other magical artifacts; no shields, jade beads, or defensive tools whatsoever.

When someone occasionally used a defensive artifact in a life-or-death duel, it was always done secretly, followed by swift elimination and distant escape.

Indeed, many cultivators kept such items as their last resort—good defensive artifacts were absurdly expensive; mid-grade ones dared to sell at the price of top-grade ones, like smuggling forbidden goods.

The truth was exactly this.

Jiang Ding briefly read the surface memories of several Qi Condensation cultivators and discovered that within the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong's territory, whether a cultivator was a lone cultivator or affiliated with a sect under its rule, using defensive artifacts was a capital offense.

Once reported with concrete evidence, the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong would immediately execute the offender and announce it to all.

Many lone cultivators' lifelong goal was to comprehend Sword Intent and join the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong, becoming a core disciple—second only to the sect leader, with boundless prospects.

As long as one comprehended Sword Intent, regardless of origin or past crimes—unless the crime was against a core disciple of the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong—

Even if one had previously killed multiple inner sect disciples of the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong, or had been a spy from another sect, it would be forgiven, no matter what.

As soon as one comprehended Sword Intent, they would immediately be accepted by the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong and become a core disciple.

Their family members would also be properly settled, living in wealth and comfort for life, freed from the ceaseless challenges and counter-challenges of the steppe; the entire family would no longer fear anything, as the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong would grant them preferential treatment—even third-rank spiritual veins would be given without hesitation.

The next-tier aspiration was to specialize in alchemy, crafting non-offensive talismans, artifact forging, or array formation, thereby entering the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong as an inner or outer sect disciple, serving a few core disciples, and escaping the bloodshed.

Lastly, some dreamed of joining the army of the Great Love King.

Rumor had it that in the Great Love King's realm, all brothers were as close as family, with no endless blood feuds; every cultivator received a foundation for establishing their legacy, equal Gong Fa, equal spiritual veins, no shortage of pills or talismans, drawing in lone cultivators from all directions—a paradise.

"Great Love True Person?"

Seeing this name again, Jiang Ding paused: "His influence seems even greater than the intelligence suggested—he's showing early signs of egalitarian ideals, or perhaps an extreme radical faction. Such a system, before corruption sets in, truly inspires masses to fight with reckless devotion."

"But it's too extreme. Productivity cannot sustain it; it violates material reality. The speed of its corruption will be astonishing."

"Left to time, they will implode from within."

Jiang Ding traveled onward, concealing his form, ignoring the chaos along the way; before he knew it, another year had passed.

Along the way, he passed many subordinate sects and family factions of the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong; all, except a few, were mired in years of constant challenge and bloodshed.

From mortals to Jin Dan cultivators, none could escape: as long as one day passed without comprehending Sword Intent, as long as one day remained unaccepted by the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong, one must face eternal challenge—the loser dies, the family is wiped out, all is lost.

All of it, solely to produce Sword Intent sword cultivators, to perpetuate the sect.

(End of Chapter)