190: This is my fate.

"Move gently; do not disturb the heroic spirits of our fellow Disciples."

"There are still people under the ruins here! Come help quickly!"

The surviving Disciples of Myriad Spirits Manor, after a brief silence, began to silently clean up the battlefield.

No one spoke; there were only low sobs and the friction of moving rubble.

They carried out the bodies of their fallen fellow Disciples one by one, wiped the blood from their faces, and arranged them neatly on the Training Ground.

Each body was like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of the living.

And by the edge of the cliff, an aged figure remained motionless.

He was like a stone statue weathered for a thousand years, appearing exceptionally frail in this cold night.

Wan Jian refused the support of his Disciples.

He dragged his left leg, which had been nearly blown off by the Yin Thunder, and shuffled step by step toward that back.

With every step, his heart was bleeding.

That was the Sword Lord.

He was the most brilliant yet most obscure child of this generation in Myriad Spirits Manor.

The handsome youth who once liked to sit by the library window, flipping through ancient books in the morning light, had now turned into this state.

Wan Jian finally walked up behind him.

By the moonlight, he saw the Sword Lord's face clearly.

Old.

Too old.

The skin that was once tight and jade-like was now covered in wrinkles like gullies.

These were the cruel marks left after time had been forcibly extracted.

His back was slightly hunched, as if even standing required a great deal of effort.

His snow-white hair fluttered messily in the sea breeze, every strand reeking of withered Death Qi.

"Child..."

Wan Jian opened his mouth, his voice extremely hoarse.

The Sword Lord's body trembled slightly.

He slowly turned around.

The movement was extremely slow, his joints making faint "click-clack" sounds, like a rusted mechanism.

But when he saw Wan Jian, he still managed to squeeze out a gentle smile.

Yet, this smile blooming on a face covered in age spots appeared incomparably desolate.

"Manor Revered Master, why have you come over?"

"Your injuries have not yet healed, and the wind by the sea is strong; you should go back and rest."

His voice was weathered and hoarse, like two pieces of rough sandpaper rubbing together.

Wan Jian's eyes instantly turned red.

Old tears slid down his dust-covered cheeks, washing out clear tear tracks.

"Why..."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"When the Black Dragon attacked, you clearly could have left."

Wan Jian's hands were trembling; he wanted to touch the child's face but dared not touch those fragile wrinkles.

"You are the Sovereign Sword Body!"

"You are a one-in-an-eternity Sword Dao Prodigy!"

"As long as you are alive, even if Myriad Spirits Manor is destroyed today, you will surely be able to rebuild it in the future!"

Wan Jian was heartbroken, the guilt in his heart drowning him like a tide.

If it were someone else, they might only think that the Sword Lord had traded his Lifespan for power.

But he was the Sect Revered Master, and he had read that Incomplete Manual.

He knew better than anyone what kind of Heaven-Defying fortune the four words "Wither and Flourish Sword Intent" represented, and what kind of desperate curse was hidden behind them.

The Sword Lord looked at the weeping old man and shook his head gently.

He stretched out his withered hand to straighten Wan Jian's messy collar.

"Manor Revered Master, without Myriad Spirits Manor, where would the Sword Lord come from?"

"Without a home, what meaning does immortality have?"

This sentence completely broke Wan Jian's defenses.

He grabbed the Sword Lord's wrist violently, his fingers turning white from the force.

"Do you know what you have lost?!"

"You have lost more than just a few hundred years of Lifespan!"

"Wither and Flourish, Wither and Flourish—one withering, one flourishing, the cycle of life and death."

Wan Jian roared out that secret:

"The true essence of this Cultivation Technique is 'Sealing'!"

"As long as that sword is not unsheathed, as long as that Sword Intent is forever nurtured within the body..."

"Your Lifespan would be completely frozen!"

"You would not age, you would not die; time could not leave any mark on you!"

"You would be the only 'Immortal' in this East Sea, or even the entire Cultivation World!"

The surrounding Disciples cleaning the battlefield heard this and all stopped their work, looking over in shock.

Immortality?

That obscure Junior Martial Uncle could have been immortal?

Wan Jian's voice was trembling, filled with endless despair.

"For the first sword, 'Awakening of Insects', you broke your perfect, flawless body to save your Revered Master."

"Although that sword cut away half of your dark hair, it did not damage your life source."

"As long as you didn't draw your sword again, you could still live like a normal person, even longer than a normal person."

"But... but this second sword..."

Wan Jian looked at the Sword Lord's white hair, his heart aching so much he couldn't breathe.

"Once the second sword, 'Spring and Autumn', was unleashed, the balance completely collapsed."

"Your life's hourglass didn't just flip over; it was smashed!"

"From now on, for every day you live, you will consume two days of Lifespan!"

"Your aging speed is twice, or even ten times, that of a normal person!"

"You traded your own infinite future for the survival of us old useless fools..."

"It's not worth it... it's really not worth it!"

Wan Jian cried like a child.

He would rather have died today himself than see this Prodigy with infinite possibilities fall at this moment.

This was why, for so many years, he had hidden the Sword Lord away on the back mountain, treating him like an ancestor.

It was not because the Sword Lord was weak.

It was because the Sword Lord, this sword, was too precious.

So precious that Myriad Spirits Manor could not afford to use him!

Facing Wan Jian's breakdown, the Sword Lord's expression remained calm throughout.

Even, there was a hint of relief in his eyes.

"Manor Revered Master, you are wrong."

The Sword Lord gently withdrew his hand and placed it behind his back.

Although his body was hunched, that scholarly air of his transformed at this moment into a kind of indescribable heroism.

"If it weren't for Revered Master picking up that starving little beggar in the snow all those years ago."

"If it weren't for Revered Master pulling me back from the gates of hell with a mouthful of rice porridge."

"Where would there be any Sovereign Sword Body in this world?"

"Back in that winter, I would have already been a frozen little corpse."

The Sword Lord looked up at the bright moon in the sky, a flash of reminiscence in his murky eyes.

"This body, this life, this so-called Sovereign Sword Body..."

"All were given by Myriad Spirits Manor."

"Since it was bestowed by the Sect, what is there to regret about giving it back to the Sect at this time?"

Wan Jian was speechless.

He could only stare blankly at the youth who looked like an old man before him.

"Besides..."

The Sword Lord's tone suddenly shifted.

That gentle, jade-like temperament suddenly vanished.

In its place was a sharpness that made one's heart palpitate.

Like a rusted iron sword suddenly having its surface rust polished away, revealing the cold light within.

"Manor Revered Master, I still have one sword left."

The Sword Lord raised one finger.

It was his skeletal index finger.

"As you just said, for every day I live now, I lose two."

"This broken body, even if kept alive with the best Spirit Medicine, probably won't last through this winter."

His tone was very flat, as if he were discussing what to eat tonight.

"Since I am destined to die."

"Since I am destined for dust to return to dust, earth to return to earth."

"Then, wouldn't it be a waste to take this last sword, nurtured for a lifetime, into the coffin?"