Chapter 88: Black Iron Heavy Sword.
The bronze door was heavy and covered in patina. The ghostly faces carved into it seemed to move in the dim light of the ice cave. A mixed smell of rust, dust, and resentment rushed out from the crack in the door.
Bu Xingjin held his breath and exchanged glances with Qing Yan. The light from the fluorescent stone made Qing Yan's face paler, but his gaze remained steady as he reached out and pressed against the cold door.
"Crack—"
The door slowly opened a crack, the sound piercing my teeth. The darkness inside was thicker than an ice cave, as if it could absorb all light and sound.
Without thinking much, the two of them squeezed in sideways, one in front and one behind.
After they went in, the door closed by itself with a loud bang, completely cutting off all contact with the outside world.
Here lay a vast, endless plain, the ground a dark red, as if stained countless times with blood. The air was filled with the smell of death and the rust of swords. Broken swords were scattered across the ground, forming a vast sword graveyard. Each blade emanated a resentful aura, gathering in the air into a visible gray mist.
The whole place was dead silent, without any movement of any living thing, only the resentment was silently swirling.
"Liu Liyue said the first level of the side door is the Phantom Sword Spirit," Bu Xingjin lowered his voice, the Blood River Knife already in hand. His senses were severely suppressed here, and he could only detect movement within thirty meters around him.
Qing Yan hummed, and the Qinglian Sword in his hand rang softly. The golden light flowing from the sword became the only light in the dark world. His eyes swept across the sword tomb, and his brows furrowed slightly.
At this moment, the gray mist in the middle of the plain began to roll and gather together.
The countless broken swords stuck in the ground also began to vibrate with a "buzzing" sound, as if welcoming their king.
A ball of gray sword energy slowly transformed into a human figure within the mist. This figure lacked facial features, its body ethereal. In its hand, it held a longsword, also condensed from sword energy. A sharp yet sorrowful sword intent emanated from it.
"Anyone who trespasses into the Buried Sword Cave without permission will die."
The figure spoke, his voice hollow, as if many people were speaking at once, echoing across the empty plain.
"Or, pass my test."
Bu Xingjin took a step forward and asked in a deep voice, "What test?"
The humanoid sword spirit turned its head towards him, its hollow face seemingly sprouting eyes. "Everyone has something they can't let go of. Some want power, some want loved ones, and some want a past they can never return to. My illusion will allow you to see the scene you desire most, and the one you fear most."
"Break through the illusion and you'll be able to pass through. If you're stuck inside and can't escape, your flesh, blood, and soul will become new nourishment for this sword tomb."
Qing Yan's eyes turned cold, and he reminded Bu Xingjin beside him: "Stay true to yourself."
Bu Xingjin nodded and tightened his grip on the knife.
The Phantom Sword Spirit stopped talking, and a gray light flashed in its eyes composed of sword energy.
Bu Xingjin felt his eyes flash before everything around him began to distort and fade. The shadows of the sword tomb, the broken sword, and Qing Yan all vanished quickly.
The sharp sound of brakes suddenly filled his ears, accompanied by the smell of burning tires.
Bu Xingjin suddenly opened his eyes.
He was standing at an intersection. A light rain was falling, and the air was damp and cold. Surrounding him were tall buildings, flashing neon lights, and cars coming and going. It all felt so familiar, yet so distant.
This was the world of his previous life.
Not far away, an out-of-control truck was rushing towards a young girl on the sidewalk. He remembered this scene, and the next second, he would rush out to push the girl away, and then he would be rolled under the car.
"Do you want to do it again?" A gentle voice sounded in his mind.
Bu Xingjin saw that time and space seemed to have stopped. The out-of-control truck, the terrified girl, and the pedestrians on the roadside were all motionless.
"If you want, you can turn around and leave this time," the voice continued. "You won't die. You'll return to that little rental house, go to work as usual the next day, and live an ordinary, stable life. No more fighting, hiding, or risking your life to protect anyone."
Bu Xingjin looked down at his hands.
Those were clean hands, without the thick calluses from gripping a knife, and without any trace of spiritual energy flowing through them. He wore a washed-out shirt and jeans, and he still smelled a bit of office printer ink.
Ordinary and stable.
Those two words seemed to have a magical power, loosening his tense nerves. He was indeed tired. Starting from a small blade of grass, every upgrade, every transformation, every battle was like walking a tightrope.
He could just turn around and say goodbye to it all.
He even lifted his foot and tried to walk in the opposite direction of the accident.
One step, two steps.
The rain wet his hair and slid down his cheeks, feeling cold.
He stopped walking.
He remembered something.
He remembered the person in the ice cave in the far north, who was covered in blood and whose face was as white as paper, but still stood in front of him.
I remembered the exhaustion of that person when he said in a voice that was almost flat and silent, "I am Qing Yan, the God of War from the upper realm, the Immortal Realm of Longevity."
And that leaf of the World Tree and that branch of Jianmu tied their destinies together from the very beginning.
If he turned around and left here, what would happen to Qing Yan? He was being hunted by the God, carrying so much on his shoulders, and in the end, would his soul be shattered?
Bu Xingjin slowly, slowly clenched his fists.
He turned around and looked at the still scene of the car accident, his eyes becoming sharp again.
“My path is not in the past.”
He said to himself word by word.
"boom!"
He swung his fist, and the entire still world shattered like a mirror with a "crash".
The light and shadow faded, and Bu Xingjin found himself still standing on the dark red Sword Tomb Plain, the Blood River Knife still in his hand. He was gasping for breath, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
The Phantom Sword Spirit not far away shook his body, as if a little surprised.
Bu Xingjin looked around and saw Qing Yan standing there motionless with his eyes closed, his long eyelashes drooping, his expression unclear. It was obvious that he had also entered the illusion.
Bu Xingjin didn't disturb him, but just stood beside him silently, guarding him. He was very curious, what was it that someone like Qing Yan couldn't let go of?
…
In front of Qing Yan, there was neither sword tomb nor Bu Xingjin.
He was standing before a massive temple floating on a sea of clouds. It was built of white jade, shrouded in a celestial aura, and golden runes flowed between the pillars. This was the War God's Temple in the Immortal Realm of Immortality, where he had once lived.
Three familiar figures appeared in front of him. They were the three divine generals who had fought with him and guarded the fairyland.
There was no murderous look on their faces, only the same respect as usual.
"God of War Qingyan, the Lord God invites you." The leading general bowed and said.
Qing Yan looked past them and towards the high throne deep in the temple. A vague but majestic figure sat there, looking at him.
"Qing Yan," the Lord's voice came from the throne, carrying an unquestionable majesty, "You saw something you shouldn't have seen. However, considering your meritorious service in guarding the Immortal Realm for so many years, I will give you a chance."
"Hand over the Samsara Mirror and forget everything you saw. I can have you replace the Tianshu Divine General and become the leader among the gods, with a status only lower than mine."
The shadow on the throne continued, "If you and I join forces, these three realms, and indeed all the worlds, will bow to us. I can give you the great path and the power you seek. Why would you oppose me for the sake of those ant-like worlds?"
Qing Yan listened quietly.
He didn't look at the high throne, nor did he look at his three former comrades.
His gaze seemed to pass through this magnificent temple, through the layers of fairyland clouds, and fell on some distant lower world, on some barren land.
He saw the little grass swaying in the wind and rain, but trying hard to stand straight.
I saw the figure who rushed towards the powerful enemy without caring about his life in order to buy him some time.
He saw the look in the eyes of the man in the ice cave who, after knowing everything, was not afraid, did not retreat, but asked him in a hoarse voice, "Is your injury serious?"
The concern and anxiety in those eyes was a light he had never seen in his long and lonely life.
"My way is not beneath your throne."
Qing Yan spoke, his voice was not loud, but it shook the entire temple.
He slowly drew out the Qinglian Sword from his waist.
The sword reflected his cold eyes, which contained no hesitation but only determination.
“Klang!”
A dazzling golden sword light shot up into the sky, directly cutting a huge hole in the magnificent roof of the temple.
The entire illusion shattered.
…
Qing Yan opened his eyes and found himself still in the sword tomb.
Bu Xingjin was looking at him with concern.
"Are you okay?" Bu Xingjin asked.
Qing Yan shook his head, his knuckles turning pale as he gripped the sword. His illusion had lasted only a moment, but the feeling of betrayal seemed to resurface all over again.
The Phantom Sword Spirit across from them shook violently, its condensed form becoming much lighter. Its hollow face revealed an expression of disbelief.
"you……"
It didn't expect that these two people, one in the Jindan stage and the other in the Fen Shen stage, had such a stable heart of Taoism that they broke its illusion almost instantly.
Bu Xingjin and Qing Yan stood side by side, and a tacit understanding naturally formed between them.
The Phantom Sword Spirit was silent for a long time, and finally let out a long sigh.
"Never mind, you passed."
Its condensed body began to disperse, turning back into gray mist. When it was about to completely disappear, a very soft voice floated into Bu Xingjin's ears.
"The prophecy of someone with the aura of the World Tree... is true..."
Bu Xingjin's heart moved, and he wanted to ask again, but the voice had completely disappeared.
The gray fog in front spread out to both sides, revealing a path leading deep into the plain.
The two walked along the path, and after they passed it, the sword tomb behind them returned to its deathly silence.
At the end of the path is another even larger underground ice cave.
In the middle of the ice cave lay a bottomless pool of water, as black as ink and emitting a bone-chilling chill. Directly above the pool, a massive, pitch-black, ancient-looking heavy sword quietly hovered there.
The sword was devoid of light, yet it possessed a weight that suppressed everything, as if it were a world unto itself. Two ancient seal characters were clearly engraved on the hilt: "Zhen Xie."
Bu Xingjin's breathing paused.
"That's the Black Iron Heavy Sword."
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