Chapter 18

Once, I believed it was true; now, I no longer do.

He spoke only half a sentence before falling silent.

Xie Chang’an withdrew her gaze from the starry sky and looked toward the person beside her, waiting for an explanation.

But Zhu Xuanguang just shook his head. “It’s too early to tell you all this now—it would affect your cultivation.”

Xie Chang’an asked, “Then when can we discuss it?”

Zhu Xuanguang thought for a moment. “When you reach the Sword Immortal Realm. By then, it should be about the right time.”

Xie Chang’an: …

The Sword Immortal Realm is the highest pinnacle for sword cultivators. Even within it, there are initial stages and mastery levels, and then there is Zhu Xuanguang’s peak state. But Xie Chang’an is only at the Sword Qi Realm now. There are two realms between them, like thousands of mountains and rivers apart—how many years, or even decades, would it take to reach there?

She half suspected that Zhu Xuanguang was merely offering a vague excuse to brush her off.

Yet, this master was not one to be pried open when unwilling to speak. Xie Chang’an’s lips twitched slightly as she turned back to gaze at the stars.

Though the discussion abruptly ended, his words lingered in her mind.

If the world has laws, who set them?

Could there truly be someone who decides the Way of Heaven?

And if such a person exists, how do they judge a cultivator’s progress? If even the Sword Pavilion Sect Master, who cultivated in harmony with the Heavenly Dao, could only meet destruction, could it be a matter of moral character? Impossible. If that were the case, why are there still countless beings suffering in the mortal realm? Why do villains prosper in wealth despite their crimes?

Does the master’s path of ruthlessness relate to this? Did he find it easier to ascend by following the Way of Ruthlessness? Since she began her training, he never spoke of that path or demanded which way his disciples should take—is it because her realm is not yet ripe?

Letting her thoughts roam freely, Xie Chang’an noticed a meteor streak across the sky.

Its light left no trace in the night, but its image was etched in her eyes.

The star’s trace imprinted in her mind, refusing to fade, darting among the stars like a mischievous marble—always elusive.

Uncatchable...

Squinting slightly, Xie Chang’an actually stretched out her hand, pointing faintly toward where the meteor fell, across the vast sky and earth.

A sword aura burst forth from her meridians, infused with spiritual power. Upon leaving her fingertip, it drifted about, fading gradually until it vanished.

She felt as if she had just grasped something, yet couldn’t quite piece it together. Frustrated, she summoned the Liutian Sword and began to dance with it in place.

The world was vast, stars stretched endlessly.

She forgot where she was, forgot Zhu Xuanguang beside her, only feeling as if she were walking a boundless dark path. Just half a step forward, and light would come into view, yet a veil always remained.

Half a step away.

Half a step away!

The star’s trace refused to fade. She felt as though she stood amid the primeval chaos, becoming one of the countless stars, chasing that trace, her body soaring freely without restraint.

The Liutian Sword moved with her will; sword qi crisscrossed and golden light swirled around her, growing stronger. Her swordplay accelerated until she could no longer tell if it was the sword moving or herself.

Or perhaps, she was the Liutian Sword.

Suddenly, the sword qi retracted, then she released it again—

A dazzling radiance soared ten thousand feet, shining alongside the heavens!

Xie Chang’an stood still, her spirit calm, fingers closing.

In an instant, all brilliance vanished into the long night, eternal silence, no sound stirred!

The sword moved at will, guided by intent and shaped by qi.

Thunder rumbled from distant mountains, striking the barrier Zhu Xuanguang had formed overhead, also rending the previously indistinct spiritual platform in Xie Chang’an’s mind!

The Liutian Sword seemed to respond, following her will to slash a beam of sword light above, severing the lightning aimed at her.

Is this the Sword Intent?!

She had broken through to the Sword Intent Realm!

***

“I’ve broken through! I’m at the Sword Intent Realm! Did you see that?!”

Overjoyed, Xie Chang’an forgot even to call out to her master, instinctively turning to seek his familiar figure.

The lightning illuminated half the sky, also lighting up Zhu Xuanguang’s face.

Rarely seen with a genuine smile, he now truly smiled.

“Yes, you’ve reached the Sword Intent Realm,” he said.

Xie Chang’an was ecstatic.

That profound sense of accomplishment, earned through painstaking effort, engulfed her instantly, stirring every emotion within her. She wished Zhu Xuanguang beside her could understand her joy.

The Liutian Sword trembled slightly, as if sharing her feelings. Xie Chang’an leapt toward the stars, sword in hand.

The barrier, just now split by thunder, let fierce winds pour in through the crack. The intensity was less than outside, just enough for her to stand. The Liutian Sword leveraged this, and she gradually found a body technique that coexisted with the gale.

She recalled her childhood in the Tang Palace, walking on thin ice, struggling bitterly just to survive. Even so, she had narrowly escaped catastrophe—unable to control her fate or protect those around her, drifting alone like a leaf in a storm. Only now, entering the Sword Intent Realm, could she truly claim the ability to protect herself, as cultivators say.

Inside Chishuang Mountain, the Sword Qi Realm is common; outside, it’s survival of the fittest. To those at Sword Intent and above, the Sword Qi Realm is utterly weak. This threshold is higher than the heavens; many devote half a lifetime yet remain “weak.”

This feeling transmitted clearly to Zhu Xuanguang.

He silently watched the girl, her robes fluttering in the gale.

Xie Chang’an had excellent self-control; Zhu Xuanguang knew that when she left Chang’an City years ago, her resentment was almost overwhelming, yet she never confided a word to him. Since entering the sect, she never mentioned past grievances but focused solely on steady cultivation.

Not speaking did not mean absence of feeling. Only now did she release long-suppressed emotions.

Zhu Xuanguang did not urge her, but Xie Chang’an soon regained composure.

She had seen much of the world’s ways. Her earlier excitement was but a momentary surge. In front of the one who knew her well, her past and present held no secrets nor required explanation.

Zhu Xuanguang said, “Master Fuguangshan Shenmiao is about to undergo the tribulation and ascend. She sent word requesting Chishuang Mountain’s help as protector. Fang Qinglan agreed. Since you have reached the Sword Intent Realm, you will accompany him.”

Originally, Zhu Xuanguang was recognized as the top among them and logically should have ascended first. But Shenmiao overtook him. Two years ago, after being inscribed on the Immortal Registry, her cultivation surged past Zhu Xuanguang’s. If the two fought, it was uncertain whether the top spot would change hands.

But that was just rumor. Fuguangshan and Chishuang Mountain have long been on friendly terms. Even when Wenqin Daoist brought disciples to observe the ceremony and a minor incident occurred, when Master Shenmiao sent a letter for aid, Master Shiyun gladly agreed and prepared to send Fang Qinglan.

Xie Chang’an first agreed, then asked curiously, “Master, the Sword Immortal Realm and the tribulation are still too distant for me. I doubt witnessing it would help me comprehend. Perhaps it’s better to let others have the chance, and I continue cultivating here.”

She truly was far from immortal ascension, with little curiosity about it.

“You will go,” Zhu Xuanguang said firmly.

She heard the resolve in his voice.

“After Shenmiao passes the tribulation, I won’t delay much longer. Within ten years, I must follow her path. Then my ascension will be protected by you. Should I fall, it will be you to handle the aftermath. So you must watch carefully.”

Their eyes met, and Xie Chang’an was momentarily stunned.

She remained silent for a long time, until the joy of her breakthrough gradually faded.

Only ten years left?

She thought Zhu Xuanguang misspoke or was teasing, but he wasn’t.

“Is successful ascension rare?” she asked.

Zhu Xuanguang replied, “Do you remember who the last person to ascend was?”

“Ancestor Shen?” Xie Chang’an answered. “I heard that was a hundred years ago.”

Zhu Xuanguang said, “Everyone knows ascension tribulations are perilous; very few succeed. Your ancestor was among the elite, but in truth, he did not succeed.”

“Did not succeed? What does that mean?” Xie Chang’an’s heart leapt, her voice faltering. “Isn’t it said that Ancestor Shen ascended to the Upper Realm and became a deity?”

“That is Chishuang Mountain’s secret.”

Zhu Xuanguang reached out and repaired the barrier’s crack. The gentle breeze from outside vanished, the observatory seemingly cut off from the world, locking their conversation within.

“When he faced the tribulation, I was beside him. I saw the thunder blaze, his divine form manifest, the sky ablaze with radiant clouds. He broke through the clouds, leaving only the White Rainbow Sword behind.”

By all appearances, a successful ascension—White Rainbow Sword, though a divine weapon, is still a mortal artifact. If he had truly ascended, the sword wouldn’t remain; its presence was normal.

Xie Chang’an wanted to speak but held back, knowing what she was about to hear was Chishuang Mountain’s century-old secret, known only to a handful.

“I took the White Rainbow Sword back and placed it before his life lamp that night. The lamp went out, and the sword shattered.”

Xie Chang’an shuddered, incredulous.

The life lamp is lit by the essence blood of each disciple—one lamp per person. When the lamp extinguishes, the person dies.

If the lamp went out because Shen Liuzhi ascended and severed contact with the lower realm, that might be understandable, but the sword breaking could not be explained.

The White Rainbow Sword was an immortal-grade divine weapon, once wielded by Shen Liuzhi to carve mountains and seas, slaying cultivators and demons alike. The sword and its master were deeply connected.

Yet the sword shattered after the master ascended.

Where the sword breaks, life ends.

“Wasn’t the ancestor already in the Upper Realm? Could something have happened there…”

It is said that cultivation ultimately seeks immortal ascension: freedom from all calamity, eternal life. Immortals live far longer than cultivators. Since Shen Liuzhi ascended smoothly, he should be a comfortable god in the Upper Realm.

Xie Chang’an drew a deep breath.

She tried to think differently, then a terrifying suspicion arose—

“Master, who set the rule that inscribing a name on the Immortal Registry grants the right to undergo the tribulation and ascend?”

The Immortal Registry is not a book but a stone stele embedded in the mountainside of Bei Huifeng.

The stele is naturally formed, eternal and mysterious, impervious to metal or fire.

At intervals—sometimes years, decades, or centuries—names of cultivators appear on it. These are all peak experts of the era.

Being inscribed means partial recognition by the Heavenly Dao. They can choose when to comprehend and attempt the tribulation. Those who survive ascend to immortality; those who fail disintegrate and vanish.

Every cultivator sees inscription on the Registry as a great honor—proof their strength is acknowledged by Heaven.

Currently, only Zhu Xuanguang and Shenmiao are on the Registry.

Zhu Xuanguang was inscribed early but delayed his tribulation; Shenmiao was inscribed just two years ago and prepares to ascend soon.

Zhu Xuanguang smiled upon hearing her question.

Because Xie Chang’an’s doubt mirrored his own from when he asked Shen Liuzhi.

“No one determines it. Even without a name on the Registry, if you believe your realm is sufficient, you may try. But inscription means half the Heavenly Dao’s recognition, making the tribulation less risky.”

Xie Chang’an thought of the ancestor’s fate. No wonder her master hesitated to attempt the tribulation. The power of the Heavenly Dao is truly unfathomable. But if ascension might still end in death, what meaning does it hold?

“If so, it’s better not to be on the Registry. You are already at the Earth Immortal Realm. The world is vast, free for roaming. Why not simply avoid the tribulation and remain among mortals?”

“Chang’an.”

Zhu Xuanguang rarely called her by name. The floating clouds outside dispersed as his voice softened with gentle reassurance.

“Mortal lifespans are limited. Even cultivators, who live hundreds of years longer, are not exempt. My cultivation has reached its peak; water too full will overflow. If I do not undergo the tribulation, I have only ten years left.”

Xie Chang’an looked at him, unable to hide her shock.

Her heart had already sunk when he called her name, falling like into a bottomless well. Before it could reach the bottom, the bitter, sour water nearly soaked her heart with its sting.

Chishuang Mountain is vast and prosperous, but apart from a few elders like Pei San, only the two of them remained in their lineage. Though Xie Chang’an immersed herself day and night in cultivation, she had long been used to having someone nearby to turn to, someone to help solve any bottleneck or difficulty with ease.

Without Zhu Xuanguang, the entire legacy would be left solely to her.

“So, when you go to Fuguangshan, watch carefully how Shenmiao undergoes the tribulation. Perhaps you will comprehend something and bring it back, helping me avoid detours when I face it. Your aptitude is excellent; even at your age, I might not match you.”

“...I’ll do my best.”

After a long silence, Xie Chang’an struggled to utter these three words.

But she was known for keeping her promises, and for these words, she would give her all.

In these two years, not only had Xie Chang’an come to understand Zhu Xuanguang’s temperament, but he had also come to understand hers.

“I believe in you.”