No Sword in Hand, No Sword in Heart

"Roar...."

The dragon's roar echoed across the heavens, lingering without end.

Five drops of dragon essence blood fell onto the anvil, and the Celestial Divine Sword seemed to transform into a golden furious dragon, struggling to break free from someone's grasp and soar into the sky.

But the hammer, driven by unwavering resolve, always struck at just the right moment.

The dragon's roars grew weaker, shifting from fury to mournful cries.

Crack—

The sword was riddled with fine fissures from tip to hilt before finally exploding into a shower of golden rain. Along with it vanished the aura of imperial ambition and the taint of blood left behind by the Blood God.

The divine sword dimmed as a result.

After all, only thirty percent of its heroic sword intent remained.

Having lost seventy percent of its divine essence, its might was greatly diminished, teetering on the edge of falling from the ranks of divine weapons.

"But without the divine sword, how will we face the next calamity?"

The blurred, blood-colored face showed a flicker of astonishment before twisting into a cold smirk.

Though reforged, the outcome seemed little different from before?

It could no longer influence the divine sword.

But the Celestial City had also lost its greatest reliance.

This fragment of its will was about to fade, ready to depart at any moment, yet it lingered with amusement, eager to see how Li Mo would handle the aftermath.

"That's..."

"A hammer can execute sword techniques?"

The murmurs of the Celestial Clan rose in the air.

It was high noon, the scorching sun hanging overhead. As the blood mist dispersed, the sky cleared like washed jade. The Blood God glanced casually at the misshapen sword and suddenly felt a searing, heart-piercing heat.

"Using a hammer as a sword, while also employing the Art of Forging Spirits..."

"What is he doing?!"

Clang—

Clang—

One hammer strike followed another.

The fiery hammer radiated sword light—sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, sometimes chillingly sharp.

It was hard to imagine words like "graceful," "fierce," or "ethereal" being used to describe a hammer.

And no one knew what price each strike exacted.

Indeed.

Li Mo had poured all his martial insights into swordsmanship—how many years, he hadn’t bothered to count. Perhaps thousands, perhaps tens of thousands.

Each hammer swing appeared slow, yet it encompassed endless variations, unfolding countless transformations.

These changes occurred, yet their underlying principles remained elusive to the eye.

When he decided to abandon sword practice.

When he held a hammer instead of a blade.

His sword Dao finally shattered the limits of mortality.

If there is no sword in hand, nor in heart, then where does the sword reside?

This question had plagued Li Mo for a long time.

But just moments ago, in the crucible of life and death, he understood. The four manuals—not martial arts at all—were teachings he had long since mastered.

Li Mo laughed inwardly at himself.

Realizing this, he felt like a foolish youth who had ventured into the world, endured countless beatings, only to return home and find the supreme martial arts gathering dust on his own bookshelf.

Guided by the flow of energy, Li Mo’s spirit, essence, and will reached their zenith.

He unleashed the most dazzling hammer strike of his life.

The Hammer of Mortal Slaughter, Forging the Sword’s Spirit.

Was it a hammer or a sword?

It no longer mattered.

Clang—

The Divine Hammer of Heavenly Craft, once used to forge a Dao artifact, completed the sword’s final transformation with a resounding blow.

A sword light surged into the heavens, soaring thousands—no, tens of thousands of meters into the sky.

Beneath the blazing sun, amidst the flames, he and the reborn divine weapon shone with equal brilliance.

"It’s done..."

Outside, Du Wufeng’s hair and beard fluttered in the wind, his eyes reflecting the weapon’s radiance.

"What has Young Hero Li forged?"

"Looks like a curved blade to me."

"He doesn’t practice saber techniques—it’s clearly a scimitar."

"Neither."

As the crowd debated the weapon’s form, the voice of Divine Craftsman Du cut through the chatter.

Divine Craftsman Du sighed softly.

"It’s a sickle."

"?"

Swordsmen and smiths alike fell silent.

They gaped at the figure in the Scroll of Mountains and Rivers, raising both hammer and sickle, yet no words of protest came to mind.

After a long pause, someone finally whispered,

"Has a sickle ever ranked among the Divine Weapons before?"

Not before.

But starting today, it likely would.

The only question was how its reforged power compared to its former glory.

......

At the peak of Celestial City.

Li Mo steadied his surging blood energy, swallowing a handful of pills. The toll of reforging the divine sword had drained him, leaving him far from his usual vigor.

Now, he was utterly exhausted.

Yet he still raised his head, locking eyes with the blood-red shadow in the sky without yielding an inch.

"Still not leaving? Do you want to test the blade’s edge?"

"..."

The blood shadow remained silent, but suddenly, a massive hand descended, closing in with inescapable inevitability.

The Blood God’s true form had arrived unnoticed.

Its target—the freshly forged sickle.

From it, the Blood God sensed overwhelming danger.

"!"

In that instant, the minds of the Celestial Clan and Mo City’s warriors seemed to freeze in eerie stillness.

This strike stirred no fluctuations in the world’s energy, yet it transcended the boundary between immortal and mortal.

Even if they wished to aid Li Mo, it was beyond their power.

"Perfect timing!"

Li Mo gripped the newly forged sickle, sensing within it an overwhelming surge of energy and will—

Like a roaring tide, vast and boundless.

He had no strength left.

But he didn’t need any.

Invisible hands seemed to layer over his own, tightening around the sickle’s hilt.

......

Heavenly Mountain, Sword Tomb.

Thousands of broken swords suddenly trembled, the shattered blades seeming whole once more.

The wooden sword resting on a mossy stone glowed with green light, as if yearning to fly free.

"No need to go. Your intent alone can aid him."

The white-bearded elder gently stroked the blade.

......

And so.

Li Mo sensed familiar auras and couldn’t help but smile, as if seeing the simple figure of a boy wielding a wooden stick.

Not just Er Niu, but countless blade hunters of Mo City, and millions of ordinary folk from the Mortal Cities.

They had all heard the proclamation upon gripping the divine weapon: "The Celestial City shall have no more emperors."

He raised the sickle and swung it lightly.

In the frozen minds of the onlookers, a faint glimmer of light appeared—

At first weak, then blazing like a rising crimson sun, poised to ascend and illuminate the world.

This could hardly be called sword light—it was something purer.

Squelch—

Even the indestructible remnant of the Blood God, which even the highest realms could only seal, was cleanly severed in two.

"Ugh..."

A gale howled through Celestial City’s domain, and the heavens split open, bleeding from a crimson wound.

Unbeknownst to all, the Blood God had fused part of its true body into the Heavenly Phoenix Domain.

Thus, this strike also wounded the Celestial City itself.

"Li Mo, because of you, the calamity will come sooner."

A voice dripping with malice echoed.

"Aren’t you curious what Ying Bing has been up to?"

Li Mo’s face remained as cold as ice.