Chapter 261

Sword?

The ancient red dragon regarded the sword the swordsman spoke of—it was a branch, still adorned with fresh green leaves; only a child would mistake this for a sword, yet in the hands of the old man before him, it was an unrivaled treasure.

Just one day ago, this white-haired swordsman arrived here and blocked His path.

The ancient red dragon drifted slowly through the void, evaluating:

"An unrivaled blade."

"Of all swordsmen from ancient times to the present, none surpass you."

Murong Longtu held the branch casually.

His green robe was stained with blood; Murong Longtu had fought the ancient red dragon for a full day and suffered heavy wounds, yet on the dragon's body, its impenetrable scales bore cracks, and golden divine dragon blood dripped into the sky.

It flowed and shifted slowly, like a golden dream.

Herbs stained with this dragon's blood underwent transformation, sprouting golden patterns and emitting an aroma irresistible to strange beasts—this was the Dao herb known as 【Di Liu Jiang】.

【On the night of Geng Shen, the moon's radiance contains Di Liu Jiang; its form resembles countless olives, thousands of golden threads strung together, descending to the mortal world; plants and trees absorbing its essence gain sentience.】

This was the second time in a thousand years it had appeared—the ancient red dragon had been wounded for the second time.

Murong Longtu said: "Pity—you do not seem to be at your peak."

The ancient red dragon gazed toward the distant horizon, sensing that the human's aura had vanished; it did not answer Murong Longtu's words, but said: "The eight-hundred-year pact ends here. Pity… pity…"

Murong Longtu said: "The eight-hundred-year pact was to preserve his life?"

The ancient red dragon said: "Merely a promise made to an old friend. Yet the eight-hundred-year pact is now broken. Human swordsman, are you prepared to bear My response?"

The dragon's golden-red vertical pupils opened; vast and mighty, its breath became clouds, its voice like Lei Ting—the clouds spread and obscured the entire sky. In ancient times it was called a god, and now it was enraged once more.

Murong Longtu's white hair streamed in the wind as he gazed at the branch in his hand.

Master Jiankuang, left hand behind his back, right hand raised with finger-sword, smiled and said:

"Lord of Crimson Flames that Envelop the Heavens, Lord of the Sun-Swallowing Zhu Long."

"I never imagined that one day, my sword would clash with a being from the myths I heard as a child."

The ancient red dragon spoke slowly: "Those were titles bestowed upon Me by humans six thousand years ago. Had you appeared in that age, you too would have been revered as the God of Swords."

"That was the history I once lived through, now blurred by time."

"The people of history lost their true colors, and were later deified by later generations."

It fell silent for a moment, then said: "Pity—you could have lived longer."

Murong Longtu remained calm: "Ridiculous!"

"I am a swordsman."

"To cling to life until I can no longer hold my sword, struggling desperately to survive—how pitiful. Such a life has no meaning. The essence of the sword Dao lies in the single strike delivered at the peak of one's existence—this life is contained within that moment."

"Come, ancient red dragon. Let me see the power of the mythic age."

"You have lived eight thousand years; my life, to you, is but a fleeting instant. Yet Murong Longtu's fleeting instant will be etched into your memory until death. Come again in eight thousand years—when the divine dragon's lifespan nears its end—you will remember me."

The ancient red dragon gazed at the human hero.

Chi Di, Overlord, Chen Wu, Dao Sect.

Mortal heroes, indeed, shine like endless auroras.

When it spoke, it exhaled clouds and radiant light, and said slowly:

"I look forward to it."

Just as these two were about to clash, a frantic cry rang out: "Wait, wait, what the hell are you two doing?!"

"Help! Help me!!"

The ancient red dragon paused slightly.

Murong Longtu halted his sword.

Both beings—at the pinnacle of divine beast and mortal swordsmanship—turned their heads and saw that within the Mystical Realm, beasts had erupted into chaos; countless strange creatures, eyes red, were sprinting in pursuit of a single figure.

The figure sat atop a black tortoise, which was running as if its life depended on it.

The old man on the tortoise's back sat cross-legged, gripping its neck tightly with both hands, shouting curses: "That old bastard Si Wei—his array plate was definitely flawed! Damn him!"

"Where the hell did his array throw me?!"

"Wait—why can't I sense his aura anymore?"

"Has he been captured?!"

Master Siming, hair wild and disheveled, saw the ancient red dragon and Murong Longtu, his eyes brightening as if spotting salvation, and shouted loudly:

"Taigu Chilong, young Longtu—save me!"

"Don't just stand there and let me die!"

The ancient red dragon let out a low dragon roar, and all the strange beasts within the Mystical Realm trembled with terror, bowing to the ground; the black tortoise spun violently, flinging Master Siming into the air.

The old Master Siming stumbled and landed hard on his rear, gasping for breath.

Sweat coated his face, his heart still racing: "Damn it—I nearly died."

The ancient red dragon said: "Master Siming, why are you here?"

Master Siming caught his breath and said: "To stop your fight. Also, you have not truly broken your pact with your old friend." The old Master smiled, spreading his hands: "Zhang Ziyong—the man who lived bearing the name Ji Chengfeng."

"He is dead, yet not dead."

"Feel it."

The ancient red dragon fell silent, faintly sensing a thread of life lingering far away—but it could no longer be called a person, merely a fragment of a body that still 【lived】.

Within the Mystical Realm, spiritual energy surged, clouds and auroras churned; above, the colossal ancient divine dragon spiraled, upon the cliffside stood the green-robed swordsman, and the white-haired Grand Master of Yin-Yang smiled slyly.

He was ancient, his face lined with wrinkles, yet his eyes now shone as clear as ever: "Thus, no pact was broken."

"Is that not so?"

This was the verdict of the Yin-Yang Sect's peerless Grand Master—a loophole exploited. The ancient red dragon remained silent for a long while, then said: "You are right. This battle should not continue." Murong Longtu also sheathed his sword, and said:

"Master Siming, you always arrive at just the right moment."

Murong Longtu said: "But what exactly is this eight-hundred-year pact?"

The Ancient Crimson Dragon replied: "Merely old affairs of the past."

"That was my final meeting with that old friend. We made a pact with the Chi Xiao Sword—a single strike to be delivered. The Chi Xiao Sword has fallen to the mortal realm, and the Dragon Core was shattered by the Chi Xiao Sword. The words of past companions have scattered."

"It was meant to be Ji Chengfeng's."

"For one who holds both the Chi Xiao Sword and the Dragon Core, I would strike again as bound."

"Now, my pact has never been fulfilled—but neither have I broken it."

Murong Longtu said: "I see."

Though he loved battle and swords, he was no mindless brute who fought only for slaughter; he reined in his sword aura and said: "If so, then I need not fight you. Today, I've stretched my sinews and bones—enough to satisfy me."

Then he added expansively: "Yet, one day, when I have a duel within the Academy, Zhang Ziyong is dead—Ancient Crimson Dragon, will you come to my final battle?"

The Ancient Crimson Dragon said: "To fight you?"

Murong Longtu replied: "No."

"I merely wish to make a pact with you."

His hand loosened casually; the branch, once wielded by the world's greatest swordsman and pierced through dragon scales, spiraled down to the ground, faint roots slowly sprouting. Murong Longtu said: "My lifespan will not be long—but you may live on."

"You may live another thousand years. Two thousand years."

"I wish for you to come and watch my duel."

"Two thousand years from now, three thousand years from now—even eight thousand years from now, on the day you are about to die, will you recall this vast mortal world—and wonder if any sword qi, any sword Dao, could rival Murong Longtu?"

The green-robed sword madman extended his right hand, radiating calm resolve:

"Then, beneath ten thousand zhang of the Yellow Springs, I await your testimony."

……………………

The battle with Zhang Ziyong utterly altered the terrain for miles around. After Zhang Ziyong's death, his terrifying life force returned to heaven and earth, nourishing all living things—this is what is called Gui Xu: the surge of life and spiritual essence.

After Yuwen Lie departed, Li Guanyi and the others returned to the Gongsun Clan.

Li Guanyi's adopted elder brother, for reasons unknown, seemed to have suffered some great terror—his heart-mind shattered—and he bolted off in silence, vanishing without a trace, not returning all day. During this time, the Gongsun Clan inventoried their losses.

"We probably can't stay here any longer."

Gongsun Wuyue said to Li Guanyi with a bitter smile.

The entire Gongsun Clan had been built along the mountains, with outer sections comprising courtyards blending northern and southern styles, and upper levels resembling northern fortresses—defensible and offensive. After this great battle, the Gongsun Clan was reduced to barely a single great hall.

Had it not been for the Fish-Whaler's protection, even that much would have been lost.

To lose their ancestral home in a single day, Gongsun Wuyue felt weary and regretful.

Several strands of white hair had appeared these past days.

Li Guanyi did not take advantage of their plight to invite the Gongsun Clan to Jiangnan. Instead, Gongsun Wuyue sought out Li Guanyi and brought it up himself: "After this, the Gongsun Clan cannot remain in the Central Plains."

"Jianghu clans each have their own spheres of influence."

"This region, since Zhang Ziyong's dissolution, has become like a celestial paradise—certainly now under Ying State's control. If we go elsewhere, we'll clash with other Jianghu clans."

"Even allies, under these circumstances, risk becoming guests under someone else's roof."

"Over time, the Gongsun Clan will inevitably be swallowed."

Gongsun Wuyue thought a moment, then said: "I wonder—does your Jiangnan still have room for the entire Gongsun Clan and the Piaomiao Pavilion?"

Li Guanyi thought a moment, then said:

"Won't this draw the enmity of the Ying State?"

Gongsun Wuyue shook his head: "Ever since you drew the Chi Xiao Sword, the Gongsun Clan has been trapped in this whirlpool. If we don't flee now, while chaos reigns from Zhang Ziyong's battle, we'll never get away."

Gongsun Wuyue revealed the boldness and decisiveness of a Jianghu clan lord, speaking directly:

"If we've decided to leave, then leave completely."

"Hesitate, want this and that, and in the end you'll have nothing left!"

"Say no more—right now, it's the Gongsun Clan's lord negotiating with the Qin Wu Hou of Jiangnan. So—do you accept?"

Li Guanyi gritted his teeth and said:

"Fine. I'll write a letter for you to carry!"

Li Guanyi thought of Yan Daiqing's fury and grimaced. Though he was the lord, in that instant he felt an inexplicable sense of cowardice: "When you arrive, contact Yan… no, contact Pang Shuiyun, Old Master Pang."

Thus, on this day—after first challenging Yan Daiqing's limits—

the young Qin Wu Hou once again raised his brush.

Though somewhat timid, he wrote the letter without hesitation.

This time, it was not thirty craftsmen he requested.

But an entire Jianghu clan.

The Gongsun Clan will relocate to Jiangnan, joining as a Jianghu force and the primary force for the Fire Qilin Army's mechanism research. All matters, please have Yan Daiqing facilitate.

After this letter reached Jiangnan, the Jiangnan Deputy Governor Yan Daiqing, intellectually, was perfectly prepared to receive these mechanism artisans—all paperwork and internal affairs handled flawlessly.

Yet it was said that at night, someone heard the sound of fists pounding rhythmically against a straw dummy inside the Deputy Governor's chamber, and the sound of gritted teeth, a faint, lingering resentment as if solidifying into substance:

"Li! Guan! Yi!!!"

A certain strategist of the Gongyang Clan, named Xiao Zhi, passed by the corner.

He marveled, sighed, was utterly awestruck, and said: "Thus."

"We are not worthy!"

After a pause, he added approvingly: "Only Wen He can rival him."

The Gongsun Clan began relocating in batches to Jiangnan, taking advantage of the chaos. Not all could leave—many would be intercepted by the Ying State—but even one batch reaching Jiangnan was one batch gained.

Qu Zai's arms had fully healed. The world's sixth-ranked master, upon regaining consciousness, immediately asked: "Where is Ji Chengfeng?!"

Li Guanyi replied, "Ji Chengfeng's real name is Zhang Ziyong; he has been killed."

Qu Qu Zai Shi said coldly, "Good riddance!"

Yet he saw his own arms regrow, though all his Wu Gong had been destroyed; he rejected the Gongsun Clan's offer to let him recuperate here, slung his sword and dagger over his back, and reentered the Jianghu.

As he descended the mountain, Qu Qu Zai Shi looked at Li Guanyi and said:

"Li Guanyi?"

He spoke bluntly: "During the Great Sacrifice of Chen, I promised Chen Dingye I would strike at you, but Chen Chengbi intervened and severed one of my arms."

"We are enemies."

The Grandmaster raised his palm and made a phantom slash before Li Guanyi:

"My grudge against you is settled."

"But if you wish to seek revenge, Qu Qu Zai Shi is waiting."

Li Guanyi laughed, raised his palm, and made a phantom slash before Qu Qu Zai Shi: "Our grudge is mutual—cleared."

Qu Qu Zai Shi looked at him and said, "Good!"

Then this Jianghu warrior said nothing more, refused the Gongsun Clan's offered steed and silver, picked up a flask of turbid wine, slung his sword and dagger, and walked step by step down the stairs.

Li Guanyi watched Qu Qu Zai Shi fade into the distance, when suddenly a hoarse, mournful song rose—Qu Qu Zai Shi sang a vast Jianghu melody, step by step, the song fading, growing distant, his figure vanishing into the mountains and Jianghu, unseen again.

The Jianghu is swift and free; grudges and debts are settled with calm.

Gongyang Su Wang praised, "A true man."

Li Guanyi said, "Senior Su Wang."

Gongyang Su Wang smiled and said, "Jianghu warriors settle grudges and debts with freedom."

"Debt, thus. Grudge, thus."

"When you've resolved what lies in your hands, come to us—the others are still waiting." Li Guanyi nodded; after this battle, the Living Buddha had departed to calm those nearby, but the Daoist Su Yue Zhenren and the Mo sect's Mo Xie Mo Juzi remained at the Gongsun Clan.

Waiting for Li Guanyi.

Or rather, waiting for the Lord of Chixiao Sword.

This divine weapon bore too many expectations—the legend of the Red Emperor's eight hundred years was far too heavy; disciples of the Academy and all under heaven waited for a hero who, like the Red Emperor, could draw this sword and reset the cosmos, end the chaos.

To hold this sword meant answering such expectations.

Li Guanyi knew that after drawing Chixiao Sword, this was unavoidable; Prince Ji Yanzhong had arrived at dawn today, this old man who had wandered the realm for a year cradling Chixiao Sword, barely returned home to find the sword gone.

He had raced through the night, chasing its trail.

Li Guanyi went to the Gongsun Clan's main hall, where several sat on either side: left, Mo Xie Mo Juzi and Su Yue Zhenren; right, Prince Ji Yanzhong of the Central State royal house.

As Li Guanyi and Gongyang Su Wang entered, eyes fell upon him—especially Prince Ji Yanzhong, who nearly rose instinctively, staring at Chixiao Sword at Li Guanyi's waist, and seeing the sword obediently sheathed, his expression grew impossibly complex.

He knew Li Guanyi could awaken Chixiao Sword.

But knowing and seeing were different; emotion remained hard to articulate.

Li Guanyi met their gazes and bowed solemnly:

"Disciple Li Guanyi, pays respects to all of you."

Mo Xie Mo Juzi and Su Yue Zhenren rose and returned the bow:

"Lord of Chixiao Sword."

This was not bowing to Li Guanyi—it was reverence for Chixiao Sword.

Li Guanyi sighed inwardly.

The trouble with Chixiao Sword lay here: it carried great momentum, yet was swept along by it.

Mo Xie Mo Juzi stroked his Mo Juzi Sword, his demeanor bold and carefree, and said: "I never imagined the one our Mo lineage waited so long for would still be the Lord of Chixiao Sword—the world's fate is strange, truly unbelievable."

Su Yue Zhenren said, "Guanyi, where will you go next?"

Prince Ji Yanzhong said, "Originally Qin Wu Hou, now with the Son of Heaven's hunt, and having drawn Chixiao Sword—you must enter Central State."

As they spoke, Gongyang Su Wang considered and said:

"Shall you come with us directly back to the Academy?"

They conversed among themselves.

Li Guanyi sensed that the attitudes of these Masters and Prince Ji Yanzhong toward him had shifted slightly from before.

Even such figures could not escape the influence of the Chixiao Sword legend—or rather, precisely because they were Academy Masters, they were more easily swayed by its legend.

Though there was no ill intent.

Yet now, what they saw was not Li Guanyi, but the Lord of Chixiao Sword.

The eight-hundred-year legend of Chixiao Sword outweighed sixteen-year-old Li Guanyi.

To hold this sword meant bearing the world's expectations—and being swept along by them.

Li Guanyi frowned, wanting to break this atmosphere; now, it felt as if, in the eyes of the world and the Academy, Chixiao Sword was primary and Li Guanyi secondary—that "Lord of Chixiao Sword" was merely a vessel for the eight-hundred-year legend.

Li Guanyi lifted his brow; he intended to shatter this atmosphere in his own way—he respected these seniors, but he did not wish to become a footnote to the Chixiao Sword legend.

If he could not establish priority now, entering the Academy would make change even harder.

It should be Li Guanyi wielding Chixiao Sword—not Chixiao Sword choosing Li Guanyi.

After thinking, Li Guanyi spoke up:

"Seniors, I have something to say…"

At that moment, another voice rang out: "Absurd!"

"The great-grandson of Murong Longtu belongs with Murong Longtu."

"Directly to the Academy?"

"There is no such logic."

The voices of the others fell silent.

When these words first reached everyone's ears, they were still at the foot of the mountain; by the time the second sentence arrived, they had reached the mid-slope; by the time those seven words—"there is no such principle"—fell, they were already at the gate.

A green robe, white hair bound with a wooden hairpin, hanging down to his waist.

It was the Master Jiankuang who had fought the Taigu Chilong just yesterday.

Gongyang Su Wang leapt to his feet and said: "Murong Longtu."

Prince Ji Yanzhong, the elder of the imperial clan, grew anxious; seeing Li Guanyi already holding his sword, he could not help but say: "Master Jiankuang, where are you taking him? He is already the Lord of Chixiao Sword—everyone in the world knows that title."

"It would be better to go to Zhongzhou first."

Murong Longtu smiled: "Chixiao Sword?"

"My great-grandson Murong Longtu goes wherever he pleases—his choice alone."

"How could he be bound by a single sword?"

"Right!"

Li Guanyi paused, then answered: "Indeed."

Murong Longtu laughed loudly, patted Li Guanyi on the shoulder, and looked at the Academy's headmaster and Prince Ji Yanzhong, softly saying: "Chixiao Sword—the eight-hundred-year legend…" He extended his hand, and the Chixiao Sword suddenly rang out, leaping from Li Guanyi's waist.

Murong Longtu held the Chixiao Sword in his hand.

Before the eyes of all, in disbelief.

Murong Longtu directly drew the divine blade from its scabbard!

The Chixiao Sword rang and howled endlessly, radiating layers of flowing light, as if struggling in fury—but Murong Longtu's fingers brushed its blade, and the divine weapon suddenly fell silent, no longer shrieking in resistance, instead glowing with pure, clear swordlight.

"Chixiao Sword—the number one divine weapon of the world."

"What is powerful is the Red Emperor, not the Chixiao Sword."

Murong Longtu sheathed the sword and tossed it with a flick of his wrist.

The divine blade, still in its scabbard, landed squarely in the center of the hall, driving deep into the ground.

The Master Jiankuang said: "Chixiao Sword isn't that impressive."

"If I draw Chixiao Sword, does that make me the universal sovereign?"

He bowed slightly to the several headmasters:

"Murong Longtu thanks you all for your earlier aid—there will be a gift in return."

"Now, Guanyi comes with me—let him enter the Academy one final time."

"Gentlemen, do you have any objections?"

?? Today some matters delayed me, so today's update is late—I'm sorry, everyone. Chapter two will come, but it'll still be quite late; you might as well rest early and read it tomorrow.