Chapter Forty: Sword Like a Soaring Swan

From the very beginning of his cultivation, Shen Yu discovered that his dantian spiritual sea was vast; to break through to the Golden Core realm, he would require several times more spiritual energy than ordinary people. Over the past two years, he had devoted ever more time to cultivation, yet not a hint of a breakthrough had manifested.

It was only upon witnessing the winter snow atop Flying Peak that his state of mind underwent a subtle change, but he did not choose to break through then. For though spiritual liquid had already filled his dantian's spiritual lake, his mind was still a step from perfection. If a cultivator broke through each realm while their state of mind remained incomplete, flaws would accumulate, eventually forming irreparable cracks at higher stages—perhaps forever severing their path to the Great Dao.

Thus, for three months, Shen Yu had worked to harmonize his heart. Only just now did his mind attain flawless perfection, and he broke through at once.

Shen Yu spoke calmly, "You once accused me, a Daoist, of learning the sword arts of Sword Immortal City. In truth, your understanding of the martial path is shallow, and your knowledge of cultivators is little better."

Li Chan retorted defiantly, "How so?"

He cared little for Shen Yu's breakthrough; even reaching the Golden Core realm made no difference—a gulf between major realms was an insurmountable chasm.

"In the Daoist tradition, there are ten thousand arts. In ancient times, elders wielded the Dao with the sword, vanquishing all demons. Do you know? The sword arts of the sword cultivators originally come from the Daoist sects."

Li Chan snorted dismissively, "Whether you wield the sword as a spell cultivator or as a sword cultivator, it matters not to me. It's nothing more than a punch."

Shen Yu replied serenely, "I say this only to let you understand... there is always someone stronger."

Despite his scornful words, doubt gnawed at Li Chan's heart. The Daoist tradition was ancient, and some secret techniques yet unseen might indeed be formidable. But the youth before him had only just entered the Golden Core realm—his dantian's spiritual liquid had barely coalesced into a core. Even if his spiritual power was now purer than before, he might not wield those mighty secret arts.

"A fight will settle it," Li Chan smiled slyly. "Show me your full strength."

Shen Yu replied, "As you wish."

No sooner had the words left his lips than Shen Yu's figure vanished before Li Chan's eyes.

Li Chan's pupils contracted sharply—a powerful sense of danger surged from the depths of his soul, a sixth sense honed by years of skirting the edge of life and death.

He darted desperately to the side.

Crash.

The black stone table before him shattered into fragments.

Shen Yu appeared at Li Chan's former spot, sword raised and directed at him.

"What speed!" Li Chan broke out in a cold sweat, summoning all the spiritual energy around him. Bands of multicolored energy flowed about his body; he dared not be careless now.

Shen Yu remained tranquil, stepping forward. His form blurred into a phantom once more. The blood-red glow upon the wooden sword intensified, transforming it into a crimson dragon.

A flash of sword light.

Li Chan blocked with both fists, but was still hurled violently across the room, his muscular form crashing into the far wall.

"The peerless art of Azure Emperor City, Breaking the Firmament—you've learned a bit, but it's only the surface, nothing but an empty display," Shen Yu's form appeared before Li Chan again, unleashing another sword strike.

Li Chan's face twisted in fury; never had he suffered such humiliation in decades.

With a roar, his fists glowed an eerie red—he poured all his power into them, unleashing the full might of Azure Emperor City's Breaking the Firmament.

Boom!

His right fist collided with the sword tip once more.

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After a brief standoff, Li Chan's fist was deflected; the sword drove forward and sliced his chest, sending his tall figure flying.

The scene repeated itself.

Each of Shen Yu's sword strikes drew blood, landing at the apex of Li Chan's punches, then effortlessly striking him during a moment of instability between the flow of his strength—blasting him through wall after wall.

Ordinary sword attacks, yet the relentless sword momentum left Li Chan powerless. He could not recall how many walls he had crashed through.

Half an hour later, Li Chan was struck once more by the wooden sword, spitting blood and sinking to one knee.

"Impossible... it can't be..."

His eyes brimmed with confusion and pain as he muttered, "Your realm is lower than mine—why... why is this happening?"

"I told you your judgment and understanding of the martial path are lacking," Shen Yu replied calmly. "You have some talent, but your grasp of the Dao is like a novice. Still, none of that matters—you are simply too weak."

Shen Yu raised his wooden sword.

"Absolutely not!"

A voice cried out from afar.

Shen Yu ignored it, thrusting his sword downward.

Clang!

His wooden sword was knocked aside by some hard object, veering from its path.

Instantly, a figure appeared before Li Chan, stirring the air.

A monk—young, with bright eyes, clad in coarse robes and straw sandals.

Shen Yu glanced at the ground—a jet-black stone was embedded firmly. So, the object that struck his sword was just an ordinary stone, thrown from dozens of yards away.

Such mastery meant Shen Yu already knew this monk's origin.

The Western Regions, Lingyin Temple.

The monk asked, "Why do you seek to kill this man?"

His voice was calm and steady, without a hint of reproach.

Li Chan's gaze was venomous. "Master Huike, he is the newly accepted disciple of the Daoist Sect leader—Shen Yu. He slaughtered all twenty-six members of the Shen family in South River City. Seize him quickly!"

Huike's brows furrowed, and he stared at Shen Yu in surprise.

Shen Yu remained composed and suddenly asked, "Are you of the Huī generation in the Chan Sect?"

The monk pressed his palms together. "Indeed, I am Huike of the Chan Sect."

"So, you're the Buddha-child of this generation," Shen Yu said.

Ever since the Three-Story Academy published the Cloud Ascending Ranking, the younger generation of all major Sacred Grounds had become widely known in the cultivation world.

There was Li Yi, the martial fanatic of Azure Emperor City; He Pianpian of the Jade Pool Immortal Realm; and Wan Jianyi of Kunlun—all famed young cultivators of the Spirit Wasteland.

Among them, the contemporary walker of Lingyin Temple, Huike, was one of the most prominent.

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He ranked fourth on the Cloud Ascending Ranking.

The young monk was silent for a moment before asking, "Is what Li Chan said true?"

Shen Yu replied, "What if it is? What if it isn't?"

"If not, then nothing needs be done," Huike's expression grew solemn. "But if you truly committed such a heinous act, as Lingyin Temple's Buddha-child, I must abolish your cultivation and hand you to the Daoist Sect for judgment."

His tone was resolute, carrying a trace of the Vajra authority of the Buddhist tradition.

Shen Yu gazed at those steadfast, clear eyes, recalling something, a flash of admiration crossing his face.

After a moment, he composed himself. "Will you stand in my way?"

The young monk shook his head. "Of course."

"Then we'll have to fight," Shen Yu said.

Huike stared at Shen Yu in contemplation for a long while before replying, "You cannot defeat me."

His voice was calm, devoid of emotion, as if stating a simple truth.

Ranked fourth on the Cloud Ascending Ranking, his cultivation far surpassed his peers, and his pride was justified.

Shen Yu did not argue, merely said, "The others are too weak; only you are worthy. I wish to use you to hone my skills."

Such words bordered on insult; Shen Yu seemed to treat him as a sparring partner. Others might have erupted in anger, but the monk's expression remained tranquil. "I will accept one sword strike."

Shen Yu was not surprised. The walkers of Lingyin Temple had always possessed such temperament, unchanged even after three thousand years.

He exhaled gently and raised his sword.

Sword energy shimmered faintly atop the wooden blade, and a blood-red dragon coiled from the sword to his right wrist, alive as if it breathed.

Suddenly, the wind rose.

Snow piled in the courtyard swirled up with the breeze, while the falling flakes danced in midair, like startled swans.

Sword intent soared like a dragon.

Li Chan stared wide-eyed at the scene, all arrogance gone, hiding cautiously behind Huike.

Huike's expression was grave; he pressed his palms together, coarse robes fluttering in the wind.

He had promised to withstand Shen Yu's sword, and he meant it.

"Wield the sword, sever mortal dust!"

Shen Yu murmured with eyes closed, "The sword's name..."

The blood-red dragon erupted in a surge of energy, enveloping Shen Yu's entire right hand. He opened his eyes. "The sword's name is Soaring Swan!"

Countless snowflakes spun into a vortex, forming a colossal white sword that pierced forward.

Sword energy swept forth.

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