Daqin Zhentiansi

"Those leaders, their auras are terrifying! Even from this distance, I feel like my soul is about to be torn apart!"

One of the disciples turned pale.

Zhang Yuan calmly focused his gaze on one of the most intense sword lights, which shone as brightly as a burning star.

The owner of the sword light seemed to sense something and suddenly paused in mid-air.

The sword light obscured his face, but a pair of eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the destruction and reshaping of ancient stars met Zhang Yuan's gaze across the distance!
In an instant, lightning crackled in the void!

A silent yet powerful sword intent clashed, clearing away the gray fog that surrounded them for miles!
A faint, cold snort emanated from the sword light, which then transformed into a long rainbow without hesitation, plunging deeper into the gray mist and disappearing from sight.

It was as if the eye contact just now was merely confirmation of a slightly interesting prey, and then he quickly lost interest.

Just as Zhao Zhou, the sword cultivator, disappeared into the gray mist, a heroic shout came from another direction: "Senior Brother Zhang! I, Yuwen Zhen, will never forget the camaraderie we shared in the Blood Sea! We will surely meet again in the depths of the ninth level of the Sword Tomb, and together we will slay the Demon Chief!"

On the flying boat of the Cloud Blazing Sword Sect, Yuwen Zhen clasped his hands and laughed heartily, his voice piercing through the clouds and splitting rocks.

"Lord Qingyang, the Sword Tomb is treacherous, with danger lurking at every turn. Beware of treacherous villains and hidden arrows," Lin Su'e's voice was clear and cold, as if it were directly in Zhang Yuan's ears, carrying the implication of the Tianyan Sect's insight into the secrets of heaven.

Zhang Yuan nodded slightly.

Listening to the greetings and discussions from all sides, some respectful and some wary, Ling Hao and the others looked up.

The Holy Son of Taixu Sword Pavilion had a cold and stern face, as if covered in frost.

The young master of the Myriad Tribulations Talisman Sect had a glint in his eyes, concealing his calculations.

Chu He's expression grew even more somber in the Li Chen Palace...

Many other unseen presences floated at the edge of the gray fog.

Examples include the Fiery Flying Boat of Heavenly Fire Valley, the Crystal Mystic Boat of Profound Ice Palace, and the Dragon Eagle Warship of Beast Taming Sect...

It truly felt like a gathering of immortals and heroes, a magnificent sense of a great era coming together.

"The first three levels." Zhang Yuan's deep voice resounded in the hearts of the disciples of the Great River Sword Sect, clear and distinct, instantly suppressing all the noise. "The sword soul is the main force, fierce but lacking intelligence, so the danger is limited. Each of you should find an opportunity to hone your sword and concentrate your will. If you encounter a life-or-death crisis, ignite this sword seal, and there will be someone to help you."

He flicked his finger, and dozens of tiny specks of light, each containing the core sword intent of the Great River Sword Sect, entered the brows of the core disciples present.

"Yes, sir!" Ling Hao and the others responded in unison, their eyes filled with eager excitement and absolute trust in Zhang Yuan.

Their figures instantly dispersed, like raindrops falling into a deep pool, riding the sword light towards the seemingly calm but actually deadly gray mist area outside the Sword Tomb.

Zhang Yuan stood alone at the bow of the boat, the tip of his Yuanyue Heavy Sword lightly touching the air, as if waiting for something.

A moment later, the gray mist surged again. It did not have the grandeur of the cloud boat, but rather a purer, more resilient, and powerful aura that had been tempered by the iron and blood of the battlefield. It silently and firmly penetrated through layers of space and gathered there!

"Shh! Shh! Shh!"

One after another, figures broke through the gray mist and appeared at the spatial node in front of Zhang Yuan.

The person in the lead was none other than Wu Daoling, the sect master of the Nine Yang Sword Sect!
The white-robed sect leader, who once exuded a refined and scholarly air beside the ruins of the East Sea, now wore a worn-out dark gold sword robe. His face remained weathered, but his eyes were as sharp as a golden roc soaring into the sky.

Behind him stood Elder Pei Lie, whose aura was as heavy as a mountain, and the sharp and shrewd elite Chu Zhaonan.

Behind them stood Chen Duange, the sect leader of the Cold Crow Sword Sect, dressed in a jet-black sword robe, his eyes sharp as a hawk's.

Further back stood three thousand disciples, their auras solid and their eyes resolute!

They all traveled here as sword cultivators, or disguised themselves as members of small sects or even independent cultivators.

There were no shouts, no noise.

Led by Wu Daoling, followed closely by Pei Lie, Chu Zhaonan, and Chen Duange, the group of several thousand people moved in perfect unison!

"Wow—"

Thousands of people suddenly knelt down on one knee!
The knee struck the void, producing a dull yet powerful resonance!

"Wu Daoling, Pei Lie, and Chu Zhaonan of the Nine Yang Sword Sect!"

"Chen Duange of the Cold Crow Sword Sect!"

"Greetings, Your Excellency!"

The deep, orderly, and solemn sounds converged into an invisible torrent, instantly drowning out the surrounding noise, as if the entire entrance to the Sword Tomb had fallen silent for a brief moment.

Zhang Yuan's gaze swept over familiar faces, faces that had become more composed and resolute after being tempered by blood and fire.

He held the Yuanyue Heavy Sword in his hand, leaning it against the void, his figure standing like a mountain, deep and imposing.

"Now that you've arrived," Zhang Yuan's voice, though not loud, carried an air of dominance and absolute confidence that resonated clearly in the depths of everyone's souls, "I, this Marquis, will lead you—"

The voice suddenly rose in pitch, like a resounding decree: "Slay through the Sword Tomb—!"

"boom--!!!"

"I am willing to follow you, Lord Marquis—and slaughter my way through the Sword Tomb!!!"

A thunderous battle cry resounded in response!

The long-suppressed fighting spirit, indomitable sword intent, and burning desire for revenge for their comrades erupted instantly from the three thousand disciples of the Nine Yang Sword Sect and the elites of the Cold Crow Sword Sect!
At the same time, the space behind Zhang Yuan rippled slightly, and a huge phantom of an emperor formed from chaotic energy and the surging sword intent of a great river flashed by!
His supremely powerful and unyielding True Domain expanded invisibly!

“BOOM Boom Boom Boom!!!”

The three thousand sword intents and battle intents that converged were controlled by Zhang Yuan's will, and instantly merged perfectly with the Emperor's Will that supported the Chaos True Essence within Zhang Yuan's body, as well as the "True Domain" power that covered the heavens and earth!
An indescribable phantom sword, hundreds of feet long and as wide as a mountain, was formed by the condensation of gray chaotic true essence, the brilliant burning battle intent, the Nine Yang Sword Qi, and the sharp edge of the cold crow. It suddenly condensed in the hand of the vast Emperor's Image phantom behind Zhang Yuan!

The sword has an ancient and simple design!

More powerful than the stars!
Its unparalleled sharpness, capable of severing countless ages, is merely a fleeting, condensed phantom—

"Clang! Clang! Buzz...!"

Throughout the entrance area of ​​the Sword Tomb, there are swords that have been silent for millions of years, deeply embedded in the earth, suspended in the gray mist, and even hidden in the storage rings of some prodigies.

Whether broken weapons or peerless divine blades, as if awakened by the voice of the King of Swords, they all spontaneously emitted a deafening cry, a violent tremor intertwined with excitement and fear!

All swords fell silent!

We all revere the One Sword!
Although the hundred-foot-tall sword shadow only appeared for a moment before dissipating into the invisible sword form, the intense resonance of sword intent in that instant had already declared a fact.

A colossal pillar, carrying a torrent that shatters boundaries, has entered this ancient battlefield that buries gods and demons!

……

The first level of the Sword Tomb.

Rusty Sword Wasteland.

On the desolate plains shrouded in blood mist, countless broken weapons and stark white bones lay scattered.

Zhou Yang, an elite disciple of the Qingyue Sword Sect, held his breath and held up a long sword that was stuck diagonally in the scorched mud with slightly trembling hands.

The sword is about three feet two inches long, entirely black, with faint dark red blood patterns flowing through it.

It feels cool and solid to the touch, with a dark purple gem embedded in the hilt, its sharpness undiminished even when covered in dust.

"What a sword!"

Zhou Yang's eyes erupted with barely suppressed elation: "This sword possesses a fierce yet concealed sharpness, seemingly the sword of some ancient battle formation cultivator. The name 'Mountain Breaker' resonates faintly... It must be a top-grade spiritual weapon!" "With this sword, my path to enlightenment is within reach!"

His fingers brushed across the cold spine of the sword, feeling a faint spiritual tremor, as if he could already see himself wielding this sword and dominating his peers.

Just as he was deeply moved and completely absorbed in the sword!

"laugh--!"

A dazzling silver sword light, faster than lightning, tore through the blood mist without warning, carrying a sharp whistling sound as it pierced the air, and went straight for his head!
His killing intent was chilling and unrestrained!

Zhou Yang was horrified. Under the life-or-death crisis, he unleashed an unprecedented potential and suddenly did a very embarrassing "lazy donkey roll" on the spot!
The sword light grazed his back and struck hard where he had just been standing.

The hard, black rock ground suddenly exploded, creating a ravine several feet deep, with debris flying everywhere!
"cough!"

Although he dodged the fatal blow, the sharp aftershocks of the sword energy still struck his left shoulder.

His clothes were torn, leaving a deep wound that exposed the bone.

Blood instantly stained half of his arm.

In the midst of the excruciating pain, his grip on the sword loosened involuntarily, and the newly acquired "Broken Mountain" sword clattered into the dust and rubble.

He suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with fear as he stared at the newcomer.

A young man wearing a dark blue brocade robe with cloud patterns and a jade pendant hanging from his waist stood not far away.

He held a longsword that shimmered with silver light, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips.

“‘Wind-Splitting Sword’ Li Zhuo!” Zhou Yang’s voice trembled slightly.

This is a genius disciple of the "Flowing Cloud Sect," a mid-level sect with a considerable reputation within a thousand miles, whose cultivation has reached the peak of the Cave Profound Realm.

His swordsmanship is known for its unpredictable speed and ruthless methods, and he especially enjoys stealing opportunities from others!

He had seen this person make a move from afar during a small-scale trial, and it left a deep impression on him.

Li Zhuo's gaze fell on the fallen "Broken Mountain" sword, a flash of greed crossing his eyes. He then turned to Zhou Yang, his mockery instantly transforming into undisguised killing intent: "Oh? Since you recognize me, then I can't let you live any longer."

"The treasure is mine now, and you... are just the right thing to use as a sacrifice to my newly sharpened 'Flowing Shadow' sword!"

Before he finished speaking, Li Zhuo moved, closing in again like a ghost!

The "Flowing Shadow" sword in his hand drew out a series of tricky silver lines, weaving a deadly sword net that enveloped the wounded and disheveled Zhou Yang.

"Clang! Clang!" Zhou Yang barely managed to draw his low-grade longsword to defend himself.

But his cultivation was already slightly inferior, and he lost the initiative and was injured. How could he be a match for him?
After a few sword strikes, the longsword in his hand was knocked out of his hand by the "Flowing Shadow" technique, and his tiger's mouth was split open, dripping with blood.

Li Zhuo grinned maliciously and thrust his sword straight at Zhou Yang's heart!
"My life is over!"

Zhou Yang's eyes were filled with despair.

At this critical moment——

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom..."

A series of deep, resonant footsteps, as powerful as drumbeats, resounded in unison from afar, suddenly echoing through the desolate and silent Rusty Sword Wasteland!
These footsteps were not from one or two people, but from the powerful vibrations resonating from the unique frequency of hundreds or thousands of people's footsteps overlapping and stomping on the ground!

The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an overwhelming, solemn, and unstoppable will to crush all chaos!

It's like a moving steel jungle is approaching!

Li Zhuo's expression suddenly changed as he was about to deliver the killing blow!

The chilling killing intent froze on his face, replaced by horror and disbelief!

He suddenly turned his head and looked in the direction from which the footsteps were coming.

The blood mist in that direction seemed to be forcibly pushed aside by an invisible force, revealing a passage!

I saw——

One after another, silent and unyielding figures moved forward in single file.

They were all dressed in uniform black or dark blue outfits, with cold and stern faces and sharp eyes like swords. Some carried long swords on their backs, while others had their hands on the hilts of their knives.

They moved in unison, their breaths mingled, and they remained silent.

Yet it exudes a fierce and intimidating aura, a testament to countless battles fought, and an iron-blooded discipline!

An immense and unparalleled pressure spread out like an abyss and a prison as they advanced, causing the sword tomb's malevolent energy in this area to stagnate!
What shocked Li Zhuoxin even more was the black-clad figure walking with his hands behind his back at the very front of the group!
Although he couldn't see the face clearly, the overwhelming and majestic aura, as solid and heavy as a giant pillar supporting the sky, made him feel suffocated even from a distance!
"It's...it's him! That fiend in the sea of ​​blood!"

The fear in Li Zhuo's heart instantly overwhelmed his greed, and his face turned ashen.

He knew all too well that, let alone Zhang Qingyang, who was rumored to have killed a half-step Saint Realm demon, even these thousands of sword cultivators whose auras were connected as one, like an army formation, could crush him as easily as crushing ants!
Without the slightest hesitation!

Li Zhuo didn't dare to look at the priceless "Broken Mountain" sword on the ground again, let alone make a move against Zhou Yang.

Like a startled rabbit, he abruptly sheathed his sword and retreated rapidly!

He even went so far as to forcefully spit out a small mouthful of blood essence to activate an escape technique, transforming into a blurry silver shadow whose speed increased dramatically.

Like a stray dog, it fled in the opposite direction of the footsteps without looking back, disappearing into the thick blood mist in the blink of an eye.

His suspicious nature was a drawback, but it also saved his life countless times.

"Huh...huh..."

Severely injured, Zhou Yang collapsed to the ground. The stark contrast between his near-death experience and his current condition caused him to gasp for breath, his body drenched in cold sweat.

He struggled to look at the silent, grim team that had given him new hope.

Watching the figures file away, Zhou Yang, his lips pale from blood loss and excitement, murmured, "Zhang Qingyang..."

His eyes were filled with shock, awe, and an indescribable longing.

The thunderous, synchronized footsteps and the terrifying sense of oppression he had just witnessed stirred up a storm of emotions within him.

He struggled to his feet, ignoring his injuries, and with a determined effort, staggered behind the massive group.

He dared not get too close, but could only follow from a distance, like a tiny speck of dust chasing the shadow cast by the towering mountain.

……

Zhang Yuan, leading Wu Daoling, Pei Lie, Chu Zhaonan, Chen Duange, and three thousand elite sword cultivators standing silently behind him, stopped in front of a majestic mountain.

This mountain is not made of earth and stone, but is entirely composed of countless ancient swords of different shapes, each exuding an aura of sharpness, silence, resentment, or sorrow!

The hilt is a peak, the blade is a rock, layer upon layer, piercing straight into the blood-red sky.

A powerful sword intent, mixed with ancient and fierce energy, rushed towards us, forming an invisible pressure.

Those with low cultivation levels feel a stinging pain in their souls when they get close, as if ten thousand swords are hanging overhead.

This is one of the core areas of the first level of the Sword Tomb—Mount Ten Thousand Swords! (End of Chapter)