Tomb of the Sword Emperor

[Another 50,000 words updated. This is the system's limit, not mine.]

Kunwu Continent, Broken Sword Gorge.

This was the place with the thickest sword qi across the three thousand Dao States.

Two dark cyan cliffs, towering ten thousand fathoms high, looked as if they had been cleaved apart by an ancient god's sword. The cuts were as smooth as a mirror, tearing a bottomless gorge right down the middle.

Piercing astral winds shuttled through the valley, emitting mournful whimpers like the wailing of ten thousand swords.

The legendary tomb of the Peerless Sword Emperor lay dormant deep within this pale mist that never dissipated throughout the year.

At this moment, the barren Gobi desert outside the gorge was already teeming with people.

Tens of thousands of sword cultivators from all corners of the world stood closely packed together, the gravel crunching under their feet.

Countless rays of sword qi of various colors intertwined and soared into the sky above the crowd, making the air in this region thick and oppressive.

However, this dense sea of people seemed to be blocked by an invisible dam, only able to crane their necks amidst the commotion, with no one daring to cross the line.

Because at the throat of the gorge's entrance stood a massive cyan banner, fully ten zhang high.

The thick flagpole was smashed deep into the rock layer. On the heavy banner face, seven starlight longswords embroidered from thousand-year ice silkworm thread rolled violently with the astral wind, emitting waves of terrifying, suffocating pressure.

It was precisely the totem of the Beidou Sword Sect.

Beneath the banner, hundreds of disciples wearing sword robes with dark star patterns lined up.

With their hands on their sword hilts and chins slightly raised, the corners of their eyes carried undisguised arrogance and contempt, sealing the entrance so tightly that not even a fly could enter.

Directly in front of them, sitting cross-legged on a moss-covered boulder, was a withered old man.

His eyes were half-closed, eyelids drooping as if he were asleep. But the early Void Refinement stage spiritual energy fluctuations around him, almost tangible, formed an invisible mountain that crushed down on the spines of the tens of thousands of people present, forcing many low-level rogue cultivators to break out in cold sweat and their legs to go soft.

"Ten thousand mid-grade spirit stones per person."

A Beidou Sword Sect deacon disciple with high cheekbones took half a step forward. He impatiently tapped his sheathed longsword against his thigh, a cold sneer on his lips, his sharp voice overpowering the wind:

"Those who have paid, come get your token and get inside! You penniless wretches with no money, roll aside immediately and don't get in the way!"

"Ten thousand mid-grade spirit stones?"

Gasps rang out from the crowd, the suppressed exclamations sounding like an exploding beehive.

For disciples of large sects with deep foundations, this sum could be scraped together through gritted teeth. But for the vast majority of rogue cultivators and small sect disciples who licked blood from the edge of a blade year-round, this was simply sucking their marrow dry!

"On what grounds?"

In the dead silence, a young rogue cultivator carrying a rusted iron sword on his back violently clenched his fists and squeezed out from the crowd.

Veins bulged on his forehead, his eye sockets completely red from extreme grief and indignation. His hoarse voice trembled in the wind:

"The Peerless Sword Emperor, Ye Wushuang, is the backbone of our human race! Ten thousand years ago, to slay the extraterrestrial evil dragon and protect the mortal realm, he bled his last drop of blood right here in Broken Sword Gorge!"

"Before his death, he erected a stone stele stating that this sword mound was left for all future generations in the world who bitterly cultivate the sword dao!"

The rogue cultivator fiercely pointed at the starry banner, his fingers trembling violently. "This is a fortuitous encounter belonging to all sword cultivators in the world! It has never belonged to your Beidou Sword Sect! What right do you have to enclose this land and rob people of their wealth?"

This blood-weeping questioning instantly ignited the anger in countless hearts.

"He is right! On what grounds will you not let us in!"

"The Beidou Sword Sect is going too far!"

The crowd began to push forward. Many flushed red and reached for the weapons at their waists, their indignation boiling over.

"Noisy."

Just at this critical moment, the withered old man sitting cross-legged on the boulder slightly moved his lips, which looked like dead wood.

He did not even lift his drooping eyelids in the slightest. He simply, casually, extended a finger resembling a withered claw from his wide sleeve and lightly pointed through the air in the direction of the young rogue cultivator.

"Swish!"

A blinding starlight sword qi suddenly tore through the air, emitting a teeth-aching shriek.

"Pfft!"

The young rogue cultivator's angry shout was abruptly cut off. His expression was still frozen in indignation, but a deep red dot suddenly appeared between his eyebrows.

The next instant, a muffled bang rang out!

His entire head exploded violently like a watermelon smashed by an iron hammer!

Red and white liquid sprayed out in a fan shape, splashing over the heads and faces of a dozen surrounding cultivators. A headless corpse swayed in place before collapsing into a pool of blood, a hissing sound of spraying blood still coming from its neck.

The boiling clamor of the entire scene was instantly put on pause.

The crowd that had been indignantly pushing forward seemed to have their throats fiercely gripped by an invisible, icy hand. Pairs of blood-stained eyes suddenly contracted, filled with unbelievable horror.

Fear turned into a bone-piercing chill, madly climbing up everyone's spine.

"A bunch of ants, you also deserve to talk reason in front of this old man?"

The old man finally slowly opened his eyes. It was a pair of muddy eyes that revealed the cold gleam of a poisonous snake.

His gaze scraped across everyone's faces like a blunt knife. Wherever he looked, everyone lowered their heads and retreated as if avoiding a scorpion.

"The famous mountains, great rivers, and blessed heavenly lands of this world have always been occupied by the virtuous. What is virtuous?"

The corners of the old man's mouth curled into a cruel arc. His shriveled hands clenched into fists, knuckles cracking. "Having the biggest fist is being virtuous."

"My Beidou Sword Sect's swords are sharper than yours. Therefore, this place is our backyard. You useless trash without ability, obediently shut your mouths and do not bark like wild dogs here."

After saying that, his eyelids drooped, and he closed his eyes again like an old monk in meditation, not even taking a second glance at the corpse.

"Did you understand? Next!" The deacon disciple poked the bloody water at his feet with his sword hilt, urging with a face full of mockery, "Those who do not want to turn into this pile of rotten meat, hurry up and pay!"

A few extremely suppressed sobs came from the crowd. Those hands that had originally gripped their sword hilts ultimately loosened powerlessly.

Many people dejectedly lowered their heads, their eyes full of humiliation and bitterness.

In this cultivation world where the weak are prey to the strong, being weak was the original sin.

Right amidst this suffocating atmosphere of despair.

Above the clouds in the sky, a clear sound of piercing through the air suddenly rang out.

Everyone subconsciously looked up, only to see a man and a woman tearing through the sea of clouds and gracefully descending.

The leading man wore white clothes whiter than snow, his robes fluttering loudly in the astral wind, yet completely untainted by dust.

His posture was as straight as a pine, and his face was so handsome it was almost demonic. However, those deep eyes were half-open and half-closed, revealing an innate laziness and carelessness in his bones.

Half a step behind him closely followed a young girl in a vibrant green dress. Her delicate face was pretty, and she was looking around with both curiosity and timidity.

It was exactly Ye Xuan and Ying'er.

Ye Xuan's feet lightly tapped the ground as he landed steadily. His gaze faintly swept over the impenetrable wall of people, moving downward to pause for half a second on the headless corpse that was still emitting steam. His originally lazy eyebrows arched slightly into a dangerous curve.

"M-Master... there are so many people here..." Ying'er caught the pungent scent of blood in the air and shrank her fair neck in fear. Her two small hands tightly gripped the corner of Ye Xuan's clothes, her voice trembling, "And... and there's a dead body on the ground ahead..."

"Don't be afraid." Ye Xuan didn't even turn his head, merely reaching back naturally to gently rub the young girl's soft hair.

Then, with his hands clasped behind his back, he strode forward with his long legs, walking directly toward the arrogant disciples at the entrance as if taking a leisurely stroll in a courtyard.

"Halt!"

The domineering deacon disciple from earlier suddenly took a step forward. With a sharp ring, he drew his longsword halfway from its sheath and leveled it across Ye Xuan's chest.

He looked up and down at the white-clad young man before him, whose extraordinary attire and handsome appearance ignited a fire of jealousy in his heart. Letting out a heavy, cold snort from his nose, he spat viciously:

"Where did this greenhorn come from? Do you not know the rules? Ten thousand mid-grade spirit stones per person; for two people, twenty thousand! If you're short even a single spirit stone, I'll chop off your legs!"

Ye Xuan stopped in his tracks. He didn't look at the blade so close at hand, but slowly raised his eyelids. His previously lazy eyes were now completely calm, without a single ripple.

Looking directly into the disciple's eyes, his thin lips parted slightly as he uttered a few icy words:

"And if I refuse to pay?"

"Refuse?"

The deacon disciple froze for a moment, as if he had heard the greatest joke in the world, and burst into arrogant laughter.

He spun around abruptly, pointing the tip of his sword at the pile of mangled flesh, spit flying from his mouth:

"Open your dog eyes and look at that pile of meat! That is the consequence of not paying! Don't think that just because you have a clean face and put on the airs of a noble young master, you can get by on your looks here! Boy, this is the cultivation world, not those mortal brothels where you can sell your smiles!"

Atop the massive boulder, the Void Refinement stage elder, who had kept his eyes half-closed the entire time, finally sensed the anomaly over here.

He furrowed his brows and let out a muffled, cold snort.

A terrifying spiritual pressure, ten times more violent than before, crashed down directly onto Ye Xuan like a bursting dam! The surrounding gravel on the ground was instantly crushed into fine powder under this oppressive force.

"Young man, do not bring ruin upon yourself in my presence. My patience before I kill is very limited." The elder's sinister voice exploded in everyone's ears.

The surrounding cultivators shrank their necks one after another, casting glances of pity or helplessness at Ye Xuan.

Just another reckless fool who didn't know the immensity of heaven and earth.

It was a pity for that excellent skin; in a few breaths, he would likely become another headless corpse.

However, standing right in the center of the pressure, firmly locked on by the terrifying aura, Ye Xuan didn't even have a single strand of hair on his forehead tremble in fear.

He stood quietly in place and suddenly let out a low chuckle.

He slowly raised his head, meeting the gaze of the aloof elder. The corners of his mouth curled up bit by bit, ultimately forming an extremely arrogant and even somewhat unhinged sneer:

"Bring ruin upon myself?"

His long, slender fingers lightly flicked away non-existent dust. His voice was not loud, but it carried a domineering arrogance that looked down upon all living beings: "In this world, wherever I wish to go, let alone you lot, even if the Heavenly King himself came, no one could stop me for even half a step."

His gaze suddenly turned as sharp as a blade, piercing toward the group of Big Dipper disciples whose expressions had drastically changed. "Let alone you barking watchdogs, even if your cowardly turtle of a Sect Master came in person today, he would have to kneel and call me grandfather. How would he dare ask me for even half a piece of toll money?"

"Audacious madman! You court death!!"

The Void Refinement elder suddenly opened his eyes wide, his eye sockets nearly splitting from anger, his entire body trembling with rage.

As a powerful elder of the Big Dipper Sword Sect, wherever he went, wasn't he worshipped like an ancestor by the major factions? When had he ever been pointed at and humiliated like this by a wet-behind-the-ears brat?

"Since you are so eager to reincarnate, I will grant your wish today!!"