266: Chapter 266 The Sword Vein Shocks, Secret Rest and Recuperation

Yan Guming held the high-grade Rejuvenation Pill in the palm of his hand.

The pill's fragrance seeped inward along the meridian patterns of his palm skin—the medicinal Qi of a high-grade Rejuvenation Pill did not need to be ingested—contact with the spiritual power fluctuations on the skin's surface would cause it to automatically penetrate into the Meridians.

His palm was covered in blood and stone dust—but the medicinal Qi took less than half a breath to penetrate that layer of grime—and then it traveled deep into his Meridians via the Laogong point in his palm.

Inside his body—those chaotic, clashing Sword Essence calmed down briefly the moment the medicinal Qi seeped in.

The Sword Essence no longer rampaged left and right.

They were like a pack of trapped beasts soothed by some extremely gentle force—hovering in his Meridians for nearly two breaths—before resuming their flow—but the speed was nearly half as slow as before—and the force of them striking the meridian walls was also nearly halved.

This was the first time since Yan Guming could remember that he felt no stinging pain within his Meridians—even if it was for less than two breaths.

He placed the Rejuvenation Pill back into the cloth pouch—his movements were nearly twice as gentle as when he had picked it up—as if he were placing down something that would shatter at the slightest touch.

Then he retied the knot of the pouch—the method of tying it was exactly the same as when he had untied it—his fingers wrapped around the ends of the rope twice—pressed tight—confirming it would not come loose.

He stood up.

As he straightened up, his left knee emitted a dull thud of bones bearing weight again—the blue-purple bruise on his knee from colliding with the dark copper alloy floor had already spread to his lower leg—and every step caused the ligaments on the inside of his knee to throb with pain.

But he still stood straight—turned toward the direction where Lu Changyuan had disappeared—and knelt down heavily.

This time, the sound of his knees hitting the floor was deeper than the last—because he did not hold back his strength.

His forehead slammed against the dark copper alloy floor—once.

He lifted his head—a horizontal bloody gash had been struck in the center of his forehead—the gash extended from his eyebrows up to his hairline—forming an extremely irregular cross with the old scar that slashed diagonally from his hairline to his eyebrow.

The second time—his forehead slammed down again—the gash deepened—blood seeped out from the edges of the wound—trickled down the bridge of his nose—and dripped onto the dark copper alloy floor.

The third time—the force of his forehead slamming down was heavier than the previous two—the blood droplets splattered a circle of extremely fine, tiny dark red spots onto the floor.

Three kowtows—each one struck with absolute solidity.

Then he bit his fingertip.

The blood bead on his fingertip was an extremely deep dark red under the ice-blue cold light—the same color as when Shopkeeper Qian and the others had bitten their fingertips in the hall's Trapping Array.

With trembling hands—he used his essence blood to write in the air.

Stroke by stroke.

After each character was written—the essence blood at the end of the strokes would spontaneously combust in the air—burning into an extremely faint, extremely fine dark golden brand—the brand hovered in the air—before being sucked away by some invisible force—and branded into his spiritual power fluctuations.

The content of the oath— "For the grace of Senior sparing my life today—if Yan Guming can walk out of this ruin alive—I shall serve Senior as my master—and will not refuse even ten thousand deaths."

The last stroke of the essence blood characters burned—and the brand was seared into the depths of his Meridians.

From this breath onward—every time the spiritual power flowing within his Meridians circled his Dantian, it would pass through that brand.

The price of betrayal—every circulation of spiritual power would tear at that mark—until his Meridians were shredded by the backlash of the brand.

He knelt in place—not standing up immediately.

The ice-blue cold light shone on his kneeling back—stretching the shadow of his kneeling posture extremely long—extending from the side hall floor all the way to the slash marks on the hall walls left by ancient Sword Cultivators testing their swords.

The shadow and the slash marks overlapped—looking like a newly initiated Sword Cultivator performing a sword-worshipping rite toward sword marks from thousands of years ago.

Deep in the side hall—at the end of another passageway.

Lu Changyuan pushed open a half-collapsed stone door.

The door hinge of the stone door had long since been worn flat—stone grinding directly against stone—the sound it made when pushed open was deeper and muffled compared to the main door of the side hall—because this door had not been opened for at least several thousand years.

Behind the door was a secret chamber.

The secret chamber was less than thirty percent the size of the main side hall.

The stone walls were covered in Sword Technique flow path diagrams—the carvings were more regular than the sword-testing slash marks on the outer walls of the side hall—the starting and ending positions, the arc of the flow paths, and the variations in depth of every carved line had all been designed with extreme precision.

The Sword Technique sequences marked on the flow path diagrams—from the opening stance to the closing stance—had specific directional offset angles and spiritual power injection nodes marked for the flow direction of every stance.

Although most of the carvings had been worn smooth by time by at least half—the remaining parts still revealed that this was a very high-level Sword Cultivator Legacy.

In the very center of the secret chamber—a piece of stone wall debris half a person's height stood independently on the ground.

The Sword Technique flow path diagrams on the debris were more complete than those on the stone walls—the carvings were deeper—and within the carvings remained an extremely faint cyan spiritual light—the same color as the Sword Intent remaining on the hall walls.

This piece of debris was the best-preserved item in the entire secret chamber—thousands of years had passed—yet the spiritual light within the carvings was still slowly flowing—like extremely fine, faint Bloodline.

Lu Changyuan rolled up the sleeves of his gray cloth dharma robe halfway.

"Shadow One—make a rubbing of all the flow path diagrams on this piece of debris."

Shadow One walked silently into the secret chamber from the shadows of the hall door.

Her short sword had been returned to its scabbard—the end of the scabbard grazed the stone wall as she turned—emitting an extremely fine, light metallic friction sound.

She pushed back the hood of her waterproof cloak—revealing the shoulder lines of her dark gray soft armor—and then drew the rubbing tools from the Storage Pouch at her waist—a sheet of extremely thin rubbing paper and a charcoal pencil.

The charcoal pencil landed on the paper—the tip moved inch by inch along the arcs of the Sword Technique flow paths on the debris.

Shadow One's rubbing technique was extremely steady—the arc, angle, and depth variation of every flow path—were all replicated onto the rubbing paper according to the proportions of the remaining carvings on the debris.

The Shadow Guards had been trained in Array Pattern rubbing—rubbing Array Patterns and rubbing Sword Technique flow paths used the same set of techniques—the hand must be steady, the eye accurate, and the proportions must not be skewed.

Lu Changyuan sat cross-legged in the corner of the secret chamber.

He took the black crystal out from the inner pocket of his sleeve—the crystal pulsed in his palm—stable—composed—its frequency completely synchronized with the constant light waves of the ice-blue cold light in the side hall.

He pushed his spiritual power into his Dantian according to the breath-regulating path—his False Core level Divine Sense expanded within the secret chamber—taking all spiritual power fluctuations within nearly a hundred zhang of the secret chamber into his range of perception.

In the side hall outside the secret chamber—Yan Guming was still kneeling in place.

His spiritual power fluctuations felt like an extremely weak, extremely unstable candle flame in Lu Changyuan's Divine Sense perception—the Sword Essence had begun to clash within his Meridians again—but the force of the clashing was slightly lighter than before—and the medicinal Qi of the high-grade Rejuvenation Pill was still slowly seeping in.

The False Core level Divine Sense could sense that the Heavenly Dao oath brand had already been embedded deep within his spiritual power fluctuations—it was the same type of brand as Shopkeeper Qian and the others'—but Yan Guming's brand had an extra circle of extremely faint cyan glimmer at the edges—that was the Sword Essence of his Innate Sword Pulse resonating with the brand.

At the hall door outside the secret chamber—Shadow Two's standing posture was exactly the same as before she had entered the secret chamber.

Left foot forward—right foot back—center of gravity shifted to the left—her right thumb pressed on the buckle of the sword hilt.

The dark gray soft armor and waterproof cloak only revealed the anti-slip animal skin strip on the top of the sword hilt within the shadows of the stone wall—the winding direction of the animal skin strip was perfectly symmetrical to Shadow One's.

Lu Changyuan withdrew his Divine Sense—focusing his attention on regulating his breath.

He put the crystal back into his inner sleeve pocket—the spiritual power traveled less than half a cycle within his Meridians—before stopping in front of the False Core Bottleneck deep in his Dantian.

The Bottleneck was still there—but he could feel the layer of obstruction on the surface of the Bottleneck was less than half a hair thinner than it had been three days ago.

Every time he touched it—every time he was bounced back—the Bottleneck was being worn thinner at an extremely minute speed.

He guided his spiritual power to circulate along his Meridians again—the rhythm of every cycle was perfectly synchronized with the constant light waves of the cold light Spirit Stone on the dome of the hall.

Shadow One's charcoal pencil moved on the rubbing paper for nearly half an incense stick of time—all the Sword Technique flow path diagrams on the debris in the center of the secret chamber had been laid onto the paper.

She peeled the rubbing paper off the debris—laid it flat on the floor of the secret chamber—took out another charcoal pencil—and began to make supplementary rubbings of the flow path diagrams on the stone walls that had been mostly worn smooth but still had residual carvings.

The flow path diagrams on the stone walls were more fragmented than those on the debris—most only had intermittent arcs left—but Shadow One traced every line segment that could still be identified—when she traced to the deepest part of the right stone wall—her pen tip paused for a moment.

At the deepest part of the stone wall—a carving deeper than all other slash marks—more than three inches deep—was the work of the same person as the sword mark in the main side hall that slashed straight from the top of the stone wall to the bottom.

This carving was different from the sword-testing slash marks—it was a complete Sword Technique flow path diagram.

The opening stance started from the bottom left corner of the stone wall—the sword tip moved upward—when it reached the middle section of the stone wall, the flow path turned nearly ninety degrees—and then stabbed straight toward the top right corner of the stone wall.

The spiritual power injection nodes for every segment were marked with specific Array Pattern symbols—the writing style of the symbols was of the same origin as the fragments on the black crystal.

Shadow One made a rubbing of this Sword Technique flow path diagram from beginning to end at least three times—each time, her pen strokes were lighter than the last—because the carving was too deep—if she pressed the charcoal pencil too hard, the details at the bottom of the carving would be blurred.

After she finished the last rubbing—she rolled up the rubbing paper—put it into a waterproof bamboo tube—and tightened the oilcloth seal at the mouth of the tube.

"My Lord—all have been rubbed. There are a total of seventeen flow path diagrams on the stone walls—three on the debris—and the deepest Sword Technique flow path diagram was rubbed three times separately."

Lu Changyuan opened his eyes.

Deep in his Dantian—the False Core Bottleneck was less than half a hair thinner again.

He lifted his hand from his knee—just about to speak—when the communication Formation Plate at his waist lit up.

The communication lines of Leng Feng lit up on the Formation Plate—the color of the lines was an extremely faint dark red—emergency level—but not a distress signal.

Dark red meant something had happened—but it hadn't reached an uncontrollable level yet.

He unhooked the Formation Plate from his waist—and pressed his thumb onto the receiving node of the communication lines.

Leng Feng's voice came from the Formation Plate.

His voice was kept extremely low—in the background, there was some kind of extremely dense, fine humming of spiritual power—that was the sound of the residual Spiritual Pressure vibrating in the air after the Death-Stilling Formation had been triggered at close range.

"My Lord—someone under Shopkeeper Qian coveted a Spiritual Plant by the roadside—their left foot shifted half a step to the right—less than half a foot—and the Death-Stilling Formation was triggered. Two people died."

Leng Feng paused for less than half a breath.

An extremely light gulping sound came from the Formation Plate—then his voice dropped another degree.

"Now the remaining people are all kneeling in the safe zone—not daring to move at all. Should we save them?"