Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

The blue mark between his eyebrows suddenly lit up, and an unprecedented power surged into his body!
"This is... Sword Soul Awakening?" Nangong Wan stared wide-eyed as she watched the faint sword energy emanating from Wang Xiaohu's body.

Wang Xiaohu felt countless sword techniques flash through his mind, including Fu Shaoping's swordsmanship from back then, the unique skills of the Starry Sky Sword Sect's past leaders, and even some ancient sword styles he had never seen before! His body began to move uncontrollably, and each move resonated with the divine sword in the Sword Tomb!
"Qiang!"

A clear, resonant sword cry echoed through the sky. A cyan sword of light had materialized in Wang Xiaohu's hand, its patterns identical to the Azure Frost Sword! He instinctively swung the sword, the air itself slicing with a piercing sound from the invisible sword energy!

Lin Qingyun and Nangong Wan exchanged a glance, both seeing shock and joy in each other's eyes.

"Shaoping's sword spirit," Nangong Wan murmured, "has finally found its true successor!"

Just then, a violent tremor suddenly came from the direction of the Sword Tomb. The three divine swords simultaneously let out a mournful cry, their sword energy soaring into the sky and weaving into a huge star map in the night sky!

"Not good!" Lin Qingyun's expression changed drastically. "It's the aura of the Demon Realm!"

Wang Xiaohu looked up and saw a huge crack appear in the sky, from which dark demonic energy surged forth. A figure clad in black robes stepped through the air—it was none other than the long-lost Demon Realm Sword Master!

"Hahaha!" the Demon Lord grinned maliciously, "I sensed the aura of the Sword Soul! This time, I must..."

Before he could finish speaking, Wang Xiaohu suddenly raised his hand. The cyan light sword flew into his hand automatically, and with a thought, the patterns on the sword shone with a dazzling light!
"Qing Shuang questions the sword!"

With Wang Xiaohu's sword technique, an invisible sword aura shot straight for the Demon Lord's throat! The Demon Lord hastily raised his blood-red scimitar to defend, but the sword aura easily pierced through the blade and went straight into his chest!
"This...this is impossible!" The Demon Lord stared in disbelief at the sword wound on his chest, his body exploding like a broken doll!
With the Demon Lord's demise, the demonic energy shrouding the Sword Tomb rapidly dissipated. The light of the three divine swords gradually softened, and the Sword Tomb returned to tranquility.

Wang Xiaohu sheathed his cyan lightsaber and discovered that his palms were now covered with fine sword patterns. Even more miraculously, he could clearly sense the presence of the three divine swords, as if they had become a part of his body.

"Senior Shaoping," he called softly, the blue mark between his brows shimmering slightly, "I will certainly inherit your swordsmanship spirit!"

Nangong Wan nodded with satisfaction: "From today onwards, you are the 122nd generation Sword Master of the Starry Sky Sword Sect." He turned to Lin Qingyun, "Qingyun, take Xiaohu to the Scripture Pavilion and choose a suitable sword technique."

Lin Qingyun bowed and said, "Yes, Senior Uncle Sect Leader."

As they left the Starry Sky Sword Sect's mountain gate, the morning mist flowed slowly along the winding stone steps. Wang Xiaohu glanced back at the mist-shrouded main peak, the blue mark between his brows glowing slightly, as if responding to the faint resonance emanating from the direction of the Sword Tomb. Lin Qingyun stood outside the mountain gate, handing him a bag embroidered with star patterns: "Inside are a change of clothes, medicine for your wounds, and the fragment of the 'Starry Sky Sword Manual' that your sect leader gave you. Don't be reckless in any situation; the Starry Sky Sword Sect will always be your support."

Wang Xiaohu took the baggage, his fingertips touching the raised stitches on the fabric. He suddenly remembered the image of Lin Qingyun explaining the sword manual to him in the scripture pavilion three days ago, the candlelight reflecting on her eyelashes. He nodded vigorously: "Don't worry, Senior Sister Lin, I will definitely return safely."

The bluestone path stretched out beneath his feet, soon merging into an official road frequented by merchants. Wang Xiaohu, dressed in plain cloth and carrying a simple bag, looked no different from any other traveling merchant. Only the long sword wrapped in cloth at his waist (actually a light sword formed from his sword energy) occasionally exuded a chilling aura as he moved.

On the third day of his journey, he stopped to rest in a place called "Qingshi Town." The town was small, with a main street running east to west. Under an old locust tree at the street corner, several storytellers sat around, enthusiastically recounting the tale of "The Awakening of the Star Sword Sect's Sword Master, Who Slayed the Demon Lord with a Single Sword." As soon as Wang Xiaohu sat down at the inn, he overheard two bodyguards at the next table whispering among themselves.

"Have you heard? Things have been rather unsettled in Blackwind Valley lately; several caravans have gone missing."

"That's right. I heard that a monster came out of the mountains and specifically targets people who carry iron tools."

"Bullshit! My cousin works there and said he saw a group of people wearing bronze masks whose weapons could suck people's life essence. They're probably remnants of a cult!"

Wang Xiaohu's fingers tightened slightly as he held the teacup. He had learned from Nangong Wan that although the Demon Lord had died, his remaining forces were still roaming the martial world. Most of these people practiced evil arts and had an almost fanatical obsession with divine weapons.

The next morning, Wang Xiaohu bid farewell to the innkeeper and deliberately took a detour to Black Wind Valley. The closer he got to the valley entrance, the stronger the stench of blood in the air became. The stream at the bottom of the valley had an eerie dark red hue, and several mutilated corpses lay scattered on the bank; judging from their clothing, they were guards of the caravan.

"rustle--"

A rustling sound came from the dense forest behind him. Wang Xiaohu turned around abruptly, and the longsword at his waist automatically drew half an inch from its sheath, a blue sword aura flowing along its blade. Three men in black wearing bronze masks emerged from behind the trees, their curved swords gleaming with a dark light, the blood grooves on their blades still dripping with a viscous liquid.

"People from the Star Sword Sect?" The leader of the men in black had a hoarse voice. "I didn't expect the Sword Master to deliver himself to our doorstep. Perfect, we can use your sword soul to pay tribute to my master!"

Before he finished speaking, the three men pounced in a triangular formation. Wang Xiaohu lightly touched the ground with his toes, his body drifting backward like a willow catkin for about ten feet. At the same time, his longsword was fully drawn, and the azure flame instantly surged three feet: "Are you the remnants of the Demon Lord?"

"You dare ask questions even when you're about to die!" The man in black swung his blade, the wind from which carried a bone-chilling cold. Wang Xiaohu, however, remained calm. With a slight twist of his wrist, his longsword drew an arc in front of him—it was Fu Shaoping's signature move, "Flowing Wind and Returning Snow." Three crisp "clangs" rang out, and the three curved swords were knocked from his hands by the sword's energy.

The man in black was terrified and was about to retreat when he saw the blue mark between Wang Xiaohu's brows suddenly light up. The sword technique "Starry Sky Scattered" from the seventh generation leader of the Starry Sky Sword Sect flashed through his mind, and his figure abruptly transformed into several afterimages, his longsword reflecting countless points of light in the sunlight. When the afterimages dissipated, the three men in black had already collapsed, clutching their throats, their masks falling to the ground, revealing three faces covered in black mist.

Wang Xiaohu bent down to examine the corpses and found a faint wolf's head mark on their backs. Just as he was about to get up, he suddenly heard a faint groan from not far away. Parting the waist-high grass, he saw a boy dressed as a constable curled up behind a rock, his left leg slashed with a deep, bone-revealing wound that was gushing blood.

"Who are you?" The boy looked at him warily, still clutching a bloodstained waist token tightly in his hand. "My name is Wang Xiaohu, just passing through." Wang Xiaohu took out some medicine. "Did you bring these men in black here?"

The boy gritted his teeth and nodded: "My name is Li Gou Dan, and I'm a constable from Qing Shi Town. Last month, my father was escorting government silver through Black Wind Valley when he was killed by these people... I followed them for half a month because I wanted to avenge my father."

Looking at the stubbornness in the boy's eyes, Wang Xiaohu suddenly remembered that when he first entered the Starry Sky Sword Sect, he also relied on brute force to become stronger. He squatted down and carefully bandaged the boy's wounds: "Revenge is fine, but you must first learn to protect yourself."

Watching his skillful movements, Li Gou Dan's eyes suddenly reddened: "Can you teach me swordsmanship? I don't want to be as useless as I am now."

Wang Xiaohu was silent for a moment, then took out a basic sword manual from his bag: "This is the introductory mental technique. Practice it first. Once you're healed, go back to town and find a martial arts school to start learning from scratch. True strength doesn't come from momentary bravado."

After sending Li Gou Dan back to Qing Shi Town, Wang Xiaohu continued eastward. Half a month later, he arrived at Wangjianglou, a ferry town on the Chu River. Here, the river was wide, merchant ships shuttled back and forth, and the docks were filled with boatmen carrying goods, boatmen shouting to attract customers, and many江湖客 (jianghu ke, wandering swordsmen) with knives at their waists.

As evening fell, Wang Xiaohu was having dinner at a riverside tavern when he suddenly heard people at the next table arguing.

"I said it was Liu Chengfeng, the 'Sword of Startling Swan,' who was the most powerful. Last month, he broke three strings with a single sword strike on Yueyang Tower. His movements were so fast that you couldn't even catch a shadow!"

"Hmph, what is Liu Chengfeng? If you're so capable, go and see Elder Gongsun of the Iron Sword Sect. It's said that he can use his fingers as a sword to injure people from a distance!"

“What you’re saying won’t work,” a lame old boatman leaned on his cane and came closer. “A true master won’t let anyone know he knows martial arts. Like that old carpenter who repaired boats at the ferry three years ago, he could split planks three zhang (about 10 meters) apart with a single chisel. Has anyone ever seen that?”

As the crowd laughed at the old boatman's boasting, a commotion suddenly arose on the shore. Several constables were seen surrounding a pleasure boat, the head constable holding chains, seemingly about to arrest the people on board. The beaded curtain of the pleasure boat was lifted by a slender hand, and a woman in a moon-white dress stepped out, holding a pipa in her arms, her eyes carrying a hint of aloofness.

"Miss Su, someone has accused you of using sorcery to bewitch respectable young men. Please come with us," the constable said with a grim expression.

The woman gently plucked the strings of her zither, her voice like jade striking against jade: "Officer Wang, the innocent are innocent. If I truly possessed sorcery, you would all be unable to move by now."

No sooner had he finished speaking than several men wielding short knives suddenly rushed out of the crowd and lunged at the woman. Wang Xiaohu reacted swiftly, grabbing chopsticks from the table and hurling them. The two bamboo chopsticks pierced the air like arrows, striking the wrists of the two men with pinpoint accuracy.

"How dare you commit murder in broad daylight!" Wang Xiaohu stood up, and the long sword at his waist emitted a soft clang.

Seeing this, the men pulled out tinderboxes and lit the powder they carried, instantly creating a cloud of green mist. The woman's expression changed slightly: "It's the 'Five Poisons Sect's' bewitching powder!"

Wang Xiaohu took a deep breath, and the blue mark between his brows lit up. The sword energy around him formed an invisible barrier, keeping the green mist three feet away. He touched the ground with his toes and shot into the mist like an arrow. With a few muffled thuds, when the green mist dissipated, the men's tendons had been severed by the sword energy, and they lay on the ground howling in pain.

The woman walked up to Wang Xiaohu and bowed gracefully: "Thank you for saving me, young master. I am Su Qingwan, a musician from the 'Yanyu Pavilion'."

Wang Xiaohu returned the greeting and said, "It was nothing, I am Wang Xiaohu."

Su Qingwan raised her head and looked at the mark between his eyebrows. Suddenly she let out a soft "Eh": "Young Master, this mark is quite similar to the legendary sword soul mark of the Star Sword Sect."

It turns out that Su Qingwan was no ordinary musician; her father was once an outer disciple of the Starry Sky Sword Sect, but later died due to a cultivation mishap. Her journey down the mountain this time was precisely to find someone who could unlock the secrets of the sword manual left behind by her father.

“I have half a page of the incomplete score here,” Su Qingwan said, taking a yellowed piece of paper out of her pipa case. “My father said that if we can find someone who has the other half of the incomplete score, we might be able to unlock the final move of the ‘Misty Rain Sword Technique’.”

Wang Xiaohu took the incomplete manual and noticed that the handwriting on it was exactly the same as Fu Shaoping's handwritten notes in the library. A thought struck him, and he took out the incomplete "Starry Sky Sword Manual" scroll that Nangong Wan had given him from his bag. The two pieces of paper fit together perfectly!
“This…” Su Qingwan’s eyes flashed with shock. “So the successor my father mentioned is the Sword Master of the Star Sword Sect.”

That evening, the two studied the sword manual in the inn. Wang Xiaohu discovered that the "Misty Rain Sword Technique" and the internal energy cultivation method of the Starry Sky Sword Sect could complement each other, and the final move, "Misty Rain Locks the River," required the help of water to unleash its maximum power.

“Tomorrow I will cross the river to visit an old friend,” Su Qingwan said, putting away the sword manual. “If you don’t mind, young master, you may come with me. The scenery on the river is beautiful, and it may help you comprehend the sword technique.”

Wang Xiaohu nodded in agreement. He knew his journey of training had only just begun, and the vast world held countless unknowns and untold stories waiting for him. The blue mark between his brows throbbed gently, as if anticipating the next resonance between sword and heart. The next morning, before the river mist had fully dissipated, Su Qingwan's pleasure boat had already untied its moorings. Wang Xiaohu stood at the bow, gazing at the verdant mountains on both banks, their colors blurred by the morning mist, resembling an ink painting. Su Qingwan sat by the cabin, holding her pipa, her fingers lightly plucking the strings. The music drifted on the river breeze, subtly harmonizing with the sword energy flowing within him.

“This ‘Misty Rain Locks the River’ emphasizes the sword intent as smooth as water, seemingly gentle but actually concealing its sharpness.” Su Qingwan stopped plucking the strings and looked at the shimmering waves on the river. “My father said that the senior Fu Shaoping once comprehended swordsmanship on this river. He saw that when merchant ships passed through the rapids, the oars entered the water silently, yet they could break through the huge waves. That’s how he created this sword technique.”

Upon hearing this, Wang Xiaohu bent down and scooped up a handful of river water. The coolness at his fingertips traveled along his meridians, and the blue mark between his brows felt slightly hot. In his mind, the phantom image of Fu Shaoping standing at the bow of the boat flashed by—the phantom image held the Azure Frost Sword, its tip pointing diagonally at the river surface, the blade reflecting the vast waves. The sword intent seemed scattered, yet it suddenly condensed at the bend in the water, like a hidden dragon probing the abyss.

"I see." He abruptly raised his hand, and the longsword at his waist automatically leaped into his palm. A blue flame, enveloped in water vapor, lashed out. A trail over ten feet long was carved into the river's surface by the sword's energy. The water droplets didn't splash; instead, they hung in the air like beads before "whoosh" falling back to the river's surface, creating concentric circles that perfectly encircled a fallen leaf drifting from afar. (End of Chapter)