“When I sealed you beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree, ensuring you could not leave in this lifetime, that was my mistake,” Xian Jian Chen said. “I should never have spared your life.”

He stood alone at the edge of the continent, surrounded by a vast expanse of white mist.

In this world, neither the sun nor the moon was visible, and one could not see their fingers when extended.

The only response he received was an extremely hoarse voice, coming from an unknown source, like a withered tree brushed by wind and sand:

“Two hundred years, Xian Jian Chen. You sealed me here for two hundred years. I’ve always wanted to see you again. Don’t you want to see me? Don’t you want to reminisce with me?”

The habitual smile on Xian Jian Chen’s face disappeared, and that air of casual indifference was swept away completely.

His gaze turned cold, his spine straight.

“Between us, there are no words left to say.” Xian Jian Chen opened his arms, his black cloak rolling like ocean tides, obscuring heaven and earth. “Open!”

The earth trembled as if being ground by massive wheels.

A forest of swords rose from the ground, ten thousand blades glistening.

“Today I open the seal and release you. Here are many swords; choose one yourself to end this.”

Xian Jian Chen’s voice echoed above the sword forest.

That hoarse voice seemed regretful: “Xian Jian Chen, you shouldn’t have opened your domain.”

…

From any corner of the world, whether on the snow plain or not, whether there was a passage in the sky above or not, everyone saw this “meteor shower.”

Countless sword shadows streaked across the sky, leaving brilliant and magnificent trails, brighter than meteors.

In the four continents, thirty-six prefectures, and islands at sea, all cultivators looked toward the edge of the continent, simultaneously realizing one thing:

“The Sword Saint has drawn his sword!”

Mortals viewed it as beautiful meteors, exclaiming in wonder. Young children, still ignorant, danced with joy.

The higher a cultivator’s cultivation, the more they felt their spirits tremble as they observed the sword shadows. It was like facing the sword’s might directly, covered by a terrifying shadow between life and death:

“So a person can be powerful to this degree. Even among Divine Transformation cultivators, there are still differences like those between clouds and mud.”

“Wasn’t that person injured? How can he still wield such a sword?”

“He must have reached the edge of the continent and retrieved his life-bound sword, returning to being invincible in the world!”

“But what kind of enemy would be worthy of him drawing such a sword?”

Song Qian Ji recalled the Seven Absolute Zither. The eight swords left to him by Xian Jian Chen flew out, surrounding him, radiating various colors, humming together with the myriad sword shadows in the sky.

“Let’s go, take me to him,” Song Qian Ji patted the Shadowless Sword.

The Shadowless Sword responded immediately, coming to his feet, and transforming into a stream of light.

From here, the great path was clear, with no more obstacles.

The Shadowless Sword, like a reckless youth, plunged headlong into the vast white mist at the edge of the continent.

The ominous feeling in Song Qian Ji’s heart grew deeper and deeper. He saw a black silhouette in the distance and leaped down from the Shadowless Sword: “Xian Jian—”

The person turned around, his appearance was extremely similar to Xian Jian Chen, and his height was also identical.

However, his cheeks were slightly sunken, his figure excessively thin.

He also wore a black garment, but it seemed to have been sealed away for many years, covered in dust, with somewhat tattered hems.

Song Qian Ji looked at the person before him, and all the blood in his body went cold. He stood frozen as if instantly turned into an ice sculpture.

Yet his voice remained steady: “Who exactly are you? Why do you always transform into others? Have you forgotten your original appearance!”

Xian Jian Chen had unleashed his strongest sword strike, yet this person could still stand here…

Had this battle already ended, the outcome decided?

Had he arrived too late?

“Song Qian Ji, you’ve killed me so many times, yet you still don’t know who I am. Can you see clearly? This is my original appearance.” The person before him lowered his eyes, and the face extremely similar to Xian Jian Chen revealed a peaceful, compassionate smile, with what seemed like pity in his eyes. “Go, bid him farewell.”

Having said this, he turned his back and cleared the way.

Song Qian Ji saw the real Xian Jian Chen, and for a moment felt the world spinning, finding it extremely absurd.

The person who had just been arguing and bickering with him separated not long ago, now appeared like this when they met again—

Xian Jian Chen sat cross-legged with his sword, his entire body surrounded by gray-black death energy.

His chest had a huge bloody hole, with a broken sword stuck in it.

The broken sword had no hilt. The tip had penetrated three inches into his chest, with one foot of the blade exposed, covered in intricate patterns like a hundred flowers in bloom.

Fresh blood dripped from the broken end of the sword, forming a small stream.

Xian Jian Chen heard the movement, barely raising his lowered eyes. Seeing Song Qian Ji, he cursed:

“Damn it, this master hates this kind of scene the most. Hey, boy, you’re not going to cry, are you? You’re not, right?”

“So you only had one sword left.” Song Qian Ji bit his lip, holding his hand and asking, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

All along the way, he had not drawn a single sword—not out of temper or deliberately training his disciple, allowing these divine weapons with their various temperaments to be subdued quickly.

He truly only had one sword left.

Song Qian Ji opened his mouth but made no sound. Xian Jian Chen’s hand was very cold, colder than the thousand-year ice of the snow plain.

Suddenly, the silver whale of the Dead Sea, the purple smoke of Purple Cloud Temple, the raging fire of White Dragon River, and many chaotic colored fragments all flashed before his eyes.

Along the way, they had fought over pillows, tea, and swords, despised each other, tested each other, and finally, telling the story of the journey to the Western Heaven, they had charged into the snow plain with high spirits.

Xian Jian Chen asked: “Wait for you to do what? To make three people for a game of Ascension Chess? To see who ascends first?”

“Even at a time like this, can’t you say something normal?” Song Qian Ji took a deep breath, his expression still maintaining composure. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I still have the Immortal Spring.”

While trying to convince himself, he summoned the purifying bottle from his Purple Palace, but was gripped by Xian Jian Chen: “Your Immortal Spring is useless to me. Look at this sword. It’s my life-bound sword. I was wounded by my life-bound sword and have long been beyond saving. Two hundred years ago, I should have died.”

Song Qian Ji said sharply: “Shut up and circulate your energy with me!”

Xian Jian Chen chuckled softly, pulling at his wound and vomiting blood: “Don’t move. I have something to tell you.”

Song Qian Ji didn’t dare move: “Alright, speak.”

“My original name was Xian Chen. The ‘Jian’ (sword) in the middle I added myself after practicing swordsmanship. My younger brother was called Xian Jie. Two brothers, live like dust and mustard seeds—a good name, right? Oh, my brother is the one you just saw. Don’t blame me for not trusting people; I’ve been deceived by him too many times.”

His gaze passed over Song Qian Ji as if falling on the flowing river of time, returning to memories sealed away for many years:

“As children, we brothers relied on each other for survival. Life wasn’t good but not too bad either. We met a wandering cultivator who stayed in our village, learned a few spells from him, and became dissatisfied with ordinary life, wanting to learn from others to cultivate immortality and seek the Dao. We wandered together and ran up to Hua Wei Sect, where the elder said he had no talent and could only enter the outer sect. I hid my spiritual roots and accompanied him into the outer sect. I could self-study from the classics and then teach him what I learned. But his spiritual root was weak, and he was competitive, always being bullied in places I couldn’t see.”

Song Qian Ji’s mouth was full of bitterness. How the outer sect of Hua Wei had been in the past, he knew all too well.

“After my hidden spiritual root was exposed, many elders wanted to take me as a disciple, fighting over me. I proposed one condition: whoever was willing to also accept my brother into the inner sect, I would take him as my master. Who knew this matter would provoke jealousy from other disciples, leading to many misunderstandings, causing him to finally become my enemy and flee Hua Wei Sect.”

“Hua Wei Sect wanted to hunt him down for the crime of betraying the sect. Naturally, I was unwilling, so I simply left the sect as well, becoming a free wandering cultivator, searching for his whereabouts. My journey was smooth, with constant fortunate encounters. Years later, as a wandering cultivator, I made a name for myself. This part seems somewhat similar to you, doesn’t it?”

Xian Jian Chen smacked his lips. Song Qian Ji knew he was deliberately trying to make him smile and forced out a smile: “I have a Thousand Channels. Who’s drifting like you, wandering the four seas?”

“Having Thousand Channels makes you so great?” Xian Jian Chen snorted lightly. “Let’s continue talking about our brotherhood. He fled to the Western Sea to study heretical and demonic techniques. Just as his evil skills reached their peak, I happened to be traveling in the Western Sea. He was absorbing someone’s power when he encountered me, and I used my newly acquired ‘Spilled Water Sword’ to cripple him, forcibly dispersing all his power. Yes, it’s the sword by your side. I imagine you already know that this sword has a strange temperament—it wants others to bleed but requires your blood first… I took him to the Demon-Suppressing Tower of Red Leaf Temple, where he recited scriptures daily to wash away his killing intent. Who knew that after just a hundred years, he would attain enlightenment, transforming from a criminal into a respected Dharma master? He broke out of the temple and set up a banquet at Hua Wei Sect, inviting me and my wife to attend.”

“By then, I was already the youngest Divine Transformation cultivator in the world. Feeling the loneliness at the top, and being newly married, I developed thoughts of retirement. My wife and I agreed that after this banquet, we would withdraw from the cultivation world together, no longer concerning ourselves with worldly affairs.”

As Xian Jian Chen spoke to this point, his voice gradually deepened.

Song Qian Ji listened silently, scenes of sword fighting flashing before his eyes.

The young and arrogant Sword Saint and his newlywed wife, the host hiding daggers in his smile, guests with their sinister intentions, the brother who had “reformed and returned to righteousness”—no feast is without purpose.

It was difficult to imagine the feelings with which Xian Jian Chen attended. At the banquet table, with cups crossing and host and guests in good spirits, his brother even told his wife about his past mistakes, and how fortunate he was that his elder brother had given him a chance to repent and start anew.

Then the brothers drank wine, chatting about childhood stories, the days of relying on each other as youths.

Until he was completely drunk.

The fine wine became poison, the congratulatory guests became vengeful enemies.

His wife, controlled by evil techniques, lost her mind, drew his life-bound sword from his waist, and plunged it into his heart.

His brother slapped the table and laughed loudly, laughing until tears came to his eyes in front of him.

Xian Jian Chen gripped the sword blade, forcibly breaking his life-bound sword.

With half of the broken sword in hand, severely wounded, he pursued. Xian Jie fled to the edge of the continent.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to kill, using the broken life-bound sword to seal his blood relative beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree.

Then Xian Jian Chen forcibly placed the broken sword that pierced his heart meridian into his Purple Palace, returning to Hua Wei Sect as if nothing had happened, dealing with the aftermath and arranging affairs.

He casually appointed someone brave enough to speak as the new sect leader, who later became the true immortal Xu Yun.

From then on, his life-bound sword was broken, with half embedded in his heart, forcing him to endure extreme pain in his heart meridian at all times, watching helplessly as he went from being the strongest in the world to growing weaker.

The other half remained beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree, becoming an unbreakable seal, suppressing the blood relative who had once depended on him but later became his enemy.

When he opened his domain in the Purple Palace again, releasing that forest of ten thousand swords, it meant he also had to pull out the life-bound sword from his Purple Palace.

He would die.

“Didn’t you always want to know these things? Why that expression?” Xian Jian Chen smiled.

“I’d rather not know,” Song Qian Ji said.

Xian Jian Chen waved his sleeve, summoning a dull, rust-covered long sword: “This is the last sword. This sword is named ‘Solitary Journey.’ It forms a pair of yin-yang dual swords with Spilled Water. Only after subduing the Spilled Water Sword can you make it serve you. You’ve learned all my sword techniques. From now on, you must walk the path alone.”

Song Qian Ji’s eyes were red. Without realizing it, he had bitten his tongue, tasting blood in his mouth: “What kind of master are you? I’ve only half-learned your sword techniques. How can I walk alone?”

The nine swords trembled in unison as if wailing.

“When I was invincible in the world, you wouldn’t call me master. Now that I’m at the end of my road, you’ve become my disciple. How can there be such a foolish cultivator in this world?”

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “I’m not a cultivator. I’m just a farmer.”

“Being a farmer is wonderful. If there’s a next life, I’d also like to be a farmer.” Xian Jian Chen smiled. “This master has had few close relationships in life. Wife—fated but separate; brother—fighting within the same house. Yet at death, there’s still a disciple to see me off. It’s really… very good. Thank you, otherwise, I might have felt quite lonely.”

Song Qian Ji could no longer contain himself, a wave of warmth surging to his eyes.

This person had wandered alone for hundreds of years, with no friends, only enemies. You’d think he looked down on everyone, not needing friends or care and understanding, but at the end of his life, he too feared loneliness.

“Traveling a thousand mountains alone, to whom does my solitary shadow go…” Xian Jian Chen murmured. His body began to rapidly crumble from the fingertips, turning into flowing dust. “Your master is leaving.”

Song Qian Ji reached out to grab him but caught only a handful of ashes.

“Clang!”

The broken half of the sword fell to the ground.