Chen Du named this realm the Transcendence Realm, meaning that it surpassed the Peak Stage of a realm.
The most significant change was that spiritual power could merge with martial intent, unleashing tremendous power.
This feeling was unprecedented, and this realm itself was a product that lay outside the rules of the Xuanye Realm.
He was observing, experiencing, and recording the changes taking place within him, bit by bit.
Three days later, Chen Du opened his eyes and stood up.
The old fisherman was still keeping watch at a distance. When he saw Chen Du rise, he hurried over, his expression respectful, with a trace of anticipation.
Chen Du patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going back to the capital. You've been stuck at Xiantian Peak for decades. What you lack isn't swordsmanship, but your state of mind. The essence of the Nine Swords of Heaven’s Inquiry lies in questioning. You've questioned the sword for thirty years, but you've never questioned yourself."
Just as Chen Du was about to leave, however,
The old fisherman hurriedly warned him:
"My master was the previous inheritor of the Sword Pavilion. He entered Xiantian at thirty and reached Xiantian Peak at forty. On the East Sea, no one could withstand three of his sword strikes.
"He said he was going to the capital to meet that imperial Xiantian. But after he left, there was no word from him again. Neither he nor his corpse was ever found."
"He wasn't the only one. I've lived to a ripe old age and heard plenty of rumors and read plenty of records. Not one of those who went to the capital ever came back. It was as if something had swallowed them up."
He said no more. The sea breeze blew in from the east.
In the distance, waves beat against the reefs, one after another, breaking into white foam before receding.
Chen Du was silent for a long time, then nodded.
He had a suspicion of his own.
In fact, he had been investigating this matter all along.
For hundreds of years, whenever a Xiantian appeared in the martial world, their final destination was the capital, and then they vanished from the face of the earth.
It wasn't just one or two. It was all of them.
That couldn't possibly be a coincidence.
He recalled the records in the Hanging Temple's scripture repository: four eminent monks of the temple's past generations had reached Xiantian.
Every one of them had left the temple to wander the world in their later years, and there were no further records of them.
The Yun Family's three Xiantian patriarchs had likewise left Yandang Mountain in their later years, saying they were pursuing a higher realm of the Martial Dao. Nothing had been heard from them since.
The Sword Pavilion was the same. Its legacy passed to a single inheritor in each generation, and no two generations of Xiantian had ever existed at the same time.
At the time, he had assumed their lifespans had simply run out and had thought no further about it.
Now, the answer to where these people had gone was ready to leap out.
Chen Du stood on the beach, looking northwest, in the direction of the capital.
The sea breeze lifted the hem of his moon-white robe. He said nothing more, merely cupped his fists to the old fisherman, then turned and headed west.
On his way back to the capital, Chen Du no longer hurried.
He walked and stopped as he pleased, passing through Jiangnan's misty rain and crossing the mountains of the Central Plains, like a true traveler.
The Xuanye Realm no longer posed any threat to him, yet he was more patient than he had been on the way there.
Before long, Chen Du returned to the imperial city.
The emperor was eager to see him and granted him an audience.
Chen Du stood in the hall, coldly watching the emperor on the dragon throne. He kept his aura suppressed between Mid Xiantian and Late Stage Xiantian.
The emperor was silent for a long time before suddenly bursting into laughter. "In such a short time, Seventh, you've made another breakthrough. I, your imperial father, am afraid I can hardly wait."
Chen Du said nothing. He simply watched the man on the dragon throne laugh until he was out of breath. When the laughter gradually died down, he asked, "You're not the so-called emperor at all, are you?"
The emperor's smile froze on his face. Then a surge of spiritual power erupted from him.
The candles all went out at the same instant, and darkness surged from the four walls like a tide.
A blurred figure slowly emerged behind the emperor.
Tall and illusory, its outline flickered at the edge of the darkness, like a guttering lamp that the wind might extinguish at any moment.
The figure looked down at Chen Du and laughed coldly. "That's right. It seems you're quite clever. He forgot my own name long ago. I founded this Great Sheng Dynasty with my own hands.
"I reached the Wulin Myth Realm long ago and created the Great Dharma of Spiritual Demonic Corruption. With it, I can seize another's body and extend my life indefinitely.
"Whenever the body I've seized decays, I seize the body of the next person connected to him by blood.
"Unfortunately, my descendants' aptitudes have been far too mediocre. Limited by their bodies, I've never been able to break through to a higher realm."
The blurred figure leaned forward slightly, as though inspecting a piece of merchandise that suited him perfectly.
In his eyes, Chen Du was an excellent candidate for body seizure.
Young, with extraordinary aptitude.
The higher Chen Du's realm, the better. Each bit higher gave him that much more chance of breaking through to a higher realm.
Chen Du's voice remained calm. "Then the other Xiantian were presumably killed by you?"
Great Sheng Taizu snorted coldly. "My Great Dharma of Demonic Corruption can absorb the spiritual power of others. Those people should feel honored to become nourishment for me."
As he said this, there was not a trace of guilt in his voice, only the arrogance of someone who took it as his due.
Then Great Sheng Taizu raised a blurred hand toward Chen Du.
He could hardly wait.
He would seize Chen Du's body himself.
When it came to dealing with a mere Seventh Prince, Great Sheng Taizu had never imagined he might lose.
He was a Martial Arts Myth, an existence standing at the Peak Stage of the Martial Dao under heaven.
The Seventh Prince had been away traveling for less than a year. No matter how great his talent or how extraordinary his fortuitous encounters, reaching Xiantian Peak would have been his limit.
Between Xiantian Peak and a Martial Arts Myth lay an impassable chasm.
In hundreds of years, he alone had crossed that chasm.
He knew better than anyone what it took to cross it: talent, opportunity, and, above all, time.
Time!
That was why he had nothing to fear. From beginning to end, he had never regarded Chen Du as a true opponent.
A Xiantian, however brilliant, was still only a Xiantian.
Before a Myth, a Xiantian was nothing more than a slightly bigger ant.
His blurred hand reached for Chen Du, and darkness surged in from every direction like a tide.
He was already imagining what it would be like to possess that body.
With it, he could attempt to reach the realm that had eluded him for hundreds of years.
But the next moment, an aura erupted from Chen Du, something higher, farther-reaching, and more vast.
Under the pressure of that aura, Great Sheng Taizu's outstretched hand halted in midair. His spirit trembled, as though it sensed a higher level of power crushing a lower one.
He had lived for he knew not how many years, but he had never felt such pressure.
Such pressure should not have existed in the world.
It surpassed everything he knew of the Martial Dao.
It surpassed every Peak Stage he had seen in hundreds of years.
Chen Du threw a punch. Before that power, Great Sheng Taizu's spirit was like a sheet of thin paper, collapsing at the slightest touch.
His blurred figure was torn to pieces by the force of the punch, and the darkness shattered in an instant.
He wanted to speak, to shout that it was impossible, to demand an answer from this junior he had never taken seriously.
What are you?!
But before he could make a sound, Chen Du struck again.
The power of spiritual demonic corruption, which had devoured countless descendants and drained the spiritual power of innumerable Xiantian experts, was wiped out completely by that strike.
Before Great Sheng Taizu's consciousness faded away, the last thing he saw was Chen Du's calm face.
Indeed, there was... nothing but calm on that face.
Even before death, Great Sheng Taizu still could not believe it.
He had lived for so many years, seen countless prodigies, and personally destroyed more than one descendant in whom he had placed great hopes. He had thought the Seventh Prince was merely the newest name added to his long list.
He could not imagine how, in such a short time, the other man had surpassed the Martial Arts Myth Realm and advanced to an even greater realm.
This was beyond his imagination, beyond his understanding, beyond the limits of what this world could contain.