518: Chapter 518 Destroy your sword path, sever your cycle of reincarnation

The hand Lu Changzhi used to grip the sword hilt trembled violently for the first time.

This was not a tremor of fear. How could a person who had crawled out from the Eternal Burial Land, someone who had long since disregarded life and death, feel fear?

This was anger.

An anger that had been buried for endless ages, frozen layer by layer by time and despair, an anger even he thought had long since been extinguished—at this moment, in the instant the sword body shattered and the sword spirit wailed, a fine yet profound crack bloomed at the core of that frozen ice.

Beneath the crack was molten lava, surging, roaring, ready to incinerate everything.

His gray eyes, originally like a dead, silent pool covered in ten thousand years of unmelted snow, now seemed to have ice flames ignited deep within their pupils.

The gray-white was no longer cold; instead, it exuded an extreme chill that sought to freeze everything, only to thoroughly incinerate it afterward.

"Clang—!"

He exerted force abruptly, pulling the gray longsword back from between Lord Jixing's two fingers, which seemed capable of clamping onto fate!

As the sword body slid out, it emitted a harsh, sharp sound of metal rubbing against something immortal, bringing with it a large spray of desolate, beautiful gray-white light liquid, as well as more sword fragments as fine as stardust.

These fragments spun and drifted into the Void Realm, and within every broken mirrored surface, a corner of the shattered, wailing sword light was reflected.

Lord Jixing did not pursue.

He even retracted his hand slowly, with a hint of scrutiny, and lowered his head to look at the speck of gray-white light liquid staining his fingertips.

The light was rapidly dimming, like dying embers. He flicked his finger lightly.

The light liquid turned into nothingness.

"Are you angry?"

He raised his eyes, his tone still as flat as a calm surface without a single ripple, yet it was more jarring than any mockery. "Ages ago, facing the sinking of the Myriad Heavens and Worlds, you could still hold your sword unmoving, your gaze like an abyss. Now, with merely one sword damaged, you have lost your composure to this extent?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling, or perhaps comparing: "It seems that a long 'death' has indeed worn away too many things."

Lu Changzhi did not respond.

His body trembled even more violently; this was not a sign of weakness, but a certain power, forcibly suppressed to the extreme, attempting to break through the shackles of this crumbling vessel.

The hand gripping the sword had knuckles that emitted crisp cracking sounds, as if on the verge of snapping, due to excessive force.

This body, transparent like glazed glass and covered in cracks, continued to shed gray-white light dust as it trembled violently, as if it would completely disintegrate in the next second.

But his eyes.

That pair of gray eyes burning with ice flames—all emotion was rapidly receding, replaced by an extreme coldness.

The coldness was more intense than absolute zero, emptier than the abyss of nothingness; it was not a lack of temperature, but a… absolute will to obliterate all existence.

"Lord Jixing!"

Lord Zangxing's voice came from behind, carrying irrepressible restlessness and urgency. "Why waste words with him! Take advantage of his agitated Divine Soul and the backlash of his Dao wounds right now, and finish him off—"

"Lord Zangxing."

Lord Jixing did not even turn his head. His voice was not loud, but it seemed to contain an unquestionable command, clearly interrupting him. "Stand down."

Lord Zangxing's expression changed abruptly, his dark red pupils contracting: "You—!"

"If you still wish to preserve your imprint in this world, to await Reincarnation and cultivation in the future,"

Lord Jixing's words were terrifyingly calm, yet every word was like a divine mountain pressing down, smashing onto Lord Zangxing's Divine Soul. "Then stand down and watch carefully."

Lord Zangxing choked, the light in his eyes flickering violently. In the end, that trace of unwillingness was replaced by deeper trepidation and a certain anticipation.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his figure drifted back a hundred zhang.

The dark red vortex of destruction around him re-condensed, but no longer expanded, merely acting like the lair of an injured Vicious Beast, faintly standing guard.

His gaze, like a poison-tipped hook, was nailed firmly to the center of the battlefield, nailed to that tottering gray-white figure.

Lord Jixing's gaze fell back onto Lu Changzhi, and within those abyssal eyes, a trace of extremely faint, nearly tangible interest finally emerged.

"Very good."

He spoke slowly, "This is interesting. Let me see, inside this broken vessel of the Sword Master buried by time for eternity, how much… is left that is worth destroying."

He moved.

This time, he did not use that extreme speed that was nearly a rule-based displacement, but chose the most primitive, most oppressive method—stepping forward, one step at a time.

"Thump!"

As the first step was taken, the Void Realm beneath his feet did not shatter, but rather, like glazed glass struck by an invisible heavy hammer, collapsed downward, creating a clearly visible footprint impression, with spiderweb-like black spatial cracks spreading from the edges.

"Thump! Thump!"

The second step, the third step… every step was as heavy as a falling star, striking the drumbeats of destruction on the silent battlefield.

The dark golden light around his body did not surge; instead, it retracted and compressed inward, making his body appear more solid, like a walking god of destruction cast from immortal divine gold.

Then, he threw a punch.

No flashy Moves, no mysterious Dao rhythm flowing, just the simplest, most direct—straight punch.

Where the fist passed, the Void Realm emitted an unbearable wail, and a dark golden fist light, condensed to the extreme, shot out.

This fist light was not large, but it seemed to condense the weight and heat of a galaxy. Wherever it passed, it left behind a golden trail that burned and melted space, lingering for a long time, exuding a terrifying Aura that incinerated all things and suppressed everything.

Lu Changzhi blocked horizontally with his sword.

"Clang—!!!!"

The gray-white sword light and the dark golden fist light collided violently!

There was no evenly matched stalemate, no brilliant energy explosion.

There was only a soul-shattering, crushing advancement!

The moment the sword light touched the fist light, it was like fragile ice crystals encountering a red-hot branding iron, emitting a "hiss, hiss" sound of melting, trembling violently, distorting, and dimming!

Lu Changzhi was knocked back a step by the immense power contained within the fist light, white light bursting in the Void Realm beneath his feet.

Lord Jixing's fist, however, seemed to have been swung casually, without even pausing.

The second punch followed immediately.

"Crack!"

A faint yet clear cracking sound. On the body of the gray longsword, a new crack, following the main crack twisted out by Lord Jixing's two fingers, spread hideously for an inch.

Lu Changzhi retreated another step, the speed of his body's becoming transparent visibly accelerating; below his chest, it had nearly completely turned into illusory light and shadow.

The third punch, the fourth punch…

Lord Jixing's movements were stable, precise, and seamless, as if he were not launching a life-and-death struggle, but conducting a dismantling ritual with a predetermined outcome.

"The fifth Move."

Lord Jixing's voice came through clearly amidst the roaring wind of the punches and the loud collisions, still flat, yet carrying the coldness of a verdict. "The sword you rely on to achieve your Dao is about to break."

"The sixth Move."

A crack burst open on Lu Changzhi's right arm, and gray-white Origin light dust gushed out like blood, only to be scattered by the wind of the punches.

"The seventh Move."

He was blasted back again, his back shattering a floating meteorite. Amidst the flying debris, his figure swayed, nearly unable to stand steady.

"The eighth Move."

The cracks on the sword body were as dense as a spiderweb, the gray-white light flickering uncertainly, like a candle in the wind.

Lord Jixing finally stopped his continuous punching, did not pursue, and merely stood in place, watching Lu Changzhi, who was dozens of zhang away, propping himself up with his sword and barely steadying his figure.

"Ten Moves."

He spoke slowly, as if stating a pre-written ending, "Within ten Moves, you couldn't even touch my fist."

Lu Changzhi did not refute.

He could not refute.

His broken mortal body had reached its limit of endurance, like porcelain covered in cracks, which would completely shatter with a light touch.

The burnt-out Divine Soul Origin had only a final, weak ember stubbornly flickering.

The gray longsword that had accompanied him for eternity and carried his Sword Dao was emitting a sorrowful cry, on the verge of complete disintegration.

Although his Sword Intent remained, still hanging high above his shattered mind, brilliant and complete, but… this remnant of everything was no longer able to transform it into an edge that could sever fate.

He could not block it.

It was not that his skills were inferior, nor that his Dao was inferior.

It was just that what he possessed at this moment, compared to Lord Jixing's overwhelming, irresistible power that seemed to come from an ancient, prosperous era, was far, far too lacking.

"The Primordial Era,"

Lord Jixing spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of reminiscence, but that reminiscence was as cold as iron, without any warmth. "How glorious was your The Sword Lineage? Known as 'One Sword Breaks Ten Thousand Laws', claiming to be the 'Supreme of Ten Thousand Daos'."

"In the Myriad Heavens and Worlds, countless Star Domains, and billions of living beings, all changed color at the name of Sword Cultivators, and bowed their heads wherever sword light arose."

He took a step, closing in again.

His steps were not fast, yet they carried an irresistible sense of oppression.

"Taiqing Heavenly Lord."

He spat out this name, and a trace of extremely faint, yet heart-palpitating, gloomy light flashed in his black pupils. "He seems to be your grand-disciple, right? The Heavenly Lord of the Ancestral Realm that you spent countless eras of Luck to cultivate, hailed as the strongest barrier of the Myriad Heavens and Worlds. To buy him a glimmer of survival, you Myriad Heavens and Worlds almost bled dry to the last drop of blood."

Another punch was thrown, not a direct hit, but a shockwave through the air.

"Puff!"

A clear, teeth-grinding sound of bone cracking came from Lu Changzhi's left arm, and the entire arm instantly twisted into an unnatural angle, with large swaths of gray-white light dust escaping from the crack, as if life were rapidly flowing away.

"What a pity, in that battle, for the sake of some insignificant living beings, in the 'Sea of No-Return Ruins'."

Lord Jixing's voice lowered a few notches, as if truly immersed in that distant and tragic memory. "One person, one sword, blocked the joint attack of six Heavenly Lords… of my Void Clan."

He stopped his steps again, his gaze locked onto Lu Changzhi, who had just steadied his figure after another impact and was half-kneeling on the ground.

Lu Changzhi's chest heaved violently—if that remaining cluster of gray-white light halo could still be called a chest.

His whole body was nearly completely transparent, save for the heart location, where that cluster of gray-white light, like a candle in the wind, was still stubbornly beating.

Lord Jixing looked at that speck of light, and for the first time, a nearly cruel desire to explore clearly appeared in his black eyes.

"Do you know the final result?"

He asked, his tone flat, yet it was like a cold file, grinding on the listener's most fragile nerves.

Lu Changzhi propped himself up with his sword, extremely slowly, bit by bit, and stood up again.

This simple action, at this moment, cost him immense effort, every part of his body emitting groans on the verge of collapse.

He raised his head, his face devoid of any expression, only those gray eyes burning with ice flames staring fixedly at Lord Jixing.

He did not speak, only squeezed out a single syllable, hoarse to the extreme, from his almost completely transparent throat:

"Speak."

The corners of Lord Jixing's mouth twitched upward extremely slightly.

This was not a smile.

It was a kind of malice stripped of all emotion, leaving only pure, cold, and even a hint of appreciation for the prey's final reaction.

He leaned forward slightly, getting closer, and enunciated word by word. His voice was not loud, but it was like a hammer of fate, smashing heavily onto every inch of the Void Realm, and also smashing into the depths of the Divine Souls of Lu Changzhi, and in the distance, Jian Tanghuang and the Ancestral Sword Spirit:

"Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, true spirit annihilated, not entering Reincarnation, not existing in the afterlife."

Every word carried a chill that froze time and space.

"The six of us, using the 'Void Origin Returning Great Array', refined him for ninety-nine thousand nine hundred years."

Lord Jixing's voice was terrifyingly steady. "Refining his flesh, bones, Divine Soul, Dao Fruit, and even every bit of his imprint in the world, every wisp of his Karma, every segment of history that was remembered or forgotten… inch by inch, thread by thread, completely annihilated, turning into the most primitive Void Origin Qi."

He straightened up, his gaze sweeping across this broken battlefield, as if verifying his own words:

"Therefore, in this Universe now, this place that evolved from the Myriad Heavens and Worlds you once protected… no one remembers him, nothing carries him, no Dao senses him."

"The light he once shone, the sword he once swung, the living beings he once protected, the traces he once existed in… all of it, cleanly wiped away, as if he had never appeared."

His gaze finally fell back onto Lu Changzhi's hand, which could barely grip the sword hilt, and landed on that longsword covered in cracks and dim light.

"And you, Sword Lord Lu,"

Lord Jixing's voice turned sharp suddenly, like ice shattering. "From the moment you fell beneath the dao-burying halberd, your The Sword Lineage was destined to be swept into the trash heap of time, just like Taiqing Heavenly Lord, completely, forever… vanished."

Lu Changzhi's hand gripping the sword hilt tightened abruptly!

"Creak…" The sword hilt emitted an unbearable groan, and the gray-white light patterns on his transparent palm flickered wildly, as if it would completely disintegrate in the next second.

The cracks on the sword body, due to this forceful grip, quietly spread a few more points, and more gray-white light liquid seeped out, dripping into the Void Realm and vanishing in an instant.

But he did not let go.

His five fingers were like iron hoops, gripping the sword hilt tightly, as if that were his last and only connection to this world and the ages before eternity.

Lord Jixing watched this futile and stubborn action of his, his black eyes narrowing slightly, and in his abyssal pupils, a trace of barely perceptible surprise flashed, immediately covered by a deeper coldness.

"Still… holding on?"

In his tone, there was finally a hint of extremely faint, near-sighing doubt. "Do you think that by holding it like this, you can change anything? Can recover anything? Can make those who have long since turned into dust… come back to life?"

He slowly raised his right hand.

This time, there was no swift punch, no surging Aura released.

Just five fingers slowly closing, forming a fist.

As his fist clenched, the surrounding Void Realm began to silently twist and collapse, and endless dark golden light gathered from all directions, crazily pouring into his fist.

The light became thicker and heavier, the color turning from gold to dark, then from dark to… black!

A kind of pure, extreme darkness that devoured all light, all energy, all existence!

This was not darkness; it was the essence of destruction that appeared after power was compressed beyond its limit!

The Void Realm around the fist seemed unable to withstand this terrifying mass and pressure, emitting a low and continuous sound of cracking, with thick, spiderweb-like spatial cracks spreading from his fist as the center, and at the edges of the cracks, there was white-hot energy turbulence.

The entire broken battlefield, because of this gathering punch, fell into a death-like silence.

Even the dark red vortex around Lord Zangxing in the distance seemed to retract its fluctuations as if in fear.

Lord Jixing stared at his fist, which seemed to be holding a miniature black hole, and then slowly raised his gaze to look at the figure in front, who had almost merged with the white background of the Void Realm, with only the broken sword in his hand and the ice flames in his eyes remaining.

His voice was low, slow, yet carried the absolute pressure of a final judgment, every syllable like the tolling of a funeral bell:

"This punch will bury your remnant soul, extinguish your Sword Dao, sever your Reincarnation, and let you… return to nothingness forever."