Eight Desolations Returning to Origin Sword Post

"Where did I put it?"

The Mud Figurine wasn't in the Heaven and Earth Bag. He had given all those little trinkets to Xiao He.

He had set aside a small space in the cave abode specifically for Xiao He to hoard her toys.

There was no helping it. Xiao He was a monster, and her cultivation wasn't deep enough to open a Heaven and Earth Bag yet.

It should be there.

Returning to the cave abode, Song Yan walked over to a corner.

"Song Yan!!! What do you think you're doing?"

Xiao He was extremely displeased to see Song Yan rummaging through her toys.

"Where's the clay figurine I gave you a few days ago?"

"Right here."

"You want it back?"

Furious, Xiao He pressed her forehead against Song Yan's head, her Snake Eyes glaring like a tiger eyeing its prey.

"Uh... no, there seems to be something inside it... I'm going to take it out."

"All right, then."

Song Yan took the Mud Figurine back and instinctively swept it with his Divine Sense.

"Huh?"

He discovered that his Divine Sense actually couldn't penetrate the Mud Figurine.

"How strange..."

Only after fiddling with it for quite some time did he spot a clue among the little accessories on the Mud Figurine's back.

"The Mud Figurine's hairpin actually comes off."

What exquisite craftsmanship.

The sword slanted across its back and the wine gourd at its waist could both be removed as well.

Song Yan gently worked it open along a hidden seam on the Mud Figurine's back.

Sure enough, a small slip of paper was hidden inside. Song Yan took it out, only to discover that its material was extremely unusual.

It looked like a thin little layer, but once carefully unfolded, it was actually as large as an ordinary calligraphy copybook!

Xiao He had already taken human form and was angrily putting the Mud Figurine back together.

Among her "collection," little trinkets with accessories that could be taken apart and put back together were among the most unique!

The more Xiao He thought about it, the angrier she grew. So angry that she hugged Song Yan's thigh, took a bite, and then fled in a huff.

Ignoring Xiao He's antics, Song Yan carefully examined the calligraphy copybook.

"Ancient characters again..."

The strokes were vigorous and forceful, the calligraphy rising and falling throughout like drifting clouds and flowing water. A single glance conveyed its unrestrained momentum.

At the beginning were six characters.

Eight Desolations Returning to Origin Sword Post.

At the end was the trace of half a seal, perhaps blurred beyond recognition by the passage of years.

Song Yan spread it out on the stone table and read it through with the utmost care.

"Hmm? This doesn't seem to be a calligraphy copybook either..."

On the back of the Sword Letter was a short invitation written in distinctive lettering.

Upon closer reading, the Sword Letter's contents mainly recounted the following.

The Xie Household's swordsman ancestor had been named Xie Tianji. His talent for martial arts had been extraordinary, and at just nineteen, his Sword Dao had already reached the realm of consummate mastery.

After turning twenty, he had risen swiftly to fame, defeating every opponent in the Chu Kingdom's martial world.

Even the martial world of the Central Region had heard his name.

When an All-Under-Heaven Martial Assembly was held in the Central Region, they had sent him a Sword Invitation, inviting him to attend.

Xie Tianji had traveled from the Chu Kingdom to the Central Region and, still undefeated, claimed the title that symbolized the highest honor among mortal martial artists: "Number One Under Heaven."

Yet rather than returning directly to the Chu Kingdom, he had begun a long journey.

"The so-called Number One Under Heaven is merely an empty name that fetters the body."

"Across the four seas and eight desolations, gallant heroes and hidden recluses are as numerous as the stars in heaven..."

He had exchanged martial skills with an ascetic high monk amid vast, snowy mountains...

He had fought a life-and-death battle with an extraordinary recluse on a distant ocean...

He had also warmed wine and held a Sword Debate with an old man in a straw rain cape among wooded mountains in a sea of mist.

Throughout his travels, whether in friendly contests or life-and-death battles, he had never suffered a single defeat.

Until he met a young man.

A young man who looked even younger than he himself had been before setting out to travel the world.

At last, he lost.

That man was an "immortal."

He had sat with the immortal and discussed the Dao. The immortal had said, "The immortal path has reached its end; the sword's edge has rusted."

There were no true Sword Cultivators left in the world.

The immortal admired his comprehension but regretted his aptitude.

He had said bluntly, "If you are willing to kneel and bow, you may become a disciple in name, cultivate an Immortal Method, and seek longevity."

But could he cultivate the Sword Dao?

The Sword Dao had passed away. There was nowhere to learn it.

And so Xie Tianji had politely declined the immortal's guidance.

In his twilight years, he had returned to the Chu Kingdom and discovered that the Sword Invitation from all those years ago had suffered no wear whatsoever, despite weathering more than thirty years alongside him.

Thus, in exceptionally concise and distilled words, he had recorded his travels across the four seas and eight desolations on its back.

He had never mentioned any of his experiences beyond the Chu Kingdom to the Xie Household.

He had left only an admonition, teaching the descendants of his bloodline never to forget the Sword Dao.

Even if they possessed the aptitude to seek immortality and pursue the Dao, they must still cultivate the sword.

"..."

Song Yan let out a long breath.

He refused an opportunity for immortality?!

Those few words had shaken him beyond compare.

Who in this world could escape death?

No matter how peerless your splendor or how supreme your power, in the end, you would become nothing more than a mound of yellow earth.

Only the path to immortality offered a thread of hope for enduring life.

In the mortal martial world, the illusory "path to immortality" and "opportunities" all too often brought mountains of corpses and seas of blood, bloody rain and reeking winds.

Yet with such an opportunity laid before him, this man... had actually refused?

"..."

With a thought, he brought out the Two-Pole Bead. At this moment, it seemed somewhat different, glowing with a faint white light.

"A piece of calligraphy written by a mortal... why would the Two-Pole Bead react to it?"

"..."

Song Yan couldn't understand.

For some inexplicable reason...

He abandoned the thought of continuing to cultivate his spiritual power and silently took out some brushes, ink, paper, and an inkstone he had previously purchased at the Heart-Cultivation Academy from his Heaven and Earth Bag.

Stroke by stroke, he began to copy it.

"..."

From the perspective of the Xie Household's descendants, Xie Tianji had been somewhat stubborn.

Yet perhaps it was precisely that stubborn resolve that had allowed him, a mortal martial artist, to exchange blows with an immortal and sit with him to discuss the Dao.

A mortal's life was exceedingly insignificant in this vast, magnificent world.

Most people would never glimpse even the tip of this world's iceberg in their entire lives.

Through a lifetime of effort, Xie Tianji had finally lifted one corner of the veil over the world.

Yet the world beyond it had not been as wondrous as he had imagined.

The immortal path had reached its end; the sword's edge had rusted.

How dull.

And so...

What had he felt when he wrote down the most splendid part of his life?

"..."

Defiance.

That was all Song Yan saw in this Sword Letter.

How could the Sword Dao fall into decline?

How could the immortal path have an end?

What he wanted to see was a world where a hundred schools contended along the road ahead, where the Sword Dao flourished in myriad forms, where one could truly pursue the great Dao in one's heart without restraint.

Word by word, stroke by stroke, Song Yan wrote who knew how many pages.

He was like a man possessed.

The ink beneath his brush had long since dried, and his rice paper had run out.

Yet he continued copying in the air with his dried-out brush.

Beneath the Sword Mansion of the Dao-Subduing, the Sword Dao Seed hummed softly, and his heart pounded along with it!

The ringing of swords beside his ears grew louder and louder, until, at a certain moment, it suddenly sank into deathly silence...

What appeared before his eyes was dreamlike and illusory.

A youth stood alone, battling a host of heroes, his sword dominating the martial world as he claimed the title of "Number One Under Heaven."

A young man sat beside a stove on a cold mountain, exchanging martial skills with an ascetic high monk.

A young man crossed vast oceans and fought a life-and-death battle with an extraordinary recluse.

A middle-aged man wandered into wooded mountains in a sea of mist, warming wine and holding a Sword Debate with an old man in a straw rain cape.

The man's face grew older and older, the traces of time upon it deeper and deeper, yet the ardor for the Sword Dao in his eyes never diminished.

It even... burned ever brighter!

At last, he reached his twilight years.

Before the immortal, he refused to kneel and bow.

Nothing the immortal said extinguished the ardor in his eyes.

The cries beside his ears grew louder and louder.

"May the Sword Cultivators of this world flourish in myriad forms..."

"May the Sword Cultivators of this world be unbound in their True Intention."

"May the Sword Cultivators of this world never again have to seek the Dao on their knees!"

At this moment, beneath the Sword Mansion of the Dao-Subduing, that keen edge could no longer be concealed!

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