Breaking the Rules

The battle between Ye Xuan and the phantom had already exceeded a hundred moves.

According to the rules, he was already qualified to obtain a divine ability left behind by the Sword Emperor. But he had no intention of stopping, and neither did the phantom.

Two identical faces crossed paths, collided, separated, and crossed again above the surface of the lake.

Every collision caused a chaotic explosion of sword qi, evaporating the lake water within a hundred-zhang radius and revealing the black rocks at the bottom of the lake, which were carved with ancient runes.

Ye Xuan's white clothes had been torn to shreds by the sword qi, revealing his sturdy physique underneath.

He had seven new wounds on his body, the deepest one on his left ribs, where the bone was almost visible. But his breathing remained steady, his footsteps remained firm, and the light in his eyes remained clear.

He was adapting.

During these hundred moves, he had been constantly adapting to the rhythm of this "self."

In his previous life, Ye Wushuang was a pure sword cultivator; he lived for the sword and died for the sword.

But precisely because he was too pure, he had flaws.

Purity meant singularity.

Singularity meant he could be seen through.

The corners of Ye Xuan's mouth curled up slightly.

The hundred and first move.

The phantom's sword thrust forward, still the simplest and most direct thrust. The tip of the sword locked onto Ye Xuan's throat, its speed so fast that the air didn't even have time to tremble.

Ye Xuan had already suffered this move twice.

The first time, he met it head-on with the Heaven Severing Divine Sword, tearing the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

The second time, he used the Kunpeng Footwork to dodge, but the phantom anticipated his trajectory, and the tip of the sword grazed his shoulder.

The third time...

Ye Xuan neither blocked nor dodged.

He sheathed his sword.

The sound of the Heaven Severing Divine Sword returning to its sheath was extremely soft, like a sigh.

Then he reached out his right hand.

Bringing two fingers together, he gently caught the incoming sword blade.

"Clang."

The sound of clashing metal rang out.

Ye Xuan's two fingers steadily clamped down on the phantom's sword tip.

Blood seeped from between his fingers, slowly sliding down the blade. But the sword stopped.

For the first time, the phantom's movements stagnated.

Those almost human-like eyes looked at Ye Xuan's fingers holding the sword, and an extremely subtle fluctuation flashed through its starry eyes.

"Your sword, I am more familiar with it than anyone else."

Ye Xuan spoke, his voice very soft, as if speaking to an old friend.

"Because those moves, that sword intent, those things you thought were flawless..."

He released his two fingers, and blood splattered.

"I created them all."

The Heaven Severing Divine Sword was drawn once again.

But this time, the light on the sword was no longer pure gold, but gold mixed with a very faint dark red.

The sword of his past life was drawn for the world.

The sword of his present life was drawn for those around him.

The former was selfless, and therefore pure.

The latter had feelings, and therefore was fearless.

Just one sword strike.

An ordinary sword strike.

But in this sword strike, there was something that the Sword Emperor of his past life did not possess.

The moment the sword qi slashed out, the phantom's body stiffened for a moment.

It saw the images contained within this sword qi—they were all of Ye Xuan's memory fragments from his present life.

The first ray of sunlight when he woke up in the swamp.

The first bowl of porridge Ying'er handed him.

His determination to protect Ying'er when they were being hunted down.

The exhilaration of slashing through a desperate situation with one sword.

And at this moment, standing here, facing his past self, the strange sense of peace and relief in his heart.

These things were something the Ye Wushuang of his past life would never possess.

Because he was too strong back then, so strong that he had no one around him who needed protecting, so strong that he didn't know what it felt like to be "afraid of losing."

So his sword was invincible.

But also lonely.

"Slash!"

A section of the phantom's left arm was sliced off.

Starlight and quicksilver splattered from the severed stump, turning into countless specks of light in the air.

The phantom looked down at its missing arm, and a clear emotion finally appeared in its starry eyes...

It wasn't anger.

It was gratification.

This discovery made Ye Xuan's heart clench violently.

The phantom attacked again, but this time, Ye Xuan was no longer at a disadvantage.

The two went back and forth over the lake, their sword shadows weaving together. Every sword strike Ye Xuan made was an improvement, every move smoother than the last.

Two hundred moves.

Three hundred moves.

The wounds on Ye Xuan's body increased, but the cracks on the phantom's body also grew denser.

Right at this moment, the battle on the other side had come to an end.

Pei Yuzhi's "Seventh Stance of Forgetting Emotions: Heartless" had finally exhausted all her spiritual energy.

She knelt on one knee on the frozen lake, supporting herself with her soft sword, panting heavily. Her clothes were disheveled, her face as pale as paper, and a trail of blood hung from the corner of her mouth.

But there was no unwillingness in her eyes.

Because she saw a shallow sword mark appear on the phantom's back.

One hundred and seventy-three moves. She had left a sword mark on the phantom.

Although it was only one sword strike, for her, it was enough. This sword strike proved that her Supreme Path of Forgetting Emotions was not the wrong path, and it also proved that she had the right to stand here.

The phantom stopped in front of her and stared at her for three breaths.

Then it stepped aside.

This meant she had passed.

Pei Yuzhi closed her eyes, and an imperceptible smile appeared on her lips.

Tantai Jue's ending was even more tragic.

At the two hundred and tenth move, he finally collapsed. Not because he was defeated, but because his body couldn't hold on any longer.

The price of "Using the Body as a Sword" was burning one's life force. His muscles had already begun to turn into fibers, and his bones let out the sound of fine cracking.

He lay flat on his back on the lake, not a single inch of his skin intact, blood mixing with the lake water and spreading out beneath him.

But he was smiling.

Smiling brilliantly.

"Two hundred and ten moves... Haha... Sixty more moves than I expected... It was worth it..."

The phantom glanced at him, sheathed its sword, and turned away.

This also meant he had passed.

Mo Qixing was the last to finish his battle.

The clash between him and the phantom had always been quiet and restrained, without any earth-shattering momentum, yet every move was thrilling.

At the two hundred and forty-first move, his "Mind's Eye" finally broke through a certain bottleneck. He "saw" the seven possible directions of the phantom's next move and chose the only one he could counterattack against.

His ebony sword left an inch-deep crack on the phantom's chest.

The phantom stopped and took three steps back.

Mo Qixing sheathed his sword and bowed slightly, as if saluting a senior.

"I have learned much."

The three battles had ended.

Pei Yuzhi, Tantai Jue, and Mo Qixing each found a spot on the lake and sat cross-legged to heal their wounds.

They had lasted over a hundred moves and even left scars on the phantom.

According to the rules, they could each obtain at least one divine ability left behind by the Sword Emperor.

But no one moved.

Because everyone's gaze was drawn to the battle on Ye Xuan's side.

The intensity of this battle had far exceeded their understanding.

Just then, a discordant voice broke the brief silence.

Lei Wanjun woke up.

His injuries weren't fatal; this was the rule of the Sword Tomb trial. But his Purple Lightning Bead was shattered, his spiritual energy was almost depleted, and there wasn't a single spot on his body that didn't ache.

He struggled to sit up from the pool of blood, his hair disheveled, his purple robe reduced to strips of cloth, looking as wretched as could be.

He lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Not because of the pain.

But because of hatred.

He was the Young Master of the Thunder Pavilion, raised as a genius since childhood, having whatever he wanted, and had never suffered such humiliation.

Within this sword tomb, he had suffered defeat after defeat, forced to retreat again and again.

His murky gaze drifted across the battlefield, sweeping past Pei Yuzhi who was healing her wounds, past Tantai Jue who lay giggling foolishly in a pool of blood, past Mo Qixing who was meditating to adjust his breath...

Finally, it came to rest on that thin, small figure in the corner.

Ying'er.

This little Foundation Establishment realm girl who was absolutely nothing.

She was curled up behind a reef without a single scratch, her body still enveloped in a soft, pale golden halo—the lingering trace left behind after the Sword Emperor's phantom had merged into her body.

Lei Wanjun's eyes turned red.

A twisted sense of greed and malice slithered out from the bottom of his heart like a venomous snake, instantly swallowing the last shred of his rationality.

Why?

Why was it that he had fought tooth and nail, sacrificed his ancestral treasure, and nearly lost half his life, only to end up with nothing?

Why did this lowly servant girl, who merely squatted there and cried, receive the Sword Emperor's favor and inheritance?

The Heavenly Dao was unfair!

He refused to accept this!

"That little bitch must be hiding some secret..." Lei Wanjun muttered under his breath, his gaze growing increasingly sinister. "As long as I capture her... as long as I seize whatever is on her... I can obtain the Sword Emperor's inheritance... I can make up for everything..."

His eyes swept the surroundings.

Pei Yuzhi was healing and could barely fend for herself.

Tantai Jue was lying on the ground, unable to move.

Mo Qixing had his eyes closed in meditation, seemingly indifferent to the outside world.

And Ye Xuan was firmly pinned down by that strongest phantom, completely unable to pull himself away.

This was his only chance.

Malice birthed audacity.

Clenching his jaw, Lei Wanjun bit down on and shattered the final Exploding Spirit Pill hidden in his back molars.

It was a forbidden drug that burned one's lifespan in exchange for briefly restoring combat power. The side effects were immense, but at this moment, he could no longer care about such things.

A violent surge of spiritual energy erupted from his dantian, scouring his shattered meridians. His body trembled violently as dense purple lightning patterns surfaced on his skin, his eyes becoming bloodshot and crimson.

He suddenly lunged upward.

His entire being transformed into a streak of purple lightning, moving thirty percent faster than he did at his peak. The pill's effects made him temporarily forget his pain as he pounced toward Ying'er with a savage expression.

"Little bitch! Hand over the fortune!"

His voice was hoarse and grating from madness. His right hand formed a claw, and purple lightning gathered at his fingertips into a blazing orb of light.

He never intended to capture her alive. He planned to critically injure this little girl first, then strip the inheritance from her.

As for Ye Xuan's revenge?

He no longer cared.

Sensing the terrifying aura approaching from behind, Ying'er abruptly turned her head.

She saw a face twisted beyond human recognition magnifying at an extreme speed. The purple lightning reflected in her pupils, illuminating the terror on her face.

"Ah! Master!"

She screamed in horror, her voice sharp yet fragile, echoing across the vast mirror lake.

She wanted to run, but her legs felt as if they were nailed to the lake's surface; fear had completely frozen her body.

Ye Xuan, who was engaged in a fierce battle with the phantom, suddenly caught this scream in his ears.

His heart felt as though it had been forcefully squeezed.

His pupils shrank violently, his eyes widening to the point of tearing, and the veins on his neck bulged.

He whipped his head around and saw Lei Wanjun's streak of purple lightning rapidly closing in on Ying'er.

"Lei Wanjun! Don't you dare!"

He roared, his voice carrying a terrifying killing intent.

The Sun-Slaying Divine Sword flared with golden light tenfold as he tried to pull back and rush to her aid...

But the phantom did not give him the chance.

The instant he turned, the phantom's sword had already sealed off all his avenues of retreat.

Three streaks of sword qi pierced toward him from three different angles simultaneously, each one enough to heavily injure him. The phantom's attacks were cold and precise, like an emotionless killing machine that would not alter its rhythm for any external force.

Ye Xuan was firmly pinned in place.

His gaze shot past the phantom's shoulder, seeing Lei Wanjun's lightning claw merely three feet away from Ying'er's throat.

Two feet.

One foot.

A flash of despair crossed Ye Xuan's eyes.

He was too late.

Right at the moment Lei Wanjun's lightning-wreathed sharp claws were about to touch Ying'er's throat...

Oom!

An indescribably terrifying fluctuation abruptly descended from the depths of the void.

Whether it was Pei Yuzhi who was healing, Tantai Jue lying on the ground, or Mo Qixing adjusting his breath with closed eyes—all of them felt it at the exact same moment.

It was a shudder originating from the very depths of the soul.

The Sword Emperor phantom that had been exchanging blows with Ye Xuan suddenly halted its movements.

Its body froze in the posture of executing a sword thrust, pausing for a single breath.

Then, the void distorted.

The phantom's body shattered into billions of specks of starlight on the spot, and in that same split second, it recondensed into form three feet in front of Ying'er.

There was no process of movement.

There was no trace of traversing through space.

It simply vanished from there and appeared here.

It stood with its back to Ying'er, facing the rapidly pouncing Lei Wanjun.

Lei Wanjun saw that face.

His lightning claw stiffened in midair. All his madness, greed, and malice turned into icy terror the instant he met those eyes.

Those originally indifferent starry eyes now erupted with a killing intent that could freeze heaven and earth.

It was not ordinary killing intent.

It was the supreme fury of having one's reverse scale touched.

The entire mirror lake space trembled under this killing intent. The lake water boiled violently beneath the phantom's feet, steaming into massive clouds of white mist.

The resplendent stars in the firmament dimmed one after another; even the starlight shivered before this killing intent.

"No... impossible..."

Every hair on Lei Wanjun's body stood on end, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

He wanted to run, but his legs no longer obeyed his commands.

The Emperor's might pressed down on his shoulders like a mountain, stripping him of the strength to move even a single finger.

The phantom's lips parted slightly.

A single syllable escaped from that face which shouldn't have been able to produce sound. It was blurry and hoarse, like the final echo forcibly squeezed out of ten thousand years of dead silence.

"Die."

Just one word.

But when this single word fell into Lei Wanjun's ears, he felt as if his very soul was being ripped apart.

The Sword Emperor phantom did not draw its sword.

It used no martial techniques.

It simply raised its right hand, spread its five fingers, and gently waved forward.

As if swatting away a moth that didn't know the meaning of death.

A torrent of incredibly overbearing sword qi poured out from the phantom's palm.

It wasn't just sword qi.

It was a silvery-white river condensed from pure sword intent, ten zhang wide. Wherever it passed, dense spiderweb cracks appeared in space, like a mirror struck by a heavy hammer.

The torrent of sword qi swallowed Lei Wanjun in an instant.

"No!"

Lei Wanjun let out a scream of absolute despair.

The defensive artifacts on his body were reduced to fine dust the instant they touched the sword qi.

Next was his protective spiritual energy; the purple lightning barrier was torn open as if made of paper, failing to hold out for even a single breath.

Then went his flesh and blood.

Skin, muscle, fascia, and bone were peeled away layer by layer in the torrent of sword qi, turning into flying ash.

From the moment Lei Wanjun screamed to his complete disappearance, barely two breaths of time had passed.

Under the utterly horrified gazes of everyone present, Lei Wanjun's entire being was directly vaporized.

Not a single trace was left behind.

The entire area fell dead silent.

Everyone froze in their tracks.

Pei Yuzhi covered her mouth. In those icy eyes that had remained unchanged for ten thousand years, genuine fear appeared for the very first time.

It was not the fear of death, but the fear of the unknown.

What exactly was this shadow? Wasn't it supposed to be a lifeless entity devoid of consciousness?

Tantai Jue's smile had long since vanished. He propped himself up to sit, his amber slit-pupils filled with absolute shock.

One must know that the rules of the Sword Tomb had always dictated stopping before a fatal blow; once severely injured, a person would be immediately teleported out.

Yet this shadow, just to protect this young girl, had actually shattered the rules and directly obliterated the young pavilion master of a top-tier faction?