Sword Ancestor Attacks

At the pinnacle of the Sword Domain on the Tianyan Continent.

The Myriad Ren Sword Peak resembles an ancient behemoth that has slumbered for billions of years. Its spine, with its veins like coiled dragons, bears the marks of time's erosion in every fold. The dark brown rocks gleam with a cold, hard light in the Gale Wind winds, piercing the Primordial Chaos beyond the nine heavens. The summit is perpetually shrouded in ethereal Gale Wind, not ordinary air currents, but the invisible sharpness condensed from the Sword Ancestor's ninety thousand years of sword intent. The wind carries countless fragmented sword shadows. Ordinary cultivators, let alone reaching the summit, would have their protective spiritual energy pulverized by the all-pervasive sword pressure even a hundred miles from the base. Their Primordial Spirit would be unable to survive, only to be swept away by the Gale Wind into Stardust, scattered into the world. At this moment, atop the peak, the Sword Ancestor stands with his hands behind his back. He wears a faded, plain-colored Daoist robe, the fabric bearing several sword marks—those are... The marks left by demonic energy during his early battles with Demonic Path Magnate, etched into his being, are indelible and have become badges of honor on his Dao Path. His robes flutter slightly in the Gale Wind, and though no divine weapons or blades are visible around him, countless sword shadows swirl in the void beside him—these are the Supreme Sword Intent condensed from his ninety thousand years of sword comprehension. Some are as fiery as falling meteors, tearing through the sky with long, flaming tails, leaving scorched marks in their wake; others are as cold as deep valleys and icy pools, condensing into tiny Ice Crystals Ice Crystals where they pass, which then form Miniature Sword Mound filled with swords indistinguishable to the naked eye. Each sword shadow contains a World Creation sharpness, as if with a slight movement it could cleave the world in two, causing the sun, moon, and stars to lose their luster, and even the Star River beyond the nine heavens to change its course.

His gaze was like that of a hawk, sharp as a newly drawn sword, his pupils reflecting the strange light on the eastern horizon, locked on tightly. There, a visible Chaos Qi was spreading at an astounding speed, neither cloud nor mist, carrying an indescribable vastness and inclusiveness, like the undifferentiated origin at the Beginning of Heaven and Earth and earth, or the last rays of light before the universe's Annihilation. This aura even caused the sword shadows around him to tremble slightly, as if they had encountered some being of the same origin but of a higher level. The sharpness at the edges of the sword shadows subtly restrained its ferocity as the Chaos Aura swept over them. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed... A faint golden sword mark etched into his palm, as fine as a hair yet deeply embedded in his bone and blood—thirty thousand years ago, to prove the ultimate swordsmanship, he ventured alone into the Nine Heavens Star River, shattering three rebellious Star Core with his own power. When the Star Core, the intense heat of billions of degrees, carrying the blazing intensity of the stars' origin, left this eternal mark on his palm. The pain that once pierced his soul when it healed had now become a testament to his mastery of the swordsmanship. At this moment, drawn by the Chaos Aura, the sword mark was faintly burning, as if some dormant memory was about to awaken, spreading along his bloodline to his limbs and bones, stirring a vague tremor in the depths of his Primordial Spirit towards the "origin."

"Primordial Chaos... someone has actually been able to break through this realm." A low murmur escaped the Sword Ancestor's throat. Before the sound waves dissipated, they had already materialized into a tangible Sword Aura, like an invisible Giant Axe, cleaving through the thick, cotton-like clouds before him with a "swoosh." The instant the clouds split open, the raging sea of clouds below suddenly appeared, its waves crashing and rolling. Amidst the churning waves, one could vaguely see the countless ravines carved by the Sword Qi aura. These ravines were bottomless, marks left by his sword trials over the past ninety thousand years. He had cultivated his sword for ninety thousand years, from Mortals child to the Sword Domain Supreme, believing he had reached the pinnacle of the sword path of heaven and earth: when the sword was drawn, the wind and clouds would change color. He had once frozen the East Sea Water Vein for three thousand years with a single sword strike, causing millions of aquatic creatures from the Dragon Palace to lie dormant beneath the ice, only to reappear three thousand years later when the sword's power dissipated. The sun shines brightly; the Sword Hum terrifies even ghosts and gods. He once dispelled millions of Chaos Aura spirits from the Nine Netherworlds with a single sword cry, emptying thirty percent of the City of Wronged Deaths in the Underworld. But the chaotic aura that swept across the continent just now was like a boulder thrown into a still lake, stirring up unprecedented waves in his calm Dao Heart —it was a power that transcended birth and death, and transcended Good and Evil. When gentle, it was like spring water brushing across a frozen river, silently melting all things, even the most stubborn ice turning into streams that nourished plants; when powerful, it was like the beginning of the universe, carrying the potential to destroy the world, yet also concealing the gentleness of nurturing new life, as if it could completely dissolve his proud and unparalleled sword intent into nothingness, turning it into a wisp of light in the Primordial Chaos.

"Since the sword path exists, how can Primordial Chaos?" A resolute glint flashed in the Sword Ancestor's eyes, a protest from his unwavering Dao Heart, steadfast for ninety thousand years. His sword path had always been clearly defined: slaying demons was slaying demons, protecting the Dao was protecting the Dao—allowing no ambiguity whatsoever. His figure blurred, leaving only a faint afterimage. As the afterimage dissipated, the air currents it created transformed into tiny sword blades, carving countless shallow marks into the rock. Each mark was a complete Sword Talisman, combining to form a miniature sword scripture. The next instant, he appeared in the newly formed world after Ren Xiaoyao's tribulation. At his feet, newly sprouting spirits... The grass was covered with glistening dewdrops, reflecting the shadows of Chaos Current. The blades of grass were slightly bent by the Sword Qi energy emanating from him, yet the tips still stubbornly pointed to the sky. The veins of the blades flowed with the resilience bestowed by Primordial Chaos, and even when pressed to the ground by the sword, they did not break. The Primordial Chaos rain of light floating around him collided with the sword shadows beside him, producing a dense, metallic clang, crisp like the clinking of jade pendants, yet concealing a breathtaking clash of power. Each collision caused ripples in the void, and within the ripples flashed countless images of Sword Cultivator dying in battle, as if they might shatter at any moment, dragging this newly born world into the Void Turbulence.

Ren Xiaoyao sat cross-legged in a patch of newly sprouted green grass. The blades of grass brushed against his robes, bringing a natural touch. His robes still bore the stardust of the aftermath of the Heavenly Tribulation, shimmering faintly. He gazed at the Chaos Current slowly flowing in his palm. The energy was pale gray, but upon closer inspection, one could see countless lights and shadows hidden within it: sometimes it transformed into a rushing river, with fish and shrimp playing in the waves, their scales shimmering with a mingled light of spiritual and Demonic Power; sometimes it solidified into towering mountains, with ancient trees peeking out from the peaks, their trunks entwined with vines formed from the Power of Life and Death; and sometimes it became a vast starry sky, the stars... The Cycle of Life and Death unfolds amidst the shifting stars; New Star Birth with the vitality of green mist, while old stars Annihilation with the embers of blue flames. This is the Chaos Origin he condensed after his tribulation, encompassing the possibilities of all things, and even he himself is constantly exploring the boundaries of this power. Seeing the Sword Ancestor appear, he slowly raised his eyes, his pupils churning with Primordial Chaos, unfathomable and without source, yet exceptionally calm, as if reflecting the workings of the entire universe, even the contraction and contraction of his pupils resonating with the birth and death of stars. When he spoke, his voice was like a spring breeze, carrying the vitality of sprouting grass and trees. "Sword Ancestor, have you come from afar for a friendly exchange, or for a judgment?"

"Naturally, it is judgment." The Sword Ancestor raised his hand, and the countless sword shadows behind him suddenly merged into one, transforming into a longsword flowing with Purple-Gold Rosy Clouds. The sword was three feet and seven inches long, perfectly matching the numbers of Yin and Yang in the universe. Three inches represents Yang, and seven inches represents Yin; only by balancing Yin and Yang can one attain the true essence of the sword. The sword was engraved with the trajectory of the sun, moon, and stars, with the position of the Big Dipper being particularly clear. The direction of the hilt of the Big Dipper moved slightly with the sword's movement, and in the Stars Move, it seemed to contain the operating Principle of an entire universe. A milky-white... The pearl and Inner Core were forged from the inner core of a Star Beast he had slain years ago, amplifying his sword aura by thirty percent. His hand gripping the sword was as steady as a rock, his knuckles slightly white from the force, and the veins on the back of his hand were visible—marks left from years of wielding the sword. His voice carried an undeniable authority. "The way of the sword is the backbone of the Heaven and Earth Order, upright and incorruptible, slaying demons and maintaining the balance of the universe. Your Chaos Power, indiscriminate between Good and Evil, life and death, has fused the essence of demons with the spiritual power of the righteous path, disrupting the Heaven and Earth Laws. You deserve to be punished!"

Before the words were even finished, the longsword had already cleaved down. There was no earth-shattering sound; all the power was compressed to its limit, leaving only a perfectly condensed sword mark, like an ink line, slashing straight down from the void. Where the sword mark passed, the air seemed to freeze, forming a transparent vacuum where even light refracted; newly sprouted flowers and grasses instantly froze in their swaying posture, even the dewdrops on the petals stopped rolling, their reflections becoming an eternal image; winged fish in the stream froze, the arc of their tail fins suspended in mid-air, the iridescent halo on their scales no longer flowing; even the flow of time seemed to be severed by this sword, everything around lost its dynamism, leaving only that sword mark carrying an undeniable pressure of order, ready to cleave Ren Xiaoyao and the Chaos Aura around him into Void, returning this newly born Chaos Land to its "right track."

Ren Xiaoyao neither dodged nor evaded, but simply slowly raised his hand. The Chaos Current in his palm spontaneously surged forth, transforming into a hazy wall of light before him. The light wall appeared as thin as a cicada's wing, its edges shimmering with a faint gray light, yet it was like a miniature universe, encompassing infinite possibilities—the birth and death of Nebula, the withering and flourishing of vegetation, the changing course of rivers, and even the entire process of tiny creatures from birth to extinction could be faintly seen on its surface. The sword mark struck the light wall, but instead of tearing it apart as the Sword Ancestor had anticipated, it spread like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating ripples. As the ripples expanded... The scene on the light barrier shifted accordingly. Stars shattered and reformed in the ripples, and vegetation withered and sprouted anew amidst the fluctuations. The sword strikes, representing order and unparalleled power, melted and disintegrated within the Primordial Chaos light barrier at a visible speed, like ice and snow meeting the sun. The sharp edges of the sword marks were gradually smoothed by the Chaos Current, eventually transforming into wisps of silvery-white energy, which were quietly absorbed by the light barrier, becoming nourishment for the Primordial Chaos. After absorbing the energy, the light barrier grew even deeper in color, as if it could devour all external things, even slightly distorting the gaze cast by the Sword Ancestor.

"Impossible!" The Sword Ancestor's pupils constricted sharply, his hand gripping the hilt trembled slightly, a subtle vibration emanating from the sword's blade, traveling up his arm to his heart, causing even his Primordial Spirit to tremble. This sword strike contained the intent of "Slaying Dao," a power he had once used to cleave the Immortal Body of Ancient Demon Gods. That Demonic God's body was as hard as the Star Core, its surface covered with scales capable of withstanding Immortal Fire, yet it was cleaved in two by this sword, its Primordial Spirit dissipating into the world, unable to coalesce for three thousand years. Today, it couldn't even break through a seemingly fragile barrier of light? He took a sudden step forward, his sword intent surging, countless shimmering golden Sword Talisman appearing on his Purple-Gold Longsword. These Sword Talisman were the true essence of the sword path he had comprehended from All Things in Heaven and Earth —possessing the grandeur of "a waterfall plunging three thousand feet," the sword's momentum like the cascading Huangguoshu Waterfall. Unstoppable, with a resolute determination to destroy all obstacles, the Sword Talisman transforms into a rushing phantom of water waves in the air, the crests of which support sharp sword blades; it possesses the desolation of "a lone plume of smoke rising straight in the desert," the sword intent like a lone wolf in the wilderness, chilling and piercing, carrying an unapproachable aloofness, the Sword Talisman transforms into a straight streak of gray smoke, within which countless thin swords are hidden; it possesses the vitality of "spring breezes turning the south bank of the Yangtze River green again," the sword shadow contains the agility of all things reviving, the imagery of grass sprouting from the soil and Flower Buds blooming flows in the sword shadow, a miniature spring scene arises where the Sword Talisman lands, each new leaf in the spring scene bearing the curve of a sword blade; it also possesses the Annihilation of "frost-covered leaves redder than February flowers," the Sword Qi carries the desolation of autumn leaves withering, the process of leaves turning from emerald green to withered yellow clearly visible, the Sword Talisman transforms into a sky full of red leaves, as the red leaves fall, they turn into a fine Sword Rain of swords.

"Myriad Swords Return to Origin!" The Sword Ancestor roared, his voice shaking the surrounding land. The sound waves transformed into tangible sword rings, spreading outwards. Wherever they passed, rocks crumbled, and the flying debris was pulverized in mid-air by the sword rings; streams stopped flowing, and rivers were forced to flow backwards by the sword rings, condensing into a water sword array in mid-air. The Purple-Gold Longsword suddenly split into billions of sword shadows, each carrying a unique sword Artistic Conception, encircling from all directions, covering the sky above and the earth below, blocking the void on the left and cutting off retreat on the right. In an instant, the world... Filled with sword shadows, the wind was slicing into sharp whistles, the whistles interspersed with the sharp sounds of swords rubbing together; the sound of water was shaken into a muffled roar by the sword's force, the roar concealing the power of sword waves crashing against the shore; even the sound of grass and trees growing was transformed into sharp Sword Hum, as sharp as an eagle's cry and as muffled as thunder, as if the entire world had become his Sword Domain, to completely trap Ren Xiaoyao in this cage woven from sword intent, where even his Primordial Spirit could not escape, and could only be slowly torn apart by billions of sword shadows, turning into a wisp of pure air between heaven and earth.

Ren Xiaoyao sighed softly, a sigh tinged with regret for the Sword Ancestor's obsession, yet also with a profound understanding of the Great Dao of Great Dao of Heaven and Earth. His sigh transformed into a ripple of Primordial Chaos, gently brushing across the grass before him, straightening the blades bent by the sword's power. The Chaos Qi around him suddenly expanded, surging in all directions like a tide. Wherever it passed, the air frozen by the sword's shadow began to flow again, carrying the fragrance of grass and trees; the void torn by the Sword Qi slowly healed, tiny specks of Light Moss sprouting from the cracks. Those seemingly gentle raindrops of light, upon contact with the sword's shadow, suddenly became all-encompassing. The sharp sword shadow pierced the Primordial Chaos, then vanished without a trace, like a mud ox entering the sea. Whether it was the sword's power as vast as a waterfall or its intent as solitary as a lone wolf in the wilderness, both were decomposed and reshaped within the Primordial Chaos. The sword's sharpness was worn away by the Chaos Current, transforming into gentle energy, ultimately becoming harmless streams of light that merged into the surrounding new growth.

A sword shadow, carrying the intent of Annihilation, struck, intending to obliterate all life. Where it passed, grass withered and leaves curled like charcoal; streams froze, their surfaces Death Qi white. But upon entering the Primordial Chaos, it was drawn by the life force within, Annihilation and life intertwining, giving birth to a patch of resilient Ice Crystal Flower. The petals were transparent as crystal, revealing the Chaos Current flowing within; the stamens, however, were a warm pink, radiating a faint warmth, refracting seven colors in the sunlight. Touching them, one felt both the chill of Ice Crystals and the warmth of the flower; these two extreme sensations mingled at the fingertips, creating a strange peace. Another sword shadow, carrying the rhythm of life, slashed down, originally intended to awaken all things to grow. Where it passed, withered trees sprouted new shoots, tender... The buds gleamed with a glossy green; Green Moss grew on the rocks, spreading like green flames. Yet, within the Primordial Chaos, it mingled with the Power of Annihilation, condensing into a black Ink Stone imbued with an aura of deathly stillness. The stone's body was warm and smooth as jade, radiating warmth to the touch; its surface bore the patterns of Star Annihilation, within which flowed a gray-black current. Approaching it, one could feel both the warmth of the jade and the instantaneous sense of the vicissitudes of time, as if witnessing one's own journey from youth to old age. The originally distinct Artistic Conception of swordplay, under the influence of the Chaos Power, utterly shattered their boundaries, merging and giving rise to countless unprecedented new phenomena, strange yet harmonious, as if this were the true nature of heaven and earth, not a fragmentation forcibly divided by "order."

"This... this is not power, it is the Dao!" The Sword Ancestor's mind trembled violently. His hand holding the sword began to shake, his knuckles turned white, and even the Purple-Gold Longsword trembled, the Star Map trajectory on the sword began to become disordered. He felt that his understanding of the Dao of the sword over the past ninety thousand years was collapsing—the "ultimate" he had pursued all his life, whether it was the ultimate in fierceness or the ultimate in agility, seemed so narrow in the face of the Chaos Power. Like a frog at the bottom of a well, he only saw a corner of the world, but thought he had seen the whole picture. He used "slashing" and "dividing" to build an invisible wall, trapping himself in it. He bit his tongue hard, spitting out a mouthful of Essence Blood. The Essence Blood was golden-red, containing the essence of his life's cultivation. It turned into Mars in the air, and when the Mars landed, they transformed into Miniature Sword Mound, pouring all over the Purple-Gold Longsword. The longsword let out a shrill cry, as if it could not withstand this power. The Star Trails on the sword began to rotate in reverse, exuding an aura of destruction. Even the surrounding air was scorched by this aura, and the rocks on the ground melted into magma at a visible speed. Tiny sword shadows rolled in the magma, which were fragments of sword intent refined by the high temperature.

"I offer my Sword Bone as a sacrifice, to shatter this Chaos Illusion!" A madness flashed in the Sword Ancestor's eyes, a resolute determination to risk everything. His Dao Heart would not allow him to lose to a "chaotic" power. He burned his Primordial Spirit, Primordial Spirit transformed into a ball of golden flame. Within the flame emerged scenes of his ninety thousand years of cultivation: from the awkwardness of his first sword wield as a youth, to the decisiveness of slaying his first Demon Beast as a young man, to the blood-soaked battle against the Demonic Dao in middle age... The flames enveloped his entire body, completely merging him with the Dao of the sword. In an instant, he transformed into a dazzling sword light that pierced the heavens and earth, a light more radiant than the sun. More dazzling than the stars, it contained his ninety thousand years of cultivation, ninety thousand years of obsession, and ninety thousand years of swordsmanship essence. The void around the Light Sword rippled slightly due to this extreme energy. This was his trump card, his last pride, the Final Sword Strike born from his belief that "The Sword Exists, So Does the Person, the Sword Perishes, So Does the Person." Wherever the sword light passed, even the Primordial Chaos light rain was temporarily forced back, revealing a pitch-black Void Crack. Within the rift, fragments of other worlds could be vaguely seen—frozen planets, burning galaxies—as if even heaven and earth would be cleaved apart by this sword, exposing the Chaos Power to the Void of the universe.

Ren Xiaoyao gazed at the sword light, his eyes swirling with Primordial Chaos, and slowly said, "The way of the sword is boundless, and so is Primordial Chaos. You are fixated on 'severing,' using the sword as a blade to cleave heaven and earth, dividing all things into Good and Evil, life and death, but you do not know that 'tolerance' is also the Great Way—only by tolerating life and death, by tolerating Good and Evil, can one see the whole picture of heaven and earth, and comprehend the Origin of All Things." He raised his hand, and the Chaos Qi in front of him no longer defended, but instead embraced the destructive sword light like a gentle hug. Within the light mist, countless scenes of life and death, Mutual Generation and Restraint, and endless cycles emerged: Demon Beast preyed on cultivators, and the spiritual energy of the cultivators after their deaths nourished plants, which were then devoured by Demon Beast; the malevolent energy of Devil Cultivator settled in the Primordial Chaos, transforming into Fertile Soil to nourish Spirit Root, and the fruits borne by these Spirit Root were then harvested by righteous cultivators...

The instant the sword light pierced the Primordial Chaos, the Sword Ancestor felt an indescribable power envelop him. This power was neither hard nor soft, neither cold nor hot, yet it carried a wisdom that understood all things, like a benevolent elder guiding him, peeling away Mist Layer that had prevented him from seeing through things for ninety thousand years. His sword intent, his Primordial Spirit, and the true essence of his proud swordsmanship were all gently Deconstruct and reconstructed within this power. There was no excruciating pain, only an unprecedented clarity—he saw his own obsession of ninety thousand years: in pursuit of the ultimate swordsmanship, he had personally shattered... How many possibilities, how many sights did he miss? The Devil Race youth who sought his guidance in swordsmanship could have followed a different path under his tutelage, yet he was slain by his sword; the spiritual herb that absorbed demonic energy, a wondrous object embodying both Good and Evil, was uprooted by him as a heretic. He saw a vast world beyond the sword path: Primordial Chaos was not disorder, but a higher level of balance, like Yin and Yang Mutual Generation, mutually dependent and indispensable. It is precisely because of opposition that harmony exists, just like the sword mark on his palm, both a wound and a medal; lacking either aspect, the Dao Path is incomplete.

"So... I was wrong..." The Sword Ancestor's voice, tinged with both relief and bitterness, echoed throughout the heavens and earth. Gone was the previous majesty; only endless melancholy remained, as if ninety thousand years had frozen and vanished in that moment. The dazzling sword light that had pierced the heavens and earth gradually dimmed and dissolved in the Primordial Chaos, losing its former sharpness and transforming into countless tiny specks of light. These specks formed the trajectory of his life's Sword Path in the air, from its raw beginnings to its sharp edge, and finally to its current tranquility. Ultimately, those specks of light hovered in the air like fireflies for a moment, as if bidding farewell to their past selves, before merging into the Chaos Current surrounding Ren Xiaoyao, becoming part of the Primordial Chaos, finding a new home, along with the unwavering obsession with "slaying" within him.