Void Clarity Sword Heart

The night grew deeper.

Qin Jue sat cross-legged on the cushion, as still as an old monk in meditation, until the moon hung high in the sky before he slowly opened his eyes.

They were not the eyes of a seventeen-year-old youth. His pupils were deep, devoid of panic, carrying only a kind of detachment born from witnessing the vicissitudes of life, and a trace of... a long-missed vitality.

He looked down at his own hands. The palms were pale, but covered in thick calluses—marks left by years of gripping a sword.

"Three days, huh..."

Qin Jue murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Interesting."

The original owner of this body was also named Qin Jue, seventeen years old, an Outer Court Disciple of Qingcang Academy.

This morning, Ning Zhiyuan had publicly issued a challenge, agreeing to a duel on the training day three days later.

Upon hearing the news, the original owner was struck by a surge of panic and anger. Coupled with long-term resource deprivation and a body already in deficit, he collapsed on the spot. After returning to his courtyard, he soon breathed his last.

Now, occupying this body was a soul from another world called "Blue Star."

In his past life, in that world where vitality had withered away, he had spent a full sixty years as a mortal, honing the sword dao to its utmost limit.

No inner energy, no vitality—only technique.

He could sense the autumn wind rising from the veins of a leaf, and perceive killing intent from the chirping of a cicada.

One sword strike, and it was life or death.

He was revered as the "Grandmaster of the Sword Dao," yet bound by the limitations of that world, he could never break through the body's limits. Eventually, his lifespan ran out, and he died clutching his sword.

He never expected that after waking, he would end up in this unfamiliar world.

Qin Jue took a deep breath, feeling the faint flow of energy in the air.

This feeling... was too wonderful!

The air, which had been as stagnant as dead water in his past life, was now brimming with vitality. The energy in the air followed his breath, burrowing into his lungs, bringing an unprecedented coolness and exhilaration.

"So this is the legendary vitality?"

Qin Jue greedily took a few more breaths, like a traveler who had been thirsty in the desert for sixty years, finally finding an oasis.

"Sixty years..." he muttered to himself, his tone tinged with regret. "I struggled for sixty years over there, honing the sword dao to its peak, yet always missing that final step. If I had known a place like this existed..."

He suddenly laughed, a smile carrying relief. "Ah, what's the use of knowing? To get a second chance is already a tremendous blessing."

With that thought, Qin Jue's heart stirred. He immediately closed his eyes and began circulating the technique within his body.

With each breath, the faint vitality in the air was drawn into his body, flowing through his meridians, merging with his blood and qi, gradually transforming into more refined blood-and-qi power. With every cycle, the blood and qi within him grew a little stronger.

This was the Azure Pine Qi Drawing Art, a Mortal Tier Mid-grade technique, the foundational practice for Outer Court Disciples of Qingcang Academy.

"I see... Using vitality to temper the flesh, strengthen blood and qi, and thus break through the body's limits."

Qin Jue's eyes snapped open, a flash of understanding passing through them.

In his past life, bound by the heavens and earth, he had possessed a complete mastery of the sword dao but could advance no further. Now, everything was different!

Qin Jue clenched his fist, feeling the blood and qi power slowly flowing within him. This body was still very weak, but given time, there was no reason he couldn't go further!

Moving mountains and draining seas, flying through the skies and burrowing into the earth—in this world, these were not mere legends.

"Since I'm here, I'll walk this path well."

Qin Jue stood up and stretched his limbs. As a series of crisp, crackling sounds like popping beans came from his bones, he couldn't help but wince and rub his lower back.

"Tsk—this body is seriously depleted."

Qin Jue swung his arms, then twisted his neck. The more he moved, the more he frowned. "This waist, these legs, and this shoulder... tsk, tsk, full of hidden injuries."

He sighed. "But it's fine. A body is forged, not born. I'll slowly nurse it back."

He looked toward the corner, where an iron sword lay.

The sword was old, covered in rust, without even a scabbard—just wrapped in coarse cloth. This was the original owner's only weapon.

Qin Jue walked over, picked up the iron sword, and casually twirled it in a flourish.

Too light, the center of gravity was off, and the blade was slightly bent.

"Tsk."

He clicked his tongue in disdain, flicking his finger against the blade, producing a dull hum.

"It'll have to do."

Qin Jue gripped the sword and made a few casual gestures. "The ancients said a good calligrapher doesn't pick his brush. I'm a Grandmaster of the Sword Dao—I can't be stumped by a broken sword. Besides..."

"A sword's quality has never been about its material."

As his words fell, his wrist turned lightly, and the blade traced a cold gleam under the moonlight.

But could this sword survive the battle three days from now?

"Ning Zhiyuan..."

Qin Jue recalled the original owner's memories.

Ning Zhiyuan had already stepped into the Hundred Refinements Realm, fourth layer—the [Jade Bone] realm. Though he, like the original owner, came from a collateral branch, he had considerable talent in the blade dao.

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As for the original body, at the Hundred Refinements Third Layer, he cultivated the Azure Pine Qi Drawing Art and the Tide Rising Sword Technique. The cultivation method was merely Mortal Tier Mid-grade, and the martial skill was an ordinary Mortal Tier sword technique, a common manual everyone in the academy had.

It was far inferior to Ning Zhiyuan's Mortal Tier High-grade cultivation method, the Hundred Bones Thunderous Sound Art.

This was a domineering technique, extremely rare even among Mortal Tier High-grade methods. By vibrating the bones to unlock the body's potential, it caused one's blood and qi to surge, with faint thunder rumbling between the bones. Its momentum was terrifying, and its explosive power far surpassed others of the same realm.

At the same Hundred Refinements Fourth Layer, a martial artist practicing the Hundred Bones Thunderous Sound Art would be at least thirty percent stronger than one cultivating a Mortal Tier Mid-grade method.

Such was the gap in cultivation method grades.

"No wonder the original body was forced to his death. This was a challenge destined to be lost from the start."

Qin Jue's tone carried a hint of pity.

Any Hundred Refinements Third Layer martial artist facing Ning Zhiyuan, who was at the Fourth Layer and practiced a Mortal Tier High-grade cultivation method and martial skill, would have only one outcome—defeat.

"If it were the original body, he would indeed be doomed to lose. But I am not him."

Qin Jue held his breath, calmed his mind, and sat down cross-legged. He closed his eyes, sinking his consciousness into his body.

As his blood and qi circulated, his awareness followed the meridians upward, eventually arriving at the depths of his brow, within the Sea of Consciousness.

The Sea of Consciousness was a hazy gray, filled with mist that obscured everything. At the center of this mist, a broken sword floated silently.

The sword was pitch-black, made of an unknown material. Its blade was covered in dense cracks, as if it could shatter into dust at any moment. Yet it hung there, exuding an ancient and desolate aura that involuntarily inspired awe.

This was the thing that had crossed over with him.

Qin Jue hesitated for a moment, then carefully extended a thread of his consciousness, gently touching the broken sword.

The moment he made contact!

Qin Jue felt a chill at his brow, and then a stream of cool, refreshing energy surged from the broken sword, instantly sweeping through his entire Sea of Consciousness. It then spread through his meridians to every limb and bone, washing through every pore of his body, leaving him feeling indescribably clear and comfortable.

As this cool energy spread, the world around him underwent a wondrous transformation.

The free-floating qi in the air, which he could only faintly sense before, now appeared as visible specks of light. Every trace and flow was clearly presented in his perception.

More importantly, it was his thinking.

The obscure martial skill techniques inherited from the original body's memories now seemed simple and clear. Every movement's power application, every subtlety of each stance, was laid bare before him, leaving no confusion.

"So this is..."

Qin Jue's mind shook. He snapped his eyes open, a sharp gleam flashing within them.

[Void Clarity Sword Heart]!

This was the innate ability granted to him by the broken sword. In this state, his comprehension would be elevated to an unimaginable level. Any martial skill would become transparent to him, holding no secrets.

"With this, three days is enough."

Qin Jue rubbed his chin, a confident smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

His gaze swept the room and soon found a thin booklet in a small wooden box by the bed—the manual for the Tide Rising Sword Technique.

He picked up the manual and began flipping through it by the moonlight.

This sword technique consisted of three stances: the first, [Tide Rising Stance]; the second, [Tide Surging Stance]; and the third, [Tidal Stance].

It was said that an elder, inspired while watching the tides at a river's mouth, created this technique. It did not seek raw power but rather the "life" of the sword's momentum—endless and unbroken like the tides.

The original body had cultivated the first stance, mastering only three moves.

The first move, a straight thrust. The second, an upward diagonal slash. The third, a turning strike.

These three moves formed a complete cycle: the ending posture of the previous move was the starting posture of the next, keeping the sword's momentum unbroken. This was the essence of the first stance—making the sword's momentum "alive."

As Qin Jue flipped through the manual, his gaze suddenly stopped on the last page.

This page had no diagrams or stances, but it was densely packed with annotations. The handwriting varied—some wild and messy, others neat and forceful—clearly not from a single person.

Yet the meaning conveyed between the lines was only two words—resentment!

"I have trained in the Tide Rising Sword Technique for decades, seeking to deduce its Ultimate Form. But the Tide Rising Stance exhausts itself, unable to glimpse the vast ocean. What a pity."

"The Ultimate Form is elusive, beyond human reach."

"What use is mastering a martial skill? In the end, it is still Mortal Tier, with no further progress."

Qin Jue's eyes swept over these annotations, and his heart stirred.

Ultimate Form.

Qin Jue understood the weight of those two words. In this world, any martial skill theoretically had the potential to reach an "Ultimate Form"—a sublimation of the technique, a key to breaking through grade limitations.

Once the Ultimate Form was comprehended, even a Mortal Tier martial skill could unleash a burst of power comparable to an Earth Tier martial skill.

But potential was just that—potential.

Over the past few hundred years, tens of thousands of disciples had trained in the Tide Rising Sword Technique. Countless had mastered it, yet not one had taken that step.

Qin Jue's gaze continued downward. At the very bottom of the page, there was a line of wild cursive, heavily inked:

"The Ultimate Form of Tide Rising is a momentum like a tsunami and a dragon's roar, a thousand swords converging into one! If this stance is achieved, even the weak striking the strong, killing enemies across realms, would be as easy as taking something from one's pocket! Alas! I have exhausted half my life, yet I remain stopped at the threshold!"

The strokes were vigorous, almost piercing through the paper. Across a hundred years of time, one could almost feel the old man's frustration and helplessness before his death.

"Ultimate Form... killing across realms..."

Qin Jue's heart burned. His fingers gently traced the lines of text, a blazing light flickering in his eyes.