[Mount Celestia, Ruins of the Celestial Path]
The oppressive might of spells tore through the heavens, with thousands of figures hovering above, encircling a towering mountain peak.
The Heavenly Lotus Sect, the Great Xia Empire, the Western Federal Alliance... They hailed from countless factions, each a renowned cultivator powerful enough to dominate realms. Even the Spiritual Qi they inadvertently released altered the heavens and earth, stirring fierce winds.
Yet, these supreme cultivators, merely a step from eternal ascension, now stood crowded together, their expressions somber, all eyes fixed on the figure they encircled.
Atop the mountain, seated on the radiant ruins, was a young man in a simple robe, looking no older than twenty but with a head of white hair. By his side lay an ancient, somewhat indistinct rusted sword.
Unlike the powerful cultivators in the skies, the youth radiated no Spiritual QI, his demeanor calm and detached, quietly observing the scene above as if watching a poorly performed play.
"Sword Sovereign, the individuals gathered here today are the elite of major sects, almost all a mere half-step from transcending mortality. If you know what's good for you, you'll aid us in restoring the Celestial Path to ascension. Otherwise..." threatened an old man in a black and gold dragon robe, his voice hoarse, as he secretly readied a malevolent sorcery beneath his voluminous sleeves.
"Master Junlin, you shattered the Celestial Path, monopolized the secret of eternal life, and took control of Mount Celestial, preventing all cultivators from achieving immortality! Our mission here is to ensure a future for the countless cultivators of the world!" a middle-aged man wielding a three-foot long sword shouted resolutely, his voice imbued with unwavering righteousness, his sword already gathering the essence of his sword intent.
"Junlin Shifu, you once taught me that as beings beyond the ordinary, we must consider the welfare of the world and seek peace for the people. Yet now, for your own selfish desires to rule over the mortal realms, you sacrifice everyone's future. I must correct you, Shifu!" a woman with flowing robes and green hair said, her expression pained, her seemingly delicate sword already emanating a murderous aura.
Gazing at these familiar faces, the youth they addressed as Junlin merely tilted his head slightly, the scenes of their first meeting vivid in his mind.
Thousands of years ago, the little junior following him had become the legendary emperor who established the Taiping Dynasty. Hundreds of years ago, the young swordsman who diligently trained to avenge his family had risen to become a renowned Sword Sect leader. Decades ago, the infant girl drenched in her parents' blood had become a wandering heroine, sung about in countless ballads.
Yet these were the people who now, for the so-called immortality and ascension, had gathered the world's masters to encircle Junlin. Reflecting on this, a trace of sadness flickered across his serene eyes. Those whom he had personally introduced to the path of cultivation were now blindly obsessed with this false pursuit.
"Junlin Shifu, you are the only one who ascended the Celestial Path to the immortal realms and returned. You have already enjoyed the grace of eternal life. Why then do you destroy the hopes of us mortals?"
Faced with his disciple's questioning, Junlin did not speak. Instead, he slowly stood up and looked towards the ruins of the Celestial Path, which he had destroyed with his own hands.
Once upon a time, it was a dazzling golden road that stretched straight into the heavens. Legend had it that those who could overcome the final heavenly tribulation and gain the recognition of the heavenly dao were qualified to walk this Celestial Path, reaching the immortal realms and achieving eternal life.
But what was the reality? The place many considered the beautiful realm of immortality was actually a banquet table for countless indescribable horrors. Those thought to have ascended and achieved immortality were merely exquisite delicacies wholly consumed by these entities.
Five years ago, after surviving the ultimate heavenly tribulation, Junlin finally qualified for ascension. Ascending the Celestial Path under the gaze of countless cultivators and mortals, he received the heavenly dao's recognition through his swordsmanship and ascended to immortality. However, above in the heavens, he encountered nothing but the hollowed-out, mummy-like twisted shells of the ancients, along with the primordial terrors that slithered ever closer.
Merely witnessing these beings was enough to shatter the spiritual resolve of ordinary cultivators, leading to mental breakdowns and physical mutations. If Junlin had not immediately protected his soul with his Unmatched Sword Intent, he too would have been devoured.
In that chaotic, dark realm, Junlin, armed with his sword, faced off alone against unspeakable evils from higher dimensions. He battled these entities along the river of time to the endless void where all things meet their end. Despite his efforts, he could not overcome the supreme amongst these malevolent beings without paying a grievous price, barely managing to wound them severely enough to make his escape.
Upon returning to the mortal realm, Junlin, with a single sword strike powerful enough to cleave the heavens and the earth, completely destroyed the Celestial Path to Ascension that countless cultivators aspired to, shocking the world.
Regrettably, this ordeal was to remain unknown to others. Merely acknowledging the existence of those twisted beings was enough to continually strengthen them.
Now, facing the multitude of formidable cultivators encircling him, Junlin had no words, only silently picking up the rusted sword from the ground and holding it before him.
It was a simple gesture, devoid of any display of Spiritual Qi, yet it sent a shock through the crowd around Mount Celestia. Sweat began to bead on their foreheads, and the faint-hearted among them took to their heels, no longer daring to stay.
A plain rusted sword wouldn't normally frighten these elite cultivators, but this was no ordinary bearer of the blade—it was Junlin!
Those who grew up in this world, whether mortals or cultivators, all remembered a saying—"Through millennia unworn, edgeless Dao reigns supreme" This referred both to Junlin and the rusted sword in his hand.
Three thousand years ago, during the Demonic Sovereign's battle for ascension, it was this rusted sword that obliterated the Demon Sovereign’s soul, its sword pressure creating the still magma-spewing Great Rift Valley.
Five hundred years ago, at the Battle of Good and Evil on Mount Ziyun, it was this sword that cleaved through thousands of mountains, decimating the ranks of the demonic path so thoroughly that no one dared to claim allegiance to the demonic way since.
And five years ago, when Junlin ascended, it was also this rusted sword that shattered the Celestial Path to ascension, preventing all beings from achieving immortality.
At this moment, many of the cultivators flying in the sky had grown up on stories of this Sword Sovereign. Even though they now stood as beings who looked down upon the mortal plane, the presence of this living legend still elicited a palpable dread among them.
"Fear not, for we Oracles Sect have received the mandate of Heaven itself! The sinner Junlin has angered the Heavenly Dao, and the punishment has already been meted out! Now that he has returned to the mortal realm, even if he possesses eternal life, his power is no more than a lifeless corpse! He has at most two strikes left, and the first has already been used to shatter the Celestial Path!" a mysterious figure wrapped in white silk embroidered with red eyes reminded them.
However, his words fell on deaf ears as everyone exchanged glances, seeing clear fear in each other's eyes, with none daring to step forward.
It was Sword Sovereign Junlin they faced! Even if he had but one strike left, it was unstoppable!
Were they expected to withstand that supreme slash? The last person bold enough to try had been obliterated, both body and soul!
"Fine then."
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Junlin, clutching the rusted sword, slowly rose. There was still no release of Spiritual Qi from him, nor any sign of the vitality typical of living beings.
Feeling the disgusting sensation of alien tentacles and wildly proliferating organs squirming under his skin, pressed down by the Unmatched Sword Intent, Junlin sighed softly.
It seems I cannot escape the same fate as those predecessors Junlin mused. His time was running short. Once the last vestiges of the Unmatched Sword Intent dissipated with time, his body would become a puppet to those unspeakable horrors.
Fortunately, at this moment, Junlin's grand plan had come to fruition.
"I, Junlin, over five thousand years in this life, for the world, for all beings, for the righteous path, my conscience is clear." Junlin declared slowly, raising the rusted sword, his fingertips barely quivering.
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In the next instant, myriad flashes of sword light appeared out of thin air, trapping both Mount Celestial and the numerous experts who had reached the semi-immortal state!
"Since you have come here... then for the myriad creatures under this azure sky, become the sacrifice," Junlin stated flatly.
Chaos and panic spread among these masters, especially since some of them instantly recognized the technique.
"This is ...the Unmatched Sword Intent manifesting? Demon-Slaying Sword Formation! When was it set up?!"
"Damn that demon Junlin, we've been outplayed!"
"Strike together!"
As the situation turned dire, the crowd rallied to resist. Some employed exquisite movements to try and fly directly out of the trap, others activated their signature techniques in an attempt to break through the flashing sword shadows.
"Ah! It hurts! The sword can pierce through the dantian directly!"
"My cultivation! My five hundred years of cultivation!"
"That demon, Junlin, he's draining my Spiritual Qi!"
"My Nascent Soul, and my magical treasures! No!"
But no one could escape; anyone who approached the sword shadows had their meridians and dantians cleaved, their cultivation and Spiritual Qi obliterated, falling powerlessly like mortals before being ejected from the sword formation.
Even those at the Semi-Sovereign level had no better fate; the sword shadows darted about, severing everyone’s consciousness, shredding all their magical treasures, signature moves, and even their cultivated memories, converting everything into the purest energy for absorption.
"Senior brother! How could you?!"
"Master! Such demonic actions, you will surely be despised by all!"
"Shifu..."
One by one, familiar figures, whether shocked, unsettled, or realizing and smiling, were all stripped of their cultivation and left as mere mortals before being tossed out of the bounds of the sword formation.
"So, that slash which severed the Celestial Path had inscribed the Unmatched Sword Intent into the fabric of this very space itself..." muttered the mysterious figure wrapped in white silk, showing no intention to dodge; the next moment, the sword intent cleaved through his Nascent Soul.
As the cultivation and Spiritual Qi of everyone present were transformed into the purest energy and absorbed by the rusted sword, Junlin lifted his head once more, gazing towards the original end of the Celestial Path, in the direction of the supreme immortal realms.
*Boom*
With a mere thought, the entire sword formation unleashed its power, ejecting all beings within thousands of miles, and then slicing off the entire space, including Mount Celestia itself!
To slice through space and sever concepts with such ease, even with his nearly expired body, the power of the Sword Sovereign remained awe-inspiring.
"Time to depart."
The space, now laden with the immense spiritual power of nearly all the strong beings of this world, was reshaped by Junlin's Unmatched Sword Intent into a spatial sword, shooting towards the end of the sky!
This strike was all that Junlin's battered body could muster.
But this supreme strike was not aimed at his disciples, his peers, or any being upon this earth.
Ever since his return from that so-called "immortal realm," Junlin's goal had been clear.
"Go now."
The sword-shaped spatial fragment turned into a streak of light, piercing the sky, concepts, and the flow of time, reaching the place where indescribable entities lay dormant.
"Beings beyond the heavens, dare you face my sword once more?"
In that endless void where time and space, even the concept of speech, lost all meaning, a flash of light briefly illuminated the ancient, boundless darkness.
-Break-
[Ironwood, territory of Duke Blackthorn]
image [https://img2.imgtp.com/2024/04/09/YGL3JmBf.png]
"Damn it, where's that little Nivian brat? She must have run this way!"
"Over here! Filthy white-furred thief, think you are a escape artist?"
In the filthy alley, Lucia, dressed in ragged clothes, ran desperately. Sweat soaked her already coal-dusted cheeks, and the mud splashed from her running dirtied her white hair. Her baby blue eyes were filled with terror, but Lucia still tightly clutched the stale loaf of bread in her hand, constantly moving her slender feet, trying to shake off her pursuers.
"Ha! I bet 30 copper Gaiar that I'll catch her first!"
"I'll match that, and whoever kills her loses."
Lucia glanced back, only to see the three adult men in their finely crafted black and red uniforms still in hot pursuit. Their tone of conversation sounded light and relaxed, as if they were treating this as a hunting game.
Members of the Baron's HoundGuards had always been like this. In their eyes, these denizens of the slums, these stateless refugees barely worthy of being called livestock, were nothing but toys to be used for amusement or hunting—especially a Nivian girl who dared to steal a loaf of bread right under their noses.
If only my brother were here... Lucia couldn't help but think.
Unfortunately, Julius, her brother who had been her constant companion since childhood, was now gravely ill. Otherwise, she wouldn't have risked being hunted by the HoundGuards, leaving the labyrinthine alleys of the slums to seek food in the bustling market streets.
*Step, step, step*
The already narrow alley soon came to an end, with a low wall blocking Lucia's path. But instead of frustration, her eyebrows relaxed with joy. This was the most familiar route for her and her brother. As long as she could scale this wall and jump into the foul-smelling sewage trench that crossed the slums, the three fastidious hounds of the Baron would surely give up the chase.
However, just as she attempted to climb over the low wall to end this deadly chasing game—
"Flames, heed my call—" The youngest-looking of the three pursuers suddenly spoke up.
With his words, a red halo with two four-pointed star patterns appeared on his right wrist, and some invisible energy was activated, making the air slightly warmer.
"Consider yourself honored. I successfully condensed the third Magestar for my halo last week, and you happen to be the perfect target for a test run! Ignis Sphaera!" He exclaimed excitedly, snapping his fingers toward Lucia's back.
*Click*
The red halo flickered, and a fist-sized ball of flickering flames appeared out of nowhere, tracing an arc in the air and smashing directly into Lucia's shoulder!
"Ahhhhhh!!!"
The scorching flames quickly burned through Lucia's already tattered clothes. The intense pain made her scream in agony, yet she gritted her teeth, clinging desperately to the bread, determined to climb over the low wall.
"Wow! She's still holding on!" Another HoundGuard laughed excitedly. "Your fireball spell's power hasn't improved much compared to before. Have you been neglecting your training lately?"
"We'll see about that!" The young mage arrogantly continued to gesture towards Lucia. "Ignis Sphaera! Ignis Sphaera!"
*Click—Click—*
Two burning fireballs poured out from his hands again, whistling as they respectively hit Lucia's back and right calf. But she, fueled by the momentum of the explosion, grabbed onto the wall's edge and desperately flipped over.
*Splash*
The sound of Lucia hitting the water and the flames extinguishing rang out, prompting curses of frustration from the young HoundGuard.
"Damn it! How does she still have strength?!"
"Forget it, let's just report the case as completed for the reward. No one will bother checking."
"You got lucky this time, you little white rat! See you around!"
The three HoundGuards laughed heartily as they departed, carrying themselves like victors returning from an honorable hunt.
"Cough cough—" Battered and wounded, Lucia struggled in the filthy water. Her height of less than four feet made it almost impossible for her to touch the bottom of the water. The burning pain and the nauseating taste in her throat made her cough violently.
The bread! The bread mustn't get dirty! Lucia thought desperately, lifting high above her head the loaf of stale bread she had been clutching tightly, protecting it from the foul waters.
Perhaps by fortune, or perhaps guided by the survival instincts her brother had instilled in her, Lucia soon drifted with the current to a shallower area, finally able to regain her footing and make her way back to the slums she knew so well.
A congregation of the displaced, a cradle for outlaws, the source of all darkness and sin—that's how those well-dressed imperial citizens spoke of this place. But to Lucia, it was simply where she had grown up.
For better or worse, the pain across her body had started to numb. The blackened burns wouldn't cause her to bleed out, enough for her to limp through the slums, avoiding the main haunts of the gangs, persisting through the winding makeshift paths between the ramshackle shanties cobbled from scrap wood.
Finally, she stopped at the entrance of a narrow, dried-up abandoned sewer. After a brief rest, she bent down and crawled inside, eventually arriving at a humble little chamber.
A storage crate fashioned from a wooden crate scavenged from behind a fruit stall. An oil lamp long devoid of fuel. A bed made of planks pilfered from a gang stash. To Lucia, these humble pieces assembled her home.
The good news was, the air was relatively fresh here, free from rats mad with hunger that might gnaw at their flesh at night. The narrow entrance kept the fierce gang members out. The storage bin was filled with treasures scavenged from various dumpsites—something like broken sword, worn clothes...
Most importantly, Lucia had someone waiting for her here.
"Julius...?" She called out tentatively to the white-haired boy lying on the bed, who shared her white hair, but received no response.
Moving closer, Lucia could clearly make out his emaciated features, the deathly pallor of his face, even the bloodless hue of his lips.
"No! Julius!" She knelt beside the plank bed, sobbing, desperately pressing her ear to his chest, straining for any evidence to dispel her darkest fear.
*Thump...thump...thump...*
A faint but stubbornly persistent heartbeat reached her ears. Lucia finally let out the breath she had been holding, collapsing at the bedside in relief.
As long as we're alive, there's a future. Her brother always said this, yet he would always stuff the stolen food into Lucia's mouth first, leaving himself with a growling stomach as he continued to scavenge around.
"You always said I couldn't live without you, but look, it's me taking care of you now, my dear brother."
Lucia nibbled on the sour, hard bread while gripping Julius' hand hanging over the bedside, clinging to it like a drowning person to driftwood adrift in the vast sea.
"You used to go find food yourself, always saying I was too foolish and would mess things up. But guess what? I got us some bread today—don't worry, I saved you half."
Feeling the lingering warmth in his palm, she began recounting her recent experiences—just as Julius used to do to lull her to sleep.
"The church courtyard garden had all these pretty flowers blooming that I've never seen before. The nectar was super sweet, I wanted to take some back but the mean old priest shooed me away."
"The market was a total madhouse today. They say some big important people is coming next week to test everyone's magic talents. Any kid over ten can take part!"
"I'll be turning ten next week, Julius. You're—twelve now, right? "
"I hear kids with great talents get sent to free schools with hot porridge every day, no paying needed. But if it's free, where does all that food come from? Stolen maybe? Or magic?"
"Once in school, we can learn magic spells, and then we can teach those HoundGuards a lesson!"
"School---School, will the schools be filled with children like us?"
"Julius..."
Her voice started to tremble, fighting back tears welling in her eyes.
"Please, don't leave me alone."
She didn't know if there were any gods in this world—after all, such things had never helped them before. But according to what the nuns said, as long as one prayed sincerely and endured hardships, the gods would bestow blessings.
"Whoever it may be, please help him."
Tears streamed down Lucia's hollow cheeks as she bowed her head, desperately pleading to any divine power that may listen to a wretch's Prayer from the grimy depths of the slums.