188: He can only draw three swords in his lifetime.

The wind stopped.

The once-clamorous battlefield fell into a deathly silence at this very moment.

The sounds of slaughter within Myriad Spirits Manor had completely vanished.

All eyes were focused on the two figures rapidly decaying.

Fear.

This was a fear even more terrifying than death itself.

The Hundred Poisons Sect expert known as Earth Guard was, at this moment, like a fly trapped in amber.

He hunched his body, his hands frozen in the posture of grabbing at the Void Realm, yet he remained stiff in mid-air, not daring to move in the slightest.

Because he had discovered a fact that shattered his very core.

If he didn't move, his Lifespan flowed away like water.

If he moved, his Lifespan collapsed like a landslide!

Just a moment ago, when he merely attempted to mobilize his spiritual energy to resist, the life force that flowed away in that instant was equivalent to thirty years of a Mortal's life!

On the back of his hands, age spots were spreading at a speed visible to the naked eye.

His fingers, originally like withered branches, had simply turned into dried chicken claws, the skin and flesh clinging tightly to the bones without a drop of moisture.

"Cannot move..."

"Must not move..."

A ragged, bellows-like wheezing sound emitted from Earth Guard's throat.

His eyes were murky and turbid; cataracts were rapidly forming.

He glanced sideways at the Black Dragon.

That arrogant, ancient evil soul was, at this moment, in an absolutely wretched state.

The Black Dragon's massive body lay prone upon the ruins, lacking even the strength to lift its dragon head.

Its dragon scales, originally pitch-black and hard as iron, were now like withered yellow autumn leaves.

"Crack."

A soft sound rang out.

The Black Dragon had merely attempted to blink.

A large patch of dragon scales lost its adhesion, peeling off from around its eye socket and falling to the ground, shattering into a pile of grayish-white powder.

"This... this is impossible..."

The Black Dragon's voice was as aged as an old man on the verge of death.

Its Divine Soul fire, originally as dazzling as the scorching sun, was now like a candle in the wind, flickering and dim, liable to extinguish at any moment.

It stared fixedly at the youth in green robes.

In its eyes, beyond fear, there was more of an incomprehensible sense of absurdity.

"Why?"

The Black Dragon squeezed out these two words with difficulty.

It was indeed just a wisp of a remnant soul, but its perception remained at the Nascent Soul level.

On this youth, it could not sense any powerful spiritual energy fluctuations.

There was no harmony of a Golden Core True Person, nor the vastness of a Nascent Soul True Lord.

The Meridians within this youth's body were even more fragile than those of an ordinary Foundation Establishment Stage Cultivator.

Yet, this very ant, who seemed like he could be crushed with a casual gesture, had swung a sword that plunged it into despair.

"You... you haven't even achieved Core Formation."

"Just what... kind of monster are you?"

The Black Dragon was unwilling to accept this.

It had roamed the ancient era and witnessed countless brilliant Prodigies.

Even in death, it wanted to understand clearly.

The youth standing in the ruins lowered his eyelids slightly.

The wooden sword in his hand had, at some unknown point, been hung back at his waist.

The Wither and Flourish Sword Intent, capable of stripping away everything, had also retracted into his body.

But the curse upon the Black Dragon and Earth Guard did not stop because of this.

Instead, it was like a maggot attached to bone, deeply branded into their Origin.

"A monster?"

The youth sighed softly.

This sigh seemed to contain too much helplessness and vicissitudes.

It was completely at odds with his young, tender face.

"This student is not a monster."

"This student is merely... a scholar."

As the youth spoke, he slowly raised his hand, reaching toward the top of his head.

There, a simple wooden hairpin bound his full head of dark hair.

"Do you want to know why?"

A faint, bitter smile curled the corners of the youth's mouth.

"Because, this was never a technique of the Cultivation World."

"This is... Fate."

As his voice fell.

The youth's fingers gently flicked that wooden hairpin.

"Clatter."

The wooden hairpin fell to the ground.

The scene that followed made everyone present who still possessed consciousness gasp in cold air.

Even the heavily injured and dying Wan Jian Daoist had his pupils shrink, a deep sorrow surging in his eyes.

For the originally pitch-black, glossy long hair, the moment it lost its restraint and fell loose...

It actually...

Turned completely white.

Not the dull, grayish-white that loses its luster.

But a stark, deathly white like snow.

Permeated with a thick, deathly aura.

Set against the cascading white hair, the youth's originally delicate face appeared exceptionally pale and eerie.

"This..."

The Black Dragon widened its murky dragon eyes, staring blankly at this scene.

It could feel it.

In this instant, the youth's life aura had weakened to the extreme.

It was like an old man on the brink of death, draped in the skin of a youth.

"How could it be like this..."

"Your Lifespan..."

The youth did not pay attention to the Black Dragon's shock.

He merely extended his fingers calmly, smoothing out his somewhat messy white hair.

His movements remained elegant, yet they carried an indescribable sense of desolation.

"You are correct, I have no cultivation."

"I have not even truly stepped across the threshold of the Qi Refinement Stage."

The youth's voice was very soft, yet it clearly spread throughout the entire Myriad Spirits Manor.

"People of the world cultivate the Dao, refining essence into Qi, refining Qi into spirit, seeking longevity, and verifying the Great Dao."

"But I am different."

The youth raised his head, his clear eyes gazing at the Black Dragon that was about to dissipate.

"My lineage does not cultivate Golden Core, nor verify Nascent Soul."

"We... only raise a sword."

"Raise a sword?" Earth Guard's shriveled lips trembled slightly, as if he had thought of some extremely terrifying legend.

"Correct."

The youth nodded and pointed to his own chest.

"Using flesh and blood as the sheath, Lifespan as the oil, and Divine Soul as the fire."

"Raising a Sword Intent within the body."

"This Sword Intent is named 'Wither and Flourish'."

Speaking of this, a flash of pride appeared in the youth's eyes.

"Under Wither and Flourish, all living beings are equal."

"Whether you are a Qi Refinement ant, or a Soul Transformation Heavenly Venerable."

"Once tainted by this aura of Spring and Autumn Wither and Flourish, there is no cure, it ignores all defenses, until your Lifespan is exhausted, turning into dust."

"This is the Sword Dao of my lineage."

The Black Dragon felt a chill run through its entire body as it listened.

It had never heard of such an overbearing, such an unreasonable method of cultivation.

Ignoring Realms?

Ignoring defenses?

This was simply a bug in the Heavenly Dao!

"Since there is such a Heaven-Defying method..."

The Black Dragon's voice grew weaker and weaker; half of its body had already begun to turn to sand.

"Then why... must you... pay such a price?"

If this sword technique could be used at will, Myriad Spirits Manor would have long since unified the Cultivation World, so why would it have been bullied to this extent today?

Hearing this question, the pride in the youth's eyes dissipated.

In its place was a deep sense of desolation.

He lowered his head, looking at his pair of paper-white hands.

"The Heavenly Dao is fair."

"To master this power that severs Karma and strips away years, one must naturally pay the corresponding price."

The youth's voice suddenly became somewhat hoarse.

"The Wither and Flourish Sword Intent is too overbearing."

"Each time it is drawn, it not only severs the enemy's Lifespan but also severs one's own vitality."

He slowly extended three fingers.

In the sunlight, those three fingers appeared exceptionally glaring.

"In a lifetime..."

"You can only draw the sword three times."