Chapter 428: The One Who Passed Has Appeared

Xiang Hong finished speaking and suddenly widened his eyes.

"Wait!! The origin of the sword… the founder… ssst!!"

Focused on thinking who in Chinese history was called the Sword Master, he had overlooked one thing: the creator of the sword!

The creator who forged the sword, known as the "Ancestor of All Weapons."

As the creator of the sword, he was the originator of all swords in the world and the first being to wield one; his understanding of the Sword Dao must have been astonishing across ages, far surpassing any sword cultivator.

Such a person deserves the title of Sword Master!

Only he could bear the name Sword Master.

The instant Xiang Hong realized this, the Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian and the Tianxie Sword Immortal also understood, their faces turning utterly pale with shock as they both stared at the tombstone.

The tombstone stood firm, like a sword driven into the earth, pointing straight toward heaven; though damaged, it still retained faint traces of indestructible, unextinguishable sword intent, resembling a lone silhouette, sword in hand, wandering through countless mortal realms.

"The creator of the sword."

The Tianxie Sword Immortal's pupils dilated as he stared blankly at the broken sword in his hands.

At that moment, he saw it vaguely.

In that distant age, when people tilled with knives and burned forests for fields, a lone figure hammered away at something—strike after strike, sparks flying, forged a thousand times, tempered a hundred times.

Finally, a sword of bronze-like material appeared.

The lone figure caressed the sword, smiling, speaking ancient words; though the Tianxie Sword Immortal could not understand the sounds, he discerned their meaning from the figure's gestures and expressions.

"From this day forward, your name shall be: Sword."

This was the birth of the world's first sword, the beginning of the Sword Dao.

The lone figure created the sword, then set out as if searching for something, traversing mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas, crossing swamps and abysses, walking the world, stepping through all realms.

Every time he paused in a place, the beings there came to know him and came to know the sword, spreading its name.

Thus, countless sword cultivators emerged in the world; the lone figure created the sword, and likewise forged the sword cultivators, beginning the path of the Sword Dao.

And gradually, he was no longer alone.

He had seen the fleeting dust of mortal life, gained lovers, friends, those he cared for—he was no longer lonely; the lone sword became the world's sword.

Then one day, the lone figure sensed some danger, took up the bronze sword that had journeyed with him through countless mountains and rivers and across all realms, bid farewell to his loved ones, and walked toward the distance.

"Wait for my return."

These four simple words carried all emotion, all reluctance.

He left.

Time flowed on, seas turned to mulberry fields, seasons changed again and again, year after year passed.

But the lone figure never returned.

His loved ones waited always, through wind and rain, snow and drought, steadfastly believing he would come back.

Until one day.

They waited—and he returned, but only a bloodstained broken sword returned, while the lone figure would never return again.

The blood on the broken sword was that of enemies, and also his own, carrying sorrow, reluctance, and longing.

Tears slipped from the Tianxie Sword Immortal's eyes—this was the sorrow embedded in the broken sword, the grief of losing its master and failing to bring him back.

Hum.

The broken sword vibrated, emitting a sound like weeping, as if crying.

The immortal sword behind it also resonated in response; not only the immortal sword, but every broken sword within the Hangu Pass graveyard, every shattered weapon, all vibrated together.

Ten thousand weapons sang in unison, mourning the heavens and earth.

Xiang Hong and the Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian were stunned, but what shocked them was not this chorus of weapons—after all, as the world's first sword, commanding all weapons was only natural.

What truly stunned them was the one who had spoken earlier.

Only now did they realize: the person who had just spoken to them… who was that?

"Who's there?!"

The Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian's hair stood on end; this place was filled with the graves of gods and demons, where even the Immortals and the Supreme were buried.

He had scanned the surroundings earlier and seen no one—now a stranger's voice had appeared… in a land littered with the graves of gods and demons, an unexpected voice made even gods and demons tremble.

Was it a person—or something else?

He could be certain: the speaker was vastly stronger than he was, for he had sensed no arrival, still could not locate the voice's origin, nor detect even a trace of its aura.

Then—

The Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian and Xiang Hong turned toward a spot not far to the left.

A man walked toward them, smiling warmly: "My young friends, don't be tense—I mean no harm, I've merely come to pay my respects."

Young friends…

The Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian's mouth twitched—he hadn't been called "young friend" in how many years? He was over twenty thousand years old; those older than him were exceedingly rare, barely a handful in his world.

For him to call the Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian "young friend," the man must be vastly older.

Soon, they saw him clearly: a middle-aged face, not the stern, domineering boss type, nor the stoic, steady elder—rather, he looked like the kind of man who always smiled, whether facing children or adults.

His smile was warm, evoking no trace of aversion.

Faint crow's-feet lined his eyes, adding a touch of time's wear, and his smiling eyes shimmered with the weight of ages.

A common person might mistake his appearance for an ordinary uncle—but no, he was an ancient one, having lived through long ages and accumulated vast experience.

The Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

He felt nothing!! The man stood right before him, yet not a single aura stirred—he might as well have been nonexistent if he closed his eyes.

The only proof of his existence was his eyes—he could be seen, nothing more.

"We pay our respects to the elder," bowed the Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian, Xiang Hong, and the Tianxie Sword Immortal, who had just returned from his trance.

The kind uncle smiled and waved his hand: "No need for such formalities—just be natural."

His smile unexpectedly put the three Jiuzhou Di Yi Xian at ease, radiating a natural warmth.

"I never expected—when I came here intending to meet someone from the past, I instead witnessed the 'Sword' awaken. After ten thousand eons, the 'Sword' has finally found its desired new master."

The kind uncle stroked the broken sword in the Tianxie Sword Immortal's hand.

The broken sword hummed, as if a child had met an elder, rejoicing and leaping with excitement.

"Even if the Sword Boy is now in the heavens, he would be glad to see this scene. Care for your new master well, and in the future, let the world remember the glory of the Sword Master once more."

The three Tianxie Sword Immortals were not overly surprised that the sword had chosen its master—having sensed its awakening, they had already anticipated this. What startled them was that the kind uncle knew the Sword Master.

"Senior… you knew the Sword Master."

Gao Xiang Hong asked hesitantly, his voice trembling.

The man called the Sword Master "Sword Boy"—he must be far older than the Sword Master, perhaps even predating the Primordial Era.

"We met once, long ago. Young friend, are you trying to extract secrets from me?" The kind uncle cut straight to the point, still smiling, not the least angry.

Then, as Gao Xiang Hong flushed awkwardly, opening his mouth to speak, the kind uncle chuckled:

"I sense the scent of my mischievous little son on you—all three of you: one from the From the Origin Realm, one from the Three Sovereigns Great World, one from the Cloud Multitude Great World. You three from different worlds have gathered here, each carrying a trace of world-ending calamity and the marks of eons."

It seems you did not stumble here by accident—my little son sent you, didn't he?"

……