The Sword Born from Hundreds of Thousands of Years of the Great Sun Sword Pavilion's Fortune

The lives of the strong and the gifted

were supreme opportunities for sword cultivators!

"Too crazy..."

"It makes me want to grab any strong fighter I can find and kill them. Friend or foe, no matter the situation—just keep killing, killing..."

A deep crimson glint appeared in Jiang Ding's eyes.

This was not the effect of forging his sword. It was sheer greed spilling out, plain for anyone to see.

"No. Don't."

"That would get me killed."

Jiang Ding took a deep breath and examined his heart, slowly clearing the sudden surge of greed from his soul. "No matter how much a sword cultivator craves strong opponents, or how much his sword intent improves, this madness—this surrender to slaughter—isn't a good thing. Something is clearly wrong."

"A cultivator needs convictions to walk steadily and go far."

"If I rely on slaughter alone, sooner or later I'll fall into madness, hit a bottleneck, self-destruct, or stop advancing altogether."

Sword cultivation was a human discipline born on the battlefields of warring races. It took a narrow, dangerous path, too frenzied and perilous by far.

Without an external enemy, a sect devoted purely to the sword would tear itself apart. Its cultivators would create enemies if they had none. That was no proper path.

Jiang Ding reflected for a long while, then opened his eyes.

By his rough calculation, only a few breaths had passed. The battle was just entering its next phase, far from the earth-shaking changes that had taken place in his sea of consciousness.

He swept his gaze across the battlefield.

Twenty-four aerial army fleets guarded his flanks. The rest were clearing the field, bombarding every cultivator who refused to surrender.

Black Tortoise Heavenly Palace cultivators fled in every direction, sometimes fighting over escape routes. It was utter chaos.

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