Primordial Era: Starting with Self-Created Mythical Great Luo Law

His consciousness melted like water from ice, slowly seeping into the depths of his sword intent. He seemed to hear ten thousand swords ringing in his ears and thunder surging in his chest—it was the sword breathing, the killing intent whispering, and the purest sharpness in the world beckoning to him.

Suddenly, a blinding silver light burst forth from the book, illuminating the entire quiet room in an instant!

Chen Yu suddenly opened his eyes—a flying knife, its blade gleaming with a chilling light, hovered in mid-air, its edge radiating a terrifying, annihilating light.

"The Immortal-Slaying Flying Knife..." His throat tightened, and his heart pounded like a drum. Legend has it that once this move is unleashed, even a Great Luo Golden Immortal cannot escape its severance—severing the soul, severing life, severing karma, severing nothing!

He reached out and gently stroked the spine of the blade, the touch as sharp as ancient ice, and a powerful force so immense it made him tremble, surged from his fingertips straight into his mind.

In an instant, the fog dissipated, and the road ahead became bright. He finally grasped his sword heart.

From then on, Chen Yu devoted himself day and night to comprehending the essence of swordsmanship and honing his sword skills. His sword intent grew stronger every day, his cultivation level rose steadily, and his sharp edge drew attention from all directions.

One day, a secret message quietly reached his ears—Kunpeng had traveled far to the Northern Sea to search for a long-lost primordial treasure. His entire mind was focused on that treasure, and he had completely forgotten about Chen Yu.

Chen Yu's eyes flashed, and he made up his mind: He would seize this moment to unleash the Immortal-Slaying Flying Blade, drawing upon all his life's wisdom, for a single, decisive blow! He would not only avenge his old grudges but also take his first step onto the path to sainthood!

That night, the moonlight shone like a ribbon, and the stars hung low over the fields. Chen Yu, dressed in white as snow, stood atop a solitary peak, the throwing knife in his hand humming silently, as if resonating with the heavens. He held his breath, waiting for his prey to enter the trap.

In the distance, the void distorted slightly, and a colossal black shadow slowly emerged—the wings of a Kunpeng blotted out the sky, its oppressive aura overwhelming. Its eagle-like eyes scanned the surroundings, its expression wary, yet it ultimately failed to detect the approaching killing intent.

In the blink of an eye, a white streak tore through the night sky, so fast that it didn't even leave an afterimage, and pierced straight through Kunpeng's brow!

"cut!"

Chen Yu's words were like thunder, his voice resounding throughout the surrounding area.

Kunpeng's pupils contracted sharply. Before he could utter a word of shock and anger, the blade had already pierced through his body. His massive body disintegrated inch by inch, and even his primordial spirit couldn't escape before turning into specks of stardust and vanishing without a trace.

Chen Yu stood in the wind, his face as still as water, his back as sharp as a sword, his gaze unbearable.

His sword intent surged and soared into the sky—at this moment, he was no longer a cultivator who rose by taking advantage of the situation, but a true sword saint who proved his Dao with the sword and established his heart through killing.

He looked up at the vast distance, his gaze burning like a wildfire: the path to sainthood is not in the heavens, but right here beneath his feet, step by step, leaving a mark, treading on blood.

He slowly exhaled, concealing his sharpness, and turned back.

As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, he saw a middle-aged man in a green robe standing solemnly before him on the steps, bowing deeply to him: "Welcome back, Grandmaster Uncle."

Chen Yu recognized him as the page who had served the Tongtian Sect Leader for many years, and was also his nominal disciple. He quickly stepped forward, took the other's elbow, and returned the greeting with a cupped hand.

The boy grinned, his eyes full of admiration: "Chen Yu, you are truly amazing! It hasn't been long, and you have already reached the Taiyi Golden Immortal realm—even I, as your senior brother, have to look up to you."

"I am ashamed, my junior disciple," Chen Yu said, bowing his head.

"My senior brother is currently in seclusion, studying profound mysteries. He specifically ordered me to arrange a place for you to stay," the boy said with a smile, leading Chen Yu toward the cave.

Chen Yu followed slowly, his gaze sweeping over the boy's back. His heart suddenly skipped a beat—the boy's back was so light it was almost jubilant, his clothes fluttering slightly, his steps light as the wind, as if he had just picked a basket full of spring peaches with joy.

But this strange phenomenon was only fleeting, like a ripple on water, and vanished in an instant.

The boy escorted him to the entrance of the cave, bowed in farewell, and turned to leave.

Chen Yu sat cross-legged on the bed, took out the "Sword Manual of Immortal Slaying," and stroked the yellowed pages with his fingertips, scrutinizing each word.

"So that's how it is... This technique can actually temper one's divine sense, enlighten one's laws, and nourish one's foundation of cultivation. It is truly a supreme method of enlightenment. Unfortunately, I am unfamiliar with the laws and martial arts are not my forte. To cultivate this technique alone is like casting pearls before swine." He gently closed the scroll and sighed.

"But..." His gaze darkened slightly, "This 'Immortal Slaughtering Sword Manual' was forged by the Tongtian Sect Master over millions of years, its power already surpassing that of immortals. If its essence and marrow were grafted into the chilling meridians of the 'Nine Yin Manual' and the fierce energy of the 'Great Shift of Heaven and Earth'—wouldn't that give birth to an unprecedentedly powerful technique?"

His expression changed several times, his brows furrowing and then relaxing, before he finally gritted his teeth, nodded, and decided to give it a try.

The thought had barely formed when the attack began. Once the "Immortal Slaughtering Sword Technique" was activated, a dazzling golden light suddenly burst forth from his body, and a sharp sword intent, like a thousand blades roaring in unison, surged and swept through his limbs and bones; a slit of light suddenly split open between his brows, and auspicious clouds of five colors burst forth, like clouds and curtains, firmly enveloping the two ancient scriptures.

"boom--!"

The two secret manuals trembled violently, each unleashing a bone-chilling cold wave and a blazing inferno, colliding fiercely in the sea of ​​consciousness!

Yin and Yang clashed like ice and fire, like dragons and tigers fighting for a mountain, stirring up a monstrous wave of consciousness. Chen Yu's nascent soul shook violently, on the verge of collapse, almost detaching from his body and dissipating.

Fortunately, there was prior planning—the Nascent Soul sat upright in the Dantian, as steady as a rock, and streams of pure true essence flowed in, like sweet rain moistening dryness and iron chains binding dragons, forcefully suppressing the two violent energies and causing them to slowly lie dormant.

"Hmph, still dare to struggle?" He sneered, activating the "All Streams Return to the Source" technique from the "Immortal Slaughtering Sword Manual," drawing the true essence of the two techniques together slowly.

A clear and melodious sound suddenly resounded within his body, like the first cry of a phoenix or the first tolling of an ancient bell.

"Sizzle—sizzle—sizzle—"

Black energy surged forth, thick as ink, wrapped with a sweet and pungent blood-like substance, seeping out in strands from the seven orifices and pores.

His eyes were tightly closed, veins bulged on his forehead, and his muscles were taut like an iron bow. Yet, the glow between his brows grew ever more intense, as if the surrounding air itself was being scalded and slightly distorted.

A chilling aura quietly permeated the entire cave, instantly freezing the stone walls and casting a pale blue glow on the candlelight. He swayed slightly, his teeth clenched, as if an invisible giant hand was gripping his soul and grinding it inch by inch.

Suddenly—a piercing scream tore through the silence, not from the throat, but from the darkest part of the soul, filled with heart-wrenching pain and the desolation of impending death.

Deep within the black mist, an eye slowly opened, pitch black and bottomless, with only a pale white dot in the center, gleaming with a chilling light.

The light between his brows suddenly intensified, burning fiercely, his muscles bulged as if about to burst, and blood gushed from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes.

But his eyes remained closed, and his expression was as unwavering as an ancient pine tree rooted in a rock crevice.

In that instant, he seemed to fall into an endless cycle of suffering, each breath like swallowing knives and drinking fire, yet his spine remained unbent, his will as strong as steel, and he withstood the crushing force of the entire chaos.

The black mist gradually dissipated, and his body returned to stillness. He slowly opened his eyes, his pupils shimmering with a faint light, as if a river of stars were flowing within them.

The moment he stood up, his true energy surged within him like a river flowing into the sea, vast and boundless, as if he could overturn mountains with a wave of his hand and disrupt the stars with a flick of his sleeve.

He took a deep breath, his new energy surging and roaring in his veins, his heart as clear as a lake.