Chapter 125: Returning to the Sword Realm

Li Yan slowly raised his hand. The instant his fingertips touched the ancient pillar—the entire Spiritual Sea trembled gently.

Countless golden characters emerged from the pillar like an endless river of stars, gathering before him.

Each character radiated an ancient aura. Each carried a fragment of the technique's profound intent. The first form of the Divine Blade Art was called Phantom Edge.

[Description: The practitioner channels Qi into the blade before executing an incomparably swift series of slashes. Every swing condenses Qi into blade-shaped manifestations that move with such extraordinary speed that they appear indistinguishable from shimmering afterimages.

The overlapping blade manifestations create the illusion of countless blades attacking simultaneously, making it nearly impossible for opponents to distinguish the true trajectory of each strike.

Effects:

- Condenses Qi into numerous blade-shaped manifestations.

- The manifestations move so quickly that they resemble countless afterimages.

- Combines deception with genuine offensive power, allowing every manifestation to inflict real damage.

- Overwhelms opponents through rapid, continuous attacks from multiple apparent directions.

- Compatible with all elemental affinities, with each manifestation naturally carrying the user's elemental attribute.]

Then, the surrounding world changed once more.

The Spiritual Sea disappeared.

A boundless plain stretched beneath an endless sky. Several dozen meters away stood a lone swordsman. His appearance remained hidden beneath a veil of golden light.

Only the sword in his hand appeared clear. The swordsman neither spoke nor acknowledged Li Yan's presence.

Without warning, he moved. The sword left its sheath.

No explosive aura erupted. No overwhelming pressure descended. Everything appeared astonishingly ordinary.

Li Yan's eyes narrowed as his focus deepened on the swordsman's movements.

The swordsman channeled his energy, allowing it to flow seamlessly into the blade and then disperse throughout the entire sword.

He unleashed the first slash. Then the second slash followed.

The third.

The fourth.

His movements accelerated continuously.

Each swing condensed energy into blade-shaped manifestations that separated from the sword almost the instant the blade moved.

One became three.

Three became ten.

Tens became dozens.

Golden blade manifestations filled the surrounding space.

They moved with such extraordinary speed that the boundaries between reality and illusion gradually disappeared.

Some appeared to intersect. Others overlapped. Others vanished before reappearing from another angle. Countless shimmering afterimages spread throughout the battlefield.

For a brief moment—even Li Yan could no longer distinguish which blade was the original.

Every manifestation appeared real. Every slash carried genuine offensive power. Every trajectory concealed another beneath it.

The battlefield transformed into a storm of countless golden blades.

There was no obvious opening.

No predictable attack pattern.

Only an endless succession of overlapping slashes that completely overwhelmed one's perception.

Several breaths later, everything vanished.

The countless manifestations dissolved into particles of golden light.

The battlefield returned to silence.

The swordsman slowly lowered his blade.

Without uttering a single word, he demonstrated the first form once more. Li Yan was pleased to see the demonstration repeated. The first viewing had revealed far more than he could fully absorb.

The swordsman slowly raised his sword.

Golden Spiritual Energy flowed into the blade.

The sword flashed.

One slash.

Then another.

Then another.

Within moments, countless blade manifestations filled the battlefield once again. They intertwined, overlapping until the boundary between reality and illusion became impossible to distinguish.

The demonstration ended.

Silence returned.

Without pause, the swordsman repeated the first form.

Again.

And again.

Li Yan remained perfectly still.

His gaze no longer lingered upon the countless blade manifestations spreading across the battlefield.

Instead, his attention shifted elsewhere. The movement of the feet. The rotation of the waist. The subtle adjustment of the shoulders. The angle of the wrist. Even the slightest change in the swordsman's breathing.

Nothing escaped his observation. One demonstration followed another. Every movement appeared identical. Yet the longer he observed, the more details gradually revealed themselves.

The first slash never truly ended.

Before it reached completion, the second had already begun.

The second naturally flowed into the third.

The third into the fourth. Each slash became the beginning of the next. There was no pause. No hesitation. No unnecessary movement. Everything flowed together as though it were a single continuous motion rather than countless separate attacks.

Li Yan's eyes gradually brightened. "So that's how it is…"

He finally understood. The overwhelming blade manifestations were never the true essence of Phantom Edge.

They were merely the result. The true foundation of the technique lay in its flawless continuity. Every slash naturally prepared the next. Every transition eliminated even the slightest delay.

Only when the sword moved without interruption could energy condense continuously into blade manifestations, creating an endless storm of overlapping attacks.

The manifestations deceived the eyes. The swordsmanship deceived the mind. But both originated from the same flawless foundation.

Several demonstrations had passed.

Only after confirming that nothing had escaped his observation did Li Yan slowly close his eyes. The swordsman's movements replayed themselves within his mind.

Once.

Ten times.

Twenty times.

Every slash.

Every transition.

Every subtle adjustment.

Gradually, the complete sequence became deeply engraved within his memory. Only then did Li Yan slowly reopen his eyes.

A spiritual sword gradually materialized within his hand. He was ready to refine the foundation of the Phantom Edge.

Li Yan slowly assumed the opening stance.

Then, he swung. Immediately, he stopped. His wrist had risen slightly too high. The second slash could no longer connect naturally.

He returned to his starting position.

Again.

This time, the first slash improved. But his shoulders rotated a fraction too early.

Again.

The transition between the second and third slashes became slightly rigid.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Within the Spiritual Consciousness, time gradually lost its meaning. There was no physical exhaustion.

No concern over depleted Qi reserves.

Only endless repetition. Every mistake refined his understanding. Every correction brought him closer to perfection. Tens of repetitions gradually became hundreds.

His movements slowly transformed.

The pauses disappeared.

The transitions became increasingly seamless. The sword no longer felt like a weapon moving through separate attacks. Instead, it resembled an unbroken stream flowing continuously from one slash into the next.

A faint smile appeared on his face. "The foundation is complete."

He now understood the essence of Phantom Edge.

The technique relied on neither brute force nor speed alone.

Its true strength lay in condensing countless genuine blade manifestations while executing an uninterrupted series of slashes so swiftly that opponents could no longer distinguish one attack from the next.

Every manifestation carried real offensive power.

Every slash was genuine.

That was precisely why Phantom Edge deserved its place among the Divine-Tier techniques.

The spiritual sword in Li Yan's hand gradually dissolved into countless specks of light before disappearing completely.

The boundless plain faded.

The golden swordsman vanished.

The Spiritual Consciousness gradually receded as Li Yan's awareness returned to his physical body.

His eyes slowly opened.

The quiet atmosphere of the Ancient Techniques Hall greeted him once more.

Nothing had changed.

The hall remained silent.

Li Yan lowered his gaze toward the bracelet on his wrist.

Remaining Time: 17:07:39

A faint smile appeared.

Even after comprehending the first forms of two Divine-Tier techniques within his Spiritual Consciousness, almost seven hours had already passed.

Li Yan murmured, "Still acceptable."

"If I had attempted to comprehend and practice them entirely in the real world, the time required would have been many times greater. More importantly…"

"My countless mistakes inside the Spiritual Consciousness would have become real mistakes."

His gaze remained calm. "With my current cultivation, a single mistake while practicing a Divine-Tier technique with real Qi could easily result in severe injury."

That alone justified every hour he had spent within the Spiritual Consciousness.

Perfecting the foundation there first would allow him to avoid countless unnecessary risks when he eventually practiced the techniques in the real world.

After a brief moment, Li Yan slowly stood.

His gaze swept across the Ancient Techniques Hall.

The three remaining champions were still absorbed in their comprehension, each seated before a different Divine-Tier technique.

None had stirred since he first entered his Spiritual Consciousness.

At the far end of the hall, Ji Hong also remained seated cross-legged upon the raised platform. Unlike the others, he was not studying any of the Divine-Tier techniques.

Instead, he sat quietly before the parchment bearing a single ancient character.

Spirit.

A faint smile appeared on Li Yan's face. "So Elder Ji really accepted my suggestion. He chose the Spirit Inscribed Word instead of the Sword."

Remembering the conversation he had shared with Jian Ling the previous night, Li Yan turned toward another raised platform.

Last night, he had mentioned the Inscribed Words to Jian Ling.

Although he had already awakened Sword Intent through this very Inscribed Word, Jian Ling had told him something unexpected.

An Inscribed Word was not a one-time opportunity. Awakening an Intent through it did not exhaust the insights contained within.

Each visit offered another chance to deepen one's understanding. Whether one gained anything depended entirely upon talent, comprehension, and fortune.

With that thought, Li Yan stepped on the platform. Without hesitation, he sat down cross-legged before the ancient parchment.

Sword.

He slowly exhaled. The surrounding hall gradually faded from his awareness. His entire focus settled upon the single glowing character before him.

The moment his Spiritual Sense touched the inscription, the atmosphere changed.

Sharp. Pure. Absolute.

An indescribable sword aura seemed to permeate every corner of the surrounding space.

The world shattered.

When his vision stabilized once more, he found himself standing within a familiar realm of endless twilight.

Cracked black stone stretched endlessly beneath his feet. Above, a crimson sky churned with rivers of dark clouds that drifted slowly across the heavens. Jagged mountains shaped like colossal swords pierced the distant horizon.

Countless blades stood embedded throughout the land. Some shone with pristine brilliance, untouched by time. Others were worn and fractured, their edges chipped by countless battles, yet each still emitted an unmistakable presence.

Every sword possessed its own will. Some radiated cold indifference. Others carried sorrow.

Fury. Loneliness. Triumph.

The echoes of innumerable swordsmen lingered within the silent world, their convictions forever engraved into the steel they had once wielded.

Li Yan merely glanced around.

This was not his first visit.

There was nothing here that required his curiosity.

Without wasting another moment, he sat down cross-legged.

Slowly, he closed his eyes.

Li Yan slowly relaxed his mind.

His breathing gradually became calm.

His Spiritual Sense spread outward without haste, gently merging with the endless Sword Realm.

Nothing happened immediately.

The crimson sky remained motionless.

The countless swords embedded throughout the earth stood silently beneath the heavens. Yet within that silence—there were countless presences.

Every sword possessed its own faint will. Some radiated unwavering resolve. Others carried regret. Loneliness. Pride. Sorrow. Hatred. Justice.

They did not speak. Yet every blade told a story.

Li Yan did not try to comprehend the swords. Nor did he attempt to force communication.

He simply listened. Not with his ears. But with his spirit.

Time gradually lost its meaning. One sword after another resonated with his Spiritual Sense.

Each resonance lasted only an instant. Yet within that instant, fragments of another person's sword path briefly appeared before him.

A lonely swordsman standing alone upon a snow-covered mountain.

A middle-aged cultivator protecting his clan until his final breath.

A wandering sword cultivator who pursued nothing but freedom.

A general leading thousands into battle without taking a single step backward.

None of the scenes lasted long.

Only several breaths.

Then they vanished.

Li Yan remained perfectly still.

He neither accepted nor rejected any of their paths. Every swordsman had forged a conviction that belonged only to himself.

None could become Li Yan's path.

Yet every one of them broadened his understanding of what a sword could represent.

Gradually, his own Sword Intent began to respond.

Not by expanding. Not by breaking through. But by becoming steadier.

Sharper.

More complete.

Defiance remained unchanged. Judgment remained unchanged. Yet both became more refined. Like a blade repeatedly tempered inside a furnace.

The impurities gradually disappeared. The edge became cleaner. The conviction became firmer.

The surrounding Sword Realm seemed to notice the subtle transformation.

Several nearby swords answered with faint hums. No excitement. Not a celebration.

But quiet acknowledgment.

The countless wills no longer examined him.

Instead, they simply accompanied him.

As though recognizing another swordsman walking his own path.

Li Yan remained seated beneath the crimson sky. His breathing became increasingly gentle. Months of accumulated insights into swordsmanship slowly merged into his own understanding.

The process contained no dazzling phenomena.

No overwhelming pressure or spectacular breakthrough. Only silent refinement and steady accumulation.

After an unknown amount of time, Li Yan slowly opened his eyes.

The endless Sword Realm remained unchanged. The crimson sky still stretched overhead. The countless swords still rested within the earth. Yet the entire world somehow felt clearer than before.

A faint smile appeared on his face. "I see…"