Chapter 592: The Sword Saint Re-emerges (Last day, requesting monthly votes)

The dim, yellow sky.

Only a sliver of the setting sun hangs low.

The lingering light is like blood, casting a desolate reflection upon the small hill.

On this hill, where human footprints are rare, there are, however, some things that warrant mourning...

It is a grave mound.

One sees, in the center of this wind-swept hill, a solitary grave mound of modest size standing alone. The tombstone is exceptionally broken and crude, covered in cracks, and the surroundings are overgrown with weeds; it appears not only long neglected but also unvisited for many years.

On the broken tombstone, four clearly legible characters are still carved.

——Sword Saint's Tomb.

Could this unvisited grave truly be the final resting place of the once-mighty Sword Saint?

But... why would the Sword Saint be buried here?

Could it be that after suffering consecutive defeats at the hands of Wuming and Yu Liancheng, this generation's Sword Saint finally took his own life?

Crack! Crack!

A gust of wind blows, and a sudden change occurs. The tombstone, already full of fine fissures, suddenly splits with an even deeper crack, as if it were about to shatter completely.

At the same time, the ground for a hundred paces around the entire hill begins to tremble. All the weeds, as if buffeted by a gale, flatten against the ground one after another. The birds and beasts circling nearby also tremble incessantly, as if the entire world is shaking, palpitating, and terrified because of some person or thing.

And all of this.

Is only because from within that grave mound, a terrifying aura of world-destroying power is radiating.

Boom!

Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupts.

A dazzling cold light bursts forth from beneath the earth, not only shattering the tombstone on the spot but also shooting straight into the heavens, as if intending to pierce through this world.

And this dazzling cold light—perhaps the younger generation would find it unfamiliar, but for the masters of the older generation, it would make them tremble and panic just like the grass...

Because this sword is none other than the Wushuang Sword of the Sword Saint, Dugu Jian.

Rumble!

Not only does the tombstone explode and the Wushuang Sword shoot into the sky, but the ground within a hundred paces of the grave also erupts as if thousands of buried bombs were detonated simultaneously. The ground roars, rocks fly, the turf is tossed into the sky, and waves of earth rise dozens of feet high, as if heaven and earth themselves are shattered with fear because of this sword.

At the same time, a human figure rises from beneath the earth, breaking through the air.

He reaches out and grabs the Wushuang Sword as it streaks toward the sky.

The next moment.

A monstrous Sword Intent surges toward the clouds.

It is not the Wushuang Sword that is emitting this wave of Sword Intent.

It is the person holding the sword.

He is more like a sword than the Wushuang Sword itself—a sword that destroys heaven and earth, devoid of the slightest emotion.

He is the Sword Saint, Dugu Jian.

Compared to several years ago, Dugu Jian has aged significantly; his white hair flies, and his wrinkles are deep.

But the Sword Qi on his body is even more dense, so dense it has almost become tangible, diffusing in all directions.

Dugu Jian waves his hand casually, and twenty-two streams of Sword Qi roar out. In an instant, that all-destroying Sword Qi turns everything in all directions into powder.

It is the same "Sword Twenty-Two," but compared to the time of his decisive battle with Yu Liancheng, it is vastly superior.

Dugu Jian is expressionless, seemingly talking to himself: "Sword Twenty-Two, though it can dominate the martial arts world and make the heroes of the world bow, it cannot allow me to defeat the two people I most want to defeat..."

"Fortunately."

"I have already created a stronger killing move."

"This style of sword technique transcends perfection, transcends the void, and transcends limits. It is boundless, invincible, infinite; it is not only enough to split the void, but it can even freeze the void."

A layer of sword light suddenly blooms from Dugu Jian's body.

Wherever the sword light passes, in heaven and on earth, all things, whether tangible or intangible, freeze instantly.

"The heavens are flawed, and I have one sword—Jian Twenty-Three!"

The setting sun.

The setting sun once again.

The grave.

The grave once again.

The Sword Saint, dressed in a red robe, drifts down and sits cross-legged on a large rock in front of the grave.

In his youth, the Sword Saint liked to wear red robes because red is like blood—like the blood of his enemies—and the entire scarlet robe seemed as if it were dyed in fresh blood.

After his defeat by Wuming, he had almost never worn the red robe again; although the red robe was still as conspicuous as blood, he felt it was his own blood.

Today, the Sword Saint has put on this red robe once more.

The red robe is like fire, like the setting sun, and like... the Sword Saint...

He will burn his final glimmer of radiance to leave an indelible sword mark for the Sword Dao.

After the battle with Yu Liancheng, that "Jian Twenty-Three," which represents the end of all things and the destruction of everything, was finally completed.

The Sword Saint is full of confidence in this final sword.

He will use this sword to fight the two greatest enemies of his life.

His gaze sweeps over a tombstone not far away.

There are no weeds around the tombstone, clearly indicating it is cleaned often.

And on the tombstone are carved six characters: "Grave of Beloved Wife Jieyu."

These six simple characters, in the eyes of ordinary people, show nothing peculiar, only a faint sense of sorrow that can be felt.

But in the eyes of the Sword Saint, it could be clearly discerned.

The carvings on that tombstone were carved by hand by a peerless expert.

And within these carvings, there flowed a sorrowful Sword Intent.

Carving a tombstone with a finger—this profound internal energy, combined with the sorrowful and desolate Sword Intent.

Aside from the Martial Arts Myth Wuming, perhaps no second person could be found in the entire pugilistic world.

The Sword Saint knew that today was the anniversary of the death of Wuming's late wife, Jieyu; as long as he remained in this world, he would surely come to the tombstone to pay his respects.

Dugu Jian closed his eyes to rest his mind, while simultaneously secretly accumulating his Sword Intent.

He could feel that his own life was like the setting sun before him, about to reach its end.

In this final moment, he wanted to prove that he was still the Sword Saint, invincible with a sword in heaven and on earth.

Not knowing how much time had passed, Dugu Jian suddenly opened his eyes, and then saw a desolate figure. This figure was cleaning the grave, whispering something unknown.

The sorrowful and desolate aura on this person was exactly similar to the carvings on the tombstone.

"Wuming, you have finally come!"

The Sword Saint rose abruptly, and the Wushuang Sword seemed to sense its master's fighting spirit, buzzing and ringing.

Wuming turned around, holding a wine pot and a cup in his hands, a trace of a miserable smile appearing at the corners of his mouth: "Sword Saint, old friends meeting, would you like to have a cup of wine?"

The Sword Saint said indifferently: "This old man has not touched a drop of alcohol in his entire life."

"What a pity." Wuming drank a cup of wine and said indifferently: "In your life, you must have missed many wonderful things."

There was no regret on the Sword Saint's face; he only said coldly: "Wuming, draw your sword. The defeat of my life, the shame of my life, began with you, and will also end with you."

Wuming had long since lost the heart to compete, only chanting slowly: "Power should not be exhausted, words should not be spoken to the end, blessings should not be enjoyed to the end, rules should not be followed to the end; when everything is too close, the affinity ends early. Sword Saint, do you not understand? Many times, attachment means pain; only by letting go can one find liberation."

"Heh, you won, so you can let go. If you were the one who lost, would you still be so carefree?"

The Sword Saint snorted coldly, his entire body's Sword Qi surging, carrying the weeds on the ground and transforming them into twenty-two streaks of Sword Qi, shooting toward Wuming; this was the evolution of the first twenty-two swords of the Holy Spirit Sword Art.

However, a surprising thing happened.

All the weeds containing Sword Intent, having only reached mid-air, drifted to the ground, and even arranged themselves in a ray-like pattern pointing toward Wuming as if in worship.

Even the Wushuang Sword's Wushuang Sword Intent suddenly stagnated, its trembling stopped, and it even revealed a sense of awe.

A trace of surprise flowed into the Sword Saint's tone: "Wuming, we haven't met for several years; have you already reached the legendary realm of the Heavenly Sword?"

The Sword Ode says: The sword that is metaphysical, ancient and peerless, ten thousand swords pay homage, revered as a God.

This is the supreme realm; from ancient times to the present, it has only existed in legends.

Wuming did not answer.

Or rather, he tacitly acknowledged it.

The Sword Saint said with a sigh: "This old man has achieved the unity of man and sword, but I am still just a sword. Before the Heavenly Sword, I am also eclipsed. I never thought that in my lifetime, I would be able to witness the brilliance of the Heavenly Sword; heaven has not treated me poorly."

"But, although the Heavenly Sword realm is high, can it defeat this Absolute Sword and Dead Sword of mine..."

As these words fell, the Sword Saint's entire body radiated an aura that could extinguish heaven and earth.

Under this aura, all things trembled, and even Wuming could not help but change his expression slightly.

Life and death cycle, and all things have order.

Even "Heaven" will die.

Let alone this Heavenly Sword of his.

And this Absolute Sword and Dead Sword was originally a sword meant to bring death to all living things.

The Heavenly Sword and the Absolute Sword stood in confrontation.

However, all the heaven-extinguishing and earth-destroying aura on the Sword Saint's body suddenly retracted, and then he turned and strode away.

"This old man has a premonition that even if you are the Heavenly Sword, you cannot block this Absolute Sword. And this old man is like the setting sun, a flickering candle; perhaps once this sword is unleashed, it will be the arrival of night, the moment when the oil is exhausted and the lamp dies."

Just as Wuming was puzzled, he heard the Sword Saint say from afar: "Therefore, I want to save this sword for him, for another person who made me suffer a defeat."

Wuming's expression was grave.

He naturally knew who that person was.

He slowly spat out three words: "You, will, die!"

The Sword Saint's body did not pause in the slightest: "Even if I die, I must bloom with my final brilliance. I want the people of the world to know, the Sword Saint... is peerless."

PS: The last day, only 83 votes left, I beg you.