Three years. Do you know how I've spent these three years?

Mount Emei is one of the four great Buddhist mountains in China, the sacred site of Samantabhadra. After it became a scenic spot, the stream of tourists grew immense, and the mundane dust that followed made cultivators hesitate to approach.

Thus, the Buddhist temples and Daoist monasteries of Mount Emei followed in the footsteps of Jingcheng's White Cloud Temple, reduced to outer sect grounds—home only to ordinary monks and priests, with no true cultivators.

Yan Kuan did not linger on Mount Emei. Instead, he followed the mountain's contours, turning left and right, until he entered an ancient formation and arrived at a vast uninhabited region—the legendary Shu Mountain.

The peaks of Shu Mountain rose straight up and down, each like a long sword piercing the sky, standing proudly beneath the heavens. Every mountain exuded a sharp, killing aura.

This was the true Shu Mountain. The peaks were like sword edges, carrying a heaven-shaking, earth-shattering momentum, as if they would tear through the clouds.

Grand Sage Red Pine left his legacy here, allowing later generations to inherit his methods and found the path of the sword cultivator. These unique mountains and terrain had already destined Shu Mountain to be the sacred land of sword cultivation.

In the present era, the sword cultivator lineage descended from Red Pine kept a very low profile. They rarely emerged from seclusion, and few rumors of their activities spread.

Yan Kuan could sense that among these dozen or so peaks, there were auras no weaker than the great demons of Ten Thousand Demons Valley. These were likely the true inheritors of Shu Mountain's sword cultivators.

He had not come to study under them, nor to cause trouble, and he certainly did not want to invite unnecessary complications. So he gave a wide berth to the peaks bearing sword cultivator auras, traveling over four hundred li before finally nearing his destination—Immortal Sword Peak.

The mountain that pierced the clouds in his memory appeared at the edge of his vision. Its fierce killing intent made every hair on his body stand on end.

The Sword Intent mark manifested on Yan Kuan's forehead. Pale-faced, he approached the peak step by step, assaulted by waves of Sword Qi along the way, his physical body under immense pressure.

This Immortal Sword Peak was extremely dangerous. Anyone who forced their way in without inheriting Red Pine's Sword Intent would face a grim outcome. A Great Divine Power Expert from Ten Thousand Demons Valley, who had cultivated for eight hundred years and entered the Immortal Platform secret realm, had bled out here—a bloody lesson for those who came after.

But Yan Kuan had an advantage: he possessed a legacy. Though the Sword Qi piercing his body was agonizing, he encountered no danger along the way.

As he drew near the peak and gazed into the distance, he saw that nothing grew on it. Its surface was smooth as a sword blade, and the killing aura had condensed into tangible form, capable of severing one's soul.

This was a divine place. If one could endure this Sword Intent and live here long-term, they might indirectly obtain Grand Sage Red Pine's legacy—a priceless inheritance.

Grand Sage Red Pine was merciful at heart. Though Sword Qi raged across this land, it had been purged of lethal intent. It was not destructive; otherwise, no one in the world could approach.

Yan Kuan ascended Immortal Sword Peak and sensed a true meaning of the sword path. He quickly calmed his mind to comprehend this sword doctrine.

With difficulty, he arrived before Sword Lake. The lake water was clear and bright, emitting countless strands of sword light, as if a peerless immortal sword lay buried within. This was the true Immortal Sword Sky Pool, where Grand Sage Red Pine's supreme legacy resided.

Yan Kuan sat solemnly before the lake, legs crossed. He meditated deeply, pondering Red Pine's unparalleled sword path.

Sword cultivators specialized in offense. With a single sword strike, ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers could be shattered—nothing could stand in its way. At a certain realm, the sword was no longer bound to physical form. A blade of grass, a tree, even a speck of dust or a grain of sand could become a heavenly sword, capable of splitting mountains and seas with a single motion.

Red Pine's sword path reached its peak, sharing a subtle resonance with the Grass Character Sword Incantation, one of the ten ferocious techniques of the Immortal Ancient Era. A speck of dust turned into a sword could fill a vast ocean; a blade of grass turned into a sword could sever the sun, moon, and stars. Roaming the ancient cosmos, destroying countless star domains—none of this was a problem.

Red Pine perfected the principle of "one weapon breaking all techniques," forging it into his own "one sword breaking all paths." All things could become swords, ultimately converging into one—ten swords, a hundred swords, a thousand swords, ten thousand swords... but in the end, only "one" sword was used.

A speck of dust to fill the sea, a blade of grass to sever the sun, moon, and stars, one man to battle the six directions and eight wilds—a life spent cultivating the sword, pacifying the chaotic world. This was Red Pine's path. The sword was merely its form. Later generations inherited his sword cultivation legacy, but how many truly grasped its spirit remained unknown.

Yan Kuan sat cross-legged by Sword Lake, earnestly contemplating, comprehending with his heart, letting ten thousand strands of Sword Qi wash over his body.

The Sword Heart mark on his forehead continuously released sword light. Threads of Empyrean Flame surged forth. Yan Kuan used his own method to comprehend the sword path—transforming the sword into fire, grasping its spirit without being bound by form, gathering all the countless, utterly different Sword Qi into his heart.

His aura gradually merged with Immortal Sword Peak. At a certain moment, he made a decision in his heart. With a plop, the calm Sword Lake rippled with waves, and faintly visible in the depths of the lake, a flicker of flame pulsed.

Three years later, atop Immortal Sword Peak, within the Immortal Sword Sky Pool, tens of thousands of sword lights converged in the water. Strands of dazzling, colorful flames continuously rose and surged.

The spirit sword pool gathered supreme Sword Intent. Thunder rumbled within the lake water. This astonishing phenomenon lasted for about an hour before a figure suddenly burst out from the bottom of the sky pool, holding a broken sword as he landed beside a few ancient pines on the shore.

"A broken sword once used by a Grand Sage—what a treasure!"

Yan Kuan withdrew the broken bronze sword in his hand into his Wheel Sea, then swept his gaze elsewhere. Grand Sage Red Pine lived a simple life, his sole pursuit being immortality. He cared for nothing else and left behind no special possessions.

But beside the lake stood several ancient pines, their age unknown. They coiled like old dragons, their towering, gnarled branches stretching toward the sky.

Beneath one of these ancient trees was a stone table, crude and unadorned, natural and unpretentious. It had been carved from a single rock, lying there like a reclining ox. On it lay three pieces of ancient jade, their luster dim, dust-covered for millennia, inscribed with bird-seal script.

Yan Kuan walked to the stone table, carefully gathered the ancient jade into his palm, and toyed with them for a moment before storing them in his Sea of Bitterness. Then he left Immortal Sword Peak.

With steps that were almost like teleportation, Yan Kuan quickly left the deep, uninhabited mountains and arrived at a small town at the foot of Mount Emei.

Three years had passed. He had grown much, and his clothes were a little tight. He found a shop to buy a set of well-fitting clothes, then checked into a hotel and dialed his home landline.

"Hello! Son, you're coming back? I know. Your mother and I are home—we're both home."

As soon as Yan Kuan connected the call, his father's excited voice came through. He had been away from home for a long time, and his parents missed him dearly. They talked late into the night before finally hanging up to sleep. A few days later, Yan Kuan returned to Jingcheng. The moment he stepped through the door, someone grabbed him in a tight hug.

"Wah... Son! Three years—three whole years! Do you know how I've been these three years?!"

Yan Kuan was stunned by the barrage of words. It took him a while to push away his father, who was clinging to him desperately. He glanced at his mother, whose Sea of Bitterness had already been opened—her complexion was excellent, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked at him. Then he looked at his father, who still hadn't broken through, and felt a trace of sympathy.