Chapter 132: Sword Intent Unbound!

"..."
Indeed.
If one is but a mere ant, what right is there to speak of freedom?
"But..."
"Is there truly no way out for an ant or a worm?"
For some reason, Shen Huai's words, intertwined with the miserable wails and screams from beneath the hellscape, echoed in his ears.
Faintly, a spark was ignited deep within Song Yan's heart.
The ink-black abyss of hell had seeped into his very bones and marrow; his skin cracked like parched clay, as if at any second he might transform into a vengeful spirit and dissolve into the painting.
Yet, within the Sword-Governing Mansion of his heart, the humming of the small sword of his Daoist intent grew increasingly clear.
No...
No.
Heaven never leaves one without a path...
This is merely a painting!
Perhaps everything before him was false, nothing more than illusions conjured from the ink within the scroll.
What of Xiao He?
He felt neither the touch nor the presence of Xiao He against his chest.
That is right, this is just a painting.
But even knowing this, what could he do?
The pain of the filthy ink eroding his body was real.
The weariness that muddied his thoughts and caused his will to collapse was real.
The haunting, spectral shadows biting at him from beneath the hellscape were also real.
"There must be some way to resolve this..."
"There must be some aid I can borrow..."
"There must be someone who can help me..."
Suddenly!
Song Yan’s thoughts came to a halt.
Aid? Help?
Why, in such a desperate situation, was his first instinct to rely on the assistance of others, to lean on external support?
Why not rely on himself?
Reflecting on the past, in every life-or-death crisis Song Yan had faced, there had always been aid.
In the Silent Valley, he joined forces with Wan Songran to slay Wang Xi.
At Peach Blossom Dock, he had the protection of Senior Sister Qin and the combined strength of his fellow disciples, Li Qingfeng and Gu Qingqing.
In the world within the painting, the Rong and Wu couple had bought him time.
He had trusted many, many people and things.
Yet, it seemed he had never truly trusted one thing.
The Way of the Sword.
At this moment, a glimmer of realization arose in his heart.
Throughout his journey, he had seemingly always treated the sword path he practiced merely as a powerful means of attack and slaughter, rather than the true Great Dao he was meant to pursue.
Perhaps...
This was the reason he had long failed to grasp the Sword Intent and forge his own Natal Flying Sword.
How could a true Sword Cultivator not trust the flying sword in his own hand?
Thinking of this, he could not help but let out a soft sigh in his heart.
"But, is it too late to realize this now..."
Suddenly, the sound of a heartbeat reached his ears.
Thump... thump... thump...
Beneath the silent Sword-Governing Mansion, the seed of the sword path began to rise and fall slightly.
It was as if it had begun to breathe once more.
The crack on the seed’s shell began to widen slowly.
The fissure grew larger and larger until, at a certain moment, a tender sprout emerged from within.
Simultaneously, a sharp, spiritual energy surged forth!
The spiritual energy was as raw as a newborn’s, yet it quickly began to flourish!
Song Yan felt the profound changes beneath his Sword-Governing Mansion and could not help but be shaken.
"This is..."
"Sword Intent?!"
In truth, for a Sword Cultivator to forge their Natal Flying Sword, it could be said to be neither easy nor difficult.
In ancient times, the reasons why Sword Cultivators could not condense their Natal Flying Swords were varied and strange.
The Daoist heart stems from desire; the Sword Intent stems from will.
Some cultivators had grand, ambitious desires: immortality, invincibility under the heavens...
Some had simple, humble desires: brewing wine with pine flowers, boiling tea with spring water...
Some were obsessed with swordsmanship, yet their Daoist heart remained lost.
Others had a clear Daoist heart, yet their will was ill-defined.
It was often a matter of a single thought.
Yet, many times, it required the threshold of life and death to truly comprehend it.
As the aura of this Sword Intent grew more intense, it gradually condensed into the shape of another small sword above the tender sprout.
The manifestation of his Daoist heart began to drift slowly toward that sprout.
Finally, it merged with that flicker of sword-intent energy.
In an instant.
The scene within the Sword-Governing Mansion shifted.
Mountains, rivers, trees, birds, beasts, insects, and fish.
The sun, the moon, the stars, the four seas, and the wild expanse.
Amidst the ink, Song Yan opened his eyes.
The terrifying scroll of hell was still reflected in his pupils, but he no longer felt a trace of fear.
He stood as sword qi suddenly surged around him; the ink retreated like a receding tide, revealing his jade-like skin.
The myriad spectral shadows instantly dissipated, and the eighteen levels of hell crumbled with a roar.
A half-ethereal, half-solid flying sword leapt out from the Sword-Governing Mansion.
It hovered horizontally before him.
...
Outside the Avici Hell.
Sheng Nian lingered among the demonic cultivators, his brows furrowed as he stared at the spot where Song Yan had vanished.
"Old Demon, this is a treasure of ink from a Transformation Realm master. Are you sure A-Yan is still alive?"
A demonic voice echoed in his mind: "Heh, what Transformation Realm ink treasure..."
"It is just a painting by a mortal. If he becomes an immortal or a sovereign, does that mean it will suddenly be an immortal's ink treasure?"
Sheng Nian was taken aback.
The Old Demon paused, then continued: "However, this person entered the Dao through painting. Even if it was crafted in his youth, it does have some substance."
"As for your fellow villager..."
"He seems to have obtained a Sword Cultivator's inheritance..."
Sheng Nian was stunned: "A Sword Cultivator?"
"Indeed."
"From North Ya Mountain to Changping, one can see that this person has no concept of so-called 'righteous' or 'demonic' paths."
"He has his own set of criteria for right and wrong."
"Such a person, aside from being suited to become a demonic cultivator, is indeed also very well-suited for the path of a Sword Cultivator."
"Hmm..."
The Old Demon paused for a moment: "For now, he is indeed not dead."
"But whether he can safely pass through this tribulation depends on his own destiny."
Song Yan's "death" caused no ripples.
The elders of the Six Sects and the three parties—the Yellow Springs Path and the Bone Abyss—continued their attempts to refine the area.
The jade ring on Shen Yu's finger flickered with spiritual light, helping him carve a path through the Avici Hell at the fastest possible speed.
"Eh?"
The Demonic Ape Hu Rifei suddenly looked toward the place where Song Yan had vanished. In fact, all the demonic cultivators of the Bone Abyss saw it.
A small snake slowly emerged there.
The little green snake's eyes were closed, whether from unconsciousness or sleep, none could tell.
It was enveloped in a special spiritual light, but everyone present could feel its distinct aura as a member of the demon race.
Li Qingfeng murmured: "Xiao He..."
The Demonic Ape spoke with keen interest: "Dongzi, go and bring it to me."
"Yes."
From among the crowd of demons, a slightly smaller ape demon stepped out.
He followed the path opened by Hu Rifei's demonic power, stepped into the Avici Hell, and walked toward the little green snake.
"What is going on..."
At this moment, Dai Rui began to mutter to himself, appearing somewhat perplexed.
Fu Xiao glanced at him: "What is it?"
Perhaps due to the appearance of Xiao He, people from every faction began to notice something amiss.
"That Song Yan's remains..."
"Why haven't they appeared yet?"
Almost every cultivator dragged into the hellscape's reflection would turn into a pile of white bones within a few breaths.
Then, they would be absorbed by the mountain of bones, becoming a part of it.
Yet, the remains of the person from just moments ago had yet to appear.
"..."
Only when it was pointed out did Shen Yu notice this as well.
His brows furrowed slightly.
When everyone learned that the source of the heavenly anomaly at Shigu Terrace was the ink treasure of a Transformation Realm Great Cultivator, they had subconsciously concluded one thing:
Those Qi Refining stage cultivators trapped inside, unable to escape, were doomed to die.
Indeed, from the current situation, that appeared to be the case.
Every cultivator dragged into the hellscape's reflection would turn into a pool of white bones within a very short time.
Except for the cultivator named Song Yan.
Where were his withered bones?
Perhaps he had been left without a corpse.
Above the boundary, silence reigned as cultivators from all sides pondered in their hearts.
But just then.
An aura filled with sharpness suddenly permeated the entire Avici Hell.
"What is this?!"
The cultivators gasped, all looking into the boundary in astonishment.
"Sword Qi?! Impossible, how can there be such sharp Sword Qi?"
Xu Ziqing was busy refining a path while calculating how to wipe out the entire Xuan Yuan Sect family.
The appearance of this sharpness interrupted his thoughts.
"This is... Sword Intent?"
He could not be certain, but it was indeed very familiar to him.
It was because, as a child, he had felt a sword strike from Daoist Li Jun at close range by the river, which had convinced him to join the Dongyuan Sect.
Right now, the feeling was too similar.
But whose Sword Intent was this?
Xiao He seemed to have sensed this aura as well. She slowly opened her eyes, but she did not see the person she wanted to see.
Instead, an ape demon was standing not far away.
The demonic ape known as Dongzi also felt this sharpness. Driven by instinct, he wanted to grab the little snake as quickly as possible and return it to his master.
He reached out a large hand, grabbing toward Xiao He.
The little snake instinctively tried to retreat and flee, but in the reflection of hell, movement was difficult.
"Get over here!"
Demonic energy surged; the demonic ape Dongzi's large hand was already within reach.
*Hum—*
At that very moment! A ray of ink-black and white light flew rapidly from an unknown source!
The speed of the light was so fast, so incredibly fast, that one could not even see its shape!
The ink-white light streaked past the demonic ape.
Demonic Ape Dongzi felt a chill, followed by a piercing, bone-deep agony shooting from his arm.
"Ah!!!"
The tough fur and bones that the demon beast took such pride in were as fragile as tofu before this light.
The demonic ape's arm was severed cleanly, falling into the ink-black abyss.
Warm demonic blood gushed from his right shoulder.
He collapsed to the ground, instinctively clutching his arm, struggling, spasming, and twitching.
The cultivators outside the boundary were all startled by this light.
They focused their gazes.
The light suddenly swirled, coming to a slow halt in front of the little green snake.
It was actually a long, slender flying sword!
At the same time, within the ink, a figure seemed to be faintly emerging!
At this moment.
Within the Avici Hell, the ink surged, as if something was stirring this ghost realm.
Even Jin Tianya, who had remained expressionless throughout, seemed to have sensed something, a look of disbelief crossing his face.
Before Xiao He, beside the flying sword.
The ink surged without warning, then slowly dissipated.
A figure appeared in everyone's eyes.
He was dressed in white robes, unstained by a speck of dust, with an ancient, simple sword case strapped to his back.
The flying sword swirled and vanished into the sword case behind him.
He raised his eyes slightly.
It was Song Yan.
"It's him! He's not dead?!"
"How is this possible?!"
Gasps of shock erupted from outside the boundary, one after another.
Xu Ziqing and Li Qingfeng stood frozen in place.
Shen Yu’s brows were furrowed tightly; he stared at him fixedly, his gaze flickering with equal disbelief.
Cong Yuzhen watched the "resurrected" youth with keen interest.
All the cultivators of the Six Sects, the demons of the Bone Abyss, and all the demonic cultivators of the Yellow Springs Path asked themselves the same question:
"How could he survive?"
"How did he do it?"
Misfortune is what fortune relies upon; fortune is what misfortune hides within.
Who knows where it ends?
Without this life-or-death encounter, when would he have realized this?
Song Yan could not answer, but now, he had more important things to do.
His gaze turned toward not far away.
Shen Huai was also shaken to the core. Being in the Avici Hell, she naturally knew its horrors.
Ji Chuanqiao hadn't even lasted a single breath before turning into white bones.
Damn it!!!
How on earth did this Song Yan survive!?
Just then, she met Song Yan's icy gaze.
He raised his hand slightly, and a spark of spiritual light slowly condensed at his fingertips.
The edge was revealed, too sharp to look upon.
Such a direct and undisguised movement caused Shen Huai to hurriedly channel her spiritual energy, casting several defensive artifacts and talismans.
She protected her entire body.
Shen Yu furrowed his brows and shouted: "Song Yan! What are you doing?!"
"Since you are not dead, get out of there quickly!"
What am I doing?
Song Yan’s lips parted slightly, answering his question concisely.
"Killing someone."
*Hum—*
Whether they were at the Qi Refining stage or the Foundation Establishment stage.
In the eyes of all the cultivators present, that unique sword qi from his fingertip vanished the moment it left his hand.
Almost at the same instant, it appeared before Shen Huai.
Protective talismans, defensive artifacts, defensive spells.
She had exhausted everything she could possibly do...
But.
What was going on?
Before that blade of light, why were all these things as if they did not exist?!
In this instant, time passed so slowly.
She watched in terror as all her defenses were instantly dismantled.
Fortunately.
This terror did not actually last long.
Because in the eyes of others, in just a single moment, her body had already been pierced by that sword qi.
Shen Huai stared blankly at the bloody hole in her chest and collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Song Yan walked slowly toward her.
Sword qi billowed around him, and those hideous ghosts and black hands within the hellscape's reflection seemed to vanish in his presence.
A dark green spiritual light pulsed slowly from Shen Huai's chest, attempting to patch the fatal wound.
She saw a figure appear before her.
She lifted her head stiffly and with great effort, meeting Song Yan's gaze.
He pressed his fingers together to form a sword, a plain, ordinary-looking sword qi condensing at his fingertips.
Then, he grabbed Shen Huai by her long hair and lifted her up.
Shen Yu's low, threatening voice came from outside: "Song Yan! I advise you not to ruin yourself!"
"You..."
*Shhh.*
The sword qi swept across without cause, and her head was severed in an instant.
Shen Huai’s look of despair froze on her cooling face.
Blood sprayed.
Song Yan casually wiped his hand, taking her storage bag and the pendant from her chest.
Then, he turned her head around.
He gently placed it back onto her smooth, blood-spurting neck.
He lowered his gaze...
Like a Bodhisattva who could not bear to witness the suffering of the world.

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