Chapter 113
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Chapter 113: The Blade of the Martyrs
Warm light spilled from the glass lanterns, casting a starry glow. Zui Sheng Meng, clad in a flowing green and blue robe, stood confidently before the black circular platform, announcing the commencement of the Merchants’ Guild auction.
"The first auction item is the Reflection Jade Bi, starting at one thousand upper-grade spirit stones," Zui Sheng Meng declared. As his words echoed, a guard in black attire from the Merchants’ Guild stepped forward, carrying a radiant jade disk and placing it on the recessed display at the center of the platform.
The jade disk was a vivid green, shimmering softly under the light. From her elevated vantage point, Ming He could discern faint ripples, as if water flowed beneath its surface, evoking the image of a serene moonlit reflection.
Reflection Jade Bi.
Her gaze lingered on the translucent green disk. Having delved into countless texts at the Liu Yun Sect and the Floating Cloud Sect’s libraries, she understood the significance of the term "Reflection."
It was a spiritual artifact, crafted by a weaponsmith using rare stones, designed to preserve a past event in its entirety, its value determined by its grade. The Reflection Stone typically served cultivators by replicating specific techniques, allowing them to identify flaws and retain moments of enlightenment. It could also act as a medium for inheritance.
Moreover, it was often used as evidence in disputes among sect disciples.
A faint smile touched her lips. This was the kind of crucial treasure that would feature prominently in a tale of tragic romance—though here, it seemed unlikely to serve such a purpose.
The green jade disk on the platform was undeniably exquisite, but even so, it hardly seemed worth a thousand upper-grade spirit stones. Unless, of course, it held more value than merely being a Reflection Jade Bi.
As Ming He pondered this, she began to hear murmurs of skepticism from the surrounding private rooms and the practitioners gathered around the platform.
“Steward, even if this Reflection Jade Bi was crafted by a king-grade weaponsmith, surely it’s not worth such a price?”
“Indeed! The Reflection Jade Bi offers no offensive or defensive capabilities; it’s merely an auxiliary tool for cultivation. How can it command a thousand upper-grade spirit stones?”
The practitioner who voiced this objection, seated among the crowd, was a rogue cultivator from the central region. His breath quickened at the mention of a thousand upper-grade spirit stones—a sum representing his life’s savings, making it a matter of great importance.
The other practitioners remained silent, their expressions shifting, clearly harboring similar doubts. Yet, a few who seemed privy to insider knowledge wore expressions of delight, ready to place their bids.
Zui Sheng Meng’s dark eyes swept the crowd, his smile unwavering. “A king-grade Reflection Jade Bi alone may not justify this price, but the Merchants’ Guild never deals in ordinary items. This particular Reflection Jade Bi contains the entire process of a Heaven Origin realm cultivator attempting to break through to the Human King stage—though the attempt ultimately failed.”
He noted the eager gazes of the assembled cultivators and felt a surge of confidence. “Thus, we set the starting price at one thousand upper-grade spirit stones. Let the bidding commence.”
“I bid one thousand five hundred upper-grade spirit stones!” Almost as soon as Zui Sheng Meng finished speaking, a practitioner leapt to their feet, unable to contain their excitement, eyes blazing with determination.
“One thousand five hundred for the process of a Heaven Origin realm cultivator’s breakthrough? How naive!” another practitioner scoffed, raising the bid. “I bid two thousand upper-grade spirit stones.”
“Two thousand two hundred!”
“Two thousand five hundred!”
“Three thousand upper-grade spirit stones!”
The bidding erupted into a frenzy. Were it not for the Merchants’ Guild’s formidable reputation, the practitioners might have surged forward to seize the item by force.
After all, rogue cultivators—rootless and unbound—rarely held much regard for rules or decorum.
Ming He watched in astonishment as the price of the Reflection Jade Bi, initially set at one thousand, skyrocketed to three thousand, with no end in sight. How could the process of a Heaven Origin realm cultivator’s failed breakthrough command such value?
If the breakthrough had succeeded, its worth would surely have multiplied several times over.
A thought struck her, and her gaze shifted from indifference to fervor. If this method proved effective, she could employ it when attempting her own breakthrough to the Human King stage.
She had never doubted her ability to succeed; as one who aspired to the Great Emperor realm, how could she possibly stop at the Human King stage?
Ming He was unaware that despite her humble origins in the desolate Qing Shi Town of the ninth prefecture in the Eastern Region, her journey had led her through the Liu Yun Sect and into the prestigious Floating Cloud Sect, the pinnacle of sects in the Eastern Region. Upon reaching the central region, she found herself backed by the formidable Qin Huang Mountain.
Throughout her journey, equipped with treasures like the Star Lock, Heart-Protecting Mirror, Four-direction Compass, Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Array, Nine-Character True Words, and the Tian Cang Secret Realm, Ming He rarely had to vie for inheritance, resources, or techniques, save for a few life-and-death moments.
The Human King stage was merely a hill on her cultivation path, yet for rogue cultivators with nothing, it was as daunting as scaling the heavens.
Perspectives varied, and so did the perceived value of the Reflection Jade Bi.
What if the breakthrough failed? They harbored no illusions of succeeding on their first attempt, hence the imperative to learn from each failure.
Ultimately, the Reflection Jade Bi was claimed by a formidable middle-aged cultivator for five thousand upper-grade spirit stones.
“The second auction item is a king-grade curved knife, starting at ten thousand upper-grade spirit stones,” announced Zui Sheng Meng. With a slight gesture, the black cloth at the center of the platform fell away, unveiling the auction item.
It was a black knife, about a foot long, seemingly unremarkable yet exuding a chilling aura. It was a blade of simplicity and lethality, a bloodthirsty knife without a sheath.
The only flaw was its broken state.
The blade was cleanly severed in the middle, the fracture so precise it sparked curiosity about its history and that of its owner—how had it come to such a fate?
“This broken knife was once named Broken Mountain, the lifeblood weapon of the Blade Emperor, Xie Fei,” Zui Sheng Meng revealed, pausing momentarily as the crowd fell silent.
Blade Emperor Xie Fei, a name etched on the Tianwu Tablet, the highest aspiration for cultivators in the central region, was well-known to all.
Xie Fei, not an ancient figure but a cultivator from centuries past, rose from rogue beginnings. With his blade, he ascended to the Human King stage, slaughtering countless alien races on the battlefield of the heavens.
In his time, whispers among the human race suggested he might be the second Sword Master, potentially leading humanity to expel the alien races and restore peace to the Tianwu Continent.
The alien races shared this belief, targeting Xie Fei as their primary adversary on the battlefield of the heavens.
The outcome was inevitable; humanity was no match for the alien races, especially not centuries ago.
The young Xie Fei, after over thirty years of cultivation, reached the king’s realm, earning the title of Blade Emperor, only to fall on the battlefield of the heavens, his name immortalized on the Tianwu Tablet.
His Broken Mountain knife scattered after his death, only to resurface at the Merchants’ Guild auction, in the heart of the Tianwu Continent’s most bustling locale.
Yet, a broken knife held no utility; for most present, it was devoid of value.
With the blade fractured, the knife’s intent was shattered. Even if its former owner was the top of the swordsmanship world, it held no worth—certainly not ten thousand upper-grade spirit stones.
“Fifteen thousand upper-grade spirit stones,” a woman’s clear voice resonated in Ming He’s ears.
Surprised, Ming He turned to see Song Guanting, her head slightly raised, her expression inscrutable, yet her eyes, filled with admiration and respect, fixed on the broken knife. “The blade of the martyrs should not suffer such indignity,” she murmured.
Ming He overheard her. Song Guanting, a true disciple of the Haoran Sword Sect, the premier sword sect of the central region, was a pure swordsmanship practitioner, as was everyone in her sect, from the Sect Master to the lowest servant.
Sword cultivators could sense each other’s aura, and Ming He knew Song Guanting epitomized the pure sword cultivator, yet she was purchasing a broken knife.
Ming He was uncertain of what fifteen thousand upper-grade spirit stones meant to an elite disciple; it was an extravagant sum, even for the wealthy.
Was the knife’s value solely due to its association with a martyr?
Ming He lowered her gaze, her expression enigmatic. At that moment, her yearning for the Haoran Sword Dao, as mentioned by Mu Qian, intensified. She longed to witness Song Guanting draw her long sword, radiating the righteous spirit of the Haoran; it would undoubtedly be a sight to behold.
“Are there no further bids?” Zui Sheng Meng inquired, repeating the question thrice as he observed the crowd’s lack of response. He lowered his eyes, a hint of mockery within, before raising them again, his gaze gentle and profound. He paused, looking towards Song Guanting, about to speak.
Before he could, a deep voice, heavy like thunder, resonated throughout the auction hall, silencing the whispers of the other cultivators, leaving a profound silence.
The voice declared, “I bid one hundred thousand upper-grade spirit stones.”
As the words fell, the auction hall’s doors creaked open, and sunlight flooded in, mingling with the warm glow of the glass lanterns, creating a dazzling brilliance.
The newcomer stood amidst the chaotic light and shadow, raising her right hand slightly. The knife named Broken Mountain trembled, as if it had automatically floated to her side. As she gripped the hilt, the blade emitted a low, clear ring.
The lingering battlefield aura of the knife’s former owner swirled around the woman, seamlessly merging with her own presence. The phrase "complement each other" was vividly embodied in the connection between her and the broken knife.
As the light dissipated, Ming He’s gaze sharpened, allowing her to clearly see the woman’s face. Her features were exquisite, rivaling those of Qin Chu Yi, and she possessed a striking beauty. However, a scar resembling a centipede stretched from her jaw to her left eye, creating a stark divide in her appearance—one half as beautiful as an immortal, the other as grotesque as a demon.
Yet, what drew more attention than her face was the chilling murderous intent that radiated from her, perfectly harmonizing with the blood-soaked aura of the broken knife. Both exuded a razor-sharp edge, capable of slicing through the heavens when the knife was drawn. She was, without a doubt, the most fitting wielder for this blade.
“That’s… Mu Nan Zhi!”
“From the Nine Heavens Pavilion, Mu Nan Zhi!”
“She’s still alive!”
“Not only alive, but her strength has grown even greater.”
The crowd gasped in unison, their expressions mirroring the shock of encountering a ghost as they recognized the woman.
Because she was Mu Nan Zhi, and Mu Nan Zhi was alive.
Ming He furrowed her brow, sifting through the chaotic murmurs to identify the woman—Mu Nan Zhi of the Nine Heavens Pavilion, the one associated with "grasping the moon in the nine heavens."
She was neither the Young Master of the Nine Heavens Pavilion nor a disciple; the Nine Heavens Guards always wore white. Yet Mu Nan Zhi was clad in black, a shade so dark it blended into the night, nearly indistinguishable from the attire of the Black Wind Alliance, though not identical.
She was a wandering cultivator representing the Nine Heavens Pavilion, unaffiliated with any sect or school.
The Nine Heavens Pavilion operated in the shadows, maintaining a delicate balance with the Black Wind Alliance and the Alien Race Hunting Hall, each keeping the other in check.
Even while hidden in darkness, the Nine Heavens Pavilion needed the human race to know of its existence, to understand that hope could be found even in the bleakest of times, and that resistance was essential, for a Nine Heavens Guard might just be nearby.
Mu Nan Zhi embodied this ideal.
No one knew her origins, only that she had roamed the five regions since her youth, proclaiming the name of the Nine Heavens Pavilion to every cultivator she saved, while ruthlessly eliminating any alien races or human traitors who crossed her path, regardless of cost or strength.
Anyone who appeared before Mu Nan Zhi would become her target; she was a true harbinger of death, collecting the lives of aliens.
She was a human cultivator who struck fear into the hearts of aliens, much like Blade Emperor Xie Fei.
“I bid one hundred thousand upper-grade spirit stones, not because this knife is worth that much, but because that is all I have,” the woman stated coldly, her voice low as she flicked her wrist, sending her storage ring floating toward Zui Sheng Meng. Without another word, she turned and left, disappearing from the crowd’s sight.
She was certain no one would challenge her bid.
If someone did, she had no more spirit stones to offer, but she was determined to claim this knife as her own.
Zui Sheng Meng caught the storage ring, his gaze dark and contemplative. He knew it was the only storage ring Mu Nan Zhi possessed, containing everything she owned. Yet she had traded it all for a knife—a broken knife that held no value to anyone else.
Sword cultivators, knife cultivators, whip cultivators, spear cultivators—all were once collectively known as weapon cultivators in ancient times.
Not in the sense of crafting weapons, but as masters of wielding them.
One person, one weapon was all that was needed; anything more was excess.
So this is what the human race is like.
He lowered his gaze, recalling the woman’s complex expression in that moment—there were good and bad, strong and weak, fervent cultivators who risked everything, and traitors who betrayed their kin.
In the myriad worlds and countless races, they were all much the same.
Ming He, unaware of the thoughts racing through Zui Sheng Meng’s mind, remained fixated on the direction Mu Nan Zhi had departed. Through layers of distance and shadow, she thought she saw Mu Nan Zhi glance back at her before leaving.
At such a distance, with her cultivation at the second level of the Wind Master Realm, it should have been impossible to discern the woman’s gaze, yet she saw it clearly.
What kind of gaze was it?
Ming He’s heart stirred with emotions she couldn’t put into words. In a fleeting moment, she was reminded of her encounter with Mu Xuan Ye, Left Envoy of the demon race, in the ancient cave dwelling—his eyes fierce as an ancient fierce beast, yet devoid of murderous intent.
She could hardly believe that someone with such a chilling aura could possess eyes as pure and serene as a cold, clear spring, hiding a depth of meaning she could not yet comprehend. It was both complex and pure.
In the ruins beneath Tianwu City, a slip of paper fluttered into the blood-soaked mist. The flames dancing within the blood quickly consumed the paper, but the two characters written on it remained exposed as the fire devoured it.
It simply read, “Willing.”
