Forging Great Sun Sword Cultivators from Corpses

On the plains, beneath the morning sun, four grassland warriors fought a battle to the death before the eyes of the tribespeople.

One side consisted of an early Inner Qi cultivator and two Hundred Man Commanders at the peak of Body Tempering. As the chieftain's in-laws, they had been utterly loyal, sharing honor and disgrace with him. They had no choice but to step forward, or the new chieftain would not spare either of them.

The other side had only one person: a young swordsman at the early Inner Qi stage.

The chieftain had been unwilling to take the risk and had tried to incite the people before. Yet the herdsmen, just as they had when he challenged the previous chieftain over twenty years ago, merely watched coldly and refused to get involved. Their usual oaths of loyalty were nothing but a joke.

Blood sprayed. A sword-gripping arm flew through the air and hit the ground. Warriors wailed and screamed.

Jiang Ding watched the scene indifferently.

This was a custom unique to the mortal grassland realms of the Great Sun Sword Sect, a system like that of ancient knights: the stronger swordsman possessed everything, while the weak deserved to die.

Between life and death, tremendous potential would be awakened, spurring breakthroughs in a swordsman's will. This was the creed of the Great Sun Sword Pavilion.

To them, cultivators and mortals who died for this were merely soil and fertilizer, incapable of stirring the slightest resonance. Losers were not disciples of the Sword Pavilion; this was only as it should be.

This was not some martial-arts routine, flashy and full of endless variations.

After barely a dozen exchanges, Chieftain Tuhe had already fallen to the ground. One of his thighs had been severed at the root, blood flooding the earth as