After spending another day, Zhang Ruochen and his group overcame numerous obstacles, finally approaching Sword Mountain.
At the foot of Sword Mountain lies a vast underwater plain, dotted with countless tombstones. Before each tombstone, a sword sheath is planted. The tombstones bear inscriptions, but they have long been eroded by seawater, rendering them illegible.
It is a profoundly desolate scene!
It seems to tell future generations that a once-glorious swordsmanship civilisation perished here.
The Underworld King emerges from the tomb forest, greeting Zhang Ruochen, saying, “These are the monuments erected by the Sword Ancestor for them. The tombs contain no remains, only a sword. When the sword’s owner died, their body was completely lost.”
“Has the Sword Ancestor been to the Origin Temple? Why are their swords buried in the Origin Temple? Why did the Sword Ancestor erect monuments for them?” Zhang Ruochen’s mind brims with countless questions.
The Underworld King points to the distant Sword Mountain, saying, “If you can pass their trials and reach the foot of Sword Mountain, you will understand everything and gain benefits beyond your imagination. The opportunity here is supreme for sword cultivators. Even obtaining a fraction of it would make this journey to the Origin Temple worthwhile!”
Given the Underworld King’s perspective, such praise suggests the opportunity here is extraordinary.
Zhang Ruochen says, “With your cultivation, Uncle, you couldn’t take all the opportunities here?”
“It’s not that I couldn’t take them, but that I couldn’t exhaust them. The opportunities here are too profound, and I could only bear a portion of them. Go and try for yourself. If you gain something, you will surely go far in the way of the sword.”
With those words, the Underworld King’s body dissipates, vanishing without a trace.
It was merely a divine projection; his true self had long departed.
Zhang Ruochen glances at Ale, saying, “Shall we try together?”
“Yes!”
Ale leaps off the blood wolf’s back, whispering a command to it before joining Zhang Ruochen in entering the tomb forest.
As soon as they step into the tomb forest, a bright, sharp beam of light shoots from a nearby tomb. It is a sword, soaring into the air, pausing briefly before slashing straight at Zhang Ruochen.
With a surge of sword intent, Zhang Ruochen’s ancient Abyss Sword flies out, slashing upward diagonally.
With a loud “bang,” the two swords collide.
The purple-green sword, as if wielded by an invisible hand, swiftly changes its move, its tip thrusting downward toward Zhang Ruochen’s head.
Zhang Ruochen’s gaze shifts to the tombstone in front of the tomb from which the sword emerged. He remotely grabs the sword sheath before it.
As the purple-green sword thrusts downward, it slides perfectly back into its sheath.
Zhang Ruochen grips the hilt, suppressing it firmly. After a while, the purple-green sword ceases struggling and returns to calm.
“Go back!”
Zhang Ruochen reburies it in the tomb.
Elsewhere, Ale is attacked by a sword that flies from a tomb. After parrying ten strikes, the sword emits a resonant hum, transforms into a streak of rainbow light, and flies toward the distant Sword Mountain.
The two press forward.
Swords continually fly from the tombs, attacking them.
Some strike head-on, others stab from behind, and some slash at their souls from afar.
Each sword attacks only ten times before automatically flying to Sword Mountain, merging with the sword rain swirling around it.
The swords attacking Zhang Ruochen match his strength, but their techniques vary, some exquisitely refined, others somewhat rudimentary.
After traversing only a tenth of the tomb forest, both Zhang Ruochen and Ale are wounded.
Zhang Ruochen attempts to activate his Fire God Armour for protection, but in this tomb forest, no artifacts other than swords seem permitted. Neither saint energy nor mysteries can stir the armour.
Zhang Ruochen’s physical recovery is remarkable; though bloodstains mark his body, his wounds have already healed.
Ale, cultivating the *Nine-Cycle Life and Death Technique*, has life and death forces cycling within him, endlessly sustaining him. These injuries are trivial to him.
After covering a tenth of the distance, Zhang Ruochen is astonished to find a strange power flowing from the tombs that previously attacked him, converging into his body.
It is a mystery!
The mystery of swordsmanship!
Though only one ten-thousandth, it can profoundly transform a sword cultivator’s art.
Even gods of swordsmanship, no matter their mastery, cannot be called Sword Gods without grasping the mystery of swordsmanship.
Only by mastering this mystery can one glimpse the ultimate way of the sword.
If Lanying or Que, both sword cultivators, were offered one ten-thousandth of the swordsmanship mystery, they would surely trade everything they own to acquire it.
Ale also gains one ten-thousandth of the swordsmanship mystery.
Zhang Ruochen finally understands the Underworld King’s words, murmuring to himself, “I see. No matter how many treasures the Origin Temple holds, how can they compare to one ten-thousandth of the swordsmanship mystery?”
The two exchange a glance, their eyes filled with resolute determination, and continue forward.
The path ahead grows more arduous.
The swords attacking them no longer rely solely on techniques but carry powerful sword intent. Occasionally, two swords attack one person simultaneously.
After completing the second tenth of the journey, Zhang Ruochen and Ale gain another one ten-thousandth of the swordsmanship mystery.
Their bodies bear more bloodstains, but after a brief rest, their wounds heal.
They press on.
In the third tenth, the attacking swords wield intricate techniques, sharp intent, and even sword souls. These souls, however, remain at the level of Earth Sword Souls, matching Zhang Ruochen’s own.
The path grows increasingly difficult, but fortunately, every tenth offers a brief respite for healing.
Moreover, each sword attacks only ten times.
Otherwise, even with Zhang Ruochen and Ale’s willpower, they would have collapsed long ago.
On this day, drenched in blood, Zhang Ruochen and Ale stagger through the seventh tenth, collapsing exhausted to heal their wounds.
Comparatively, Zhang Ruochen’s injuries are far fewer.
Ale’s body is a wreck, with no patch of flesh intact, resembling a blood-soaked humanoid. Some sword wounds pierce through his body, shattering his organs, and even his saint soul is damaged.
Ultimately, this is because his swordsmanship focuses solely on killing, with no regard for defence.
Attack is his defence.
This resembles Lanying’s style but is even more extreme.
Such a swordsmanship is undeniably powerful, often capable of slaying stronger foes.
However, it is a skewed path, not the orthodox way of the sword.
Zhang Ruochen’s swordsmanship, in contrast, is all-encompassing, blending with myriad worldly laws. With a single thought, his techniques form, capable of both attack and defence, flawless and unassailable.
Along this journey, Zhang Ruochen realises that years of secluded cultivation under the Sundial are coming together. His techniques flow effortlessly, and his understanding of swordsmanship reaches new heights.
Coupled with the swordsmanship mystery, Zhang Ruochen is confident he can cultivate a Heaven Sword Soul in the Hundred-Shackle Realm.
“You’ve gained seven ten-thousandths of the swordsmanship mystery. Your future achievements will be extraordinary. Don’t go further!” Zhang Ruochen says, concerned.
Ale’s injuries are severe, and continuing could risk his life.
The path ahead will be even more perilous, and Zhang Ruochen himself lacks confidence. If Ale faces danger, he may not be able to save him in time.
Ale’s wounds heal completely. Gazing at the now-near Sword Mountain, he says, “I’ve walked more dangerous paths. I must continue this one, as far as fate allows! Now, we must make a vow.”
“What vow?” Zhang Ruochen asks.
Ale says, “On the path ahead, if either of us faces mortal danger, we must not distract ourselves to save the other. If we break this vow, let all the swords here slay us, tearing us into ten thousand pieces.”
Ale takes the vow first, and immediately, the tombs around resound with dense sword hums, as if responding to his oath.
Ale says, “Your turn!”
Zhang Ruochen understands why Ale proposes this vow.
He knows Ale is acting recklessly, and this could endanger Zhang Ruochen. If Ale faces danger, Zhang Ruochen will surely try to save him.
That would likely lead to both their deaths.
Zhang Ruochen raises a finger to the sky, swearing the oath.
The path forward is excruciatingly difficult. Each step brings new wounds.
No longer just one or two swords attack them, but several, even dozens, striking simultaneously. Even with Zhang Ruochen’s formidable defence, he is pierced, blood splattering.
The swords carry intent, souls, and unfamiliar swordsmanship forces, all assaulting them.
Zhang Ruochen, having refined countless soul-enhancing elixirs and divine star souls, can withstand sword soul strikes. Ale, however, lacks such resilience.
As they cross the ninth tenth and enter the final tenth, Ale faces unprecedented mortal danger. Dozens of swords pierce his body simultaneously.
Moreover, dozens of sword souls slash at his saint soul.
If they hit, his soul will undoubtedly shatter.
Facing the oncoming sword souls, Ale’s gaze is calm and fearless. This is his choice, and he accepts its consequences. Mustering his remaining strength, he struggles to raise his sword.
“Ale!”
Zhang Ruochen flashes before him, thrusting his sword, “Burial Flower!”
This supreme strike fails to fully shatter the sword souls.
Several still strike them, the pain like their souls being torn apart, unbearable. Both let out long cries.
Ale kneels, his gaze cold as he glares at Zhang Ruochen.
Wiping his blood-smeared face, Zhang Ruochen says, “A mere vow can’t bind me. Even if I face ten thousand swords, so what?”
Before his words fade, the entire graveyard erupts with dense, piercing sword sounds.
Countless swords rise from the tombs, hovering in the air, their intents locked onto Zhang Ruochen.
Having sworn by ten thousand swords, he must face their punishment.
