136: Chapter 136 The Sword Platform Bears a Name, I Won't Take This Blade

The moment the clouds split open, Chen Fan's molars ached from clenching.

Amidst the silver light seeping from the inverted giant coffin, a black crystal Sword Platform was slowly rising.

He looked at the structure floating among the clouds; the surface of the black crystal was densely covered in small characters—only upon closer inspection could he see fragments like "begging the system for mercy," "let my daughter go," and "I regret not running away." Some characters were soaked in blood, appearing dark brown in the wind.

"Every drop of blood represents someone who couldn't return home."

A raspy voice came from beside his feet.

Chen Fan looked down and saw a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy squatting by the stone steps of the Sword Platform. His knuckles were all broken into twisted angles, and he was using his mangled fingers to dip into the blood in the stone crevices and smear it into the sword grooves.

When the boy looked up, bloodstains clung to the corners of his eyes, yet he flashed a smile at him. "My name is Duan Fengtong, and my specialty is sharpening swords."

Chen Fan's Adam's apple bobbed.

He thought of Old Yang, whose hand had been crushed by rebar at the construction site; he had smiled like that while rolling in the mud in agony—not out of happiness, but because the pain had turned into numbness.

The coldness of the black crystal seeped up from the soles of his feet.

Chen Fan stepped up the stairs, the Fox Tribe spark flickering in his palm as if echoing some suppressed sob within the Sword Platform.

As his shadow swept across the center of the Sword Platform, his breath suddenly hitched.

There stood a sword pillar reaching toward the heavens, wrapped in a deep blue light that enveloped a translucent shadow.

Su Shuang's remnant soul was chained to the pillar, chains piercing her shoulders. Stardust clung to the tips of her hair, and the blue flame on her chest had dwindled to the size of a bean, flickering on the verge of extinction.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her lips moved with difficulty: "Don't... touch the sword..."

Chen Fan's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed in the Starlight Tower—back then, Su Shuang had been locked to a bronze pillar, just as weak, yet she had still smiled and said, "Little laborer, come take me home."

Now, this remnant soul was even fainter, so faint that when he reached out to touch her, his fingertips passed right through.

"You've come."

The cold wind whipped at white robes.

Chen Fan whipped his head around to see a white-robed swordsman standing with his back to him.

Blood blossoms continuously seeped from the man's shoulders; every drop that hit the ground splashed into tiny sword shadows, as if he had walked there on the tips of blades.

As he turned, the tassel of the thousand tribulations sword at his waist brushed against the back of Chen Fan's hand, cold as ice shards.

"The system says you will be the next me." Ling Wuchen's voice was devoid of warmth as he stared into Chen Fan's eyes. "The Purifier Registry."

The ground suddenly glowed with a green light.

Chen Fan looked down and saw his name carved at the very end of the registry, the three small characters "Awaiting Awakening" stinging his eyes.

The critical hit system vibrated in his sea of consciousness, the notification sounding like a gong: [Destiny resonance detected. Memory Displacement Module—Activation preloading.]

"Her final wisp of spiritual consciousness must be nurtured by the winner's blood." Ling Wuchen raised his hand, the thousand tribulations sword still sheathed. "If you do not fight, she will dissipate instantly. This is the rule, and the only way to survive."

Su Shuang's remnant soul suddenly trembled violently, the chains clanging against the sword pillar.

Chen Fan heard her call his name in a breathy whisper, the end of the sound like cotton fluff shredded by the wind.

A metallic sweetness rose in his throat, and his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists—the last time he had felt this much pain was when the foreman whipped his back with rebar until his flesh was torn.

"I don't give a damn about any rules."

Chen Fan roared and charged forward, the Fox Fire in his palm exploding into a blue flame.

His target wasn't Ling Wuchen, but the sword pillar binding Su Shuang.

But the thousand tribulations sword suddenly unsheathed three inches, its cry sounding like the wailing of ten thousand ghosts. Dozens of afterimages rose around the Sword Platform—all faces he had seen in the Silver Dungeon: Old Zhou holding a broken blade, the girl from the Newbie Village who had been erased by the system clutching a shattered sword, and even himself, wearing Scavenger armor and brandishing a butcher's knife.

"Watch your back!" Su Shuang's remnant soul trembled with anxiety.

Chen Fan was too late to turn.

A broken blade from an afterimage pierced his left shoulder blade; the intense pain made his vision go black.

Blood dripped onto the black crystal as the system notification blared: [Defeated 3 remnant souls of previous newcomers. Experience +1,800 (Critical Hit x4.2) -> Converted into Memory Anchor. Can backtrack to 3 minutes ago.]

The scene before him suddenly blurred.

When Chen Fan opened his eyes again, he was standing at the edge of the Sword Platform. The wound on his shoulder blade was gone, and not even a bloodstain remained.

He looked at Ling Wuchen, who was three steps away. A flicker of astonishment crossed the other man's eyes—he clearly hadn't expected Chen Fan to "resurrect."

"How... did you know in advance?" Ling Wuchen's grip on his sword tightened.

Chen Fan wiped his face, a cold sneer squeezing through his teeth. "What I remember isn't just my fists." A system prompt flashed in his sea of consciousness: [Memory Anchor uses: 1/2. Cooling down.]

He stared at the blood continuously seeping from Ling Wuchen's shoulder—in the battle just now, this wound had been the deepest. "Last time you protected your left ribs because the shoulder injury affected your sword swings."

Ling Wuchen's pupils contracted slightly.

Chen Fan gave him no time to react.

He sidestepped toward Ling Wuchen's left flank, the Fox Fire in his palm flickering in sync with his heartbeat.

This time, he didn't charge straight for the sword pillar. Instead, he clenched his fist and smashed it toward Ling Wuchen's sword-wielding wrist—there was a bulging vein there, a spot Ling Wuchen had subconsciously protected during the earlier onslaught of afterimages.

"This battle isn't about taking the blade." Chen Fan's voice mingled with the crackling of the Fox Fire. "It's about severing the sheath."

The thousand tribulations sword suddenly vibrated.

Ling Wuchen looked at the approaching fist. A corner of his white robe was lifted by the wind, revealing another unsheathed sword at his waist—the scabbard was wrapped with a strand of red string, the exact same color as the piece around the neck of Su Shuang's remnant soul.

The moment the wind from Chen Fan's fist brushed past Ling Wuchen's wrist, the Purifier Registry on the floor of the Sword Platform suddenly glowed with a red light.

Ling Wuchen's fingertips lightly touched the scabbard of the thousand tribulations sword, his voice even colder than before. "You think... this is it?"

He slowly drew his sword.

This time, it was drawn seven inches.

The afterimages around the Sword Platform suddenly froze, then exploded into stardust.

A much larger phantom rose from behind Ling Wuchen—it was a figure wielding twin swords, whose features were seventy percent similar to his, but with an added scar running from the brow bone to the jawline.

Chen Fan's critical hit system vibrated frantically.

He looked at the phantom and suddenly remembered the giant coffin in the Sky City—among the names carved on the coffin, one was identical to the inscription on the sword at the phantom's waist.

"Careful!" Su Shuang's remnant soul suddenly screamed, the blue flame flaring brightly for an instant. "That's... a Sword Slave!"

Ling Wuchen's sword was finally fully unsheathed.