Chapter 127
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Chapter 127: Depths of the Northern Wilderness
At the peak of Sword Demon Mountain, deep in the Northern Wilderness.
Here, the sky was dark and heavy, stretching endlessly without a single cloud. Crows screeched, and no ordinary birds or beasts dared to cross this desolate expanse. Dust swirled in chaotic waves, captivating the eye with its wild, untamed beauty—a stark, extreme desolation in the northernmost reaches.
The towering peaks loomed majestically, blocking sunlight and fierce winds, leaving only silence and the biting chill of the wind. It was a place that inspired fear and unease, where the air itself seemed to tremble.
Sword Demon Mountain, a land ravaged by demonic energy.
Ming He stood before jagged, crumbling rocks, her sword firmly in hand. Her gaze lifted to the mountain shrouded in thick black fog. The steep, mysterious path lay ahead, perpetually cloaked in darkness, its features obscured and indistinct, revealing only a limited view of a few square miles.
Xia Fengye had once told her that Sword Demon Mountain existed because of a man known as the Sword Demon, a human sword cultivator who had fallen into demonic ways.
But when Ming He pressed for details—his name, lineage, or past—the woman in blue had only shaken her head, her expression inscrutable, as if the subject were too dangerous to broach.
Unwilling to speak?
Ming He’s eyes remained fixed on the swirling black fog ahead, her heart pounding with a deep, soul-stirring unease. This place was not meant for her; it was a natural adversary, a place of inherent danger.
Senior Sister had once explained that the Star Lock gathered all the brilliance and radiance of the world, standing in natural opposition to darkness and gloom.
Even now, with her spiritual ocean damaged and the artifact unusable, its essence remained unchanged. It was a spiritual artifact of light and hope, shining alongside the sun and moon, named for the stars themselves.
Her swordsmanship was no different.
When light and darkness met, they clashed inevitably—the strong survived, while the weak perished.
But her swordsmanship was not yet strong enough—not strong enough to overcome an entire mountain steeped in demonic energy.
Not strong enough to move mountains and rivers.
And yet, did she still wish to reach the summit? Absolutely.
The Northern Wilderness stretched vast and endless, but its depths held only one Sword Demon Mountain. The Four Seasons Flower, the key to her Senior Sister’s awakening, was most likely to bloom at its peak.
No matter the obstacles, she would not retreat.
Ming He’s eyes burned with determination as she swung her sword, cleaving through the jagged rocks ahead. Her steps were slow but unwavering as she ascended, golden sword energy rising from within her, forming a protective barrier of swordsmanship around her.
Black energy swirled and surged around her, unable to penetrate, only flailing helplessly in its frustration.
In the overwhelming darkness, she was the sole ray of light.
“Roar!”
A guttural, piercing cry erupted from behind the rocks, followed by the stench of blood and decay. Heavy footsteps echoed through the silent darkness, drawing her attention.
That aura… it was the Tian Yan Tribe!
Ming He’s eyes flashed with a sharp glint as she channeled sword energy into her gaze, clearly seeing the figures rushing toward her from beyond the rocks.
Green-skinned, with sharp fangs; broad-shouldered and muscular; their blood-red eyes glowed with malice, and their claws were sharp and deadly. These were not the low-tier Tian Yan Tribe—they were the elite.
Their appearance was eerily similar to the alien races she had glimpsed in the intricate carvings of the Divine Sword Tomb in the Blood God Wilderness—fierce and unafraid of death.
But it wasn’t fearlessness; they simply didn’t understand the concept of life and death.
Slaughter and bloodlust were their instincts, the very purpose of their existence.
Were these mid-tier Tian Yan Tribe?
Ming He wondered as she swung her sword, severing the head of one of the Tian Yan Tribe members. Scalding blood sprayed across her pale face, warm and sticky, carrying the metallic tang of blood and the stench of decay.
She despised the stench and the sensation, yet she couldn’t afford to pause and cleanse the blood from her hands.
The battle raged on.
The Tian Yan Tribe on Sword Demon Mountain not only surpassed the low-tier Tian Yan Tribe of the Northern Wilderness in strength but also seemed to outnumber them.
Why Sword Demon Mountain? Why congregate here instead of the Northern Wilderness?
Sword Demon Mountain was barren and shadowed, devoid of life’s essence. Why would the Tian Yan Tribe, known for their pursuit of human blood energy, appear in such a place?
Was there something on Sword Demon Mountain that lured them, or were they trapped here?
Ming He’s gaze locked onto the Tian Yan Tribe before her, their grotesque visages twisted with malice, their blood-red eyes gleaming with a voracious hunger for her flesh. Their craving for human blood energy was unaltered; their nature remained steeped in bloodlust and carnage.
The distinction between the mid-tier and low-tier Tian Yan tribes lay solely in their power.
The Jing Ying Sword sliced through the air, leaving a blur of shadows as it severed heads, transforming the dark, charred ground beneath Ming He into a vivid crimson. The night sky and earth seemed to shimmer under a delicate veil of blood-red light.
From its inception, Sword Demon Mountain had been cloaked in perpetual darkness, with no dawn or dusk. The sun, moon, and stars were exiled from its realm; it was a mountain forsaken by the heavens.
Ming He had lost track of how long she had been fighting.
Guided by the instincts of a sword cultivator, she swung her sword relentlessly. The Tian Yan Tribe seemed inexhaustible, surging like the endless tides of the East Sea, engulfing her with their relentless force, intent on dragging her to the underworld to feast on her flesh and bones—the essence of a sword cultivator.
But as long as she drew breath, she would never yield to their desires.
Drenched in blood yet resolute, Ming He pressed forward. Her right wrist twisted deftly, the sword tip glinting like a cold shard of light, carving a path through the mountain’s slopes, creating a breathtaking display beneath the Jing Ying Sword.
Sword Demon Mountain was a towering peak, its grandeur reaching toward the heavens, a place where the sky itself seemed within grasp.
A trail of blood followed Ming He, like a loyal sentinel marking her path with the fallen heads of her enemies and the pooling of their warm blood.
At her core, the grotesque faces of the Tian Yan Tribe surrounded her, following blindly like servile weeds amidst a field of blooming flowers.
“Clang!”
Midway up the mountain, Ming He drew the Blue Sea Sword with her left hand, executing the Unsheathing Style—a motion so ingrained in her soul it felt second nature. The sword danced, unleashing a cascade of radiant sword light.
With both swords in hand, the sword cultivator in blue clothes weaved through the Tian Yan Tribe’s claws, her movements a revival of her former glory.
The sword style emanated from her heart.
The sword intent stirred the heavens and earth.
The sword will summoned winds and thunder.
The sword domain enveloped all creation.
In this confined space, she was invincible.
Her face was streaked with blood, yet her spirit remained unbroken; her wounds were jagged, blood seeping through the gashes, soaking her garments.
Ming He’s arms burned with fatigue, her hands trembling as they struggled to lift her swords. Exhaustion weighed heavily in her eyes, yet her steps continued to ascend, though unsteady.
Her body had reached its limit, but her soul had not.
She could still fight!
The Blue Sea Sword sang its relentless song, and the Jing Ying Sword’s shadow never faltered.
In this moment, Ming He wielded her swords with deadly precision, and they danced with her in the fray, the sword cultivator and her blades united in battle.
In the unity of person and sword, the sword spirit within the Sea of Souls let out a soft hiss, taking form atop the Ghostly Sword. A radiant white light emanated from Ming He, and the sword’s brilliance illuminated the heavens, restoring daylight as if the sun and moon had returned to their rightful places.
Ming He finally reached the summit of Sword Demon Mountain.
Behind the rocky peak stretched an endless sea of clouds, and the summit itself was steep and narrow, crowned by a dilapidated ancient pavilion. A tall, straight Winter Weed tree stood nearby, as if guarding the place.
That ancient pavilion… it looked strangely familiar.
It bore a striking resemblance to the ruined pavilion where her second Senior Sister had once stood.
Ming He raised her eyes, her gaze shimmering with light. The summit of Sword Demon Mountain was truly breathtaking.
Rugged and towering, it seemed to scrape the heavens, while the sea of clouds churned below, a thin veil of darkness pierced by a single splash of green. Astonishingly, the peak, formed from Demonic energy, was utterly pristine, radiating an aura of righteousness and clarity.
The Star Lock resonated softly, as if whispering to Ming He that it adored this place—its atmosphere, its essence, everything about it.
The Tian Yan Tribe had followed her here but dared not step onto the ancient pavilion. They lingered below, at the edge of the summit, seemingly both fearful and powerless to breach the invisible barrier.
Unable to stand on the summit or retreat to the foot of the mountain, they appeared condemned to wander aimlessly within Sword Demon Mountain, waiting for some determined member of the human race to arrive, only to swarm toward them in desperation.
Why?
Ming He took a few steps into the ancient pavilion and leaned against the railing, her breath faint as she faced the surging sea of clouds. Her wounds still bled, and her arms hung limp and aching, but she paid them no heed. Pain had long become a part of her existence.
When pain becomes a constant, it ceases to be felt.
Her mind was occupied by something else entirely.
Where was the Four Seasons Flower?
Here, there was a sea of clouds, an ancient pavilion, jagged rocks, Winter Weed trees, members of the Tian Yan Tribe, a vast blue sky, and darkness, along with the air and the distant black fog.
But beyond that, there was nothing—no life, no beings, nothing at all.
Where was her Four Seasons Flower?
Ming He frowned, her breath growing heavier. The jade slip had clearly stated that the Four Seasons Flower grew in the depths of the Northern Wilderness. How could it be missing? How could it not be here? Why was it absent?
She narrowed her eyes, her gaze dark and penetrating, as the harsh cawing of crows began to echo in her ears.
Standing amidst the ruins of the ancient pavilion, Ming He felt as though she stood at the boundary between light and darkness, a single step away from an insurmountable abyss.
“Whoosh…”
A sudden, violent wind erupted around her, and the black fog seemed to sense something, surging toward the ancient pavilion and enveloping Ming He.
The icy wind scattered the yellowed leaves of the Winter Weed tree, tossed Ming He’s black hair about her face, and stirred the churning sea of clouds.
The ancient pavilion, perched precariously on the steep peak, swayed dangerously, as if it might plunge into the abyss at any moment.
“What is this…?”
Ming He murmured softly, her eyes glinting like starlight. The black fog closed in around her, but it was more than just fog.
Something mysterious lurked within it.
“Wuu!”
The wind’s mournful howl grew hoarse, carrying an oppressive weight that bore down on Ming He. From within the fog emerged a figure, its hand extended toward her, poised to unleash a deadly strike.
This was the first trace of human presence Ming He had encountered on Sword Demon Mountain.
Focusing her mind, Ming He tightened her grip on the Blue Sea Sword. In an instant, she executed the Unsheathing Style, the blade slicing through the air with a fierce, unyielding force.
Falling down, balancing out.
The Floating Cloud Sect’s Luoheng Peak stood tall with its swordsmanship—Falling Balance Sword!
The shadows of swords danced, with the Blue Sea and blue skies in the backdrop. The fierce winds suddenly calmed, and the black fog dispersed, revealing the Sword Domain of heaven and earth.
Beneath the Sword Domain lay her world, where she naturally stood undefeated in her small space.
“Clang!”
The Blue Sea Sword, imbued with the power of wind and thunder, thrust forward. It stirred the air sharply but missed the target, the sound of the sword echoing in the silence atop the mountain.
Did this sword miss?
Ming He frowned, thinking it was bad luck. Instead of retracting her sword, she instinctively shifted to the right, and before her stood a face—one that could barely be called human.
White hair and beard, covered in wrinkles, with black eyes swirling with blood; his face was twisted, layered with knife and sword wounds that destroyed any trace of his former appearance, leaving only terror. His body was also marred with scars.
Draped in black clothes and stained with blood, he had a grievous hole in his chest from a fierce, lethal blow.
In the black fog, he stood on the other side of the ancient pavilion, bearing the aged appearance of a human cultivator while emanating an aura similar to that of the demon race. His claws were long and sharp, his feet bare, and his disheveled hair resembled that of a beggar in the world.
But he did not seem like a member of the human race, not like a living human, but rather… like a remnant soul on the verge of dispersing.
Was he? Was he the Sword Demon from the legends of Sword Demon Mountain?
Ming He’s gaze deepened as she shifted, channeling the Sword Domain of heaven and earth. No matter what kind of existence the man before her was, her priority was to protect her own life.
She hadn’t forgotten that his arrival was meant to kill her.
Though it felt more like unconscious slaughter.
“Sword Domain of heaven and earth? I can do that too!”
The tattered, indistinct old man chuckled with a hint of pride. Under Ming He’s narrowed gaze, he slowly raised his right hand, the fingertips pointing delicately, with no shimmering light or any tremor in the air.
Ming He stood there but suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. Her heart raced erratically, and her right wrist trembled uncontrollably. In just a heartbeat, the Sword Domain shattered.
What kind of technique was this?
She stared at the old man in horror, her first instinct upon realizing was to flee; she could not possibly be a match for this unknown entity.
But she couldn’t escape.
The old man smiled, lifting his hand again gently in her direction. Ming He felt her mind blur, losing the strength to resist; her body softened and fell to the ground.
“Hehe, this is so much fun.”
The old man laughed madly, circling around Ming He a few times as if feeling somewhat bored, preparing to stomp down and end her life.
Just like he had done to every member of the human race who had appeared here over the past few hundred years.
“Buzz!”
Suddenly, the purple Merchants’ Guild token at Ming He’s waist emitted a flash of purple light, blocking the old man’s raised right foot and expanding to envelop both him and Ming He.
As the light faded, Ming He still lay unknowingly on the flagstone of the ancient pavilion, her two swords scattered beside her.
Yet the old man stood still, his gaze transforming from blood-red to clear and bright, as if refreshed like pure spring water.
It was a clarity that emerged after experiencing immense changes in life.
“Merchants’ Guild token!” He half-squatted to pick up the token with his fingertip, a complex expression crossing his face. “So, it has come to this.” How fast it had happened.
“Little Fellow, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” He said, standing at the peak of the mountain, gazing thoughtfully at the vast sea of clouds.
Ming He’s first reaction upon regaining consciousness was to grasp the Jing Ying Sword lying beside her. The moment she opened her eyes, she stood up, her gaze sharp and filled with determination.
Although she did not know why she was still alive, being alive meant she had to continue fighting.
As long as she didn’t die, she couldn’t abandon her sword.
“You don’t need to worry; you are safe for now.” A voice, old yet tranquil, drifted in from outside the ancient pavilion.
Ming He looked up in surprise and saw the disheveled old man who had shattered her Sword Domain standing at the peak, looking out into the distance, his back turned to her.
His demeanor now was peaceful and enduring, utterly unlike the chaotic madness that had stirred the Demonic energy earlier.
“You…” Ming He started, filled with confusion but unsure how to express it, knowing she could not defeat him.
If he wished to kill her, it would be as easy as flipping his hand. Yet she was still alive, indicating that he did not want to kill her.
Since he did not want to…
“Do you know where the Four Seasons Flower is?” She asked, aiming for that goal.
Of course, the Four Seasons Flower was the most important thing; as for everything else, aside from her life, it wasn’t worth mentioning.
“Aren’t you curious about who I am? Why I’m here? Why I tried to kill you before? And why I seem so different now?” The old man turned to look at Ming He with surprise in his eyes.
“Does that concern me?” Ming He replied, puzzled. “Since you don’t intend to kill me, I naturally want to ask about the Four Seasons Flower.” That was her reason for coming here.
“As for everything else, if you want to say it, say it; if not, don’t.” It mattered little to her.
“I know where the Four Seasons Flower is.” The old man opened his mouth, seeming momentarily taken aback by her words, his expression filled with disbelief, “But I won’t tell you.”
Ming He: “……”
“I’m just joking; don’t take it seriously.” The old man laughed heartily. “If you want the Four Seasons Flower, I have two conditions.”
“First, defeat me.
Second, kill all the Tian Yan Tribe on this mountain.”
The old man raised two fingers with a smile, “Do you agree?”
“I seem to have no choice.” Ming He narrowed her eyes, the coldness flickering across her face before lifting her gaze again, her eyes as tranquil as a still ancient well, “Are you a sword cultivator who has fallen to darkness?”
