Chapter 77: The Sword Cultivator’s Path

This demonic cultivator, a senior figure, often wandered through the southeastern reaches of the Central Domain and the borderlands of the Nine Nations.

If one were to set aside judgment of his misdeeds, it could be said that he was a great cultivator, well-traveled and battle-hardened. In his Foundation Establishment days, he killed junior cultivators at the Qi Refinement stage to seize spiritual treasures. Later, at the Golden Core stage, he ambushed and slew peers of equal rank—and succeeded. Through countless battles with all manner of cultivators, he amassed a wealth of combat experience.

Among his writings, his descriptions of sword cultivators were particularly detailed.

“Sword cultivators, more often than not, are stubborn and obstinate. Once they draw their swords, there is rarely an outcome other than life or death.”

So begins his commentary on sword cultivators.

Song Yan was no longer surprised by such words. It seemed that in the eyes of all, sword cultivators were no different from mulish donkeys—each one more obstinate than the last.

“Is that really the case...?”

He felt only slightly wronged, perhaps because he had yet to truly be counted among their number.

“Sword cultivators, broadly speaking, can be divided into three types.”

“The first is the most traditional, their origins lost to time—perhaps as ancient as the cultivation world itself.”

“This type is quite common, not unusual in the world of cultivation.”

“They typically use sword cases or gourds to nourish their life-bound flying swords, and cultivate things like sword intent and the Dao heart.”

“Their flying swords are powerful, but apart from that, they're not much different from ordinary cultivators.”

“In battle, one need only be particularly wary of the life-bound flying sword; otherwise, they are not difficult to handle.”

This senior’s understanding of sword cultivators was rather superficial, his wording full of “seemingly” and “apparently.”

“The second lineage hails from the Kingdom of Chu.”

Song Yan was startled.

“The Kingdom of Chu?”

Our own remote and humble nation... is actually the birthplace of a branch of sword cultivation?

He read on.

“In all my years in the cultivation world, I have yet to encounter one of this type.”

“I have only heard that such cultivators are exceptionally ruthless and resolute.”

“In addition to cultivating sword intent, comprehending the Dao heart, and nourishing a life-bound flying sword, they must also sever their own spiritual roots and open a so-called ‘Immortal Palace’…”

“...”

At this, Song Yan was speechless.

What have we done to earn such ‘praise’—ruthless and resolute—from an old Golden Core fiend?

On second thought, perhaps it was deserved. To disperse one’s cultivation and then sever one’s spiritual roots—one mistake, and the path to immortality is forever closed.

Thinking back, his own choice had been a desperate gamble. Had he not been forced to the edge with no other way forward, he doubted he could have made such a ruthless decision.

This branch, it seemed, was the culmination of the three sword cultivator lineages.

But such people were exceedingly rare; the senior had only heard of them, never met one.

The last branch originated in the Central Domain.

This type, the old ancestor had actually seen a few, though never crossed swords with them.

Rumor had it that this lineage was even more radical than the second.

They, too, severed spiritual roots and opened an ‘Immortal Palace,’ but they abandoned not only sword cases and gourds—even the sword itself.

They pursued the ultimate union of man and sword.

Since this senior had never fought against the latter two types, he had little to say about how to contend with them. He only offered a final warning:

“No matter the type, sword cultivators are generally madmen with scant regard for their own lives when fighting. Unless there is some irreconcilable enmity, it is the safer course to avoid dueling them at the same level.”

The reckless fear the ruthless; the ruthless fear those who throw away their lives.

This demonic senior only resorted to underhanded means for the sake of cultivation resources, to make things easier for himself. Everyone sought immortality—there was no need to risk one’s life without good cause.

Song Yan exhaled deeply.

He had not expected to find so much information about ancient sword cultivators in a demonic cultivator’s battle “manual”—a most unexpected reward.

He took out the Twofold Pearl and studied it closely.

“It stands to reason that this ‘senior’ would have no reason to lie in such a record.”

“Therefore, this Twofold Pearl is likely a relic of the second sword lineage he described.”

“Not a certainty, but the likeliest possibility.”

Song Yan leafed through the book again, but found nothing more—not even a date. If there had been, perhaps he could have deduced when the ancient sword cultivators vanished.

“Sword cases, sword gourds…”

“I’ve never seen such things…”

For a new generation cultivator like him, these were relics of a bygone age; it was only natural he’d never encountered them.

He put the book away for now and turned his gaze to the Black Calamity Spirit-Seeking Mask.

The mask’s basic function was actually quite dull—“Seeking spiritual objects.”

The demonic senior had written that, when he first acquired it, he didn’t know how to use it. The mask would make endless noise, only to lead him to the most ordinary herbs or spiritual fruits—utterly useless.

Only after a sudden flash of insight did it become truly useful, even yielding remarkable results.

Song Yan had no intention of using it to harm others—that went against his conscience.

Still, the senior’s methods had inspired him.

He held the Twofold Pearl in one hand, the Black Calamity Spirit-Seeking Mask in the other.

“Judging from my experience with the flying sword ‘Unmoored Boat’—”

“It seems the Twofold Pearl can merge the sword intent left by predecessors in ancient swords, through some mystical means, into the shadow of the Dao seed.”

“Making it my own.”

“But seeking ancient swords rich in spiritual intent is like searching for a needle in the sea.”

He then looked at the mask in his hand.

“If I could divide off a wisp of intangible sword intent and infuse it into the mask…”

“Then, if an ancient sword were nearby, would the mask react?”

Whether this was so, or what the Twofold Pearl and mask could truly do, was all speculation on his part; only through repeated trial could he form a verdict.

At present, Song Yan didn’t even have the means to experiment.

For dividing off a wisp of intangible sword intent, at the very least, required that his life-bound flying sword be fully formed.

“Sword intent…”

“How does one comprehend sword intent?”

This thing was so elusive—only by chance, having acquired the Eightfold Return to Origin Sword Manual, had he glimpsed the rudiments of a Dao heart.

Good fortune such as that would not come again.

He took a deep breath, adjusting his state of mind.

Sighing and complaining were of no use; only by walking each step steadily could one follow the true path.

He set about erasing the spiritual imprint of Dan Zifeng from the Black Calamity Spirit-Seeking Mask.

The owner was dead, so it was an easy task.

Moments later, the mask was fully refined.

He put it on, and with a thought, the mask vanished from his face.

“So that’s how it is…”

No wonder, after Dan Zifeng’s death, the mask appeared on his own face.

He then checked the spirit stones in his storage pouch—some four or five hundred in total.

He was well aware that many of these resources were likely plundered by Dan Zifeng from outer sect disciples.

Still, he had no intention of playing the saint, retracing every thread to return them one by one.

He had, after all, already taken great risks to avenge those people.

For those who lived daily under Dan Zifeng’s shadow, he had eradicated their nightmare.

His duty was done.

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