"There is no need for alarm if any phenomena are seen later."
The disciples of the Green Mountain Sect requested that the villagers return to their homes, and the travelers return to their inns. Soon, the streets were emptied.
One disciple looked at the corpse on the floor, puzzled. "This disciple of the underworld has an ordinary soulfire, and his Dharma power is low. Why did he dare remain here?"
"Who knows?" another disciple replied. "Perhaps he wanted to see our grandmaster-uncle ascend. It is a magnificent sight. Who wouldn’t want to see it?"
Suddenly, the wind blew, and the blossoms from the trees fell onto the road.
The disciples raised their heads to look to the sky, and saw hundreds of swords flying from everywhere toward the mountain peaks, after which unique lights from more than ten Dharmic treasures illuminated the sky. Finally, a large lotus was ultimately ferried into the sky, reaching far into the sky in a zen-like manner.
"Is that the dowager of the Hanging Bell Sect?"
"The sect master of Favorless Gate!"
"Adjutant of the Mirror Sect!"
"The sword beams that are soaring upward in an insufferably arrogant manner. Could it be him?"
"The brothers from Liangwang Peak have returned, and so has Elder Si of Shangde Peak!"
"Even the powers at play have come too?"
The disciples were shocked into silence. If not for the great event happening today, they would not have had the chance to see so many mighty figures at the same time.
Zhao Layue ignored these matters. She picked up Yin San's corpse and walked out of the town.
...
...
Master Meng had not left the town, but stood atop a tall tree just outside it. He was looking at the high peaks with somewhat mixed feelings.
Grandmaster-Uncle Jingyang was extremely senior in stature. He was a disciple of Perfected Taiping, and even the sect master would respectfully refer to him as Young Master-Uncle.
It was said that his talent was astonishing, and he had established many unimaginable records in the cultivation world. However, he spent most of his time on the ninth peak, rarely meeting others. Even few of the important disciples of the various peaks had seen his face, much less him.
Today, not only were the leaders of every major sect arriving, but many of the powerful masters who lived in seclusion were here as well.
He hadn't expected that even the legendary Buddhist Zen master would be here.
He had heard that it was possible that the mighty figures of other continents were also hidden deep within the clouds.
Truly, this was an event not seen for a thousand years.
And what if those gleaming swords had come from a sword god or a blade saint?
Master Meng was somewhat at a loss.
He was a great distance away from those names, unable to approach them.
And the peaks were further still.
As for that grandmaster-uncle, he had only heard of rumors.
It was said that after the sect master had risen to his current position, when mention of the elder was made, all he did was say ‘Young Master-Uncle’ before falling silent. There were too many things he could not express.
He knew the reason, just as everyone in the Green Mountain Sect knew, that a Master-Uncle from the discipline hall would show no respect and only grunt coldly when this Grandmaster-Uncle was mentioned.
The Grandmaster-Uncle was the strongest cultivator, not only in the Green Mountain Sect but even throughout the entire continent.
But from the day he set foot in the Green Mountains, he underwent quiet self-cultivation in the mountains, rarely seen by anyone.
He had not represented Green Mountain Sect at any of the Plum Flower Conferences, or sparred with the other experts in the imperial court in Zhaoge. Neither had he fought the reclusive masters of other sects. He was never seen in the secret bloody wars between the cultivation sects and the Elders of the underworld. His presence was not even seen during the three major battles against Snow Country’s cultivation experts.
He had done nothing else except cultivate on the long cultivation path.
Indeed, only such a cultivator unbothered by any externalities, in control of his feelings and of his nature could reach the endpoint of cultivation, proceeding to an unimaginable realm.
However, such a cultivation life… what use was he to the juniors and disciples beneath him no matter how high his cultivation level was? What did it mean to the Green Mountain Sect? What did it mean to all lives under the skies?
No matter how astounding he was, a legend was only a legend. It had no place in the real world, so it was best for him to leave.
Looking at the faint outlines of the mist-covered peaks, a slight smile formed on his face.
When he saw Zhao Layue carrying the underworld demon's corpse out of the village, the bitterness in his smile disappeared. It was replaced by surprise and gratification.
Everyone in the world was watching the mountain peak except her.
She was so young; how was her heart so serene?
She was indeed a talented young woman, worthy of the secret attention the entire Green Mountain Sect had on her.
Suddenly, his smile disappeared, and he looked back at the peak.
Just as he said, those who were qualified to gaze at the peak were all looking there.
It was as if the clouds surrounding the peaks were being moved by a giant shapeless hand. It was being violently swept up, gradually revealing the deep blue sky.
The shapes of faint silhouettes were forced out from deep within the clouds. They saluted the Tianguang peak of the Green Mountain Sect in apparent calmness but were, in fact, feeling somewhat embarrassed.
Further away, two shadows floating amid cold flames quickly sped backward, appearing to be in a sorry state.
Master Meng could guess that one of them was probably a High Priest of the underworld, but who was the other person?
The Green Mountain array had not mounted an attack. There was laughter echoing from Tianguang Peak, but then there was an emergence of forbidding sword intent.
That sword intent swept out like a wave toward the peak’s surroundings.
A sword beam arose from the cliff, like a forced response, and floated away.
Only when the sword beam reached fifteen hundred kilometers, coming to the western sea, did the sword intent from Tianguang peak slowly subside.
"The sect master has attacked!" cried Master Meng in surprise.
There were few in the entire continent who required the sect master’s use of Heaven Bracing Sword.
Was the cold light above the western sea the sword of the sword god?
...
...
No matter what had happened, even though these world-moving figures were making one appearance after another, they had no effect on the ninth peak.
The lone peak remained silent, seemingly unbreathing.
Suddenly, the heaven and earth changed color, and a dozen bolts of lightning ripped apart the blue sky, as dozens of heavenly lightning crashed towards the lone peak!
Before the lightning that contained the power of heaven and earth could touch the peak, they were slashed to bits, turning into blue smoke.
It was because a sword beam had appeared from the peak.
No one knew if this strike was stronger than the Heaven Bracing Sword from before.
It was not only Master Meng; even the mighty figures that were fifteen hundred kilometers away could not tell.
The sword beam produced by the lone peak appeared to have no might.
It was a strike, a very simple one that casually slashed at the sky.
Yet the heavenly lightning was extinguished upon contact.
The sword beam continued to travel upward.
There was a ripping sound.
Fine rifts opened in the azure sky.
Immensely thick light, like gold and jade, flowed out of the rifts, scattering as they met with wind, illuminating the entire continent.
A sword to slice the heavens?
When mighty cultivators described in the ancient texts ascended, they relied on their own body and cultivation to bitterly resist the heavenly lightning until they ended up passing their final test. After the heavenly lightning came to a rest, a light would scatter down like celestial fairies strewing flowers down. Only then could one see the path to heaven ascension.
Today, Grandmaster-Uncle Jingyang had not waited for the lightning to strike twice, and instead took the initiative to attack with his sword.
Could it be that he wanted to use his own sword to force open a path to heaven?
What boldness! What confidence!
Master Meng was astonished. His complexion turned pale and his lips trembled.
That owner of the sword beam from the western sea, as well as the experts watching the event at Green Mountain Sect, were filled with speechless awe.
Above the lone peak, the sword beam continued heading straight for the heavens.
The winds whistled, and the thunder rumbled incessantly.
The sword beam took no notice of anything, with the sole goal of heading upwards.
If it were said that the heaven and earth wanted to give one last test to the ascending cultivator, it could be said that the sword beam’s response was of complete indifference.
The power of the heaven and earth fought with the sword intent. The mist of the mountains had long dispersed, and finally, the ninth peak of the Green Mountain Sect appeared for the first time. However, no one paid notice to it because everyone was captivated by the light from that sword beam.
The sword beam got closer and closer to the sky.
The rift in the firmament got larger and larger, as the light pouring out turned increasingly dense. It made the world turn even brighter.
Be it the houses in the town or the caves between the mountain peaks, they were covered in a layer of golden light, making them truly resemble an immortal paradise or a divine country.
Zhao Layue held Yin San’s body and walked away from the town, treading over the green grass with light and brisk steps.
The light from the sky stretched out the shadow of her petite frame as it faded out in the ever-brightening light.
The most important event on the entire continent was unfolding, but she didn’t turn around to look. She only stared at the change occurring in her shadow, as if it was more interesting than all phenomenon of the world.
No one paid attention to her, so no one noticed her expression finally change.
The corners of her mouth were tilted upwards, she was smiling.
There was faint cheering between the mountain peaks.
Cheering also seemed to be coming from the town.
As the day became brighter, the cheering became louder, and her smile became brighter, until her cute dimples were revealed.
She was truly happy, but also sad.
How great would have been to live in the same era as geniuses like the masters?
Be it to gain knowledge, or something else altogether.
The cheering from the mountain peaks suddenly stopped.
It was nothing out of the ordinary.
The silence represented best wishes.
Just like the rays which illuminated this world.
Of course, there was still a sense of loss.
Elder Jing Yang had ascended.
Zhao Layue finally turned around and looked towards the sky.
She watched the rift as it slowly disappeared, as well as the light from the sword which, had disappeared gone completely. For some reason, her eyebrows raised slightly.
She then looked at the body she was holding. Her smile slowly faded; there was something suspicious…and uncertain.
...
...
Eternal moisture found their home within the clouds and mist, And were always accompanied by the stream.
Not far from the town of Yunji was one such stream, which was accompanied by light mist. It meandered from the high plains down to the low hills, flowing several kilometers before heading into the face of a mountain.
As the stream flowing through the mountain face for an unknown distance, it gradually widened while the surroundings became brighter. There was a chamber in the mountain, and on the wall was an extremely rare piece of bright jade.
The chamber was simple; there was only a stone bed joined into the mountain face. In front of the stone bed were two cushions that had rotted away.
A young man was watching the stone bed with his hands behind his back while tilting his head. Occasionally a breeze blew in, stirring up his white clothes.
On the stone bed was a bloody person covered in wounds of various sizes. It was impossible to determine what weapon was used. His clothes were in tatters, the fabric made from wild silk unrecognizable. His belt was still complete and emitted a faint spirit from time to time. It was made from the tendon of a hornless dragon. There was a plaque that seemed to be made from ebony wood.
The person wasn’t breathing; he had passed long ago. But strangely, a film of mist always covered his face, obscuring his features from view.
The young man stood before the stone bed and simply watched the body silently.
A long time passed before he suddenly spoke.
"So… boring."
His voice was clean but bitter. He spoke very slowly, as if he rarely talked at all.
Light shone from his eyes.
His eyes were like the vast seas; calm on the surface, they contained an unimaginable depth and countless storms and waves.
There was puzzlement, anger, sadness, fatigue, and wisdom, completely unsuited for someone his age.
Moments later, all the emotions disappeared from his eyes, little by little, until only tranquility remained.
It was like mist disappearing from the nine peaks, like light from the sky disappearing into the nothingness.
"I envy you a bit; you get to relax a bit.. I still have to be busy for some years."
The youth in white was speaking to the body.
The belt on the body moved slightly, and the wooden plaque disappeared.
A stream of cold light left the stone bed and surrounded him at an extreme speed. The entire room became dazzled with light.
It was a flying sword, about two feet in length, with a width of about two fingers. The blade was a smooth as a mirror. Nothing else about it appeared out of the ordinary, but gave people an odd feeling.
The youth in white raised his right hand, and the flying sword fell on command. With a gentle slap, it wrapped itself around his wrist and became dim, looking like an ordinary bracelet.
He turned and walked to side of the stream, suddenly remembering what that person had told him years ago.
"… It’s impossible to wade in the same river twice."
Was that really true?
Pondering the question, he waded into the stream.
...
...
The stream flowed within the mountain for an unknown distance before coming out from the other side, falling down the face of the mountain in a thin waterfall over dozens of feet high. It was quite pretty.
The youth in white fell between the cliff walls with the water. He was ready to tread water, but his feet had already broken the surface, and he fell into the lake below.
He floated to the deeper parts, and with his feet touching the ground, he realized the gist of what was happening.
But he didn’t know how to express what was happening, and so he kept a blank expression on his face.
The slightly cold water had no effect on him. With his eyes opened wide, he stared around him and saw a rock on the lake bottom.
He picked up that rock from the bottom and walked forwards. The surface of the water was getting closer. He walked until he was out of the water onto the shore.
There was a dull sound as the ground shook. Ripples formed on the water near the shore. He had put down the rock, and its weight showed.
Being completely drenched was not a pleasant feeling, he wanted to use sword flame to dry his body. But nothing happened.
His hair dripping with water and his wet clothes clinging to his skin reminded him to make a bonfire. He then remembered he had never started a fire before.
Tilting his head, he remembered all those books he read years ago. With his dry voice, he said, "Need dry grass and kindling."
After making sure he got all the water out of his left ear, he tilted his head to the right. He rummaged through his memory and said, "If there’s no flint, then I need crystal, or wood drill."
A forest was next to him, and he walked to the edge of it and reached out. Soon he had a pile of kindling.
Picking up the smoothest plank he could find, he placed it on top of some tinder. His bracelet once again turned into a short sword and floated vertically above the plank.
The sharp tip of the sword began to rotate with unbelievable speed against the plank through the tinder. Soon there were sparks, followed by smoke, and finally, flames.
His clothes were hung from a branch, steaming.
Seeing the denseness of the steam and the speed at which the steam rose, the youth easily calculated it would take three counts of time to dry his clothes.
What to do during this time was not something he needed to think about.
All the time in the world had only one use to him.
He sat down, closed his eyes, and started to meditate, as if it were the natural course of action.
But moments later he opened his eyes and bluntly said, "What is that short incantation for initiating the practice?"
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