Chapter 82: The Sword Pool of Golden Core

Before joining the Town Demon Office, Hong Lei had once dreamed of wandering the world with sword in hand, white robe and horse in tow.

But now it seemed that failing to enter Qingfeng Mountain and instead joining the even more perilous Town Demon Office might not be a bad thing.

Fifty or sixty Qingfeng disciples were escorted up the mountain under the guard of multiple Captains.

Though they were returning to their sect, their faces grew paler by the moment.

Shen Yi and Hong Lei walked at the rear.

“What is the Sword Pool?”

Hearing this, Hong Lei looked at him in surprise: “You’re not from Qingzhou?”

“From Baiyun County,” Shen Yi did not conceal it.

“No wonder—you’re from a backwater place,” Hong Lei nodded instinctively, then suddenly realized something was off—was he referring to the Baiyun County he knew? That barren wasteland, capable of producing someone like this?

He opened his mouth to ask, then hesitated, instead steering the topic back: “Any top-tier sect has stable methods to cultivate Golden Core cultivators, ensuring each generation has masters to hold the line. Unlike second-tier sects—if their Patriarch meets an accident or the next generation fails to rise, they vanish within decades.”

“Our Town Demon Office has something similar too, but you have to go to the capital.”

As he spoke, Hong Lei noticed Shen Yi’s flickering gaze and guessed his intent—someone who could fight a Qingfeng Elder and a great demon alone must be at the peak of Jade Fluid.

He smiled: “With your current strength, if you work hard for a few decades, you’ll surely earn a seat at the Martial Temple’s Golden Core cultivation. But don’t even think about the upcoming ones—Lin Miss and White Physician are both ahead of you in line.”

“Let’s talk about the Sword Pool instead.”

Hong Lei knew how these geniuses were—they wouldn’t tolerate anyone towering over them: “Every Qingfeng disciple, after formally bowing to the Ancestors, must first go to the Sword Pool to offer their fingertip blood, eyebrow blood, and heartblood. In return, the Ancestors grant protection and greatly accelerate their cultivation.”

They also draw one sword once used by a senior elder, nurturing it day and night with their essence—called a Guardian Sword. Half their strength lies in that blade. I heard you broke that official’s sword—even if he recovers, his power won’t reach half of what it once was.

Hong Lei held up his palm: “That’s why I went to see Dai Bing’s sword that day—I wanted to confirm if she was a Qingfeng disciple. And I was right… Think about it: for thousands of years, disciples’ essence has flowed into the Sword Pool. As they grow stronger, the Pool grows stronger too. Only such a sacred place can aid martial artists in achieving Golden Core.”

“Old Furious Sword’s lifespan is nearly spent. By seniority, he should’ve had the chance to enter the Sword Pool for refinement and make one last push—but he gave it to Zhang Hengzhou. His current outburst… he’s been broken.”

Hong Lei sighed with emotion.

Hearing this, Shen Yi fell silent for a moment.

But remembering how rare such insights into martial arts were, he pressed on: “If the Sword Pool has such power and has existed for millennia, Qingfeng Mountain should have more than one Golden Core.”

“Are you worried that General Chen came alone and can’t handle them?”

Hong Lei laughed again: “You’re Jade Fluid. I’m Jade Fluid. If you faced two or three of me at once, would you be afraid?”

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

“Exactly. What if it’s twenty?”

Hong Lei continued, but saw the young man’s focused expression, then another shake of the head.

His square face froze in a forced smile. He looked away, took a deep breath, and pretended he hadn’t noticed: “If there were twenty, the Town Demon Office isn’t just Old Man Chen. There are twelve Great Demon Suppressing Generals. Old Man Chen is too old—his strength barely ranks behind the General of Yang’an County.”

“Where does the General of Yang’an County rank?” Shen Yi asked curiously.

Hong Lei rolled his eyes, then after a long silence said: “Eleven.”

“Who’s number one?”

“The Regional Commander’s second disciple.”

“Who’s number two?”

“The Regional Commander’s first disciple.”

“Why the reversal?”

“Brother Shen, we’re here!” Hong Lei stopped, exasperated—how could he say such dangerous things so casually?

Shen Yi gazed ahead, still unsatisfied.

Before the Qingfeng Mountain gate stretched a vast platform paved entirely with white stone tiles.

On either side, hundreds of swordsmen in snow-white robes knelt in dense rows.

Three hundred inner camp Captains and Deputy Commanders stood outside the platform, bodies rigid, black chains soaring through the air, encircling the entire platform.

Over a thousand outer camp troops stood in perfect formation, faces cold.

At the front of the crowd, surrounded by dozens of Deputy Commanders, a figure clad in dark-gleaming xuan armor sat upon a grand chair, holding a massive iron halberd, his crimson silk cloak billowing wildly like a blood-drenched sunset.

“...”

Shen Yi frowned slightly—he had never imagined the mountain would look like this.

He had been fighting for his life below, thinking the situation dire—yet here, everyone knelt.

If they had time to stand around like this, why not go down and save lives?

“It’s not as simple as you think.”

Seeing his expression, Hong Lei stepped forward slowly, leading the group ahead, his face growing heavier.

The Qingfeng disciples clearly had no intention of resisting, yet General Chen still held them encircled—this could mean only one thing.

The Sect Master must be going mad!

In the center of the platform.

A man sat cross-legged, bare-chested, his body crisscrossed with fine wounds like a spiderweb, as if he were a porcelain vessel nearly shattered.

These familiar scars made Shen Yi hold his breath.

In Shuiyun Village, he had seen the same on the River Dragon Demon—identical.

And now.

Shen Yi sensed a presence on the man’s body. As he stepped closer, the pressure grew denser.

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

Those bloodshot pupils—just one glance made Shen Yi’s entire body tense, his hand instinctively gripping his saber’s hilt.

Even when he first awoke and faced the black-furred dog demon with his mortal body,

he had never felt such overwhelming pressure, so violently stirring.

“That’s Zhang Hengzhou.”

Hong Lei seemed to sense nothing unusual, merely offering a simple introduction: “The famed swordsman of Qingzhou. According to General Chen’s assessment, he’s the River Dragon of Yangchun transformed.”

Shen Yi acted as if he hadn’t heard.

The man stared deeply into his face; the grimace of pain on his features slowly twisted into venomous hatred.

Under that gaze,

Shen Yi remained expressionless, only his breathing grew heavier.

A thick surge of killing intent rose in his heart.

Before all eyes,

Zhang Hengzhou suddenly rose, stepping slowly toward the edge.

All Qingfeng disciples lifted their heads. The Town Demon Office Captains tightened their weapons and shouted: “Step back!”

Yet their hearts were filled with doubt.

His last outburst was half a month ago—crushed back by General Chen’s halberg.

He’d been quiet for days—why rise now?

“I am innocent. You cannot kill me.”

Zhang Hengzhou breathed heavily, his body slightly hunched, glaring at the old man in dark-gleaming armor.

He gritted his teeth: “I’ve slain demons for Qingzhou for one hundred and fifty years. I’ve protected the people of Linjiang County for one hundred and fifty years. They call me a hero! I am innocent!”

Chen Qiankun’s hair and beard were white, his face unremarkable—just an ordinary old man.

Calmly, he said: “Read it to him again.”

A nearby Deputy Commander stepped forward: “Zhang Zitao, Qingfeng Mountain disciple. Three years ago, he went to Shuangyang County to slay demons, killed one cat demon—twenty civilians died, their bodies vanished. According to demon hunters, two days prior, the demon was seen at Wu Niu Beach, five hundred li away.”

“Zhang Yusong, Qingfeng Mountain disciple. Two years and seven months ago, same method—killed one demon in Qian’an village, thirty households wiped out, bodies vanished.”

“Zhang Linglong, Qingfeng Mountain disciple...”

Identical demon-slaying. Identical vanished bodies.

Every name was one of this dashing swordsman’s offspring. In just the past three years, the Deputy Commander’s throat was dry from reciting them.

The Qingfeng disciples lowered their heads again in silence.

“So my achievements are false?” Zhang Hengzhou’s face remained unchanged, still fixed on the old man.

“Your achievements are real. I’ve sent men to verify—no wonder Qingfeng Mountain bears such a heroic name,” Chen Qiankun nodded slightly.

“Then—” Zhang Hengzhou’s voice sharpened suddenly: “Given my deeds, shouldn’t the people of Linjiang County raise my children?! They’re half-demons by nature, but I’ve been trying to guide them!”

“Why won’t you give me time?!”

“Why won’t you give me one chance?!”

His furious, bitter roar echoed across the entire mountain gate.

(End of Chapter)