Chapter 27: The Great Treasure Sword, a Magical Artifact, Is Forged

Breathing in and out true qi, he etched characters into the metal, transforming them into intricate patterns that gradually formed layers of magical restrictions. As the restrictions took shape, a distinct aura emerged—the iron ingot radiated golden light in all directions, ceaselessly devouring Luo Ancestor’s qi.

Luo Ancestor, greedy as ever, allowed it to indulge itself, pouring a constant stream of his own essence into the artifact. The golden radiance soared upward, piercing through the earth and sea at the center of the world within the gourd, even shooting toward the azure sky above. This was the manifestation of an artifact’s spirit, its brilliance reaching the very stars.

For a time, the entire world inside the gourd was shrouded in the glow of the forming artifact, and Luo Ancestor made no move to restrain it, letting it freely express itself. The mortal world below was thrown into chaos; people were terrified by the sudden daylight in the dead of night, believing the end of days had come.

Only after the magical sword devoured seventy percent of the qi from Luo Ancestor’s projected form did it finally halt. The treasure’s radiance faded, and the extraordinary visions vanished.

“Go,” Luo Ancestor said, tossing the broad, door-like sword into the air. It soared upward, slipping through the void, traversing the world in the gourd, and arriving beside Luo Ancestor’s true body in the primordial wilderness.

“Excellent, excellent, excellent,” Luo Ancestor exclaimed thrice, sweeping away the gloom that had lingered in his heart these past days.

Since Xi had settled in the “Cave-Dweller” tribe, more and more people had come to know of her past and the tragic fate of the captive humans. The tribe, moved by compassion, grew indignant and condemned the monster tribe that had enslaved her, while expressing their sympathy for Xi.

Yet compassion had its limits. This was the primordial age, not modern times. Life was to be lived—everyone still had to work, and no one could afford to indulge mere sympathy. Thus, Xi was quickly taught how to gather wild fruit and make cured meat.

The primordial humans were far from stupid. Though Luo Ancestor couldn’t say if any of them possessed innate Dao bodies, their minds, once awakened, were keen and capable, and their physical prowess was remarkable. Men and women alike could carry “eighteen sacks of rice” up eighteen flights of stairs without breaking a sweat.

Only Xi, having been caged too long and left malnourished, lagged behind in constitution. For now, she was kept in reserve, handling logistical work. She wasn’t yet ready to join the hunting party.

Still, she was content with her current life. Luo Ancestor had spoken with her, and she found her days meaningful and fulfilling, no longer drifting aimlessly. She was also diligently learning the “Han language” spoken by the cave-dwellers, eager to integrate into the tribe.

Luo Ancestor was greatly pleased with her attitude.

On the seventh day of Xi’s stay with the Cave-Dweller tribe, Luo Ancestor, having completed the magical weapon, personally led a hunting expedition.

In the primordial wilderness, hunting was a serious affair. Prey that was too strong or too small was avoided; herbivores were preferred, carnivores were rarely targeted. If they encountered familiar beasts, they recalled their habits and set traps. For unknown creatures, they would first observe and study their behavior before making an attempt.

Twenty-one members of the hunting party moved through the forest, alert and cautious, wary mostly of venomous insects and the predatory plants that might make a meal out of them.

“Chief, just ahead is the Lynx Demon tribe,” reported Luo Ancestor’s capable lieutenant, Ironhead.

This was Luo Ancestor’s chosen target to test his new sword.

The Lynx Demon was a six-legged feline, resembling a Pallas’s cat. Originally, these beasts were unintelligent, but somehow, the leader of their colony gained sentience and led them into the ranks of demon beasts.

The hunting party had only recently discovered this, and promptly reported it to Luo Ancestor. He recognized the threat but had been too busy forging the weapon, then delayed further by Xi’s arrival.

Peering through red blossoms and green leaves, Luo Ancestor could see the group of lynx demons basking by the brook, even without the aid of supernatural sight.

“Are they all here?” Luo Ancestor asked, eyes straight ahead.

“All present. They always sun themselves here,” Ironhead replied.

“Everyone, be careful. Ready your magical skills, and keep bows and spears at hand,” Luo Ancestor whispered his orders.

The hunting party dispersed, hiding among the ancient treetops. Some set traps for any that might escape, herding them into the snares for capture. This was the habit of many years’ hunting—never fight prey head-on if possible, or you’d suffer heavy losses even in victory.

Luo Ancestor discouraged displays of bravado during hunts. With all their tools and preparations, why wrestle with beasts? Intelligence! Wisdom! They were “civilized people” now, and should use their minds.

Only today, Luo Ancestor was not in the mood for elaborate planning.

“I’ll go first. You cover the rear. If any get away, finish them off for me.”

He drew the sword, now weighing a ton and a half, from his back.

What did Luo Ancestor look like at this moment? Since he’d lost part of his scalp in a recent skirmish and had developed a balding crown, he’d simply shaved his head close to the scalp to spare himself the worry of lice. Fortunately, he possessed a strong, handsome face, and after so many years in the primordial wilds, his features remained intact—he bore the transformation from “primitive pretty boy” to “rugged country youth” with poise.

His attire was the same as ever: a deerskin cuirass, steeped in his own scent over the years—sure to become either a relic or a treasured heirloom of humanity someday. Below, he wore tiger-skin shorts and fish-skin shoes.

With the broad sword in hand, even the Monkey King himself would want to swap skins with him.

Ironhead, standing nearby, was awestruck, unable to meet his gaze.

Luo Ancestor cared little for appearances; sword in hand, he stealthily crept into the dense forest.

He soon reached the brookside clearing undetected. Choosing a lynx demon eight feet long, he struck with a single, decisive blow—not a knife, but the sword.

Swish!

Though massive, the sword felt light in Luo Ancestor’s hands, and with the ease of an expert, he severed the great head in one motion.

Boom!

All twenty-two lynx demons in the colony were startled awake.

But Luo Ancestor’s sword moved even faster, sweeping through the air.

In three breaths, five more lynx demon heads rolled to the ground.

One demon, driven to desperation, counterattacked—snapping at Luo Ancestor, roaring and unleashing a sonic assault. Though these lynx demons had awakened some intelligence, only their leader had mastered any true demon arts. Still, with their physical prowess, they could imitate certain supernatural moves—like this roar, as if a thousand wildcats were yowling in heat.

With a furrowed brow, Luo Ancestor dispatched it as easily as the others.

The remaining lynx demons began to scatter, but the largest among them—the tribe leader—lunged straight for him.