From time to time, a few young soldiers from Nanguo would curiously ask their commander, "Who is that old man?"
The commander would only say, "He's a hero of Nanguo." Then he would repeat those words from years ago: "As long as he lives, Nanguo will be safe."
At last, Jiang Siming seemed unable to move any more bodies. He sat quietly beside the Immortal Slaying Sword, waiting for death to come.
"Old sir."
A childlike voice called Jiang Siming back to consciousness. With effort, he raised his eyelids, revealing eyes that had long since grown cloudy.
"Old sir, why are you all alone out here?" The young man had clearly only recently joined the army. Perhaps he was curious, or perhaps he felt pity for the old man.
Great Bright Sword Song, Can the System Escape Jail?
"I've forgotten," Jiang Siming replied in a hoarse, aged voice.
"Sir, why don't you come back to the city with me? It's far too dangerous to be alone out here at the border," the young soldier said with concern.
For a moment, the elderly Jiang Siming seemed at a loss. Then he calmed down and said evenly, "No. This is my home. So many people are waiting for me. I should have gone home long ago." His words left the young soldier bewildered.
The young soldier persisted, but Jiang Siming simply closed his eyes. With no other choice, the young soldier turned and left in silence.
That night, the enemy army launched a surprise attack on Nanguo's border forces. The city gates fell, and flames soared throughout the city. Enemy soldiers rampaged everywhere, looting and slaughtering, while cries of agony filled the air.
A young soldier, covered in blood, staggered over to Jiang Siming.
"General! I know who you are! I beg you, save the people in the city!" the young soldier roared at Jiang Siming. He was the God of War, a man who could defend a city alone with nothing but his sword. Now, the young soldier had placed all his hopes on the white-haired Jiang Siming.
Jiang Siming seemed not to hear him. He remained seated, motionless as a dead tree.
As he listened to the sounds of battle in the distance, images of his younger, more confident self flashed through his mind—as did the brothers he had killed through his own arrogance and pride in his achievements.
Two streams of cloudy tears quietly slipped from the corners of his dry eyes.
"General! As long as the vanguard commander Jiang Siming lives, Nanguo will never fall!" the young soldier declared, still believing it with all his heart.
"That's right. But I'm going to die." Jiang Siming parted his lips slightly, slowly raised his heavy eyelids, and struggled to his feet. He looked at the rusted Immortal Slaying Sword, still standing beside him.
"Run! After tonight, Jiang Siming will be no more. Just bury me in this land." Jiang Siming's withered hand once more gripped the hilt of the Immortal Slaying Sword. His frail body began to radiate a fearsome killing intent.
The young soldier's eyes brimmed with tears. Jiang Siming was the faith of Nanguo's soldiers. Now that their faith had returned, it was to sing the battle song one last time.
Pursuers charged toward them from behind the young soldier.
"I'm no hero. Those buried beneath this land without even a chance to leave their names behind—those are the true heroes," Jiang Siming rasped.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Jiang Siming seemed to hear the soldiers' roars from that day once more.
A flash of cold light. The sword shot forth like a dragon.
After that night, everyone knew that Jiang Siming had died, nailed alive to the city wall. No one dared retrieve his body. Then, one night, his corpse mysteriously vanished.
When Jiang Siming regained consciousness, he found himself still inside the White Space.
"Was everything before just an illusion?" Jiang Siming suddenly asked, his voice heavy with the weight of a lifetime. Though his body was only twelve years old, his mind had lived through an entire life.
Looking at the Immortal Slaying Sword in the distance, Jiang Siming smiled faintly. He walked toward it, and this time he finally reached the sword. Pulling it free, he couldn't help but shout, "Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Jiang Siming swung the Immortal Slaying Sword without thinking. His killing intent grew ever stronger, and sword qi tore through space again and again. The White Space began to shatter.
Jiang Siming abruptly sheathed the sword. He had just comprehended a Self-Created Soul Skill.
The power of slaughter did not mean killing the innocent. It meant killing invading enemies, the disloyal and unrighteous, treacherous villains, and unjust rulers. Slay all the darkness, and bring back a lifetime of light.
"Great Bright Sword Song."
So many soldiers had sacrificed themselves to defend their homes and country, only to end up abandoned in the wilderness, nameless and forgotten. They would never retreat, because their loved ones and their country stood behind them.
"Ding! Warning, warning. The host has attempted to escape. Forcing an exit from the second stage of Mirror Space."
"What's going on?" Jiang Siming regained consciousness and found himself on the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's training ground.
"Sect Master! Hurry and inform the sect master—Jiang Siming is awake!" the servant beside him called to Ning Fengzhi in a panic.
Ning Fengzhi hurried over. When he saw the depth in Jiang Siming's eyes, he couldn't help feeling a little surprised, but he didn't give it much thought.
"Oh, you nearly scared me to death! You went thirty days without food or water. If you hadn't still been breathing, I really would have thought you were dead," Ning Fengzhi said with a long sigh of relief.
"Uncle Ning, is there anything to eat? I'm starving to death." Jiang Siming's stomach growled.
"Have the kitchen prepare a meal," Ning Fengzhi instructed the servants.
A quarter of an hour later, the table in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's main hall was laden with delicacies. Jiang Siming devoured them all, eating as if he hadn't had a meal in eight hundred years.
"Siming, slow down. If it isn't enough, have the kitchen make more," Ning Fengzhi said, finding the scene rather amusing.
Jiang Siming's mouth was so full that he couldn't spare a moment to answer Ning Fengzhi.
Half an hour later, Jiang Siming finally finished his feast, his stomach stretched to its limit.
"Siming, you were unconscious for an entire month. The aura around you grew stronger every day. Starting on the fifteenth day, powerful sword qi began pouring out of you. Later, an intense killing intent gradually erupted as well. Sword Douluo said you were in a state of sudden enlightenment, but even he didn't know the details. Can you tell me what happened?" Ning Fengzhi was truly curious about what Jiang Siming had experienced. There was one other thing he hadn't mentioned: Jiang Siming's eyes were unfathomably deep, making him impossible to read.
"Uncle Ning, that mysterious state—I'm not really sure what happened either," Jiang Siming said evasively.
Seeing that Jiang Siming wasn't willing to talk, Ning Fengzhi didn't press him. After all, with a genius like Jiang Siming, the best policy for the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was to win him over.
Sword Douluo had gone out, so he didn't yet know that Jiang Siming had woken up. Otherwise, he would certainly have hounded Jiang Siming with questions. After all, Sword Douluo was a master swordsman himself; how could he not understand how important sudden enlightenment was to improving one's swordsmanship? But even Jiang Siming couldn't replicate what had happened to him, let alone explain it to someone else.