Chapter 39: Eight Desolations Return to Origin Sword Scroll
“Where did I put it?” The clay figure wasn’t in the Qiankun Bag—those little toys were given to Xiao He.
In his cave dwelling, he had set aside a small space specifically for Xiao He to store her toys.
There was nothing to be done; Xiao He was a yaoguai, and with shallow cultivation, she couldn’t open the Qiankun Bag yet.
It should be there.
Returning to the cave dwelling, Song Yan walked to a corner.
“Song Yan!! What are you doing?!”
Xiao He was greatly displeased with Song Yan rummaging through her toys.
“That clay figure I gave you the other day?”
“It’s here.”
“You’re taking it back?”
Xiao He grew furious, pressing her forehead against Song Yan’s head, her snake eyes glaring fiercely.
“No… it seems there’s something inside… I’ll take it out.”
“All right.”
Song Yan retrieved the clay figure and instinctively scanned it with his divine sense.
“Huh?”
He realized his divine sense couldn’t penetrate the clay figure.
“How strange…”
He fiddled with it for a long time before finally noticing the trick from a few small objects behind the figure.
“The hairpin on the clay figure can actually be removed.”
Such exquisite craftsmanship.
The sword slanted behind it, and the wine gourd at its waist could also be detached.
Song Yan gently opened and closed it, revealing a hidden seam at the back of the figure, and opened it.
Inside, there was indeed a small piece of book page. Song Yan took it out, only to discover the material of this page was extremely peculiar.
Though it appeared to be just a thin layer, when carefully unfolded, its size was actually no different from an ordinary calligraphy scroll!
Xiao He had now transformed into human form, angrily reassembling the clay figure.
Among her “collection,” this kind of small object where the tiny parts could be taken apart and put back together was the most unique of the rare ones!
Xiao He grew angrier the more she thought about it, so angry that she bit Song Yan’s thigh, then fled in a huff.
Song Yan ignored Xiao He’s antics and examined the scroll carefully.
“Again, ancient characters…”
The calligraphy on the scroll was vigorous and powerful, the entire text flowing like clouds and water with dramatic ups and downs. Just one glance at it conveyed an imposing, unrestrained spirit.
At the beginning of the writing, six characters were inscribed.
Eight Desolations Return to Origin Sword Scroll.
At the end of the scroll was a half-seal impression, perhaps worn by time, now so faded it was illegible.
Song Yan spread it out on the stone table and read through it carefully.
“Hmm? This doesn’t seem to be a calligraphy scroll either…”
On the back of the sword scroll was a short invitation in unique script.
Reading carefully, the content recorded on this sword scroll mainly concerned the following matter.
The sword ancestor of the Xie family was named Xie Tianji. This man possessed exceptional martial arts talent—at merely nineteen years old, his sword dao had already reached perfection.
After the age of twenty, his reputation soared, and he was already invincible throughout the martial world of Chu.
Even the central region’s martial world had come to know his name.
During one of the central region’s World Martial Grand Assemblies, he was sent a Sword Invitation, inviting him to attend.
Xie Tianji traveled from Chu to the central region, still undefeated, and claimed the title that represented the highest honor for all mortal martial artists: “Number One Under Heaven.”
Yet he did not return directly to Chu, instead beginning a long journey of wandering.
“So-called Number One Under Heaven is merely a fleeting name that binds one’s body.”
“The four seas and eight desolations are filled with heroes and hermits, numerous as the stars in the sky…”
He had once exchanged martial arts with ascetic monks in the vast snowy mountains…
He had fought life and death battles with otherworldly beings in distant oceans…
He had also discussed swordplay over heated wine with an old man in a straw raincoat amidst misty seas and forest mountains.
Along his journey, whether in friendly contests or life-and-death battles, he had never once been defeated.
Until he met a young man.
This young man looked even younger than he himself had been before he began his wandering.
He was finally defeated.
That young man was an “Immortal.”
He sat and discussed the Dao with the Immortal. The Immortal said: “At the end of the immortal path, sword edges rust.”
There were no true sword cultivators left in the world.
The Immortal admired his comprehension, but lamented his aptitude.
He spoke plainly: “If you are willing to kneel and bow, I can accept you as a nominal disciple, teach you immortal arts, and seek longevity.”
But could he cultivate the sword dao?
The sword dao had already perished. There was nowhere left to learn it.
Xie Tianji politely declined the Immortal’s guidance.
In his twilight years, he returned to Chu and discovered that the sword invitation from all those years ago, having endured over thirty years alongside him, showed not a single mark of wear. Thus, he recorded his journeys across the four seas and eight desolations on its back, in extremely concise and refined words.
To the Xie family descendants, he did not speak of his experiences beyond Chu.
He left only an admonition, teaching his bloodline descendants not to forget the sword dao.
If one had the aptitude to seek immortality and the Dao, one must still cultivate the sword.
“…”
Song Yan exhaled a long breath.
Refusing the chance of immortality?!
Those few brief words brought him a shock that was beyond compare.
Ask anyone in the world—who among mortals could avoid death?
No matter how peerless your talent, how dominant your power, in the end, you would become nothing but a handful of yellow earth.
Only the path to immortality held a sliver of hope for eternal life.
The mortal martial world fought over the ethereal “immortal path” and “opportunities,” causing mountains of corpses and seas of blood, storms of bloodshed.
Yet this very opportunity lay before him, and this man had actually refused it?
“…”
His mind stirred. He summoned the Two Polarities Pearl. At this moment, its appearance seemed somewhat different—it faintly glowed with a white light.
“A sword scroll written by a mortal… why would the Two Polarities Pearl react?”
“…”
Song Yan couldn’t understand.
For some reason…
He dismissed the thought of continuing to cultivate his spiritual energy realm. Silently, he took out the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone he had previously purchased from the Cultivation Heart Hall.
Stroke by stroke, he began to copy the scroll.
“…”
From the perspective of the Xie family descendants, Xie Tianji was somewhat stubborn.
But perhaps it was precisely this stubborn resolve that allowed him, as a mortal martial artist, to exchange moves with an Immortal and sit and discuss the Dao.
A mortal’s life, in this magnificent great world, was exceedingly insignificant.
Most people lived their entire lives without ever catching even a glimpse of this world’s true scale.
Xie Tianji had spent his whole life and finally peeled back a corner of the world.
But the world beyond was not as wonderful as he had imagined.
At the end of the immortal path, sword edges rust.
How utterly boring.
So…
When he wrote down the most brilliant parts of his life, what had his state of mind been?
“…”
Unwilling to accept defeat.
Song Yan saw only those two words in this sword scroll.
How could the sword dao decline?
How could the immortal path have an end?
What he wanted to see was a world where a hundred schools of thought contended on the path ahead, where the sword dao’s spirit was myriad and magnificent, where one could truly seek the great Dao in their heart without restraint.
Word by word, stroke by stroke, Song Yan didn’t know how many pages he copied.
He was as if possessed.
The ink on his brush had long since dried, and the rice paper was all used up.
Yet he continued to trace the characters in the air with his dry brush.
The sword dao seed beneath the Town-Dao Sword Manor hummed softly, and his heart pounded in response!
The ringing of swords in his ears grew louder and louder, until at one moment, it suddenly fell into dead silence…
Before his eyes, it was like a dream.
There was a young man, alone, battling multitudes, his sword suppressing the martial world, claiming the title of “Number One Under Heaven.”
A young man warming himself by a furnace in the cold mountains, exchanging martial skills with ascetic monks.
A young man crossing vast oceans, fighting life and death battles with otherworldly beings.
A middle-aged man wandering into misty seas and forest mountains, discussing swordplay over heated wine with an old man in a straw raincoat.
That person’s appearance grew older and older, the marks of time on his face deepened, yet the passion for the sword dao in his eyes remained undiminished.
It even… grew more intense!
Finally, he reached his twilight years.
Facing the Immortal, he refused to kneel and bow.
Everything the Immortal said failed to extinguish the passion in his eyes.
…
The cries in his ears grew louder and louder.
“May all sword cultivators under heaven have myriad manifestations…”
“May all sword cultivators under heaven be unconstrained in their true intent.”
“May all sword cultivators under heaven no longer need to kneel to seek the Dao!”
At that moment, beneath the Town-Dao Sword Manor, the brilliance could no longer be concealed!