501: Chapter 501 The Blazing Sun Sword Master

Deep within Sword Mountain, one hundred and eight Sword Master peaks hung inverted like heavenly swords, piercing the clouds.

The Sword Intent aura surging from each peak breathed like a living creature—the burning ones were like falling suns scorching the heavens, the icy ones were like eternal frozen abysses, the tyrannical ones were like heavenly thunder striking the world, and the treacherous ones were like ghostly shadows devouring Souls.

Within the Sea of Consciousness, one hundred and eight points of light were as clear as if they could be touched, sending out a silent summons to every Cultivator who stepped into Sword Mountain.

This summons was as sweet as honey and as poisonous as vulture wine; it was no different than a lamp to a moth—

Hidden within the fatal temptation was a bone-scraping steel blade.

The Red-horned Youth was the first to arrive at his chosen peak.

This peak was entirely crimson, and lava-like Sword Intent patterns flowed slowly across the surface of the mountain, pulsing like the Bloodline of the earth.

Viewed from afar, it was a giant sword of flame piercing from the nine netherworlds toward the firmament, its tip submerged in the sea of clouds and its hilt deeply rooted in the earth's veins.

At the peak, a faint, cross-legged silhouette could be seen, surrounded by nine crimson sword rings. Each ring rotated slowly, and within them, it seemed as if a Golden Crow was flapping its wings, radiating a heat capable of burning the heavens and destroying the earth.

"Flame Sun Sword Lord..." The Red-horned Youth looked up, a low beast-like growl rolling from his throat.

He could clearly sense that the Sword Intent radiating from this peak resonated fiercely with the Bloodline within his body—this was an attraction bordering on instinct, as if this Legacy had been born for him and was waiting for him.

This tyrannical, scorching, and all-destroying Sword Intent fit perfectly with the warlike and bloodthirsty instinct in his bones; every wisp of Sword Intent that brushed against his skin made him tremble to the depths of his marrow.

"This Legacy shall be mine!"

He let out a low roar, his crimson single horn erupted with brilliant light, and his figure shot up from the ground like an arrow released from a string, charging toward the peak.

His clothes snapped in the scorching airflow, and the desire burning in his eyes bordered on madness—it was the madness of a beast seeing flesh, the madness of a gambler seeing a mountain of gold on the gambling table.

However, the moment he stepped into the range of the peak—the entire mountain came alive.

The lava-like Sword Intent patterns on the mountain's surface suddenly erupted, and thousands of crimson sword lights slashed in from all directions!

Each sword light contained a wisp of the Flame Sun Sword Lord's will; although this was not the complete test of the Legacy, its power was enough to destroy the body and Soul of an ordinary Prodigy.

The sword lights sliced through the air, emitting sizzling sounds; wherever they passed, space distorted and heat waves steamed.

The Red-horned Youth roared with all his might, his crimson horn erupting with blinding blood-red light to condense a three-foot shield around him. The first wave of sword light struck the shield, emitting the explosive sound of metal clashing and sending sparks flying.

The shield trembled violently, and cracks spread like a spiderweb, but he withstood it by force.

But this was only the beginning. The higher he went, the denser the sword lights became, and the more ferocious their power grew.

Upon reaching thirty percent of the height, the sword lights were no longer chaotic slashes but had evolved into complete sword forms—the "Nine Slashes of the Great Sun" belonging to the Flame Sun Sword Lord.

The first slash was like the rising sun, hiding murderous intent within warmth; the second slash was like the sun at high noon, so scorching one could not open their eyes; the third slash was like the setting sun falling into the sea, revealing deathly silence within its brilliance.

The Red-horned Youth fought bitterly while bathed in blood; his robes had long since turned to ash, and dozens of sword marks, deep enough to see bone, crisscrossed his bronze skin.

Before his blood could drip, it was evaporated by the Sword Intent, forming dark red scabs on the surface of his skin. He gritted his teeth until they cracked, blood seeping from between them, but he did not retreat a single step.

He could feel that every time he endured a sword light, his comprehension of the Flame Sun Sword Intent deepened by a fraction, and the Sword Intent within his body solidified by a fraction.

This feeling of increasing power was so real, so intoxicating—it was like drinking poison to quench thirst; even knowing it was toxic, he drank it as if it were sweet nectar.

"This is a trial, but also a gift." He firmly believed this, the madness in his eyes intensifying as he continued to charge upward.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Sword Mountain, the Silver-scaled Woman stood before an isolated, ice-covered peak.

This peak was completely different from the one chosen by the Red-horned Youth—it was entirely ice-blue, its surface covered in ten-thousand-year black ice, with countless sword-shaped ice crystals frozen within the ice layer, refracting a ghostly blue cold light under the dim sky.

Yet, strangely, beneath this bone-chilling cold, a wisp of water-like softness was hidden, as if an undercurrent were still surging beneath a frozen deep sea. This was the Profound Ice Sword Master peak.

The Silver-scaled Woman took a deep breath; the cold air pierced her lungs and revitalized her spirit.

She was a once-in-a-millennium Prodigy of the North Sea Silver-scaled Clan, and the Ice Flood Dragon Bloodline flowed within her, naturally resonating with the Sword Intent of this peak.

She could feel that the blurry ice-blue silhouette at the peak was watching her, waiting for her.

She stepped onto the mountain path. As her first step landed, the ice surface beneath her feet suddenly cracked into countless fine lines, and thousands of ice-blue sword lights erupted from the fissures!

The sword lights were like a tide, bone-chillingly cold yet continuous and dense, pouring down in an instant like the pressure of a ten-thousand-foot deep sea.

Each sword light carried a chill capable of freezing the Soul, leaving frost trails as it sliced through the air.

The Silver-scaled Woman's face turned pale; the silver scales on her body stood on end, condensing into silver battle armor on her skin.

The sword lights struck the armor, emitting dense "ding-ding" crisp sounds, like hail hitting a jade plate.

Fine cracks quickly spread across the armor, silver scales shattered, and blood sprayed like mist, congealing into sorrowfully beautiful red plum blossoms on the ice.

Blood seeped from between her teeth, but she did not stop for a single step, climbing upward inch by inch.

The icy Sword Intent seeped into her marrow, almost freezing her blood, True Qi, and even her thoughts.

But she gritted her teeth and held on, because she also felt—every time she endured a sword light, her understanding of the Ice Sword Dao deepened by a fraction, and her internal Ice Flood Dragon Bloodline became more active by a fraction.

This feeling of her blood boiling gave her a misconception: as long as she reached the summit, she could completely Awaken her Bloodline, and perhaps even transform from a flood dragon into a Dragon.

"Must... go up..." Obsession burned in her eyes; she dug her fingernails deep into her palms, and her blood dripped, freezing into red beads on the ice steps.

In the center of Sword Mountain, the vast Sword Intent surged like the sea. The Sword Child stood within it, unmoving.

He was like a lonely boat drifting in the raging waves of Sword Intent, yet he was as stable as a reef.

Within his Sea of Consciousness, one hundred and eight points of sword light floated quietly; each one called out to him, and every Sword Master peak revealed its majestic Sword Intent to him—

The burning ones invited him to burn with them, the icy ones called him to share in their silence, the tyrannical ones waited for him to fight alongside them, and the treacherous ones tempted him to fall into the shadows together.

All the calls were as sincere as a lover's whisper. All the Sword Intents were as pure as the Origin of the Dao.

But the Sword Child simply stood still, quietly observing.

The long sword in its scabbard against his chest vibrated softly; this vibration was different from before—in the past, it was a hum of excitement upon seeing prey, a resonant chime of thirsting for battle.

But this time, the vibration carried a hint of warning, like an old friend whispering a caution, or a night owl crying out of impending doom.

"You noticed too, didn't you?" The Sword Child lowered his eyes to look at the sword, his voice as soft as a self-muttering.

His slender fingers stroked the mottled scabbard, feeling the subtle trembling coming from the long sword within—this was not fear, but anger.

It was anger at some kind of disguise, some kind of deception. The long sword hummed in response, and the scabbard became slightly warm.

The Sword Child raised his head, his gaze as calm as an ancient well, slowly sweeping across the one hundred and eight Sword Master peaks.

Deep within his pupils, that wisp of gray-white sword light flowed faintly, like a candlelight in the mist, reflecting a landscape invisible to ordinary people.

He saw the truth. Beneath this scorching fire, beneath this bone-chilling cold, beneath that tyrannical thunderous power—beneath the vast aura radiated by all the Sword Master peaks, he saw a common underlying color.

An underlying color of "Emptiness."

The Sword Intent was not fake. What was contained within each peak was indeed the Sword Intent of the Archaic Sword Masters; its pressure, aura, and evolved sword moves were all real and true.

The Flame Sun Sword Intent that burned the heavens and boiled the seas was real; the Profound Ice Sword Intent that froze time and space was real; the thunderous Sword Intent that split the firmament was also real.

But within the Sword Intent—there was no one. Or rather, there was no master.

One hundred and eight Sword Master peaks, one hundred and eight Sword Intents, all were masterless thoughts.

They were like fragments stripped from some Sword Master, sealed within the mountains by some power, like beasts trapped in cages; they appeared ferocious and violent, but in reality, they had long since lost their Souls, leaving only instinct.

These Sword Intents would attack those ascending the peaks, would test them, and would even allow them to gain enlightenment and progress—because they were, after all, real fragments of the Sword Dao; by contemplating them, one could naturally gain something.

But they would never truly recognize anyone. Because they were not meant for inheritance in the first place.

This was a scam. The Sword Child's eyes deepened, like a stone thrown into an ancient well, rippling with layers of chill.

He recalled the words that echoed in his Sea of Consciousness when the first trial ended— "Choose a peak to ascend, undergo its test, and those who gain the recognition of the Sword Master may receive the Legacy."

"Gain the recognition of the Sword Master." This statement itself was not wrong. But if... there was no Sword Master at all, how could one speak of recognition?

That consciousness had been lying from the very beginning. Or rather, it had woven a sky-covering net with truths.

The Sword Intent was real, the test was real, the temptation of the Legacy was real—only "recognition by the Sword Master" was false. Because the Sword Masters no longer existed.

Those ascending the peaks thought they were fighting for an Opportunity, but in reality, they were merely being constantly consumed, polished, and remolded by the masterless Sword Intent.

Those who succeeded would become "vessels" more suitable for carrying something.

Those who failed would be devoured by the Sword Intent and turned into nutrients for Sword Mountain—just like the dozen or so Prodigies who died in the first trial, leaving no bones behind and having their Divine Souls destroyed.

The Sword Child closed his eyes, then opened them again. This time, his gaze pierced through the layers of mist, penetrated the majestic Sword Intent radiated by the one hundred and eight Sword Master peaks, and looked toward the deepest part of Sword Mountain.

There, the sea of clouds was the heaviest, the Sword Intent was the most violent, and that sleeping aura was still sleeping, still waiting—waiting for the most suitable "vessel" to be screened out, waiting for the "furnace fire" to burn at its hottest, waiting for the time to "add fuel" to mature.

"Do you wish to use this method to screen out the most suitable vessel?" The Sword Child whispered, his voice seeping with a chill like the frost wind of the twelfth lunar month: "Or... are you merely feeding something?"

No one answered. Only a faint breathing sound came from deep within Sword Mountain, low and slow—like the snoring of a sleeping giant beast.