Chapter 82: Sword Pool of the Nascent Core

Before joining Zhen Mo Si, Hong Lei had also once dreamed of wandering the world with a sword, white robes trailing, leading a horse.

But looking at it now, not entering Qingfeng Mountain and instead throwing himself into the even more perilous Zhen Mo Si was not necessarily a bad thing.

Fifty or sixty Qingfeng disciples were escorted up the mountain by a group of Captains.

They were clearly returning to their sect, yet their faces grew paler and paler.

Shen Yi and Hong Lei walked at the very back.

"What is the Sword Pool?"

Hearing this, Hong Lei glanced over with some surprise: "You're not from Outside Qingzhou?"

"From Boyun County." Shen Yi did not conceal it.

"No wonder, a small backwater place." Hong Lei nodded instinctively, then suddenly sensed something was off—was this the Boyun County he knew? That godforsaken place, could it really have produced a power capable of nurturing such a figure?

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask but not daring to, and simply steered the topic back: "Any first-rate power has a stable method for cultivating Nascent Core Realm practitioners, ensuring every generation has experts holding the line. Unlike second-rate ones—if Shenxu Laozu meets with mishap, or the ranks below run dry, in a few decades they vanish without a trace."

"Our Zhen Mo Si has something similar too, except you'd have to go to Jingcheng."

At this point, Hong Lei caught the slight flicker in Shen Yi's gaze and roughly guessed what the other was thinking—someone who could fight a Qingfeng elder and a great demon alone must naturally be at Jade Liquid perfection.

He laughed: "With your current strength, work hard for a few decades and the Martial Shrine's Nascent Core will surely have a place for you. Don't even think about the recent few openings—whether it's Miss Lin or Doctor Bai, they're both queued up ahead of you."

"Tell me about the Sword Pool instead."

Hong Lei knew the temper of these geniuses all too well—how could they tolerate anyone lording over them: "Every Qingfeng disciple, upon formally entering the sect and paying homage to the patriarch, the very first thing is to go to the Sword Pool to offer sacrifice—a drop of blood from the fingertip, the brow, and the heart. Once offered, they receive the patriarch's blessing, and their cultivation progress speeds up tremendously."

"Besides that, they can also draw out a sword once wielded by a predecessor, nurturing it day and night with essence, calling it a Dao-Protecting Treasure Sword. You could say half their strength lies in the sword. I heard you broke that deacon's sword—even if he recovers from his injuries, his strength won't reach fifty percent of what it once was."

Hong Lei held up his palm: "That's why I wanted to go see Dai Bing's sword that day—just to check whether she was a Qingfeng disciple by origin, and I guessed right… Think about it, the essence and blood of disciples over several thousand years are all connected to the Sword Pool. When their cultivation advances, the Sword Pool benefits too. Only a treasure ground like this could have the miraculous effect of helping martial artists form their Nascent Core."

"Old Man Rage Sword's lifespan was running short. By seniority, he should have had a chance to enter the Sword Pool for tempering and make one last push, but he gave the spot to Zhang Hengzhou. His actions today… must mean his heart was utterly broken."

Hong Lei sighed with emotion.

Hearing this, Shen Yi fell briefly silent.

But recalling how rare such chances to learn about the martial world were, he asked further: "If the Sword Pool has such effects and has existed for several thousand years, Qingfeng Mountain should have more than one Nascent Core practitioner."

"You're worried General Chen came alone and can't match them?"

Hong Lei laughed again: "You're at Jade Liquid Realm, and so am I. If you faced two or three of me at once, would you be afraid?"

Shen Yi considered for a moment, then shook his head.

"Right, then what about ten or twenty…"

Hong Lei continued, but saw the young man's expression focused in thought, and then shake his head again.

His square face's smile stiffened. He shifted his gaze away, drew a deep breath, and pretended he hadn't seen it: "If there were ten or twenty, Zhen Mo Si isn't only relying on Old Man Chen. Among the twelve Grand Generals of Demon Suppression, the old man is too old in years. In terms of strength, he barely ranks behind the General of Yang'an Commandery."

"Where does that General of Yang'an Commandery rank?" Shen Yi asked curiously, looking over.

Hong Lei rolled his eyes, was silent for a long while, then said: "Eleventh."

"Who's first?"

"The Commander's second disciple."

"And second?"

"The Commander's first disciple."

"Why is it reversed?"

"Brother Shen, we're here!" Hong Lei stood still with a splitting headache—how could he be the one to say such offensive things so casually.

Shen Yi looked forward with lingering interest.

Before Qingfeng Mountain's gate, a vast altar paved entirely with clean white stone bricks stretched out boundlessly.

At this moment, both sides above were densely packed with sword cultivators in snow-white robes, kneeling.

Three hundred Inner Camp Captains and Deputy Generals in gold-embroidered black robes stood in formation outside the altar, figures ramrod straight, jet-black chains soaring, encircling the entire altar.

Over a thousand Outer Camp troops stood neatly together, faces cold and expressionless.

At the very front of the crowd, surrounded by dozens of Deputy Generals, a figure draped in dark-glowing profound armor sat in a great chair, gripping a massive halberd of solid iron, a crimson silk cape billowing wildly like a blood-dyed red cloudscape.

"…"

Shen Yi frowned slightly, never having expected such a scene on the mountain.

He had been fighting tooth and nail below, thinking the situation was dire, only to find everyone here kneeling on the ground.

If they had the spare time to stand around like this, couldn't they go down and save some people?

"It's not as simple as you think."

Seeing the shift in his expression, Hong Lei stepped forward slowly, leading the group toward the front, his face growing ever more solemn.

The Qingfeng disciples clearly had no intention of resisting, yet General Chen still had them surrounded without releasing them—this could only mean one thing.

That old Sect Master must be about to go mad!

In the very center of the great altar.

A man sat cross-legged, bare-chested, fine, dense wounds weaving into a spiderweb across his entire body, like a piece of porcelain nearly shattered to pieces.

Those familiar wounds made Shen Yi involuntarily hold his breath.

Back in Shuiyun Township, he had seen the same on that flood-dragon demon—virtually identical.

And at this moment.

Shen Yi sensed a certain aura on the man. As he stepped forward, the closer he got, the more intense the aura became.

Suddenly, the man opened his eyes and slowly swept his gaze toward them.

Those bloodshot pupils, in a single glance, made Shen Yi's whole body tense, his hand unconsciously gripping the saber hilt.

Even when he had first awakened, facing the black-skinned dog demon with a mortal body.

It was not as overwhelming as the pressure surging in at this instant, so unsettling it made one restless.

"He is Zhang Hengzhou."

Hong Lei seemed to feel nothing unusual, simply introducing: "The swordsmen of Qingzhou, whose heroic names are far-famed in Outside Qingzhou, should, according to General Chen's deduction, be the demon Jiang Jiao of Yangjiang in disguise."

Shen Yi acted as if he had heard nothing.

The man gazed deeply at his face; the contortion on his face, revealed by pain, gradually added a few shades of venom.

Under that gaze.

Shen Yi remained expressionless, only his breathing grew heavy.

A surge of thick killing intent welled up from his heart.

In the sight of all.

Zhang Hengzhou suddenly rose, walking step by step toward the edge.

All Qingfeng disciples raised their heads; the Captains of the Zhen Mo Si gripped their weapons in unison and shouted: "Back down!"

Yet in their hearts, they were uncertain and confused.

The other side's last outburst was still half a month ago, when General Chen smashed it back with his halberd.

They had been quiet these many days; why did he suddenly stand up again?

"I am innocent; you cannot kill me."

Zhang Hengzhou breathed heavily, his body slightly hunched, looking down in a deep voice at the old man clad in black-gleaming precious armor.

He ground his teeth: "I have slain demons for Outside Qingzhou for one hundred and fifty years; I have protected the people of Linjiang Commandery for one hundred and fifty years; they revere me as a hero! I am innocent!"

Chen Qiankun's beard and hair were all white; his face was unremarkable, appearing merely as an ordinary old man.

With a calm expression, he said lightly: "Recite it to him once more."

A deputy general beside him stepped forward: "Zhang Zitao, a disciple of Qingfeng Mountain, went to Shuangyang County to slay demons three years ago; he slew one cat demon, yet over twenty commoners died, their bones and corpses gone; according to demon-catchers' investigation, two days ago, someone saw this demon at Woniutan, five hundred li away."

"Zhang Yusong, a disciple of Qingfeng Mountain, two years and seven months ago, did the same, in a village of Qi'an County, slew one demon, thirty households died, their bones and corpses gone."

"Zhang Linglong, a disciple of Qingfeng Mountain..."

The demon-slaying was identical; the bones and corpses gone was identical.

Every single name, without exception, belonged to the offspring of that romantic swordsman; just in the past three years, it made that deputy general recite until his mouth was dry and his throat parched.

The Qingfeng Mountain disciples silently lowered their heads again.

"So my merits are false?" Only Zhang Hengzhou remained unmoved, still staring at the old man.

"Yours are all true; I sent people to investigate; you live up to Qingfeng Mountain's heroic name." Chen Qiankun lightly nodded his chin.

"Then—" Zhang Hengzhou's voice suddenly sharpened: "Given my merits, should the people of Linjiang Commandery not raise my offspring?! They are all half-demons; their nature is thus; I have been striving to teach them!"

"Why! Not give me a little time!"

"Why! Not give me one chance!"

A roar filled with deep resentment echoed throughout the entire mountain gate.

(End of this chapter)