Chapter 23: The Opening of the Sword Tomb

On a hilltop far from the creek, a stunning woman dressed in white stood in silence. Her phoenix eyes swept over the youth fishing by the water, a flicker of complex emotion crossing her gaze, though she ultimately remained silent.

Ye Xianghan stood beside her, watching Lin Fei by the creek, and remarked with a sigh, "I have said it before; he is truly the most unconventional disciple the Sword Sect has seen in centuries."

Lu Shuili turned her head and asked earnestly, "Uncle-Master, can he be brought into Nanmi Mountain?"

Ye Xianghan glanced at Lu Shuili with surprise, wondering if she had been too direct.

However, Lu Shuili’s expression remained grave. "Uncle-Master, his strength is profound."

Ye Xianghan looked astonished. "What makes you say that?"

Lu Shuili pondered for a moment before answering softly, "His eyes are incredibly pure, devoid of any impurity—a kind of detachment that transcends the material world. I have only ever seen that look on the face of our Sect Leader."

Ye Xianghan felt the weight of Lu Shuili’s words. She nodded seriously and said, "Nanmi Mountain rarely admits male disciples. I must first return and consult with my Senior Sister."

"As you wish," Lu Shuili replied. Her gaze drifted back to Lin Fei by the creek, a hint of curiosity surfacing in her eyes. "Uncle-Master Xianghan, is he really fishing just because he is bored?"

Hearing this, Ye Xianghan’s expression became somewhat subtle. "According to that girl, Xia Yi, Lin Fei grew tired of eating wild pheasant and wanted a change of pace."

...

Xiling Mountain. Inside the Law Enforcement Hall.

Feng Qian’s voice, laced with suspicion and discontent, drifted from the inner chamber. "Has he truly been doing nothing but fishing and sleeping all these days?" he confirmed once more.

A tall, gaunt man stood at the entrance, nodding respectfully. "Indeed, there is no falsehood in this."

Feng Qian was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you think he is truly confident, or is he simply giving up?"

The tall, thin man wore a cunning smile. "How could a new disciple be so certain about inheriting the Sword Spirit? Senior Brother, you are worrying too much."

Feng Qian seemed amused by his own thoughts and chuckled lightly. "You are right. How could it be? Even Senior Brother Feng did not have it so easy back in his day."

He paused, looking up at the sky with a sense of relief. "Enough. Thinking back, I was just acting on impulse. Why bother arguing with a new disciple? I will simply teach him a lesson when the time comes."

The gaunt man quickly flattered him, "Senior Brother is truly magnanimous."

Feng Qian did not respond; he merely walked slowly out of the hall, standing amidst the peaks and gazing at the beautiful scenery in the distance.

Suddenly, he clenched his fists and muttered to himself, "Just you wait. At this Great Martial Competition of the Four Main Peaks, I will make the entire Sword Sect remember my name."

...

By the creek at the foot of the mountain, a subtle vibration permeated the air, and faint murmurs seemed to whisper of the great event to come.

...

Lin Fei sat by the creek, his lips moving almost imperceptibly beneath the shade of his straw hat. In the water, several streaks of golden light swayed gracefully, as if imbued with life.

The youth bore a solemn air, as if at that moment, he had become a saint, chanting an ancient spell that turned words into prophecy.

Finally, the day everyone had been waiting for arrived.

That day, countless sounds of swords humming pierced the sky, echoing through the heavens.

"Welcome the revelation of the Ancestral Sword!" A deep and domineering voice roared from all directions, shaking the entire Sword Sect.

As the sound traveled, a transformation began.

In the center of the Great Sword-Forging Platform, the ancient Qiankun Sword, which had been silent for thousands of years, seemed to awaken. It moved without wind, slicing through the air until it stood a hundred meters above the peak of Sword Tomb Mountain, pointing toward the firmament.

The hilt of the ancient sword shed a brilliant radiance, as if bathing the world in holy light. The ground shook violently, and the mist that had shrouded Sword Tomb Mountain for years began to dissipate, revealing its true face.

The young disciples meditating in their tents opened their eyes and emerged in unison.

Xia Yi, who had been playing in the woods with a fox cub, ran back in a hurry.

And Lin Fei, who had been fishing by the river, yawned with sleepy eyes.

Within dozens of breaths, over forty disciples gathered once more at the foot of Sword Tomb Mountain.

"The formation will be open for only twelve hours and will close at dawn tomorrow. Seize the opportunity."

Ye Xianghan stood at the front, her gaze sweeping over the group as she reminded them sternly, "I will repeat: once inside the Sword Tomb, remember to release your original sword essence. If an ancient sword responds, you have succeeded. Furthermore, there are swords everywhere in the Sword Tomb; you do not necessarily need to reach the summit."

As the formation within the mountain lifted, the overwhelming pressure of sword intent lessened, but the sense of desolation and antiquity became even heavier.

Everyone looked up toward the summit, their eyes burning with excitement and anticipation. After a month of training, they all appeared full of confidence.

It was common knowledge that while swords were hidden everywhere in the Sword Tomb, the higher one climbed, the stronger the sword intent and the higher the quality of the blades.

Fang Zhenghua held his head high. His complexion was darker than before, but his spirit was exceptionally vigorous. He confidently took the first step, leading the others toward Sword Tomb Mountain.

The eyes of the crowd turned in unison toward Lin Fei, who stood at the end of the line.

For the past month, the wager between Lin Fei and Feng Qian of Xiling Mountain had become the talk of the Sword Sect, yet few seemed to hold any expectations for him.

After all, being recognized by an ancient sword and inheriting a Sword Spirit were two entirely different things.

The word "Spirit" represented the ultimate creation of heaven and earth.

An ancient sword capable of nurturing a Sword Spirit was likely the personal weapon of a great sword cultivator who had reached the Void-Breaking or even the Saint Realm.

Lin Fei was indifferent to the surrounding gazes. He turned to Xia Yi beside him and said, "You go straight to the summit."

Xia Yi blinked, asking curiously, "And what about you?"

"I want to walk slowly and investigate some things I’ve suddenly sensed."

Lin Fei narrowed his eyes and looked again at the summit, now clear of mist. He thought to himself that the restriction on the Sword Tomb only required the "Qiankun" sword to open, and he had wasted two years waiting—truly a foolish endeavor.

...

The mist around the mountain paths had cleared, revealing the landscape. There were no trees or flowers here, only a desolate expanse of land from which countless small paths branched out, connecting to the distant cliffs.

On this Sword Tomb Mountain, where neither flowers nor trees could grow and even common beasts could barely survive, the sword-laden wind stirred up the dust.

Lin Fei was the last disciple to step onto Sword Tomb Mountain.

A month ago, when the mountain was filled with immense sword pressure, his climb had been light and swift.

But this time, with that mountain-like pressure gone, he walked as he had promised: very slowly, so slowly that it was almost imperceptible.

He was attempting to release his spiritual sense to perceive the aura of the sword destined for him.

There was a path in the middle of the mountain road that led directly to the summit, but Lin Fei did not choose this shortcut.

He wandered along the edges of the path, shifting left and right, appearing to stroll aimlessly, his movements erratic.

An hour later, Lin Fei opened his eyes, a look of helplessness crossing his face.

He had miscalculated.

The vastness of Sword Tomb Mountain far exceeded his imagination.

If he were to truly investigate step by step, twelve hours would not be nearly enough.

In truth, there was a simpler method usually employed: releasing the original sword essence from his own sword embryo, and the answer would naturally reveal itself.

The Wood Deity was in sync with his heart; if it were on the mountain, there would surely be a response.

But with so many disciples on the mountain and the elders of the Thirteen Peaks undoubtedly watching from the shadows, causing too great a disturbance would invite unnecessary trouble.

"Fine. In the end, I still dislike trouble," Lin Fei stopped, exhaling softly as if he had come to a decision.

He walked to the edge of the mountain path, where a thousand-foot cliff dropped away beneath his feet.

Lin Fei closed his eyes and said in a low, resonant voice, "Sword, come!"