The challenge was sent to the heavens, the sword intent piercing the dawn. The sky seemed to be cleaved by an invisible blade, and amidst the surging, dark clouds, faint Blood-Colored Patterns spread like a spider web, as if the heavens and earth were trembling in anticipation of the impending battle. The distant mountains, shrouded in clouds, appeared and disappeared, like giant beasts lying in wait for the outbreak of this earth-shattering war.
Ren Xiaoyao on the rainbow bridge, countless sword tassels weaving a dazzling trail behind him. These sword tassels were no ordinary objects; each one condensed the essence of a fallen Sword Cultivator in the Return Ruins, its shimmering light conveying both sorrow and resilience. The lament of the Return Ruins, carrying the embers of Demonic Baleful Energy, gradually dissipated at the horizon, the lament deep and distant, like countless wronged souls recounting the endless suffering in the Ruins of Return Ruins's Purgatory. The waves crashed against the shore's reefs, yet could not conceal this heart-wrenching lament, as if the entire ocean was mourning the tragic fate of the Return Ruins.
He was surrounded by the dark purple mist unique to the Purgatory Return Ruins, the mist churning as if alive, within which countless Phantoms of Sword Cultivators faintly appeared. These figures were sometimes clear, sometimes blurry, as if telling the story of the brutal battles within the Return Ruins. The figures' movements were all different; some were swinging their swords with all their might, some were struggling in pain, and some were howling to the sky. Every posture was filled with their desire for life and their resentment towards their fate.
Each phantom carried an unfulfilled obsession; some stared angrily at the heavens, their resentment seemingly piercing the sky; others gripped Half Broken Sword, muttering unfinished vows of swordsmanship; still others were child-like Sword Cultivator, their faces streaked with tears of fear, their innocent features a stark contrast to the brutal battlefield. The presence of these Child Phantoms added a tragic dimension to the war, evoking deep sorrow for their plight.
As his feet touched the ground of the Tianyan Continent once more, the Spiritual Qi within a ten-mile Fang Yuan suddenly froze, as if gripped by an invisible giant hand. Suspended dust particles condensed into sword shapes in mid-air, shimmering with a faint light, like guardians protecting him. Even the streams in the distant mountains eerily paused, water droplets suspended in mid-air, reflecting the strange scene in the sky. The entire world seemed to have been paused, everything awaiting this swordsman returning from the Return Ruins, to see how he would rewrite the fate of this continent.
It was as if the entire world was holding its breath for the swordsman who had returned from the Return Ruins Purgatory. The wind stopped, the birds ceased their chirping, and in the utter silence, only the lingering demonic energy of Return Ruins circulated around him. The surrounding air seemed to solidify, making it hard to breathe, and the whole world fell into a deathly stillness, with only the lingering demonic energy silently proclaiming the terror of Return Ruins.
The world was utterly silent, save for the lingering demonic energy of the Return Ruins flowing around him, emitting faint sobs, as if playing a lament for the fallen Sword Cultivator. The lament was low and sorrowful, echoing in the stillness, stirring a deep sadness in everyone present. This lament seemed to transcend time, transporting people back to the fierce battle at the Return Ruins, allowing them to feel the heroism and tragic grandeur of the Sword Cultivator.
Three days later, at the third quarter of the hour of Mao (5:45 AM), the bronze bell on the eaves of the dilapidated temple rang without wind. The bell, covered in rust and bearing the marks of time, trembled violently at this moment, emitting a piercing sound. The sound was sharp and urgent, as if warning of an impending crisis. Each vibration of the bell seemed to strike the heartstrings of the people, making them feel uneasy and tense.
The bronze bell, its surface covered in rust, trembled violently at this moment, emitting a piercing sound. The bell swayed incessantly, as if it might fall at any moment. The rusty bell, at this moment, exuded an eerie vitality, as if it were controlled by some Mysterious Power.
The Ancient Runes engraved on the bell glowed with an eerie red light, as red as blood, as if echoing some evil power. As the runes flickered, some mysterious patterns could be vaguely seen, sending chills down one's spine. These runes and patterns seemed to contain endless mysteries, or as if they were telling an ancient and terrifying legend.
A gold-embossed challenge letter, carried by a stench of blood, ripped through the window paper and, like a black butterfly, embedded itself in the mottled mud wall, its sharp edges carving three deep furrows into the brick surface. Where the letter passed, ripples spread through the air, carrying black mist and a nauseating stench of blood and decay. The stench of blood seemed to carry the malice of Blade Maniac, sweeping over one, filling them with nausea and fear.
Wherever the challenge passed, ripples spread through the air, filling it with a nauseating stench of blood and decay. The stench was pungent and foul, as if it came from the depths of hell. This aura inevitably brought to mind the ruthlessness and bloodlust of the Blade Maniac; his existence was like a malignant tumor on this continent, which had to be eradicated.
Ren Xiaoyao flicked his finger, and the challenge flew into his palm as if it were alive. When he unfolded it, the demonic energy seeping from the wild cursive script corroded the ground, leaving charred marks. " Ren Xiaoyao, you cowardly survivor in the Return Ruins, dare to show yourself in the world? Three days later, at Chenshi (7-9 AM), at Broken Blade Cliff, ten miles west of Tianyan City, Blade Maniac challenges you to a battle! If you dare not come, then crawl on your knees around Tianyan City three times, severing your sword path and becoming a soul forever beneath my blade!" The handwriting was wild and unrestrained, exuding a strong killing intent and provocation. Each word was like a sharp blade, piercing Ren Xiaoyao's heart and igniting his fighting spirit.
The words " Blade Maniac " at the bottom were written in human blood. The dried blood droplets gleamed eerily blue in the sunlight, revealing the writer's madness and ruthlessness. Twisted human faces faintly appeared around the Blood Characters, baring their fangs and emitting silent roars, as if Curse Ren Xiaoyao and trying to drag him into endless darkness. These distorted faces seemed to be symbols of the Blade Maniac's evil deeds, revealing his madness and cruelty.
Twisted human faces faintly emerged around the Blood Characters, baring their fangs and claws, emitting silent roars as if Curse Ren Xiaoyao. Their expressions were ferocious, filled with resentment and rage. Their presence further amplified the Blade Maniac, whose heart had been completely consumed by darkness.
Ren Xiaoyao's fingertips lightly traced the distorted strokes, and memories surged like a tide. The past replayed in his mind like a movie, every scene etched in his heart. Those painful memories were like knives, cutting Dao Wound into his heart, but they also strengthened his resolve for revenge.
How could he not know the origins of this Blade Maniac? This man was originally the chief disciple of the Demonic Blade Sect, whose nine curved blades had each drunk the blood of seventy-two sword prodigies. Each blade was stained with blood and exuded a chilling Killing Intent. He had even hung three hundred and sixty broken swords outside the Ren Family Ancestral Hall, their tassels soaked in the blood of children from a collateral branch of the Ren family—a pain that would forever remain in Ren Xiaoyao's heart. These bloody past events filled Ren Xiaoyao with hatred for the Blade Maniac, and he vowed to avenge his family and those innocent people.
The lingering demonic energy on the challenge letter faintly carried the remnants of the Ren Family Sword Manual —presumably, the Blade Maniac Swordsman had attempted to decipher the true essence of swordsmanship from the relics of the Return Ruins, only to have his mind corrupted by Demonic Baleful Energy. Amidst the swirling demonic energy, Ren Xiaoyao seemed to see the Mad Swordsman frantically searching for the way of the Blade Maniac within the Return Ruins, ultimately losing himself and becoming a puppet of the Demonic Baleful Energy. All of this only strengthened Ren Xiaoyao's resolve to fulfill his mission: to stop the Blade Maniac and save this continent.
Ren Xiaoyao's eyes grew increasingly cold. He seemed to see again the horrific scene inside the Ren Family Ancestral Hall, the cries of his relatives and Blade Maniac laughter echoing in his ears. Inside the hall, the corpses of his loved ones lay scattered on the ground, blood staining the floor red, while Blade Maniac stood in the pool of blood, letting out arrogant laughter. This scene was deeply imprinted in Ren Xiaoyao's heart, becoming his driving force.
Blood flowed like a river within the ancestral hall. The tassels on the 360 broken swords swayed gently in the wind, like weeping, blood-soaked souls. The tassels fluttered in the wind, as if telling the tragic story of their masters. These tassels were the shame of the Ren Family and a testament to the sins of Blade Maniac. Ren Xiaoyao vowed to make Blade Maniac pay the price for his actions.
On Broken Blade Cliff, Gale Wind, carrying sand and gravel, swept across the cliff face like blades. The weapons of swordsmen who had perished over the centuries had long since become one with the rock, emitting a mournful hum in the wind. The sound was deep and sorrowful, like the lamentations of countless wronged swordsmen. The lamentations of these wronged souls seemed to be telling Ren Xiaoyao about their resentment and anger, making Ren Xiaoyao feel even more keenly the responsibility on his shoulders.
The cliff face is densely covered with various weapons, some rusted and bearing witness to the vicissitudes of time; others still gleam faintly, retaining their former sharpness. Each weapon carries a story, a tale of swordsmen's glory and tragedy. These weapons are like witnesses to history, silently recounting the countless fierce battles that have taken place on this cliff face.
Every weapon is etched with the marks of battle, witnessing the fall of countless swordsmen. The marks, varying in depth, record every thrilling fight. These marks are the imprints left by swordsmen with their lives, allowing people to feel their bravery and fearlessness.
Blade Maniac in heavy Mysterious Iron armor, Dao Kuang stood on the cliff edge, nine curved blades at his waist spitting out eerie blue flames. He raised his hand and stroked the sharpest blade, " Yinhun," the blade reflecting his bloodshot pupils. "Remnant of the Ren Family, I thought you were going to be a coward in Return Ruins for the rest of your life!" His voice was cold and arrogant, filled with contempt for Ren Xiaoyao. Blade Maniac's eyes revealed a madness and confidence; he seemed to have already decided that Ren Xiaoyao was no match for him.
Before the words were even finished, the scimitar had already transformed into a black lightning bolt, tearing through the void. Wherever the ten-foot-long blade of light passed, the air emitted a crisp sound like shattering glass. The blade of light sliced through the sky, leaving a black trail, as if it were about to cleave space itself. This strike demonstrated the Blade Maniac, and also made Ren Xiaoyao feel unprecedented pressure.
From the Space Cracks torn open by the blade's Return Ruins was faintly revealed, and a chilling power emanated from it. The darkness was profound and terrifying, and the power was strong and evil, sending shivers down one's spine. This power seemed to be Curse of the Return Ruins, and its appearance foreshadowed that this battle would be even more difficult and dangerous.
Ren Xiaoyao's robes fluttered without wind, and the moment Lingchen Sword was drawn, spiritual Spiritual Qi within Fang Yuan miles converged like rivers flowing into the sea. Dark clouds filled the sky, lightning flashed and thunder roared, and purple lightning, like giant dragons, weaved through the clouds, as if heaven and earth were gathering power for this great battle. The light of the lightning illuminated the entire sky, and the roar of the thunder was deafening, plunging the whole world into chaos and turmoil.
Dark clouds filled the sky, lightning flashed and thunder roared, as if heaven and earth were gathering strength for this great battle. The thunder roared deafeningly, and the lightning illuminated the entire sky, turning the earth purple. This scene made people feel the power of nature and foreshadow that this battle would be an earth-shattering duel.
Purple lightning bolts continuously struck from the clouds, each carrying an aura of destruction. The lightning blasted deep craters into the ground, sending dust billowing into the air. These lightning bolts were like the wrath of heaven and earth; their appearance made the entire battlefield even more dangerous and terrifying.
He flicked his finger along the Sword Spine of his sword, and a golden sword arc, imbued with the obsessions of countless sword Sword Cultivator in the Return Ruins, shot forth. The instant it collided with the black blade light, the resulting shockwave uprooted a thousand-year-old tree on the cliff edge. The ancient tree crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Its trunk was covered in knife marks and sword wounds, bearing witness to countless battles that had taken place here. This ancient tree was like the Guardians of this battlefield; its fall signified that this battle was about to enter a new phase.
The ancient tree crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Its trunk was covered with knife marks and sword wounds, telling the story of countless battles that had taken place here. Those scars recorded every fierce duel, witnessing the bravery and tragedy of the swordsmen. These scars are the marks of history, allowing people to feel the cruelty and ruthlessness of this battlefield.
The ancient tree's rings held the Battle Memories of swordsmen throughout history, but as the tree fell, these memories vanished. The fragments of memory scattered within the rings seemed to tell tales of past glories and vicissitudes. The disappearance of these memories was like the passage of history, reminding people of the ruthlessness of time and the brevity of life.
Seeing this, the Blade Maniac. He simultaneously released all nine curved blades, which transformed in mid-air into nine colossal black dragons, their bodies riddled with sword scars. Their eyes burned with the remnants of the swordsmen he had devoured, and they roared as they spewed forth black mist carrying shattered blades. From within that mist came piercing screams, as if the final cries of the swordsmen devoured by the Blade Maniac were uttered in a pitiful and desperate manner. These black dragons were like the Blade Maniac Maniac's henchmen; their appearance made the entire battlefield even more terrifying and dangerous.
From within the black mist came piercing screams, as if the swordsmen being devoured by the Blade Maniac were making their final cries. The screams were heart-wrenching and chilling. These screams were the lamentations of the souls of those devoured swordsmen, revealing the cruelty and ruthlessness of the Blade Maniac.
Wherever the black mist reached, rocks were rapidly eroded, and bottomless pits appeared in the ground. Black smoke billowed around the pits, emitting a pungent odor, as if they were entrances to hell. These pits were like wounds on the earth, and their appearance made the entire battlefield even more desolate and barren.
"It's nothing but stolen sword intent." Ren Xiaoyao's voice was cold and firm, filled with disdain for Blade Maniac. Ren Xiaoyao's eyes revealed a kind of confidence and composure. He knew that although Blade Maniac was powerful, he would not be easily defeated.
Ren Xiaoyao lightly raised his sword finger, and the Golden Patterns of the < Myriad Swords Return to Guixu Art > on the Sword Spine swirled like a reversed Star River. Thousands of Sword Qi condensed from the void, each Sword Qi entwined with the obsession of the remnant souls within the Guixu Sword Mound. The Sword Qi shimmered with golden light, their light revealing unwavering determination and resilience. These Sword Qi were like the will of the Return Ruins Sword Cultivator; their appearance allowed Ren Xiaoyao to feel boundless power.
When the Sword Qi clashed with the blade dragon, the entire sky was dyed into a vortex of interwoven gold and black. The Broken Blade Cliff crumbled inch by inch in the aftershocks, and the rubble falling into the abyss was instantly pulverized in mid-air. Within the vortex, golden and black forces collided, emitting Dazzling Light, and the rubble instantly turned to dust under the impact of the force. This collision was like a duel between heaven and earth; its appearance caused the entire world to tremble.
A deafening roar echoed from below the cliff, and countless mysterious runes and patterns vaguely emerged from the abyss, as if it were an ancient, sealed world. The runes shimmered with an eerie light, and the patterns seemed to conceal endless secrets, filling people with curiosity. These runes and patterns were like a mysterious treasure; their appearance made people feel the mystery and unknown of this world.
The runes shimmered with an eerie light, their patterns seemingly depicting an ancient God-Demon War gods and demons, every detail brimming with mystery and majesty. The lifelike images seemed to bring the ancient battles to life before our eyes. These patterns, like a historical scroll, allowed people to experience the splendor and magnificence of ancient times.
Blade Maniac's demonic energy surged, transforming him into Black Vortex enveloping countless sword shadows, moving around Ren Xiaoyao at a speed beyond the reach of the naked eye. The sword shadows flickered like streaks of black lightning, dazzling the eye. This move by Blade Maniac demonstrated his immense strength and frenzied fighting style, putting Ren Xiaoyao under unprecedented pressure.
Each time a blade flashed by, spiderweb-like cracks appeared in the void, instantly revealing dozens of deep, bone-revealing wounds on Ren Xiaoyao's Daoist robe. Blood stained his robe, blooming into flamboyant blood flowers on the white fabric, but his eyes grew ever more resolute, revealing Unbending Will. Each of Ren Xiaoyao's Dao Wound was like a medal, bearing witness to his bravery and resilience.
Blood gushed out, staining his Daoist robe crimson, but his gaze grew ever more resolute. There was no fear in his eyes, only an unwavering dedication to the sword and fury towards his enemies. Ren Xiaoyao knew he could not fall; he had to continue fighting for those who had perished, for the peace of this continent.
Yet he remained as immovable as an ancient mountain, his Lingchen Sword moving at will. His seemingly casual swings were actually imbued with the lifelong mastery of the 365 Sword Cultivator of the Guixu Sword Mound —when the blade shadow approached his throat for the seventh time, the sword's edge severed a strand of Blade Maniac by a hair's breadth. This seemingly simple strike contained boundless wisdom and power. Ren Xiaoyao's swordplay showcased his superb swordsmanship and calm mind, instilling a sense of fear in Blade Maniac.
The moment the strand of hair fell, it transformed into a black lightning bolt in mid-air, striking the ground and leaving a deep crack in the rock. Black smoke billowed from the crack, as if it were the rage of the Blade Maniac. This crack was like a symbol of the Blade Maniac's defeat; its appearance revealed Ren Xiaoyao's power and the Blade Maniac's weakness.
"It's time to end this." Ren Xiaoyao's voice resounded like a great bell, filled with majesty and domineering power. Ren Xiaoyao's voice was like a victory horn; its sound brought hope and confidence to the people.
Ren Xiaoyao suddenly stepped forward, and the golden light emanating from the four characters " Dao Foundation Not Extinguished " on the Lingchen Sword turned the world into daylight. The dazzling golden light dispelled the darkness and illuminated the entire battlefield. This golden light was like the light of justice; its appearance gave people a glimpse of the dawn of victory.
Within the golden pillar of light formed by the fusion of countless Sword Qi, the illusory figures of cultivators from the Guixu Sword Mound faintly appeared. Some held wooden swords, others wielded broken blades, and they all emitted a deafening Sword Hum. The illusory figures were neatly arranged, their eyes resolute, and the sound of their Sword Hum echoed through the sky, as if cheering on Ren Xiaoyao. These illusory figures were like Ren Xiaoyao's comrades-in-arms; their appearance gave Ren Xiaoyao a sense of boundless power.
Among those illusory figures were elderly men with white hair and young men in their prime, their eyes filled with unwavering dedication to the way of the sword and fury against the Blade Maniac. The eyes of the elderly men revealed the wisdom and experience of time, while the eyes of the young men were full of vigor and fighting spirit. These illusory figures represented the spirit of the Return Ruins Sword Cultivator, and their appearance made people feel the greatness and sublimity of the way of the sword.
In the old man's phantom image, one can still see his heroic figure in his youth, conquering all directions; the youth's phantom image is full of vigor and fighting spirit, as if ready to give his life for the way of the sword at any time. Their figures appear and disappear in the golden pillar of light, showing powerful strength. These phantom images are like heroes of history, and their appearance makes people feel their bravery and fearlessness.
The Blade Maniac's blade shadows crumbled inch by inch under the pillar of light, and the nine curved blades let out a mournful cry of resentment. The faces of the swordsmen he had slaughtered appeared on the Mysterious Iron blades, turning into dust in the golden light.
The scimitar's mournful cry was shrill and desperate, as if lamenting its own fate. The sound pierced the clouds, causing distant mountains to tremble. The demonic energy permeating the air, as if stripped of its support, began to twist and dissipate wildly. The faces of swordsmen that appeared on the blade, some with glaring eyes, others filled with resentment, gradually distorted and deformed as the golden light burned them, eventually turning into wisps of green smoke and dissipating between heaven and earth.
The moment the beam of light pierced through the Blade Maniac's body, the madness in his eyes finally turned into fear. This once invincible Blade Demon, now shrouded in golden light, began to appear ethereal and transparent. He wanted to struggle, wanted to shout, but the golden light, imbued with the obsessions of countless Sword Cultivator, clung to him like a leech, tightly binding his Primordial Spirit. "No! Impossible!" the Blade Maniac roared in despair, his voice filled with disbelief, "How could I lose to you!" However, his struggles and roars were futile. With a deafening roar, the Blade Maniac's demonic energy, Primordial Spirit, and all the Sword Dao Inheritance he had plundered were pulverized by the golden light.