270: Chapter 270 The Resonance of the Azure Lotus Sword

The spacetime flying boat sailed slowly through the sea of stars, its silver-white hull shimmering faintly under the starlight of the New Universe.

Outside the porthole, stars swept past one by one, some as bright as lamps, some as dim as dust, some close enough to touch, and others far off on the horizon.

Shen Nian stood in front of the porthole, holding the samsara lotus token in his hand. The lotus patterns on the token glowed faintly in the darkness.

Yue Li sat behind him with her eyes closed, her face pale. She had clearly not yet recovered from the emotions of the Sixth District.

She did not speak, and neither did Shen Nian. The only sounds in the cabin were the low hum of the flying boat's engine and the occasional sound of stardust colliding outside the porthole.

Shen Nian looked down at the qinglian sword at his waist.

The qinglian patterns on the sword's body glowed faintly in the darkness. The light was so dim that it was almost imperceptible, but Shen Nian knew it was there.

This was the sword left to him by Ancestor Shen Zhao, the sword passed down by Ancestor Bai Yunzhou, and the sword inherited through generations of the Guardian Academy.

Within the sword lay the Origin imprint left by Shen Zhao.

Yue Li had said that the imprint contained all of Shen Zhao's power—fourteen kinds of power, fourteen colors merged into one, a power transcending the Mahayana stage.

But Shen Nian had never tried to establish a connection with that imprint.

It was not that he didn't want to, but that he didn't dare.

He feared he was not qualified, feared he was unworthy of the Ancestor's power, and feared he would defile the Legacy of this sword.

He recalled what Shen Zhao looked like when teaching him swordplay—white-haired and hunched, yet those eyes remained clear and resolute.

"Swordplay is not about the Moves, but the intent," Shen Zhao had said. "You must feel the weight of the sword, feel the breath of the sword, and feel the will of the sword."

Shen Nian had always remembered these words, keeping them in mind for over a decade, from the age of twelve to twenty-three.

But he had never truly felt the will of the sword, nor had he ever truly understood Shen Zhao's words.

He only knew how to practice his swordplay, to fight with his Life, and to never disappoint the Ancestor's expectations.

He did not know what the breath of the sword was, what the will of the sword was, or what the weight of the sword was.

"What are you thinking about?"

Yue Li's voice came from behind him, hoarse and weary.

Shen Nian did not turn around, merely gazing at the stars outside the porthole.

"This Disciple is wondering how the Ancestor managed to do it back then."

"Do what?"

"To shoulder everything alone. To face so many powerful enemies and never back down. To choose to sacrifice himself even when knowing he would die."

Yue Li was silent for a moment.

"Your Master wasn't unafraid; he was just more afraid of letting down those who trusted him."

Shen Nian's hand paused slightly.

"Senior, have you ever seen the Ancestor look afraid?"

Yue Li thought for a moment and shook her head.

"No. I have seen him injured, tired, and in tears, but I have never seen him afraid. It wasn't because he wasn't scared, but because he knew he was everyone's hope. He couldn't show any fear."

Tears welled up in Shen Nian's eyes, but he did not let them fall.

He turned, walked to the console, sat cross-legged, and laid the qinglian sword across his knees.

"This Disciple wants to try. To try and establish a connection with the Ancestor's imprint."

Yue Li looked at him, not stopping him, but simply nodding.

Shen Nian closed his eyes and sank his consciousness into the qinglian sword.

The body of the sword was freezing cold, as if he were touching millennial ice.

The qinglian patterns on the sword lit up the moment he touched it, then dimmed again, as if testing him, or perhaps resisting him.

He did not rush, simply quietly feeling the temperature, weight, and breath of the sword.

The weight of the sword was heavier than he had imagined.

It was not physical weight, but an indescribable heaviness—the weight of history, the weight of the Legacy, the weight earned by countless heroes with their lives.

The breath of the sword was slower than he had imagined.

It was as slow as an old man in a deep sleep, each breath carrying weariness, the vicissitudes of time, and a sigh that pierced through the ages.

Shen Nian sank his consciousness deeper, passing through the surface of the sword, through the qinglian patterns, and through the traces left by time.

Finally, in the deepest part of the sword, he sensed a faint light.

The light was very dim, almost imperceptible, yet exceptionally striking in the darkness, like a lonely star.

It was Shen Zhao's Origin imprint.

Shen Nian's heart rate quickened.

He approached the light with utmost care, as if approaching a sleeping elder, afraid of disturbing him.

As he drew near, the light pulsed gently, as if saying, "You are here."

Tears burst from Shen Nian's eyes.

In his heart, he said, "Ancestor, this Disciple is here. This Disciple has come to see you."

The light pulsed once more, this time brighter than before.

Then, the light began to spread, expanding from a single point into a vast expanse, and then transforming into a massive scene.

Before Shen Nian's eyes, another world appeared.

It was Yongning City, but not the Yongning City he was familiar with.

The city walls were shorter than they were now, the halls older, and there were fewer names on the Monument of Heroes.

That was the Yongning City of many years ago, the Yongning City of Shen Zhao's youth.

In the scene, a youth knelt before the Monument of Heroes, wearing the green robe of a Guardian Academy Disciple, with no sword at his waist.

His hair was black, his face wrinkle-free, and his posture upright like a growing pine tree.

Shen Zhao.

The young Shen Zhao.

Shen Nian's heart beat even faster.

He "saw" Shen Zhao kneeling before the monument, his knees already numb, yet he did not stand.

He "saw" Shen Zhao look up, gazing at the seven-colored light at the top of the monument—no, back then there were only seven colors; the colorless light had not yet appeared.

He "saw" that Shen Zhao's eyes were filled with resolve, yet also with confusion.

That was the sixteen-year-old Shen Zhao, who had just learned that the Seal was loosening and the Universe was coming to an end.

He knelt before the monument and said to those names, "Seniors, this Disciple will guard the sea of stars."

His voice was soft but firm, just like Bai Yunzhou of the past, like Guardian Lin Jingyun of the past, and like all the Guardians who had knelt before this monument.

Shen Nian's tears fell silently.

He "saw" a second scene.

In the scene, Shen Zhao stood before the Monument of Heroes, with a white-haired elder standing beside him.

The elder leaned on a cane, his body hunched, yet his back remained as straight as ever.

Shen Yuan.

Uncle Shen Yuan.

Shen Nian's heart suddenly ached with pain.

He had never met his Uncle; his Uncle had passed away before he was born.

But he had heard countless stories about his Uncle—told by Shen Zhao, by Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi, and by Director Su Yun.

They said that Uncle was the Guardian Patriarch, Shen Zhao's adoptive father, and the Guardian of the sea of stars.

They said that Uncle never married in his Life, pouring all his energy into the Guardian Academy, the sea of stars, and Shen Zhao.

They said that before Uncle passed away, he said, "Zhaoer, Uncle will wait for you on the Monument of Heroes."

Shen Nian looked at the Uncle in the scene, at his grey hair, his wrinkled face, and his hand leaning on the cane.

Uncle was smiling, a very gentle smile like the wind blowing through dry branches.

"Zhaoer, you have been kneeling all night. Stand up."

Shen Zhao shook his head. "Uncle, this Disciple is not tired."

Uncle sighed, sat down beside him, and handed him the teapot in his hand.

"Have some tea. It's brewed with spiritual spring water from the Lingxi Realm, your favorite."

Shen Zhao took the teapot, poured a cup, and drank it in one gulp.

The tea was very bitter, so bitter that he frowned, but he said, "It tastes good."

Uncle smiled.

"You say it tastes good every time, yet you frown every time."

Shen Zhao smiled too, a light and breezy smile.

"Because it's bitter, it tastes good. Because it's bitter, it's remembered."

Uncle looked at him, his eyes filled with gratification.

"Zhaoer, you have grown up."

Shen Nian "saw" a third scene.

In the scene, Shen Zhao stood before the Monument of Heroes, all alone.

His hair was already grey, the wrinkles on his face deep as if carved by a knife, and his body hunched like his Uncle's of the past.

He knelt before the monument, laid the qinglian sword across his knees, and bowed deeply.

"Uncle, this Disciple is leaving. This Disciple is going to the Higher Space to find the Tribunal Master. This Disciple does not know if I can return, but this Disciple will do my best."

The colorless light at the top of the monument pulsed gently.

Shen Zhao stood up, turned, and walked toward the Star Port.

After a few steps, he suddenly stopped and turned back to look at the monument.

"Uncle, this Disciple misses you."

His voice was very soft, as soft as a sigh.

Tears blurred Shen Nian's eyes.

He "saw" a fourth scene.

In the scene, Shen Zhao stood in the void of the Higher Space, before a golden crystal core.

His hair was entirely gone, the wrinkles on his face like parched earth, and his body was teetering, yet his gaze remained unwavering.

He raised his hand, and fourteen-colored light surged from his palm, turning into countless fine threads that wrapped around the crystal core.

"Uncle, this Disciple is here. This Disciple has come to find you."

His voice was very soft, as soft as a candle flame about to go out in the wind.

Then, his body began to disintegrate, starting from his feet, turning inch by inch into colorless points of light.

Those points of light drifted in the Void Realm, merging into the crystal core and the Seal, becoming a part of eternity.

Shen Nian wanted to rush forward to stop him, but his consciousness was merely that of an onlooker; he could do nothing.

He could only watch helplessly as Shen Zhao dissipated, watch the points of light drift away, and watch the cracks on the crystal core heal.

He knelt on the ground and wailed bitterly.

The scene faded away.

The light contracted, turning back into that faint point of light.

Shen Nian's consciousness withdrew from the qinglian sword, returning to reality.

He opened his eyes and found his face covered in tears.

Yue Li stood before him, holding a handkerchief, and handed it to him.

"Wipe them."

Shen Nian took the handkerchief and wiped away his tears.

"Senior, this Disciple saw the Ancestor. I saw what he looked like when he was young, saw him speaking with Uncle, and saw him when he dissipated."

Yue Li was silent for a moment.

"Your Master... when he left, was he in pain?"

Shen Nian thought for a moment and shook his head.

"No. This Disciple saw him smile, a light and breezy smile. He said, 'Uncle, this Disciple is here.'"

Yue Li's eyes grew red, but she did not let her tears fall.

"Your Master lived for others his whole Life. Before he died, he could finally live for himself. He could finally go and see his Uncle."

Shen Nian nodded, hanging the qinglian sword back at his waist.

The qinglian patterns on the sword's body were still glowing, brighter than before, as if Shen Zhao were looking at him, as if saying, "Xiao Nian, you have done well."

Shen Nian walked to the porthole, looking out at the sea of stars.

Those stars swept past one by one, some bright, some dim, some close enough to touch, and others far off on the horizon.

He took a deep breath and spoke softly.

"Ancestor, this Disciple will guard the sea of stars. This is this Disciple's promise."

Outside the porthole, a shooting star streaked past, dragging a long tail, before disappearing into the darkness.

Shen Nian watched the shooting star, the corners of his mouth curving up slightly.

He knew that was not a shooting star.

That was the Ancestor responding to him.

Yue Li walked over to his side, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Shen Nian, what are your plans next?"

Shen Nian did not answer, merely looking at the sea of stars outside the window, remaining silent for a long time.

Then, he spoke slowly.

"This Disciple wants to go to the First District, the settlement of the Pan Clan descendants. The first demon god origin is there."

Yue Li nodded.

"I shall accompany you."

Shen Nian shook his head.

"Senior, you have already accompanied this Disciple for a long time. You should rest."

Yue Li looked at him, a trace of complexity flashing in her eyes.

"I am not tired."

Shen Nian turned, looking into her eyes.

"Senior, this Disciple knows you are anxious to save Master. But you also need to rest. You haven't had a good sleep in countless years."

Yue Li fell silent.

Shen Nian continued.

"Senior, this Disciple promises you that this Disciple will definitely gather all seven demon god origins. This Disciple will definitely help you rescue Master. But you must also promise this Disciple one thing."

"What is it?"

"Get some good rest, and wait for this Disciple to return."

Yue Li looked at him, remained silent for a long time, and then nodded.

"Very well. I promise you."

The flying boat sped through the sea of stars, heading in the direction of Yongning City.

Shen Nian stood in front of the porthole, gazing at the sea of stars outside.

In his hand, he held the samsara lotus token, the warmth of his palm reflecting a faint glow from the lotus patterns on the token.

At his waist, the qinglian sword swayed gently, the qinglian patterns on the sword intertwining with the light of the token, as if in conversation.

He closed his eyes, and the scene of Shen Zhao dissipating surfaced in his mind.

"Uncle, this Disciple is here."

Those words echoed in his ears.

He opened his eyes, his gaze filled with determination.

Ancestor, this Disciple will not disappoint you.

By the time the flying boat landed at the Star Port, it was almost dark.

The setting sun spilled over the walls of Yongning City, gilding the entire city in a layer of gold.

The colorless light at the top of the Monument of Heroes was almost invisible under the setting sun, but Shen Nian knew it was there—like an everlasting lamp, illuminating this land he had guarded with his Life.

He stepped off the flying boat and walked toward the Monument of Heroes.

Yue Li did not follow; she went to the small courtyard where Shen Zhao used to live.

Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi stood before the Monument of Heroes, her white hair fluttering in the evening breeze.

Seeing Shen Nian approach, she smiled slightly.

"You're back?"

Shen Nian nodded, walked to the monument, and knelt.

"Senior, this Disciple went to see the Ancestor."

Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi sat beside him, looking at his grey hair, then at the samsara lotus token in his hand.

"Did you see him?"

Shen Nian nodded.

"This Disciple saw what he looked like when he was young, saw him speaking with Uncle, and saw him when he dissipated. This Disciple also heard the last words he spoke."

Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi's hand paused slightly.

"What words?"

Shen Nian looked up, gazing at the colorless light at the top of the monument.

"'Uncle, this Disciple is here.'"

Tears burst from Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi's eyes. She did not wipe them, simply letting them flow.

"He went to find his Uncle. He can finally rest."

Shen Nian knelt before the monument, laid the qinglian sword across his knees, and bowed deeply.

"Uncle, Ancestor, this Disciple swears—this Disciple will guard the sea of stars. This Disciple will gather all seven demon god origins, this Disciple will help Senior Yue Li rescue her Master, and this Disciple will bring those harvested Souls back to Life. This Disciple will not disappoint you."

The colorless light at the top of the monument pulsed gently, as if responding to him.

As the sun set, the golden afterglow spilled over the Monument of Heroes, making the names on the monument shine brilliantly.

Ancestor Bai Yunzhou, Ling Shuang, Zhou Zhiting, Song Xinghe, Guardian Lin Jingyun, Path Guardian Ancestor Qin Hao, Shen Yuan, Shen Zhao.

And countless unfamiliar names, countless fallen heroes.

They were all there, watching him, guarding him.

Shen Nian stood up and bowed deeply to Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi.

"Senior, this Disciple will head to the First District tomorrow. Senior, take care."

Guardian Ancestor Ling Xi helped him up and patted his shoulder.

"Go. Return safely and soon."