Chapter 105

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Chapter 105: The Ancient Sword of Xuanyuan

“Boom, boom, boom!”

The relentless stomping of the puppet army shook the heavens and earth, yet their advance faltered the moment the black ancient tomb came into view. The once expressionless skeletal faces now bore a rare flicker of fear. They circled the tomb uneasily, halting in their tracks, too intimidated to approach or enter.

“They don’t dare to come in.”

Ming He exhaled in relief and turned to Ji Wu Xu. The woman’s lips curved into a faint smile, her expression brimming with confidence. It was clear she possessed a profound understanding of this ancient tomb.

Noticing this, Ming He’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she silently sharpened her vigilance. “Young leader, shall we venture inside?”

She spoke with measured calm, her gaze sweeping the surroundings as if casually observing. In the enveloping darkness, faint glimmers of starlight shimmered from the depths.

“The puppet army fears this place, so perhaps what lies within can aid our escape,” Ji Wu Xu replied, her voice steady as she met Ming He’s composed gaze. “Moreover, I came here seeking the Sword of the ancient demon emperor. It’s likely that the very sword I seek is hidden within.”

“Very well, let’s investigate.” Ming He glanced at Ji Wu Xu, who had already taken the lead, striding deeper into the tomb. A trail of blood marked her path, her lips pale but her eyes alight with unmistakable excitement.

The Sword of the ancient demon emperor.

Ming He’s gaze flickered as she followed, walking alongside Dream Sea. The woman in black, her demeanor gentle and serene, had earlier guided them through the chaos of the puppet army with her flute.

Without her, Ming He and Ji Wu Xu might not have endured long enough to witness the tomb’s emergence.

A guardian of the Demon Race, skilled in illusions, her true form a sea-dwelling beast?

Ming He suddenly recalled the thunderous roar of the ocean she had heard in the dark cave. Those were the illusions conjured by Dream Sea. While Ming He had broken free swiftly, her Senior Sister had been ensnared.

What had her Senior Sister seen in those illusions? Ming He’s curiosity stirred. She longed to know what Qin Chu Yi had experienced, and after a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Dream Sea, can you tell me what my Senior Sister witnessed in those illusions?”

“The illusions? From the dark cave?” Dream Sea tilted her head, her gaze meeting Ming He’s. After a pause, she replied, “If your Senior Sister is the beautiful woman in white, then the illusion she saw was tied to you.”

“Tied to me?” Ming He’s heart skipped a beat, her expression momentarily blank. She was at a loss for words, knowing that illusions often revealed one’s deepest fears or desires. Qin Chu Yi’s vision had been tied to her…

“Dream Sea, please tell me. I need to know what she saw.” Ming He’s voice trembled slightly, her emotions churning within.

“Words spoken by others can never capture the essence of what one sees firsthand,” Dream Sea murmured, her thoughts drifting back to the intrigue and confusion of their time inside the hollow. After a moment, she added, “Ming He, my spiritual energy is depleted. I cannot share the illusion now, but once we leave this place safely, I will convey what your Senior Sister experienced. You can see it for yourself. How does that sound?”

“Very well.” Ming He lowered her gaze, masking the turmoil in her eyes. The desire to leave this place and reunite with Qin Chu Yi burned fiercely within her. She nodded and followed Ji Wu Xu down the long corridor of the black ancient tomb, arriving at a sealed quiet room.

The room was encased in ancient black wood, its walls adorned with hollowed-out niches holding luminous gems that shone like night pearls. Their brilliance illuminated the darkness, outshining even daylight.

Beneath the glow of the night pearls, intricate carvings of battles adorned the walls. At the center stood a black weapon rack, upon which rested a single black long sword.

“The Xuanyuan Sword!”

Ji Wu Xu exclaimed, her face alight with joy. Blood stained her robe, her wounds deep, yet her eyes sparkled with excitement and triumph.

She rushed to the weapon rack, casting a wary glance back at Ming He. Seeing no movement from her, Ji Wu Xu relaxed slightly and subtly signaled Dream Sea. She then bit her fingertip, letting a drop of blood fall onto the sword, initiating the ritual to claim it as her own.

Ming He, uninterested in the Sword of the ancient demon emperor, paid no heed to Ji Wu Xu’s cautious glance or Dream Sea’s defensive stance. Instead, her attention was captivated by the carvings on the walls, which depicted figures of the human race and other races locked in battle.

The scenes showed human cultivators standing tall and resolute, their swords raised in defiance, their eyes filled with determination. As Ming He’s gaze traveled across the carvings, they seemed to come alive, forming a continuous narrative.

Ming He was entranced, momentarily forgetting her surroundings—the blood-soaked wilderness, the puppet army, even Ji Wu Xu and Dream Sea beside her.

In a fleeting moment, she thought she heard the blare of battle horns echoing across the heavens, a sound that persisted even as breath faltered—a testament to unyielding spirit, perhaps even faith.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. When Ming He opened her eyes, she found herself amidst the chaos of war, facing grotesque figures with sky-blue faces and menacing fangs. She recognized them as members of the Tian Yan Tribe, their claws sharp and their eyes filled with malice.

Nearby stood human cultivators clad in armor, wielding long swords just like her.

Armor?

Ming He glanced down at herself in surprise, realizing her clothes, a mix of blue and blood red, had been replaced with dark, heavy armor she didn’t remember putting on.

The armor felt burdensome, restricting her movements and preventing her from fully fighting back. Yet, wearing it was the only way for her to survive and kill more of the alien race.

“Ming He, hurry! The third squad at Martial Gate can’t hold on much longer! You need to go!”

A fellow human, similarly attired, shouted amidst their blood-soaked attire. He then swung his sword, cleaving an alien’s head in two, the brutality of the battlefield and its horrors evident.

“What are you still doing? Go now!” Seeing Ming He staring blankly without responding, he shouted again, his expression a frantic reflection of the human race’s fight for survival.

“Yes.” Ming He instinctively replied, not questioning why he wasn’t going himself. On the battlefield, fate dictated obedience to orders, and she understood that well.

“Everyone, I’ll take the lead. You all handle the humans and the Martial Gate!”

As Ming He approached the towering Martial Gate, she heard another roar. Following it, the armored human cultivators charged into the alien ranks in an orderly manner. As their grins spread amidst the aliens’ panic, they unleashed their spiritual energy, igniting in explosions that took the surrounding aliens with them, leaving Tianwu Continent.

It resembled the true disciples of Haoran Sword Sect beneath the East Sea.

Self-detonation of cultivation was a desperate gamble for life; it had been a practice among humans since ancient times, and it was not uncommon.

Like other surviving human cultivators, Ming He’s eyes glistened with tears in the sea of crimson, and with a roar, she stood back to back with her companions, raising her long sword against the aliens.

Without sword techniques or sword intent, her sword movements were driven solely by instinct. She thrust and slashed with brutal simplicity, embodying the human race’s primal need to defend their homeland and eradicate invaders.

“Slash.”

An alien’s claw pierced through a human’s heart, its smile feral and terrifying. More alien beings surged forth; there were too many—not an ounce of them seemed to be defeated. They couldn’t hold the line.

Despair crept onto Ming He’s face, yet she clenched her lips tight, refusing to back down with her long sword raised. She knew the Martial Gate was the last defense of Tianwu Continent; they had nowhere left to retreat.

If the situation became dire, her only choice would be to self-detonate her cultivation like those who had come before her, sacrificing herself for the world.

“Aliens, how dare you! Take this sword!!”

Amidst the clashing sounds of battle, a thunderous voice suddenly resonated, a figure descending amidst the chaos of the battlefield. One swing of the sword sent shockwaves through Tianwu Continent, turning the aliens before him to dust, stripping them of even the right to be reborn.

Ming He stood not far behind him, only seeing his towering figure, strong and unyielding. With a single sword, he upheld the heavens and the earth, guarding the Martial Gate, protecting the human race in their most vulnerable moment and slaughtering the aliens amidst the tempest.

“Who is that? So powerful!”

“It must be our human cultivator! There’s hope for the human race!”

“The Martial Gate is secure! Tianwu Continent is still ours!”

Ming He heard whispers around her; they began in a low murmur of disbelief, transforming into excitement, hope, and prayer, eventually melting into soft sobs—a mix of desperation and a glimpse of hope, gratitude for safeguarding their home, and the dread of what had transpired.

That person must be the Sword Master mentioned by her Master and Qin Chu Yi!

Suddenly, the surroundings shifted again, and Ming He opened her eyes to see the carvings on the black wall. The bloodied area clearly depicted the human race’s Martial Gate.

The towering human cultivator was the Sword Master; the black long sword was the very weapon he wielded. The aliens of the Tian Yan Tribe depicted represented the first invaders of Tianwu Continent.

“Clash!”

The sound of the sword sweeping the battlefield still echoed.

Ming He focused, instantly returning to the blood-soaked battlefield, witnessing that formidable figure wielding a fierce long sword as he commanded the seas and the skies. With one swing, the lives of the aliens dissolved into nothingness, while he stood untouched—humanity’s ultimate embodiment of strength.

One sword could break all laws—it was simply that powerful.

Ming He stood transfixed, her gaze locked on the figure before her. With swift, decisive strokes of his long sword, he vanquished every alien in sight within moments, heralding yet another hard-fought victory for the human race. Amidst the blood-soaked battlefield, the armored guards wept tears of joy, their hearts swelling with hope—a hope that bloomed like a lifeless tree revived by the touch of spring.

After a brief pause, as if sensing the intensity of her stare, the figure turned slowly. Though his features remained obscured, Ming He found herself captivated by his eyes—bright as the stars, steadfast as a pine tree, and radiating the sharp, unyielding spirit of a sword cultivator at the pinnacle of his craft.

He smiled at her, then raised his long sword slightly, allowing it to hover in the air before drifting toward her. It was as if he were passing a torch through the ages, a symbol of legacy and duty.

Ming He hesitated for a moment, then instinctively reached out and grasped the hilt. The moment her fingers closed around it, she felt as though she were holding the fate of the entire human race in her hands. She had accepted the fervent hopes of those who came before her, and now she would walk the path they had carved, fulfilling the mission they had left unfinished.

The Star Lock trembled faintly, its vibrations resonating with the distant echoes of battle. Ming He’s heart pulsed in harmony, and the faint golden glow that once lingered only at its tip now enveloped it entirely—a sign of her impending rebirth.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. The black carvings reappeared before her eyes, and Ming He’s gaze sharpened as she met Ji Wu Xu’s stunned expression. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she tightened her grip on the black Xuanyuan Sword, watching it blaze with her blood, its light piercing the heavens.

The sword sang as it circled Ming He, completing the ritual of recognition. It hovered before her, a silent testament to their bond.

“Ming He, how dare you!” Ji Wu Xu’s voice was icy, her eyes flashing with indignation. “This is the Sword of the ancient demon emperor! You dare to seize it?” Though her tone was defiant, there was a flicker of unease in her gaze. She was certain Ming He couldn’t know the truth, and yet, the fearlessness in Ming He’s demeanor unsettled her.

“The Sword of the ancient demon emperor?” Ming He’s lips curved into a mocking smile as she tightened her grip on the black Xuanyuan Sword. “I think not. This sword belongs to the human race.”

“Its name is Xuanyuan, the sword of our ancient human emperor,” Ming He declared, her voice steady as she met Ji Wu Xu’s wide-eyed stare. “I wonder which powerful ally the young leader refers to as the ancient demon emperor?”

“You…” Ji Wu Xu’s voice trailed off, her anger simmering as the treasure she had so nearly claimed slipped through her fingers once more—this time into Ming He’s hands.

From the Star Lock to the Xuanyuan Sword, from the ancient cave dwelling to the Tomb of the Divine Sword, it seemed that every time Ming He appeared, Ji Wu Xu’s plans crumbled. She had spent so long meticulously plotting to claim this sword, only to be thwarted by the Blood God Wilderness and Ming He herself.

Of course, she knew the sword rightfully belonged to the human race. But treasures like this had always gone to those with the strength to claim them. If the Xuanyuan Sword had chosen Ming He as its master, there was little the human race could do to contest it.

And yet, it had chosen Ming He.

“Fine,” Ji Wu Xu said through gritted teeth, her wounds throbbing more painfully now that the sword was gone. “If the ancient human sword is indeed human’s, then let’s leave this place.”

“The puppet army should fear this sword,” she added, her tone clipped. “If you use it to destroy them, we can escape.”

Sword cultivators were known for their sharpness and fearlessness, and the Xuanyuan Sword had seen countless battles, its blade steeped in blood. It was the ultimate weapon against the dark demonic energy that lurked in the shadows.

“Alright,” Ming He nodded, surprised by how quickly Ji Wu Xu seemed to recover from her anger. She had expected the young leader to team up with Dream Sea against her, and had even prepared herself for the confrontation.

“Hmph,” Ji Wu Xu sniffed, her pride evident. “I told you that once we joined forces, I wouldn’t dwell on losses. I keep my promises.”

“I didn’t expect the young leader to be such a principled gentleman,” Ming He said with a soft chuckle, pushing open the Stone Door of the quiet room. But just as they were about to leave, chaos erupted.

“Swish!”

A white figure flashed past, closing the distance between them in an instant. With a swift motion, he snatched the Xuanyuan Sword from Ming He’s grasp, stepping back with an unreadable expression. “This sword isn’t suitable for you yet,” he said, his voice low and deliberately masked.

Clad in white robes and a veil that concealed his face, he glanced at Ji Wu Xu before tossing a glowing object into Ming He’s arms. Then, with a flicker of movement, he vanished down the corridor, taking the Xuanyuan Sword with him.

“People from the Nine Heavens Pavilion,” Ji Wu Xu murmured, her eyes narrowing as she turned to Ming He, her expression a mix of surprise and suspicion.

Ming He barely registered Ji Wu Xu’s words, her attention fixed on the glowing object in her arms. As the light faded, it revealed a sword—a white long sword, identical to the Soul Sword in her Sea of Souls. It was the reward she had earned for placing first in the outer sect grand competition at Liu Yun Sect. The patterns, the blade, the edge—all were the same, save for its rank. This white long sword was a heaven-level weapon.

And on its hilt were two new characters: “Jing Ying.”

Was that the sword’s name?

Ming He’s expression darkened as she pondered the white figure’s actions. He had shown no murderous intent toward her, and she could sense that his cultivation far surpassed her own. He could have easily killed her, Ji Wu Xu, and Dream Sea, yet he had deliberately avoided harming her. His final words echoed in her mind.

“Use this first.”

The Xuanyuan Sword wasn’t suitable for her yet. She would start with the Jing Ying Sword.

Ming He’s mind raced as she tried to piece together the events, but the information was too sparse to form a clear picture.

But now that the Xuanyuan Sword was gone, what was she to do?

Clutching the Jing Ying Sword, she glanced at Ji Wu Xu and saw the dawning realization and frustration in her eyes.

“Boom!”

The quiet room shook violently, cracks spreading across its walls. It was collapsing.

Ming He exchanged a look with Ji Wu Xu, understanding dawning in both their eyes. The Tomb of the Divine Sword existed because of the Xuanyuan Sword. Now that the sword had awakened and chosen Ming He as its master, only to be taken by the white figure, the tomb had no reason to remain.

“Run!” Ji Wu Xu hissed, darting ahead with Ming He and Dream Sea close behind. The sound of crumbling stone echoed in their wake as they fled.

Moments later, Ming He found herself staring at the advancing puppet army in the distance, her eyes meeting Ji Wu Xu’s. Ahead lay the relentless march of the puppet army, and behind them, the ancient tomb sank into the earth. They stood at the edge of the Blood God Wilderness, trapped with no way out.