While Shen Gurong and the Pavilion Master argued outside over bookkeeping, Mu Zhe, inside the sea of ferocious swords, faced extreme danger.
The Sea of Swords was like the sea of consciousness, boundless and vast. Mu Zhe was completely different from when he was with Shen Gurong. His face was ashen, and the crimson birthmark on his face slowly spread with withered red lines, his pupils gradually becoming dilated red.
Over the past ten years, as he gradually gained control over the immense spiritual power within his body, which seemed to originate from nowhere, the birthmark on his face would subtly change, as if it were alive.
At first, Mu Zhe trembled with fear at his ghostly face. Later, after fully controlling his spiritual power, he no longer felt so terrified. On the contrary, when the birthmark on his face changed, the circulation of spiritual power within his body seemed to become smoother, absorbing surrounding spiritual power and accelerating his cultivation breakthroughs.
He still held the old sword in his hand, his expression indifferent as he looked around.
A deathly silence fell over the sea of swords, a sea that didn't resemble a malevolent sword at all.
But soon, a white mist slowly rose from the sea-like ground beneath his feet, instantly becoming a vast expanse of smoke and mist, with wisps of red thread drifting about like folded wings of flying beasts.
Mu Zhe thought, 'It's here.'
He gripped his sword even tighter.
Faced with the unknown terror within the white mist, Mu Zhe tensed, violently swinging his sword to disperse the mist that obscured his vision. But quickly, the white mist enveloped him again.
Mu Zhe frowned deeply. Just then, a voice suddenly came from the side.
"Come to me."
Mu Zhe was startled, turning around in surprise.
At the same time, the white mist suddenly surged into the ground, instantly transforming the entire surroundings.
All around, scattered tombs stretched endlessly, the sky a dark, shrouded expanse, filled with swirling ghostly and demonic energy.
At the edge of Mu Zhe's vision, Shen Feng Xue, dressed in white, stood beside a tomb, his hand slightly outstretched towards him, his wide sleeves fluttering in the wind.
Mu Zhe froze, staring blankly at him.
Just then, a figure suddenly ran past him, leaping onto Shen Feng Xue and clinging tightly to his waist on tiptoe.
"Master..." the child choked out, "I didn't kill anyone..."
Shen Feng Xue's eyes were icy, a faint red tinge appearing at the corners when he lowered them slightly. He let the child hug him, neither comforting nor scolding, as if simply indulging a spoiled child.
The child choked for a moment, then slowly raised his head.
Mu Zhe's pupils contracted.
The person in Shen Feng Xue's arms was none other than himself as a child.
Little Mu Zhe's eyes were slightly red, his body trembling slightly. He clung to Shen Feng Xue like a last straw, clutching his sleeve tightly, stammering, "Master, where is this? Just now, Senior Brother Sanshui said I couldn't leave, what did that mean? Li Suo... is Senior Brother really dead?"
His words were incoherent, leaving no room for reply.
Shen Feng Xue looked down at him, and after a long while, softly said, "I'm here."
Little Mu Zhe's eyes slowly widened.
Shen Feng Xue said, "No matter how long you stay here, I'll stay with you."
"Don't be afraid."
In an instant, all the fear and dread on Little Mu Zhe's face vanished. He threw himself into Shen Feng Xue's arms again, nodding gently, "Yes."
Mu Zhe watched from the side, completely stunned.
When had he ever been so dependent on his master as a child?
What did he mean by killing Li Suo?
What was all this around him?
His mind was in turmoil, almost forgetting that this was merely a sea of swords.
Soon, time seemed to fly by. He didn't know how much time had passed, but the young Mu Zhe had grown into a man, and before him stood Yu Xinghe, dressed in yellow and smiling.
Although Yu Xinghe was smiling, he held a sword in his hand. His eyes curved into a smile, as innocent and harmless as when he was a child, playfully teasing.
Mu Zhe heard him say softly, "Junior Brother, give me what Master gave you."
Mu Zhe stared at him, stunned. Behind Yu Xinghe, the burial mound had broken its barrier, and countless streams of spiritual energy and light poured in from the opening, instantly absorbed into Mu Zhe's dantian by the power he hadn't encountered in ten years.
He was somewhat bewildered: "What is it?"
Yu Xinghe laughed even harder: "Junior Brother, are you still playing dumb? Ten years ago, Master went so far as to sacrifice half of his yuandan to have Senior Brother Sanshui sent to the Burial Mound. Naturally, he was entrusting that thing to you."
He slowly drew his sword, a flash of light, and his smile vanished in an instant.
Yu Xinghe stared blankly at Mu Zhe, his expression icy: "Hand over the divine artifact, and I might spare your life out of consideration for our brotherhood."
Mu Zhe staggered back half a step, completely bewildered.
Meanwhile, Mu Zhe, watching from a distance, was also utterly astonished.
But the scene around him changed again before he could process it.
This time, Mu Zhe, his blue robes stained with blood, plunged the Lin Xia Chun sword into Yu Xinghe's chest and spun it violently.
Yu Xinghe's mouth was full of blood. He struggled, clinging tightly to Mu Zhe's shoulders, still smiling even on his deathbed.
He coughed up blood and said with difficulty, "Junior Brother, Master has always favored you since childhood. Even when I imprisoned him, he still worried about your life... Back then, my entire nation was slaughtered by the enemy, corpses littered the fields, yet the ever-compassionate Lord Shen wouldn't even lend me a divine weapon? Haha, can you say everything in this world is fair...?"
Before he could finish, Mu Zhe plunged his sword all the way in, piercing Yu Xinghe's body and drawing a bloody gash from his back.
Hearing Yu Xinghe let out a muffled groan, his voice even softer, Mu Zhe coldly sent a burst of spiritual energy, sustaining him by half.
He asked, "I'll ask one last time, where is Master?"
Yu Xinghe's pupils dilated slightly, still smiling, "He's dead."
Mu Zhe's pupils contracted sharply, he grabbed Yu Xinghe's long hair tightly, forcing him to raise his head, and said coldly, "You haven't obtained the divine artifact yet, you won't kill him."
Yu Xinghe's face was covered in blood. Seeing Mu Zhe's near-madness, he smiled triumphantly, "You said before that I was a madman, and as you wished, I am now mad. What's the point of reasoning with a madman?"
Mu Zhe's eyes were bloodshot.
Yu Xinghe felt a surge of pleasure at his appearance. With his last ounce of strength, he said, "I imprisoned him for ten years, and you searched for him throughout the Three Realms for ten years. But in reality, he's not in the Demon Clan. He's right here, Junior Brother."
He grinned. "He's always been in the vast icy plains behind Yuxu Mountain. If you're not afraid of death, go find him now. Before the snow covers the land, you might still find his body."
Mu Zhe's pupils suddenly turned bloodshot. He gripped Yu Xinghe's neck tightly and slammed him against a nearby boulder.
A deafening boom resounded.
Wisps of white mist rose again around them.
Mu Zhe stared blankly, as if in a dream, still reeling from the shock.
A voice echoed softly from behind him.
"Hehe." Someone said, "Your yuandan's memories are truly delicious. The three of you, master and disciples, slaughtering each other, tsk tsk, I'm quite satisfied with what I've seen."
Mu Zhe: "..."
Mu Zhe suddenly turned around, but still only saw a cloud of white mist.
Mu Zhe dared not be distracted any longer. He gripped his sword and swung it fiercely. The spiritual power was sharp enough to cleave through ten thousand armies. With a sharp whoosh, it cleaved a path straight through the white mist in front of him.
At the end of the path, a wisp of black mist slowly drifted towards him.
If the Sword Pavilion Master were here, he would definitely be able to tell at a glance that this was a sword spirit that had already gained intelligence.
If he had known, he definitely wouldn't have accepted such a small amount of spirit stones from Shen Gurong.
The sword spirit's voice was childlike and sweet: "Give me your yuandan, and I'll consume all those painful memories for you, so you won't feel so bad anymore."
Mu Zhe looked at him indifferently and said coldly, "Those aren't my memories."
The sword spirit exclaimed, "Impossible! I've consumed many people's yuandan... oh no, memories, without fail. Those memories are yours."
The sword spirit, trying to trick Mu Zhe into handing over his yuandan, wasn't very bright; he even let slip about yuandan and memories.
Mu Zhe remained silent.
The sword spirit floated over, circling Mu Zhe, saying, "Leave it to me, leave it to me! Aren't those memories causing you a lot of pain? I can see it all; you're so distressed your core is unstable."
Mu Zhe took a deep breath and coldly replied, "Those memories may cause me pain, but they aren't mine."
The sword spirit was extremely confident in its ability to elicit the most painful memories from others, and didn't believe Mu Zhe at all, thinking he was just being hypocritical.
The black mist solidified into a human form, twisting and turning until it finally took the shape of Shen Feng Xue. However, it only possessed Shen Feng Xue's appearance, lacking his cold, aloof demeanor, appearing completely out of place.
The sword spirit, wearing Shen Gurong's face, winked its left eye at Mu Zhe and said with a grin, "Your master is dead, so I can be your master."
Before it could finish speaking, Mu Zhe coldly swung its sword, shattering the sword spirit's body and forcibly turning it back into its black mist form.
Sword Spirit: "Ah—what are you doing?! That's your master's face!"
Mu Zhe's eyes were sinister, and he said coldly, "Dare to wear his face again, and I'll kill you."
Sword Spirit: "..."
The sword spirit, completely oblivious to human relationships, muttered under his breath, "But he's already dead..."
Mu Zhe couldn't hold back any longer and swung his sword again, coldly saying, "I already said, that's not my memory. My master isn't... in trouble."
The sword spirit was struck again, screamed, and huddled in a corner, trembling for a while before looking at Mu Zhe.
"I don't believe it. Humans are all cunning. You're definitely just putting on a brave face," the sword spirit said. "You wait, I'll definitely draw out your inner demons!"
Mu Zhe looked at him coldly, flicking his wide sleeve: "Try it if you dare."
The sword spirit decided to try, causing white mist to rise around him again. The entire mass of black mist disappeared into the white mist.
Mu Zhe had roughly figured out why this sword had remained untamed.
It possessed the ability to unleash the most painful and terrifying memories a person had ever experienced, simply by entering their sea of consciousness. While seemingly simple, these unique memories could easily lead one astray.
Cultivators always feared inner demons, and if one were to develop one's inner demons even for a moment within the sword sea, they would be completely at the mercy of the sword spirit.
Fortunately, Mu Zhe hadn't been induced to experience any inner demons.
The inexplicable memories were incomprehensible to Mu Zhe, but he didn't want to be distracted; subduing the sword was the most important thing.
Outside the sword sea, Shen Gurong, having timed it perfectly for the duration of an incense stick burning, was growing impatient as a wisp of spiritual energy slowly emanated from the sword tomb.
The red light on the murderous sword had vanished. Soon, Mu Zhe emerged from the cliff face, gripping the hilt of the sword, and expressionlessly pulled it slowly from the wall.
Even though Shen Gurong had anticipated Mu Zhe's emergence, he still breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing him.
The Pavilion Master, having already settled the accounts and sent them to Xianyun City by fast horse, immediately showered Mu Zhe with flattery upon seeing him: "As expected of the Holy Lord's disciple! Even that sword, which had remained untamed for so long, can be wielded with ease. The Holy Lord truly has excellent teaching skills; he is a model for us all!"
Shen Gurong, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, wore a nonchalant "nothing special" expression, but inwardly he was cheering.
Mu Zhe! As expected of you! Ha, ha, ha! I must show off to Sect Leader Xi later!
Mu Zhe, who was forcefully pulling the sword, overheard this and nearly fell off the cliff face.
His expression was strange as he stared at the malevolent sword embedded in the mountain wall, its tip just a hair's breadth away from striking. He coldly said, "Since you've lost, then come out."
The malevolent sword continued its final struggle: "Waaah, why can't you summon your inner demon?! Can't you just let me die quickly?! Tell me why! Everyone else can summon it instantly, but you're still stuck with that broken memory even after dozens of attempts!"
As it spoke, it immediately accused, "Your master is definitely dead!"
Mu Zhe silently gritted his teeth, thinking that once he got his hands on this sword, he should have the Sword Pavilion forge it to temper its outspoken nature.
Finally, the malevolent sword, having used all its spiritual power to summon Mu Zhe's inner demon, was utterly exhausted and was shamefully pulled from the mountain wall by Mu Zhe.
After the sword was pulled out, all the swords in the entire Sword Tomb emitted a loud buzzing sound, which quickly subsided.
Mu Zhe gracefully descended from the mountainside, quickly walking to Shen Gurong's side and bowing slightly: "Master, I'm back."
Shen Gurong nodded reservedly: "Acceptable."
So acceptable! Absolutely acceptable! Acceptable, acceptable, acceptable!
Mu Zhe: "..."
The sword spirit in Mu Zhe's hand suddenly spoke: "You're his master? Huh? Weren't you dead?"
Shen Gurong: "..."
Shen Gurong shuddered at the sudden voice, looking expressionlessly towards its source.
Mu Zhe impatiently tapped the hilt of his sword, and the sword spirit cried out in pain, daring not to speak.
The Pavilion Master's eyes widened at the sight of the sword spirit; he nearly jumped for joy: "A sword spirit?! A sword spirit?!"
Mu Zhe, knowing the Pavilion Master's bad temper, ignored him and simply said gently to Shen Gurong, "Master, we should go back."
Having experienced the transformation of a spirit beast into a human and then a split soul into a human, Shen Gurong was completely used to strange things turning into humans. He nodded and said, "Alright."
The Pavilion Master, pounding his chest in frustration, mustered his courage and shouted, "Holy Lord? Holy Lord, wait! Holy Lord, if it's a sword spirit, that's a different price! You'll need to pay an additional five thousand spirit stones, Holy Lord! Mu Zhe?"
Mu Zhe completely ignored him. Seeing that he still wanted to chase after them to collect the debt, he said "Excuse me" to Shen Gurong, and brazenly grabbed Shen Gurong's wrist, quickly walking out of the Sword Pavilion.
By the time the Pavilion Master chased after them, the two were long gone.
After leaving Fuxian City, Mu Zhe, who had been holding on, finally couldn't hold back any longer and stumbled, nearly collapsing to his knees.
Shen Gurong swiftly caught him.
"What's wrong?"
At the Sword Tomb, although only an incense stick's worth of time had passed outside, the memories that the sword spirit had drawn from Mu Zhe's core had replayed dozens of times within the sword sea where Mu Zhe was.
Mu Zhe had no idea how much time had passed. Sometimes he even genuinely believed that the illusory scenes were real—that he had truly become enemies with Yu Xinghe, and that his master had truly died at Yu Xinghe's hands.
Fortunately, the wooden bead that Shen Gurong had unintentionally given him in his childhood, strung on a red cord, had been worn on his wrist for the past ten years. When he was in a daze, touching that bead would maintain his last shred of clarity, preventing him from being truly overwhelmed by the non-existent memories and developing inner demons.
In the end, it was the sword spirit that collapsed first.
Mu Zhe had been in the sea of swords for too long, and his spiritual energy was nearly depleted. Simply managing to walk out of Fuxian City was his limit.
His breathing was rapid, his legs went weak, and he collapsed into Shen Gurong's arms, embraced tightly by him, surrounded by the faint scent of honey.
Mu Zhe wasn't one to show weakness, and instinctively tried to stand up. After a forced attempt… he discovered that he could actually get up.
Mu Zhe: “…”
Mu Zhe let himself fall down.
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