544: Chapter 544 Inheriting all the laws and weapons of the ten directions, severing the past and present, the strongest sword!

Fast!

Too fast!

It was so fast it was simply unavoidable, so fast that his Divine Soul nearly shattered under this single strike—

Boom!

In that instant, Fan Yuan felt as if the heavens were collapsing and the earth was rending; every drop of blood in his body froze solid.

He opened his mouth to cry out, but he couldn't even manage half a syllable.

That terrifying Sword Intent pressed down hard on his chest, sealing all his sounds, movements, and thoughts in place.

With just a single glance, his Divine Soul almost completely shattered.

So terrifying.

So powerful.

Yet this...

Could not even be considered a complete "Sword Intent."

At most, it was merely a wisp of resonance that had unintentionally leaked from the Sword Embryo.

In but a moment.

The terrifying sword shadow that blotted out the sky dispersed like mist, leaving not a single trace behind.

It was only then that the backyard, the furnace fire, and the youth returned to his field of vision.

“Hiss—!”

Fan Yuan sharply inhaled a breath of cold air, his feet stumbling as he retreated several steps.

Though his consciousness had been forced back into place, the split second of facing life and death just now had instantly soaked his clothes; cold sweat poured out of him like syrup.

It took a long time.

Only then did he recover from that great terror, tremblingly taking the sword.

Until he truly held it in his hand, Fan Yuan was shocked to discover that beneath the surface of the rough iron blade, there seemed to be liquid gold silently flowing.

That light was extremely faint, flickering in and out of view; if one didn't look closely, they would only think it was the reflection of the furnace fire behind them.

Yet with just one look, he felt that the faint gold pierced his Divine Soul with tension, radiating an overbearing nobility.

How was this an unformed, semi-finished product...

This was clearly a peerless divine sword!

At that thought, the hand Fan Yuan used to grip the hilt began to tremble violently.

“S-Sir... this... this is too precious.”

His voice was shaky and out of tune.

There was both fear and an indescribable shock.

His gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the pile of "scrap iron" by the wall—

There, seven or eight similar semi-finished products leaned haphazardly, piled up like firewood.

‘The scrap iron in the Master's eyes is a divine sword in ours...’

Just as Fan Yuan's mind was reeling, the roar of the bellows reached his ears.

Qin Wangchuan didn't even give him a glance.

After handing over the sword, he turned back to the furnace with a calm expression, used long tongs to pick up another unfinished, coarse Sword Embryo, and sent it directly back into the fire.

Tongues of fire instantly swallowed the iron embryo, and a red glow climbed inch by inch up the iron body.

“It is but a few pounds of Ordinary Iron, an unrefined thing. If you do not find it too crude, then take it.”

Qin Wangchuan raised his hand to pull the bellows; the furnace fire flared with a "whoosh," casting a crimson glow over half his body once more.

When the words "Ordinary Iron" fell into Fan Yuan's ears, they actually gave him a sense of near-absurd daze.

He looked down at the "Ordinary Iron" in his palm with its flowing faint gold, then looked up at the busy figure before the furnace.

The cold sweat on his back had soaked through and dried again.

The person before him had once again exceeded his expectations.

“...Thank you for the sword, Sir.”

Fan Yuan solemnly put the sword away; there was no longer a single stray thought in his voice, only full respect and awe.

After a long while, he looked at Qin Wangchuan's back, hesitated for a moment, and asked softly:

“May I ask, Sir... does this sword have a name?”

“No.”

Qin Wangchuan didn't even turn his head, his voice indifferent. “It is merely Ordinary Iron, why would it need a name?”

Fan Yuan fell silent.

Looking up, he noticed that Qin Wangchuan was staring at the iron embryo in front of him that he hadn't yet pulled out, and had actually begun to space out a bit.

That gaze penetrated the roaring furnace fire, as if looking through this small blacksmith shop toward some height that a Mortal simply could not reach.

Time seemed to fall still in this moment.

Only the sparks in the furnace occasionally burst, making a faint crackling sound.

Seeing this, Fan Yuan stepped forward.

He looked at the youth who was somewhat lost in the firelight, then looked at the iron embryo in the furnace that already had the shape of a sword, and asked softly again: “Then Sir... what about the one currently being forged in the furnace?”

“Does this sword have a name?”

Qin Wangchuan's eyes shifted slightly as he returned to his senses.

He didn't answer immediately, but instead looked down and chuckled softly.

That laughter was extremely light; it wasn't that he had heard something funny.

Rather, Fan Yuan's question had abruptly reminded him of some distant memories.

For instance, when he first received the sword full of cracks, he had thought the idiot System was malfunctioning again.

“It does.”

He reached out with the tongs and steadily lifted the Sword Embryo.

Under the reflection of the crimson firelight, Qin Wangchuan gazed at the glowing red iron embryo and spoke slowly:

“Its name—Ten Directions Marvelous Law Sword.”

After saying that.

Clang—!

A hammer fell, and sparks flew in all directions.

Qin Wangchuan did not stop his movements; he raised the iron hammer in his hand again, holding it high above his head.

The firelight climbed up the body of the hammer, making his golden eyes shine brilliantly.

His tone carried an unquestionable transcendence and pride:

“Bearing the Ten Directions, Myriad Laws, and Thousand Vessels, this is... the strongest sword, one that severs the past and present!”

The moment his voice fell.

The iron hammer carried the force of ten thousand catties and crashed down heavily!

Clang—!!

Another deep ring.

Sparks burst forth and a red glow spread out, making the figure of the youth standing before the furnace look like a god of fire descended upon the world.

Fan Yuan stood frozen in place watching, his throat dry.

The strongest.

No matter what the object, being associated with these two words made it seem a bit vulgar.

Which Swordsmith didn't say the one in their hand was the strongest? Which swordsman didn't boast that the one at their waist was peerless? Which Cultivator School's Sect Treasure wasn't the strongest?

Having heard it so much, only four words remained—shameless boasting.

But at this moment.

Fan Yuan looked at the figure before the furnace, then looked at the "Ordinary Iron" in his arms.

The sword's body was a faint gold, silently flowing.

He suddenly felt.

That the four words "the strongest sword."

Might actually be true.

He left the small courtyard holding the sword.

Having obtained a supreme treasure, Fan Yuan's lips didn't curve into a smile of joy; instead, he felt a sort of stunned bewilderment that he hadn't yet recovered from.

He truly hadn't expected this.

He had just been running an errand, seeking a prescription.

In less than half a month, he had actually obtained such a treasure.

To call it a heaven-sent Opportunity—would not be an exaggeration!

“Master! Master?”

A palm waved in front of Fan Yuan's eyes.

Fan Yuan suddenly snapped back to his senses and looked up; it was Zhou Heng.

This kid had approached at some point and was currently sizing him up with a suspicious look.

“Oh, it's you, kid.”

“What are you doing, Master? You started spacing out right in the middle of the road.” Zhou Heng's gaze fell on the sword in his arms, and his eyes instantly lit up. “Where did this come from? Did Qin Wangchuan give it to you?”

As he spoke, he reached out to touch it.

“Slap.”

Fan Yuan was quick, slapping his hand away with a palm.

“What gives?” Zhou Heng rubbed the back of his hand, looking confused.

“I'm warning you.” Fan Yuan's expression was serious. “Keep your eyes to yourself, don't go looking blindly.”

“This thing isn't something a kid like you, who has only been Cultivating for a few months, can look at.”

“Huh?” Zhou Heng's expression was written with 'you've got to be kidding me.' “What, could looking at it actually kill me or something?”

“It will.”

Fan Yuan's answer didn't have the slightest hint of joking.

One must know that Zhou Heng was not an old Cultivator like him who had practiced for a hundred years.

That sword strike falling on his own Divine Soul earlier had already made him feel as if he were facing a Heavenly Tribulation on the spot.

If it were replaced with Zhou Heng—

When that sword struck, even if he didn't die instantly, it certainly wouldn't end well.

But Zhou Heng obviously didn't take these words seriously, curling his lip: “Alright, alright, Master, just keep on bragging.”

Fan Yuan couldn't be bothered to argue with him; he pulled the sword a bit closer to his chest and said deeply:

“What did you want with me?”

“Oh—! Right!” Zhou Heng slapped his forehead as if he had only just remembered the main business. “Someone came to the martial arts hall looking for you just now.”

“They said... what was it called... Fuyao Tower?”

“Sounds like some kind of organization?”

“It wouldn't happen to be the organization you're in, Master? Do we actually have some kind of backing?”

Fuyao Tower.

Fan Yuan's footsteps paused.

Though he did not belong to that organization, he was well aware of the weight behind those three words.

More importantly—

The other party would never come knocking for no reason.

Could they have found out something while he was away?

“Where is the person?”

“Still at the martial arts hall.” Zhou Heng scratched his head. “They said they're an old acquaintance of yours and won't leave until they see you.”

Old acquaintance?

Fan Yuan sneered upon hearing this, the look in his eyes cooling down bit by bit.

He had no old acquaintances in Fuyao Tower.

Only enemies.

“Let's go.”