Heavenly Sword Art

Heavenly Sword Art

"Ding! Notice: The River of Time had flowed since antiquity. At the moment it was severed, the Chaos radiance seemed still, but had in fact already flowed backward."

"So not only did I fail to reach Ye Heizi's era, I actually traveled upstream to more than two hundred thousand years ago?"

Chen Qiye headed down the mountain path toward the small village, conversing with the system in his mind.

"Ding! Notice: Yes, Host. The myriad worlds contain countless lines of karma. Since Host did not choose to break the rules, you could only follow a karmic line to this era."

"I see." Chen Qiye understood.

But for him, it would only be six months at most. It did not matter which era he was in; he did not need to attain the Dao and become an emperor in this world.

"Ding! Notice: The karmic lines have shifted. The God-Making Mission has begun. Does Host wish to retrieve the Heavenly Sword Art and the 'Nameless Immortal Sword'?"

Chen Qiye found it rather baffling. With a thought, he said, "Retrieve them!"

Heavenly Sword Art: A thirty-six-form sword art created by Supreme Haotian. A divine-grade cultivation technique. The might of every sword strike doubles with the advancement of one's realm. One sword can shatter heaven and earth; one sword can cleave the stars!

"To transform all worldly methods with supreme sword intent..."

Chen Qiye opened the Heavenly Sword Art in his mind, and all thirty-six forms became clear to him. At a thought, an ancient, simple-edged sword wreathed in flowing light appeared in his right hand.

The sword was three feet long, its blade crystal-clear like water. It felt like warm jade in his hand, and a current of heat flowed from his palm into his body, coursing through his limbs and bones.

Chen Qiye stopped walking and slowly closed his eyes, sensing the fusion of the Nameless Immortal Sword and the sword intent of the Heavenly Sword Art.

"With my current realm, I can only use the first sword, the 'Sword-Drawing Form'?"

Only after a long while did Chen Qiye open his eyes.

After comprehending it, he was deeply shaken. Given the might of the Heavenly Sword Art, he would need at least the strength of a Martial Venerable (Battle Venerable) to use the second form, the 'Sword-Sweeping Form.'

"What realm would it take to use all thirty-six forms?"

Chen Qiye pondered it, then shook his head and stopped dwelling on it. At least it increased his strength, and raising his realm as quickly as possible was what truly mattered.

With that thought, he stored the Nameless Immortal Sword back in the system. A blacksmith needed to be strong himself before he could forge iron; Chen Qiye understood that principle thoroughly.

Calming his mind, Chen Qiye walked out of Phoenix Cry Mountain.

Phoenix Cry Mountain!

It stood over six thousand meters tall and stretched for tens of thousands of miles, shaped like a phoenix spreading its wings to take flight. Every midnight, a phoenix's cry would ring out from deep within the mountains, echoing across tens of millions of miles.

At the foot of Phoenix Cry Mountain stood a mountain village inhabited by more than three hundred households.

It was very close to Phoenix Cry Town. Coupled with the mountain's mystical nature, cultivators often came from all corners of the land to admire its wondrous scenery.

Just as Chen Qiye emerged from Phoenix Cry Mountain, he saw a group of thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boys surrounding a little girl at the entrance to the village.

The little girl looked only seven or eight years old. Her small clothes were patched and tattered, and her face was filthy. Only her large eyes, like black gemstones, made her look pitiful.

The boys were all smartly dressed. Laughing, cursing, and jeering, they surrounded her, snatched a battered clay jar from her hands, and smashed it viciously onto the ground.

The little girl glanced at the shattered jar. The only food inside had been trampled beneath one boy's foot, yet not a single tear fell from her eyes.

Her tears had long since dried up.

"Stinking girl, stop glaring at me. Believe it or not, I'll gouge out your eyeballs and feed them to the dogs?"

One of the boys was dressed in splendid finery and had delicate features, but his expression was cold. Faced with the little girl's glare, he suddenly stomped his foot, making the earth tremble.

The nearby passersby felt the tremor and quickly moved away, not daring to provoke him.

From afar, they pointed and whispered, actually praising the boys for their astonishing strength at such young ages. Not one of them showed the slightest sympathy for the little girl who was about to have her "eyeballs gouged out."

The little girl was knocked to the ground by the stomp. Gritting her teeth, she pressed both hands against the shards of the clay jar, ignoring the pain as they sliced her palms. She slowly rose to her feet, looked at the boy before her, and said coldly, "My heart has long been dead. I only cling to this life in miserable survival. If you have the guts, kill me!"

The little girl suddenly took a step forward, her bright eyes staring straight at the boy.

"You really think I don't dare kill you?"

Startled, the boy retreated two steps. A ferocious expression appeared on his face, and his eyes flashed with malice. "You're just a little beggar, worse than chickens and ducks. If you die, you die..."

As he spoke, the boy raised his hand. A faint glow flowed over it. He was clearly a cultivator; if that palm strike landed, the little girl would undoubtedly die.

The little girl neither feared nor dodged. A trace of despair flashed in her eyes as she slowly closed them to await death, murmuring, "Brother, I'm coming to keep you company..."

Yet the palm strike never fell.

"Get lost!"

The faint voice made the little girl open her eyes again. Before her stood a figure clad in pure white. He merely raised a hand, and a violent wind swept out of nowhere, sending the six or seven boys flying seven or eight meters away, where they rolled across the ground.

"Y-you, who are you? How dare you meddle in my business? Do you know who I am?"

The boy was intimidated by Chen Qiye's aura and shouted in a trembling voice, "I'm Li Chengfeng! I'm Grandmaster Mo Shan's personal disciple!"

At those words, the expressions of the nearby onlookers changed drastically.

Grandmaster Mo Shan was a great cultivation master within a hundred miles of Phoenix Cry Town. He was only a little over seventy years old. Legend had it that he had opened his Bitter Sea in his twenties, entered the Life Spring ten years later, and had now reached the Transforming Dragon realm. He was one of the strongest figures in the region.

Yet Chen Qiye paid him no heed. He turned around, smiled faintly at the little girl, and asked, "Are you all right?"

The little girl shook her head, her face full of stubbornness. "Thank you."

"Are you hungry?" Chen Qiye asked again. The little girl first nodded, then her expression dimmed slightly. She lowered her little head, looking heartbreakingly pitiful. As he spoke, he took off his robe and draped it over her.

Wrapped in his robe, the little girl suddenly felt a warmth. She raised her head slightly, only to see that Chen Qiye had already walked over to Li Chengfeng.

"Li Chengfeng?"

Chen Qiye's expression was indifferent. As he walked forward step by step, Li Chengfeng faced him as though confronting a great enemy, not daring to move recklessly. "Y-you, what do you want?"

"Did you bring money?"

Li Chengfeng: "..."

The boys watched Chen Qiye leave with the little girl, furious but too afraid to speak. They could only gasp for air. Only after the two had vanished from sight did Li Chengfeng grit his teeth and say, "He actually robbed me! Damn it, damn it! I'll definitely find and capture you!"

"Young Master Feng, they entered Phoenix Cry Town. Judging by that man's strength, he must be here for the Southern Isle Sect's selection..."

Another boy said, "Won't Young Master Yun be coming to Phoenix Cry Town as well? Once Young Master Yun makes a move, that man will definitely die!"