Chapter 67: Bai He Sword Art: Divine Revelation

(PS: Some say I update slowly; here I must explain—I’ve published for 26 days and updated 190,000 words, averaging 7,300 words per day, surpassing most authors on Qidian.)

“Hum!”

The long sword vibrated at high frequency, transforming magic power into wind-type spiritual energy that gathered upon it.

It endowed the sword with unmatched sharpness, capable of effortlessly shredding enemies.

This is the sixth technique of the Sword Decree—the most difficult of all.

The wind-type spiritual energy it uses originates from the mutual generation of wood and fire, possessing wood’s resilience and fire’s explosive force.

Upon striking, it pierces the target while tearing open wounds, inflicting severe erosion damage.

The name “Shredding” is fitting indeed.

Fang Shi spent three days and finally perfected the Shredding technique.

“You have mastered the sixth technique of the Sword Decree.”

“【Sword Decree (Perfected)】: These are foundational sword forms compiled by the ancestors of the Heavenly Sword Sect; even so, they possess extraordinary power. You may expend appropriate magic power to deal 1D6 to 5D6 elemental damage. (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth, Wind)”

With the Sword Decree perfected, Fang Shi now turned to cultivating the “Sword Art.”

The “Sword Art” records nine distinct sword techniques.

Unlike the Sword Decree, Sword Art resembles the Five Animal Exercises, mimicking the spiritual energy flow of celestial birds and exotic beasts through sword movements.

Thus, during cultivation, one also naturally refines spiritual energy into magic power.

It unifies combat, practice, and nourishment into one method.

The first is Bai He Sword Art, simulating the white crane dancing in the air, primarily training the arms.

This technique transforms spiritual energy into wind-type energy, perfectly bridging the final technique of the Sword Decree.

Fang Shi stood on one foot, holding a sword, moving like flowing clouds and running water as he swung it left and right.

As he stepped and advanced, he resembled a white crane spreading its wings; the lingering sword shadows were like feathers on the crane’s body.

Radiating a beautiful yet deadly aura.

This is the first move of Bai He Sword Art: White Crane Spreads Its Wings.

Then Fang Shi lunged forward and leapt, arms outstretched like a white crane gliding through the sky.

The long sword in his hand spun through the air, stirred by spiritual energy into a vortex.

It drew in surrounding dust and sliced through anything approaching.

This is the second move: White Crane Dances in the Air.

Followed by Burning the Zither to Cook the Crane, Crane Standing Among Chickens, Wind Whistling Like Cranes…

As each technique was performed, spiritual energy around him was drawn into Fang Shi’s body and gradually refined into magic power.

…

In another world, deep within the Firefeather God Temple.

An elderly Firefeather man in a white robe.

Stood before a female Firefeather deity statue, praying devoutly.

His voice echoed endlessly through the empty hall.

On the hall’s walls were carved exquisite murals.

Recording the history of the Firefeathers—from their origin in the Phoenix’s flame.

To being enslaved by the Giant race, then engineering their escape from the Giant realm.

To settling in the Fire Elemental Plane, building nests, clashing with the Smoke Elemental Prince, and battling a slumbering primordial dragon.

After a long series of historical events, they finally settled in this other world.

Like a grand epic, steeped in profound historical weight.

Boom.

The sealed stone door inside the temple opened, and a Firefeather man clad in silver-blue armor entered.

His body was immensely tall—three meters high, a giant among Firefeathers.

The elderly Firefeather looked like a child beside him.

Yet the towering Firefeather dared not show disrespect to the elder.

“Archbishop, you summoned me?”

The elderly Firefeather ceased his prayer and spoke slowly: “Our Lord has sent a divine decree: eight-tenths of our people must be dispatched to the Promised Land.”

The towering Firefeather was stunned: “What has happened? Even the previous three-tenths were all our tribe’s able-bodied warriors.”

»

“Now eight-tenths? Does that mean even the children must fight?”

The elderly Firefeather said sternly: “Correct. Our Lord has revealed a vision: unless we commit fully, the Firefeather clan faces annihilation.”

The towering Firefeather exclaimed in shock: “How is that possible? The Promised Land was merely barren wasteland before.”

“No primal force, no spiritual vitality—how could it hold such immense power?”

The elderly Firefeather said gravely: “Our Lord does not err.”

“Archbishop, this is too reckless. If we lose, the remaining clan members cannot survive in this world.”

The elderly Firefeather snorted angrily: “Lu Xiusi, you overstep. Go confess to our Lord yourself.”

Lu Xiusi said nothing, bowed his head like a child who had misbehaved.

He knelt before the statue, forehead pressed to the ground, hands covering his face, humbly speaking.

…

Ancheng, Logistics Department Warehouse.

The place was filled with people—men, women, young, old—all mixed together.

Like precise machines, each performed their assigned tasks.

Some carried, sorted, or categorized supplies; others processed the corpses of firewing birds brought from the front lines.

Everyone worked tirelessly.

Someone had found a few banners preserved from before the apocalypse.

Hung high on the warehouse walls.

Most bore messages like “Ensure Full Support” or similar.

Inspiring everyone to work together.

Even in some worlds, the high-ranking priests and druids.

Strained to cast spells like Water Creation, Repair, and Food Purification without slack.

And even without magical power, they rose to contribute their physical strength to other tasks.

Fortunately, the attribute panel compensated for deficiencies.

Even a child who once had no strength.

Or an elderly person with osteoporosis, trembling with every step.

Gained enhanced physical ability and could still contribute their share.

“Director Zeng, how’s the supply preparation going?” said the young man who had delivered the crossbow cart to Qian Cheng.

Director Zeng rapidly recorded data in his notebook, not looking up: “Fine. Completed the assigned task.”

The young man frowned: “I don’t think so. Certain steel grades are extremely scarce—the Magic Research Institute has already complained.”

Director Zeng wrote as he spoke: “There’s nothing we can do. These materials have little use and low production. Finding any at all is lucky.”

“And with these terrible roads, transporting everything by manpower is nearly impossible.”

The young man chuckled: “Then, Director Zeng, have you found any potassium nitrate or similar materials?”

Director Zeng finally looked up, eyeing the young man warily: “What do you want those for? Those are components of gunpowder.”

“Due to rule changes, gunpowder’s instability has increased drastically—it either decomposes outright or explodes.”

“Impossible to use. Even holding it without explosion is lucky. Worst of all is when it fails to detonate during use.”

“Thus, aside from minimal stockpiles, nearly all have been scrapped.”

“And what little remains? All belongs to the Research Institute—your Engineering Department took every last share.”

As a Logistics Department official, Director Zeng had seen countless such battles over resources.

Even before the apocalypse, such disputes were common—how much more so now, in an age of scarcity?

The young man pleaded immediately: “Old Zeng, give me some. I have a big use for it.”

“No. There’s none to spare.”

“Old Zeng, you’re my brother-in-law! If you keep this up, I’ll tell my sister.”

Director Zeng replied firmly: “Public duty is public duty, personal ties are personal ties. No negotiation.”

No matter how desperately the young man begged, Director Zeng remained unmoved.

Finally, the young man sighed: “Alright, Old Zeng, you win.”

Then he left without looking back.

Director Zeng found it odd—this wasn’t like the young man’s usual behavior.

But he didn’t dwell on it; there was too much work to do.

“Director Zeng, Director Zeng—your brother-in-law had someone pick up a batch of potassium nitrate.”

A junior Logistics employee ran up and said.

“What!” Director Zeng was shocked. “How did you approve that? Didn’t even ask me!”

The junior employee exclaimed: “I saw they had the Director’s approval slip, and your brother-in-law was chatting with you—I assumed you knew.”

I'm telling you this only to go through the motions.

Zeng Zhuguan was furious inside—this approval slip had to be fake; otherwise, why would his brother-in-law act so strangely?

You did the right thing; going through the procedure is correct.

But you made a mistake—the order of the procedure cannot be reversed.

Forget it, I'm going straight to the minister to report this matter.