Thousand Illusions Sword Intent

Sword Sealing Platform.

The ancestral ground of the Hengshan Sect.

Legend has it that the founding patriarch, observing the shifting clouds and mists of Mount Heng, drew upon the energy of heaven and earth to attain the status of a grandmaster.

From then on, he sealed his sword, reaching the realm where all things in heaven and earth became his blade.

Before Zhou Yi stood an elder over ninety years old—none other than the former Hengshan Sect leader, Mo Wentian, known throughout the martial world as the Thousand Illusions Senluo Sword.

"Each generation produces its own talents. I never thought that in my twilight years, I would once again witness a peerless genius—one who even surpasses that person."

"Who does Senior refer to? Could it be the Blade God?"

After two years of wandering the martial world, Zhou Yi was no longer the greenhorn he once was; he had a solid understanding of the renowned experts in the jianghu.

Within the last hundred years, the most prominent was the Demon Cult Leader. Within the last fifty, the most famous was Yue Shan, the Mountain River Blade Tyrant.

Mo Wentian shook his head. "Yue Shan is of my generation. His talent was merely ordinary; it wasn't until he was forty that his martial arts reached great heights and his name shook the world. But his talent is fixed—whether he can attain Dao as a grandmaster remains uncertain."

"The person I speak of was about your age back then. He also came to the Sword Sealing Platform to spar with me. At the time, I had just taken over as Hengshan Sect leader, full of ambition and pride—yet I was defeated by his blade."

Zhou Yi's gaze sharpened. At twenty years old, without the cheat of an Origin, to defeat the Hengshan Sect leader with blade techniques alone—could this person be a cultivator of the immortal path?

Yan Chixia had mentioned the immortal path to Zhou Yi. The starting point was meditation and qi cultivation, and the quality of the mana cultivated rivaled the condensed sword qi of the Purple Sun Sword Qi Scripture.

In martial arts cultivation, one first tempers the body, then refines internal qi. Through secret methods, internal qi is continuously condensed into blade qi or sword qi—but to a cultivator of the immortal path, this was merely the entry level.

"Senior Mo, may I ask who that person was?"

"I only know his surname is Song, and from his speech, he had a Lingnan accent. His blade technique was profound, his spirit and intent unified, as if a celestial being riding the wind—far surpassing the subtlety of our Hengshan sword techniques by more than a notch."

The Hengshan disciples watching from the side erupted in murmurs. Not only were they about to witness a duel between top-tier experts, but they also heard a secret from the old leader's own lips.

The martial world claimed Zhou Yi was a peerless genius unseen in five hundred years—yet there had been another fifty years ago. Why had they never heard of his name in the jianghu?

"Thank you for your guidance, Senior Mo. The world is vast, filled with countless extraordinary individuals. One must hold a heart of fierce determination while treading as if on thin ice."

Zhou Yi was well aware that the world of A Chinese Ghost Story ran deep. The martial world was merely the mundane surface; there were also Daoist True Men dwelling in the mountains, Buddhist Arhats, and Demonic Monsters and Ghosts wreaking havoc. Even the current imperial court would one day fall under the control of a demon.

But Mo Wentian's intentions were good—not deliberately lecturing, not hiding his defeat, but telling the story as a warning to the younger generation.

"A worthy pupil! This old man's sword is far sharper than it was in my youth."

Mo Wentian moved his hand, and an Emerald Green Fine Sword fell into his grasp—three feet three inches long, like a willow branch. It was the divine weapon passed down from the Hengshan Sect founder.

Zhou Yi still stood empty-handed, not drawing any weapon.

The Hengshan disciples stepped back, not questioning why Zhou Yi was unarmed. They knew he wasn't being disrespectful to the elder.

When Zhou Yi came to challenge Mo Wentian, the Hengshan Sect had quickly gathered information on every one of his past matches.

They discovered that although Zhou Yi called himself a swordsman, he was also proficient in blade techniques, palm techniques, and fist techniques, with lightness skill at the peak. Early on, he had been ruthless, often crippling opponents' martial arts, but since the Vajra Chan Master, he had become more lenient, rarely taking lives.

In the past six months of challenges, only two men had forced Zhou Yi to draw his sword: the Dongting Old Fisherman and the East Sea Whale Rider.

The rest of the experts couldn't even survive his palm and fist techniques.

"Senior, please instruct me!"

With that, Zhou Yi's strength surged from his feet through his legs to his waist, his spine coiling like a great dragon as he threw a punch.

"What tremendous strength! What iron-hard bones!"

Mo Wentian's sword edge grazed Zhou Yi's arm, cutting through a layer of clothing to reveal bronze-colored muscle beneath—only a red mark remained.

Zhou Yi's fist wind rolled forth mightily, the Gale Blade Technique already fused into his fist techniques.

The gale atop the mountain only amplified Zhou Yi's speed and power.

Relying on his tempered physique and overwhelming strength, he forced Mo Wentian to dodge and evade.

Mo Wentian's eyes narrowed, and his sword style suddenly shifted.

Hundred Illusions Thousand Changes Sword!

Countless sword shadows enveloped the platform, and in an instant, a dozen Mo Wentians appeared on the Sword Sealing Platform.

"Illusions? No—sword intent!"

Zhou Yi's expression turned serious. His fist techniques shifted to palm techniques, guarding his entire body.

The perfected Great Tablet Breaking Hand offered unmatched defense, while the perfected Falling Flowers Palm provided nimble speed. His palms moved like a sealed gate, impenetrable as water.

Sword intent!

Zhou Yi had never been able to grasp it. In two years, aside from Mo Wentian, he had met two other martial arts masters—one with a fist intent as solid as substance, the other with a blade intent like a raging wind.

He had won both matches, but with great difficulty.

Yet after those victories, both his fist and blade techniques had advanced, and he gained deeper insights into his other martial arts.

Fusing the Gale Blade Technique into his fists, combining the Great Tablet Breaking Hand with the Falling Flowers Palm—these were methods Zhou Yi had gradually developed on his own.

Now, he had finally encountered a master skilled in sword intent.

Many of Zhou Yi's martial arts were only second-rate in the jianghu, but with perfected realms and a body of perfected essence, their power rivaled the secret transmissions of major sects.

Only one sword technique stood at the pinnacle of the martial world—and it contained the method for cultivating sword intent.

Zhou Yi moved his mind, and the longsword at his back leaped from its sheath into his hand.

Purple Lightning Sword!

Xiahou Sword Scripture!

The moment Zhou Yi executed it, his style shifted dramatically.

Fist and palm techniques relied on overwhelming force to break finesse.

Swordsmanship became all about speed—unstoppable speed.

"Oh! Purple Lightning Sword—so you're that brat Xiahou's disciple?"

Mo Wentian exclaimed in surprise. At ninety years old, he could indeed call Xiahou the Swordsman a brat.

"This junior was fortunate enough to inherit Senior Xiahou's legacy."

Zhou Yi's sword flew like wind and lightning, hundreds of strikes in an instant, each aimed at a dozen phantom figures.

Ordinary fast swords were weak in power, but Zhou Yi was an anomaly.

The sword borrowed the wind's momentum; the wind amplified the sword's might!

No matter how many clones you conjured, one sword would break them all!

One by one, the phantoms shattered, yet Mo Wentian's true body remained elusive.

On the Sword Sealing Platform, dozens of illusory figures moved like an army formation, with a single sword-light darting through them, charging left and right.

The eldest of the Hengshan Three Swords, current sect leader Ji Taizhen, sighed in admiration. "What formidable swordsmanship. No wonder he's called Guo Bei Sword Saint Zhou Yi. He might become the first confirmed Innate Grandmaster in a century!"

For the past hundred years, neither the Demon Cult Leader nor the Blade God had been seen, and their Grandmaster status remained unverified.

Lu Taiqiu's eyes gleamed with sharp light. In his mind, layers of sword-light stacked and converged, eventually forming a scroll of sword scripture—the Xiahou Sword Scripture.

Time passed slowly. After the Xiahou Sword Scripture, volumes of fist, palm, and footwork techniques appeared in his sea of consciousness. Though they were widely circulated martial arts manuals, each contained profound mysteries.

The Hengshan Sect followed Daoist teachings, and Lu Taiqiu had organized many Daoist texts. After decades immersed in the Daoist canon, he had developed a photographic memory.

His ability to reverse martial techniques and Revert to Root, Return to Origin was discovered five years ago.

Back then, a senior master from the Huashan Sword Sect sparred with his teacher. Lu Taiqiu had Reverted to Root, Return to Origin and deduced the Huashan sword techniques.

Lu Taiqiu murmured to himself, "What truly makes this boy formidable is his flawlessness. How can such a prodigy exist in this world?"

"Such comprehension is far beyond the scope of an Innate Grandmaster. Could he be the reincarnation of some Mortal Immortal?"