Is it the Village Chief from Crippled Old Village???

Before that surge of sword intent, Chen Xin felt like a lone leaf of a boat amid raging winds and towering waves, so small he was less than a speck of dust.

He had originally thought that Yankang Imperial Preceptor's path of integrating mathematics into sword technique was already the end of the sword path.

But now, facing this phantom, facing this sword intent called "Su Muzhe"...

Only then did Chen Xin truly understand what it meant to stand at the peak of the sword path!

The Imperial Preceptor's sword taught people how to follow heaven and earth, and to unlock the shackles of heaven and earth.

But this Su Muzhe's sword cared nothing for shackles, nothing for the rules of heaven and earth. As long as something blocked the way, it would all be cut apart with a single strike!

Two trails of clear tears flowed down the wrinkles at the corners of Chen Xin's eyes.

These were not tears of sorrow, but the shock and emotion of one who could hear the Dao in the morning and die content that evening.

"This old man has practiced the sword for a lifetime, and today, I have finally seen a true god."

Chen Xin closed his eyes, knelt on both knees, and willingly kowtowed to that gradually dissipating phantom.

As the phantom faded, the peerless sword intent remaining in the handwriting turned into a wisp of cool airflow and burrowed straight into the depths of Chen Xin's brow.

His golden Spirit Fetus, which had only just condensed into shape and was still somewhat weak, instantly burst with dazzling light after absorbing that trace of sword intent.

In the Spirit Fetus's hand, the tiny sword formed from vital qi became even more solid, and an indescribably sharp aura seeped from its blade.

Chen Xin let out a long breath of turbid air and opened his eyes again.

He discovered that his back was already soaked with cold sweat, yet his whole body felt lighter and clearer than ever before.

The threshold of cultivation that had left him stagnant for ten years was completely smashed through by that wild, unrestrained sword intent in this moment.

Although he currently had no soul power, he knew that as long as he was given enough time to absorb the vital qi of heaven and earth, his achievements would absolutely far surpass his former level ninety-seven.

Chen Xin carefully closed the ancient text, held it in both hands, and respectfully placed it back in its original spot on the shelf.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the sky had already darkened, and a streak of orange-red sunset hung on the horizon, dyeing the buildings of the Imperial Academy in a layer of soft color.

"Su Muzhe..."

Chen Xin murmured this name over and over, irrepressible fervor and longing flickering in his old eyes.

"What sort of peerless figure must someone be to leave behind sword intent like this?"

"If I could meet him once in my lifetime and ask him face-to-face for even a move or half a technique, even if this old man died on the spot, it would be worth it."

With this excitement in his heart, Chen Xin turned and walked down the stairs of the Library Pavilion.

When he reached the main entrance on the first floor, the two old men guarding the door were still sitting on their wooden chairs.

Seeing Chen Xin come out, the fat old man lifted his eyelids and glanced at him.

With just that one look, a trace of surprise flashed through the fat old man's eyes.

Before he had gone upstairs, this foreign old man had carried a certain sharpness, but he had looked like an iron sword that had only just been edged, still with some rawness and confusion.

But now that he had come down, all the sharpness about him had actually been withdrawn.

He looked perfectly ordinary, but if one drew even slightly closer, one could sense a terrifying sword intent that was natural and complete, condensed yet unreleased.

"What good stuff did this old man see up there? He's been reborn."

The fat old man muttered to himself inwardly, but on the surface, he still gave Chen Xin a polite nod.

Chen Xin cupped his hands in return and strode out of the Library Pavilion's courtyard.

Walking out along the tree-lined path, he had not gone far before he smelled a strong aroma of wine and meat.

Ahead, on a large bluestone, Bashan Libationer was sitting there with a bold, commanding posture.

In his hand, he held the leg of some unknown beast roasted until it sizzled with oil, and beside him sat that huge wine gourd.

The big Azure Ox lay on the grass nearby, eyes closed as it dozed, its tail flicking back and forth to drive away mosquitoes and insects.

Seeing Chen Xin walk over, Bashan took a fierce bite of the beast leg and called out indistinctly.

"Yo, old man, finished reading?"

Bashan tossed the beast leg onto the stone slab, picked up a cloth, casually wiped his hands, and sized Chen Xin up and down with eyes as large as copper bells.

"Not bad. You took a stroll through the book pavilion, and those old bones of yours seem a bit sturdier."

"Those eyes are looking a lot brighter than when you fought me this morning."

Chen Xin walked over beside the bluestone and first gave a polite bow.

He now respected these great figures of the Imperial Academy from the bottom of his heart.

"You jest, Lord Libationer. This old man merely read a few idle books upstairs and happened to gain a little insight."

Chen Xin hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he could not hold back the curiosity in his heart.

He leaned half a step closer and asked in a lowered voice, "Lord Libationer, this old man saw an annotation in an ancient text in the Library Pavilion."

"May I ask, Lord Libationer, do you know what sort of sacred figure this Su Muzhe is?"

The moment those three words came out.

Bashan, who had originally been idly preparing to drink, suddenly froze mid-motion.

It wasn't only Bashan. Even the big azure ox dozing off beside him suddenly opened its bovine eyes, both ears pricking up high.

The easygoing roughness on Bashan's face vanished in an instant.

He slowly set down his wine gourd, turned his head, and looked at Chen Xin with an extremely complicated gaze.

In that gaze were awe, regret, and even a trace of deep fervor.

The tree-lined path of the Imperial Academy suddenly fell quiet.

A light breeze blew past, sweeping up a few withered yellow leaves that spun around at their feet.

Outside the light screen, Douluo Continent was also utterly silent at that moment.

In the great hall of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, Ning Fengzhi held his teacup suspended in midair, his eyes fixed firmly on the Sky Screen.

"Even this unreasonable brute, Bashan Libationer, has that expression when he hears this name."

"It seems Uncle Sword really has encountered a major figure this time."

Ning Fengzhi spoke softly, and Bone Douluo beside him nodded with deep agreement.

Everyone's curiosity had been fully hooked by Bashan's abnormal reaction. All eyes gathered on the image in the Sky Screen, waiting to hear an earth-shaking legend.

Inside the Sky Screen, Bashan let out a long sigh, reached out, and patted the bluestone slab beside him, signaling for Chen Xin to sit.

"You actually saw the writing left behind by that venerable elder."

"Looks like your fortune, boy, is even deeper than I imagined."

Bashan stroked the bushy beard on his chin, his voice turning somewhat low.

"Su Muzhe... In our Yankang, and even in this entire world, it's been a long time since anyone dared mention that name casually."

"Old man, weren't you subdued by the Imperial Preceptor's swordsmanship this morning and willingly stayed behind to take the job?"

Bashan turned his head, looked at Chen Xin, and grinned with a rather playful smile.

"Then do you know that the very Imperial Preceptor you revere like a god..."

"When he met this Su Muzhe, he had to bow respectfully as a junior and call him Senior?"

What?!

Those words were like a thunderclap, exploding straight inside Chen Xin's mind.

Outside the light screen, the people of Douluo all drew in a sharp breath at once.

Yankang Imperial Preceptor was a peerless powerhouse known as the "number one man beneath the gods."

He was a peak figure who dared carry his sword and sweep through all the sects under heaven, and who worked with the emperor to set the grand plan for reform.

A person like that actually had to call Su Muzhe Senior?

Then just how high had Su Muzhe's sword Dao reached? And how terrifying must his strength be?

Chen Xin only felt his mouth go dry. He swallowed, his voice trembling slightly.

"Even His Excellency the Imperial Preceptor admitted inferiority? Then where is this old Sword God now? Is he also living in seclusion within the Imperial Academy?"

A fire lit in Chen Xin's heart. Right now, his mind was filled with the urge to meet this true god of the sword Dao.

But when Bashan heard this, he shook his head.

He picked up his wine gourd, took a fierce gulp of strong liquor, and looked toward the sunset on the horizon, which was gradually being swallowed by night.

"Meet him? Don't even think about it."

Bashan's voice carried a deep desolation and bleakness.

"That old Sword God was a true madman."

"He couldn't stand the rules of this world, and he could stand those fellows in the sky who called themselves gods even less."

"Several decades ago, he took up a sword and charged into the Nine Heavens alone."

"In that battle, they say heaven and earth were plunged into darkness, and even the firmament was split open by him with a gash hundreds of miles long."

Bashan paused, his tone turning especially heavy.

"But there were too many old monsters in the sky."

"In the end, he was only one man."

"After that battle, the old Sword God was grievously wounded and near death."

"His arms were severed, and his legs were cut off."

"The world-shaking meridians throughout his body were shattered inch by inch."

"Some say he died in the sky. Others say he fled back to the mortal realm with his last breath, hid deep within the Great Ruins, and became a crippled old man who could only lie on a stretcher waiting to die."

Bashan sighed and patted Chen Xin on the shoulder.

"Old man, being able to comprehend something from his writing is already a heaven-sent fortune."

"As for meeting him in person, just take it as a story."

"A cripple who doesn't even have hands or feet anymore—even if he's alive, that sword of his has long since rusted."

After saying that, Bashan paid no attention to Chen Xin's reaction. He simply lifted his broadsword and climbed onto the ox's back.

"Let's go, Niu Niu. Back to camp for a drink."

The big azure ox slowly stood up, carrying Bashan, and gradually vanished at the end of the tree-lined path.

Chen Xin, meanwhile, sat blankly on the flagstones, Bashan's words echoing over and over in his mind.

"His arms were severed, his legs were cut off, and he might have hidden deep within the Great Ruins..."

"He became a crippled old man who could only lie on a stretcher and wait to die..."

It was not just Chen Xin.

Beyond the light screen, on the Douluo Continent.

When they heard those descriptions, every audience member, from the lofty Pope Bibi Dong to the street vendor selling roasted sweet potatoes, instantly had an image flash through their minds.

It was a dilapidated little village.

In the open space at the center of the village stood an old, worn bamboo bed.

On the bamboo bed lay an old man dressed in a clean white robe.

That old man had no hands, and no feet.

Every day, he simply lay there quietly, his clear eyes gazing up at the sky.

And every night, that ten-year-old little monster Qin Mu would stand respectfully before the old man's bamboo bed and listen to him explain cultivation methods about the Spirit Fetus and the Divine Treasury.

Plop!

On the training field of Shrek Academy.

The half-roasted sausage in Oscar's hand fell straight into the mud, rolling twice and becoming covered in dust.

But he did not even glance at it. His mouth hung wide open, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground.

He stiffly turned his head and looked at the others beside him, who were just as dumbstruck.

"I... I didn't hear that wrong, did I?"

Oscar's voice trembled as if he had been frozen in a bitter wind for three days and nights.

"No hands, no feet, lying on a stretcher, living in the Great Ruins..."

"Isn't... isn't that fucking talking about the Village Chief from Crippled Old Village?!"

Boom!

The moment that guess came out, all of Shrek Academy instantly erupted.

Yu Xiaogang sprang up from the steps, and because he rose too suddenly, he nearly pitched headfirst onto the ground.

His eyes were wide open, fixed firmly on the light screen in midair as he gasped for breath.

"The Village Chief, that most unremarkable-looking Village Chief who only lies there sunning himself..."

Yu Xiaogang's scalp went numb, and an indescribable shock shot straight up his spine to the top of his head.

"So he's the number one sword under heaven!"

"That old sword god whom even Yankang Imperial Preceptor has to address as senior—Su Muzhe?!"

It was not just Shrek Academy.

Inside Spirit City.

Bibi Dong shot to her feet, and the papal throne behind her was cracked by the soul power she had accidentally released.

In her mind, scene after scene previously shown on the Sky Screen rapidly pieced together.

She remembered the Village Chief's clear gaze when he looked at Hu Liena, as if he could see straight into the depths of a person's soul.

She remembered Qin Mu saying that if the Village Chief got angry, even the night of the Great Ruins would have to make way for him.

"So that's it, so that's it!"

Bibi Dong drew in a deep breath, her breathtakingly beautiful face filled with disbelief.

"Crippled Old Village, Crippled Old Village."

"In that village, there isn't just a flaying witch, or the unfathomable Pharmacist."

"Even that limbless old man who looked the most useless was actually a terrifying existence who once charged into the divine realm alone and slaughtered gods!"

"What kind of immortal village is this?!"

At that moment, every Douluo audience member was left utterly numb by this earth-shattering twist.

Anticipation swelled wildly in everyone's heart like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Everyone could hardly wait to see it—if one day, Chen Xin truly walked into the Great Ruins, into that Crippled Old Village.

When he saw that the world's greatest sword, the one he revered like a god and worshiped on bended knee, was actually a crippled old man lying on a stretcher, what kind of spectacular expression would he make?

What was even more worth looking forward to was this: if that old Sword God ever had a day when he gripped a sword again, what kind of heaven-destroying, earth-shattering sight would that be?

At the same time, inside the Sky Screen.

The bells of the Imperial Academy rang out, long and lingering.

Night fell, and specks of lamplight lit up in the teaching buildings around them.

Chen Xin sat on the large bluestone, then slowly rose to his feet.

He did not know of the existence of that Crippled Old Village, much less that the old Sword God he yearned for day and night was sunning himself in a remote corner of the Great Ruins.

He lifted his head, gazed at the star-strewn night sky, and clenched his fists.

"Whether the old Sword God is dead or alive, since such a pure path of the sword once existed in this world..."

"Then I, Chen Xin, will follow this road and walk it step by step."

"One day, I'll go up to the heavens too and see just what those gods really are!"

Chen Xin straightened his clothes, turned, and strode into the night.