Accepting the Inheritance

As Mu Bai stepped deeper into the cave, the fluorescent stones deep within the rocky cavern emitted a soft glow, illuminating every detail of the surrounding stone walls.

As he advanced, sword scars began to appear sporadically on the cave walls, carved into the rock.

Mu Bai gripped his longsword and moved forward cautiously, each step deliberate, the coarse ground crunching faintly beneath his feet.

A faint scent of earth hung in the air, a clear sign that he had already ventured into the deeper reaches of White Deer Mountain.

The further he went, the clearer the sword scars on the rock walls became. Some were deep and fierce, the edges of the rock cut into clean planes as if severed in an instant;

others were graceful and fluid, winding and twisting like dragons gliding across the stone surface.

Mu Bai paused to examine them closely, realizing these scars seemed to form a complete sword technique, each one imbued with a unique sword intent.

He reached out and gently traced the scars, the sensation through his fingertips sending a jolt through his heart, as if he could feel the overwhelming momentum of the swordsman who had carved them long ago.

"Could this be..." Mu Bai's heart stirred, his pupils contracting slightly as he quickened his pace.

Rounding a bend, the view suddenly opened up.

A massive stone chamber appeared before him, its ceiling domed, with specks of light filtering through cracks overhead, mingling with the glow of the fluorescent stones.

At the center of the chamber lay a skeleton, still clad in a tattered sword robe embroidered with golden threads depicting cloud patterns and sword motifs—though faded and damaged, it still hinted at former splendor.

The skeleton's hand clutched an ancient longsword, its hilt wrapped in blackened silk cords, the blade engraved with the characters "Qinglin." Despite the erosion of time, it still emitted a faint, cold gleam, a light that seemed alive, flickering slightly as Mu Bai drew near.

The chamber walls were densely covered with carved characters, the strokes forceful and deeply etched into the stone.

Mu Bai stepped closer and read the life story of this Innate expert.

"My surname is Zhao. I was once a rustic mountain villager, obsessed with martial arts from childhood..."

The swordsman named Zhao, Zhao Gang, was born in an ordinary mountain village, with a babbling brook beside it and rolling green hills in the distance.

He displayed astonishing martial talent from a young age. While other children were still playing in the mud, he had already begun imitating the movements of the village Martial Master.

He started training at eight, rising before dawn every day to practice basic techniques on an open patch by the stream, drenched in sweat without a care.

By twelve, he had mastered all the martial arts of the village training hall, even pointing out flaws in the Martial Master's forms.

At twenty, he reached the Houtian realm, becoming a renowned expert in the vicinity. Challengers flocked to test him, but all fell to his sword.

"Yet my ambition did not lie here, so I set out on the path of seeking..."

Leaving his hometown, Zhao Gang carried a wooden sword and embarked on a journey of wandering.

He endured wind and dew, crossed deserts, and climbed snow-capped mountains. By chance, he came upon an ancient ruin.

The ruin was filled with traps, but relying on his luck, he overcame each obstacle and ultimately obtained a long-lost martial arts manual and a sword—this very Qinglin Sword.

The techniques in this manual were utterly different from the ordinary ones he had learned before, brimming with profound mysteries.

Treasure in hand, he found a hidden cave and devoted himself to cultivation. With this manual, he reached the Great Perfection of Houtian in his thirties, becoming a Grandmaster of Martial Arts.

News of this shook the entire Great Yan.

"I knew that Houtian had its limits; only by breaking through to Innate could one reach the pinnacle of martial arts..."

After becoming a Grandmaster, Zhao Gang was not satisfied. He knew he was still far from the peak of martial arts.

He began searching for methods to break through to Innate, just like Mu Bai, visiting various masters and exploring ancient legends.

After countless failures and setbacks, his hair gradually turned white, and his face bore the marks of time, but his eyes grew only more resolute.

Finally, during an expedition into a ruin, he discovered an Innate Pill in a palace!

The pill was stored in a jade bottle; when he slightly opened the stopper, it emitted a five-colored radiance, its fragrance rich, as if it contained the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

The Innate Pill was the legendary divine medicine he had heard could lead one to the Innate realm!

Zhao Gang did not hesitate to consume the pill, and after several days of seclusion, he truly succeeded in breaking through to the Innate realm, becoming a powerhouse at the peak of martial arts.

"After reaching Innate, I realized the vastness of heaven and earth and the depth of martial arts..."

After breaking through to Innate, Zhao Gang's lifespan greatly extended, and his strength grew even more formidable.

He continued to explore the path of martial arts, traveling through neighboring kingdoms and battling other Innate experts to perfect his sword techniques.

He once slew dozens with a single sword stroke and took the head of an enemy general amidst ten thousand troops as easily as reaching into his pocket.

Over a hundred and eighty years passed swiftly. He weathered countless storms, witnessed the rise and fall of eras, and finally reached the end of his life.

"All I sought in life was the ultimate in martial arts. Now, as I prepare to pass, I leave behind the Qinglin Sword and the Eight Swords of Lightness, hoping that my descendants may obtain them and continue my martial path..."

After reading the words on the wall, Mu Bai was filled with emotion.

The life of this Innate expert was one of brilliance and profound solitude.

He could almost see Zhao Gang swinging his sword in the rain, struggling through ruins, and the joy of breaking through to Innate.

Standing before the skeleton, he bowed three times with utmost respect.

"Senior Zhao Gang, though I am not your descendant, I will still carry on your martial path. In time, I will pass your techniques to the Zhao Family descendants, fulfilling your last wish."

After completing the ritual, Mu Bai reached out and took the Qinglin Sword. As it entered his hand, a chill surged through his arm and spread throughout his body, mixed with a faint, elusive sword intent.

Though the sword appeared simple and unadorned, it seemed to hold immense power. He gave it a light swing, and the blade cut through the air with a crisp ring, carving grooves into the stone walls of the chamber.

Then, he began studying the Eight Swords of Lightness carved into the wall. Every move and stance was detailed, from the first sword, "Gentle Breeze Arrives," to the eighth, "Thunderous Might," each faster and more powerful than the last.

Especially starting from the fifth sword, "Tornado Rain Strike," each technique contained Innate-level sword intent, with terrifying might.

He repeatedly studied the stances on the wall, deducing them in his mind, and occasionally practiced with the Qinglin Sword in hand, shadows of the blade flying and sword qi crisscrossing, leaving fresh scars on the ground.

Finally, Mu Bai memorized the basic stances of the Eight Swords of Lightness. He sat down in the stone chamber and began to cultivate the technique in earnest.