Nine Desolate Records

excruciating pain.

It felt as if his entire body had been torn apart from the inside and then forcibly stitched back together. When Lu Li opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a cloud of silvery-white dust.

No, it's not light dust.

It's sword powder.

He was lying on the edge of the Shushan Sword Lock Heaven and Earth Array—or rather, in the ruins of the first layer of restrictions within the array after it had shattered. Within a radius of a hundred feet around him, the ground was riddled with countless furrows of varying depths, each furrow edge still bearing traces of sharp sword energy, emitting a faint hissing sound in the air.

The sky was dark red.

It was neither sunset nor sunrise, but a strange phenomenon caused by the friction between sword energy and the spiritual energy of heaven and earth when the grand formation was operating at its peak. Under the dark red sky, tens of thousands of silver sword shadows darted about like swimming fish, each sword shadow leaving a long trail of light, forming a huge and intricate three-dimensional sword formation covering the entire Shu Mountain.

Lu Li tried to get up.

There is no sensation on the left side of my body.

He looked down and saw seventeen tiny silver sword energies densely embedded from his shoulder to his waist. These sword energies were not physical entities, but pure condensed sword intent, each one deeply embedded in his flesh, attempting to shred his meridians, bone marrow, and ultimately his soul.

The Prisoner's Origin is resisting madly.

Dark blue mist surged from the wound, clashing fiercely with the silver sword energy. Each clash brought excruciating, tearing pain, but also slowed the drilling speed of the sword energy slightly.

The price was that the dark circles under his left eye became even more pronounced.

Lu Li closed his right eye, using only his left to see. The world transformed in his eyes: instead of mountains, rocks, and vegetation, it became countless flowing, silvery-white "lines." These lines crisscrossed, forming intricate and dazzling patterns—the trajectory of a sword formation.

Each line contains enough power to annihilate a Dharma Aspect Realm cultivator.

He was lying in the gaps between these lines, a temporarily safe "hole" less than three feet square.

But the void is shrinking.

The grand formation is self-repairing. The surrounding silver sword shadows begin to converge here, like a pack of wolves hunting wounded prey. In thirty breaths at most, this safe zone will disappear.

Lu Li gritted his teeth and used his still-movable right hand to prop himself up.

With each movement, the seventeen sword energies embedded in his body churned. He felt as if his internal organs had shifted, and a strong, metallic taste of blood welled up in his throat—the smell of ruptured and bleeding internal organs.

He looked ahead.

A hundred feet away is the true gate of Mount Shu.

Or rather, it is the site of the mountain gate.

Two towering sword peaks, each a thousand feet high, stood facing each other, their summits cleanly severed by some immense force, the cuts smooth as mirrors. Between the two peaks, where the mountain gate should have been, lay only a bottomless abyss. Above the abyss, countless swords floated—not sword energy, but real, ancient swords of various shapes and sizes, perhaps numbering in the tens of thousands.

The ancient swords were all rusty, some were broken in half, and some had cracks all over their blades. But each sword exuded a chilling sword intent, resonating with each other to form a massive, almost tangible pressure.

That is the Sword Tomb.

The sealed location of "Battle Spirit," one of the nine concepts of Prisoner Nine.

It is also the location of the Turtle-Suppressing Dagger.

Lu Li's gaze passed over the sword tomb and looked deeper into the tomb.

Behind the two sword-shaped peaks, amidst the clouds and mist, a solitary stone pavilion perched atop a precipice could be vaguely seen. Inside the pavilion sat a blurry figure, back to them, white hair trailing to the ground, motionless.

Xuanji.

For three thousand years, they have guarded the tomb, waiting for the reincarnation of a sealer who may never return.

Lu Li wanted to speak, to explain his purpose, and to ask if he could borrow his natal talisman.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The blood was mixed with tiny fragments of internal organs, and a few wisps of bluish-black mist.

Just then, a deafening roar came from behind.

"Lu Li—!!!"

Zhou Duanyue.

Lu Li turned his head with difficulty.

At the edge of the great formation, the dark golden figure fought his way out from the encirclement of the silver-white sword rain. Zhou Duan Yue looked extremely disheveled: his dark golden armor was completely shattered, revealing his battered body. His right arm was severed at the shoulder, and golden blood gushed from the cut. His left leg was missing below the knee, but he used the remaining sword energy to condense a prosthetic limb to support himself.

Of the twelve members of the Heavenly Punishment team, only three remained behind him, and all of them were injured.

But the murderous intent in their eyes was even stronger than before.

Zhou Duanyue's golden pupils were fixed on Lu Li, his voice distorted with extreme anger:

"You actually dared... to use a grand formation to scheme against me..."

He raised his only remaining left hand, and a dark golden sphere of light condensed in his palm. Violent arcs of electricity crackled across the surface of the sphere, and with each crack, tiny cracks appeared in the surrounding space.

"I want you... to be utterly destroyed!"

The ball of light slipped from my hand.

It's not flying towards the land, but towards the sky.

When it reached a height of 100 zhang, the sphere of light exploded.

It wasn't an explosion, but a spread—the dark golden light rippled outwards like water, causing a brief pause in the silver sword formation's movement wherever it passed. The previously fluid sword shadows began to become chaotic and slow, with several even colliding and shattering into fragments.

"Heavenly Punishment Forbidden Technique - Severing Law Golden Domain." Zhou Duan Yue gasped for breath, a trickle of golden blood spilling from the corner of his mouth with each word. "At the cost of my three hundred years of cultivation... I will seal the operation of all formations for ten breaths..."

He stared at Lu Li, grinning to reveal his bloodstained teeth:

"Ten breaths... that's enough to kill you."

Before he finished speaking, his figure had already appeared in front of Lu Li.

The left hand forms a claw, reaching straight for the heart.

This claw strike was twice as fast as before. Lu Li couldn't even see the movement; he only felt a chill on his chest, followed by excruciating pain—

Zhou Duanyue's five fingers had already pierced through the flesh and grasped the sternum.

"It's over." Zhou Duanyue grinned maliciously, tightening his grip with his five fingers.

But the next moment, his smile froze.

Because Lu Li's chest has no bones.

Or rather, the area around the sternum is now a constantly wriggling, bluish-black mass that looks like it's alive.

The outward manifestation of the prisoner's origin.

Zhou Duanyue's five fingers sank deep into that primordial energy, but instead of crushing the heart, they were instead entangled and devoured by the primordial energy. The bluish-black mist spread upwards along his fingers, and wherever it passed, the golden skin quickly lost its luster, turning gray and dry.

"This is...?!" Zhou Duanyue's pupils shrank suddenly, and he tried to pull his hand away.

But I can't pull it out.

The primordial energy seemed to have a life of its own, gripping him tightly and beginning to erode upwards along his arm.

Lu Li watched all of this with no expression on his face.

He simply extended his right hand and grasped Zhou Duanyue's wrist.

Then, with all his might, he pulled hard.

"Sizzle—!"

The sound of flesh tearing apart.

Zhou Duanyue's entire left arm was torn off at the root.

The severed arm was still embedded in Lu Li's chest, but the blood gushing from the wound was no longer golden; instead, it was a viscous, bluish-black liquid. The liquid dripped onto the ground, immediately corroding deep pits.

Zhou Duanyue retreated ten feet, blood gushing from his severed arm. For the first time, horror appeared on his face—not fear of death, but an instinctive dread of the unknown and beyond comprehension.

"What... exactly are you?"

Lu Li did not answer.

He looked down at the severed arm on his chest, watching it rapidly wither and carbonize under the erosion of the source, finally turning into a handful of ashes.

Then he looked up, and the dark circles under his left eye almost overflowed their sockets.

"I am... Xun Wenruo's most failed 'work'."

As soon as he finished speaking, he moved.

They didn't rush towards Zhou Duanyue, but towards the Sword Tomb.

It rushed towards the abyss where tens of thousands of ancient swords were suspended.

Zhou Duanyue reacted and shouted sharply, "Stop him!"

The three surviving members of the Heavenly Punishment team rushed out simultaneously, and three dark golden blades blocked all of Lu Li's paths of advance.

But Lu Li did not dodge at all.

He charged straight at the flashing blade.

The first blade struck the left shoulder, splitting the already sword-filled shoulder open to reveal the white bone beneath.

The second blade struck his waist, almost severing him in two. His dark blue-green essence surged out wildly, barely keeping his body from separating.

The third blade flashed, aimed straight at his face.

Lu Li opened his mouth and bit down on the blade.

The teeth scraped against the blade, producing a teeth-grinding "crunch." The blade cut into the lips, then the gums, and finally lodged in the cheekbone.

But he didn't back down.

Instead, he grabbed the blade with both hands and twisted it forcefully—

"Snap!"

The Heavenly Punishment Blade is broken.

The team member holding the knife was stunned.

In that brief moment of hesitation, Lu Li had already rushed past him and entered the Sword Tomb's area.

The moment they stepped into the sky above the abyss, tens of thousands of ancient swords trembled simultaneously.

The sword's cry was like thunder, deafening.

Every sword began to glow, rust crumbled, cracks healed, revealing the gleaming blade beneath. The sword tips all turned, aimed at the intruder.

Then, ten thousand swords were unleashed simultaneously.

Lu Li closed his eyes.

It's not about waiting to die.

It's about feeling.

Feel the restlessness of the violent primal force within him, feel the resonance between the Dragon-Suppressing Dagger and the Phoenix-Suppressing Dagger in his arms, feel... that same yet completely different force emanating from the depths of the abyss—

"War Spirit".

The first sword pierced his back, its tip penetrating his chest and emerging from his front.

The second sword pierced his thigh, pinning him in mid-air.

The third, the fourth, the fifth...

In the blink of an eye, Lu Li was covered in swords.

But he is still alive.

Because the sword intent contained within each sword resonated strangely with the prisoner's very being the moment it pierced his body.

Tyranny and fighting spirit are two sides of the same coin.

The Sword Tomb seals "Battle Will," while Lu Li's body contains "Tyranny." Since they share the same origin, while these swords are trying to kill him, they are also being eroded and assimilated by the very essence within him.

This is a process of mutual attrition.

Lu Li's body was collapsing; new wounds appeared with every breath, and old wounds widened.

But the power of the Sword Tomb was also being depleted. The ancient swords that had pierced his body were losing their luster rapidly, and some were even beginning to show signs of corrosion.

A sigh echoed from the depths of the abyss.

Very light, very old, very tired.

Then, all the ancient swords trembled simultaneously and stopped attacking.

They hovered in mid-air, their sword tips still pointing at Lu Li, but no longer advancing.

An aged voice came from the deepest part of the abyss:

"Three thousand years... and finally someone has come... who dares to break into the Sword Tomb like this."

The voice paused for a moment:

"But he's dying soon too."

Lu Li struggled to lift his head and look in the direction from which the sound came.

From the bottom of the abyss, a figure slowly rose.

He was an old man in a gray cloth robe, his hair and beard were all white, his face was withered and covered with deep wrinkles, as if he had experienced too many years of hardship. But his eyes were clear and bright, unlike those of an old man, but rather like those of a newborn baby, pure and clean, yet as deep as the starry sky.

Xuanji.

He stepped into the air and ascended, with each step he took creating a silver-white lotus flower beneath his feet—a lotus formed from sword energy.

He stopped when he reached the same height as Lu Li.

His gaze fell on Lu Li, scrutinizing him closely.

Xuanji's voice was devoid of emotion. "That kid Xun Wenruo has come up with something extraordinary."

Lu Li opened his mouth, as if to speak.

But his throat was full of blood, and he could only make a "hoarse" sound.

Xuanji raised his hand and waved it gently.

All the ancient swords stuck in Lu Li's body retreated an inch, but were not pulled out; they simply stopped going deeper.

"Tell me," Xuanji said, looking at him. "What did you seek when you stormed the Sword Tomb?"

Lu Li mustered all his strength to squeeze out three words:

"Suppress...turtle...dagger..."

Xuanji narrowed his eyes.

"Who told you that?"

"The...price...scales..." With each word Lu Li uttered, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "It requires...a natal talisman...or...a three-dagger array..."

Xuanji fell silent.

He stared at Lu Li quietly for a long time.

Lu Li thought he was going to refuse, and Zhou Duan Yue behind him had already reorganized his offensive and was preparing to attack again.

Then, Xuanji spoke:

"I cannot give you my natal talisman."

The last light in Lu Li's eyes dimmed.

But Xuanji continued:

"But the Turtle-Suppressing Dagger... I can lend it to you."

Lu Li suddenly looked up.

"borrow?"

"Yes, lend it." Xuanji turned and looked into the depths of the abyss. "But not now. You can't grasp it now. Even if you did, you would be devoured by the 'battle intent' and turn into a monster that only knows how to kill."

He paused:

"You need to learn first... to control the violence within you."

"How... do I learn?" Lu Li asked.

Xuanji did not answer directly, but instead raised his hand and pointed to the depths of the Sword Tomb:

"Do you see those swords?"

Lu followed his finger and looked in that direction.

Deep within the sword tomb, besides the ancient swords floating in the air, there were also fragments of broken swords stuck in the ground. These broken swords formed a circle, and at the center of the circle was a heavy sword, entirely black and covered with cracks.

"That's 'Stop the War'," Xuanji said. "It's the sword left behind by the sealer three thousand years ago. The sword is named Stop the War, but it drank countless lives and finally broke in the battle to seal the prisoners."

"What you have to do is walk up to Zhige amidst the strangling sword intent of those broken swords and pull it out."

"If you can do that, I'll lend you the tortoise-suppressing dagger."

"I can't do it..."

Xuan Ji turned around and looked at Lu Li:

"Just die there, and become new nourishment for the Sword Tomb."

Lu Li looked at the black broken sword, and at the dense forest of broken swords around him, exuding a terrifying sword intent.

Then he nodded.

"it is good."

Xuanji raised his hand and waved it again.

All the ancient swords that were stuck in Lu Li's body were pulled out at once and flew back to their original positions.

Blood gushed from dozens of wounds, and Lu Li swayed, almost falling into the abyss. But he gritted his teeth and used the remaining Prisoner's Essence to forcibly seal the wounds, barely managing to steady himself.

"Go ahead." Xuanji stepped aside.

Lu Li took a deep breath—even though each breath was filled with the smell of blood and excruciating pain—and then strode towards the forest of broken swords.

The first step has been taken.

The thirty-six broken swords around them trembled simultaneously, and thirty-six incomparably sharp sword energies shot out, sealing off all space for evasion.

Lu Li did not dodge.

He raised his right hand—a hand with only three fingers still movable—and a bluish-black mist welled up from his palm, condensing into a shield.

The sword energy struck the shield.

The shield shattered.

Seventeen of the thirty-six sword energies were neutralized, and the remaining nineteen all pierced through Lu Li's body.

A new blood hole has appeared.

But he didn't stop.

The second step.

More broken swords trembled, and more sword energy surged forth.

This time, Lu Li couldn't even conjure a shield.

He had no choice but to tough it out.

Use your body to resist.

The sword energy pierced through the skin and flesh, through the bones, and through the internal organs.

He was like a rag doll, riddled with holes.

But the third step was taken anyway.

Then comes the fourth step, the fifth step...

With each step he took, dozens more wounds appeared on his body.

With each step taken, we are one foot closer to ending the war.

And one step closer to death.

Behind him, Zhou Duanyue watched this scene, a complex look flashing in his golden pupils.

He suddenly raised his hand, stopping the team members who wanted to continue the pursuit.

"Commander?" the team member asked, puzzled.

"Let him go." Zhou Duanyue stared at Lu Li's back, his voice low and deep. "I want to see... just how far this monster Xun Wenruo has created can go."

At the edge of the abyss, Xuanji watched silently.

Watching the young man leave a trail of blood with each step he took, he walked towards the broken sword that no one had been able to pull out for three thousand years.

As his body crumbled and his consciousness faded, his eyes—the left eye was bruised and the right eye still held a trace of brown—remained fixed on the front.

He stared at the sword.

"Yes, it looks like it..."

Xuanji murmured softly, as if speaking to someone, or perhaps talking to himself:

"Just like you back then..."

"So stubborn...so reckless..."

"But back then, at least you knew what you were fighting for."

"Where is this child?"

Does he know?

No one answered.

Only the sword's mournful cry echoed in the abyss.

At this moment, Lu Li had already reached the center of the Broken Sword Forest.

Only three steps remain to end the war.

But he stopped.

It's not that I don't want to leave, it's that I can't walk anymore.

His legs were shattered, held together only by his prisoner's essence. Most of his internal organs were broken, and each breath felt like a knife cutting into him. His consciousness began to blur, and the scene before him began to sway and overlap.

He couldn't even tell who he was.

Is it Lu Li?

Or a prisoner?

Or... it's nothing at all, just a living corpse?

"Give up."

A voice rang in my ears.

It was neither Xuanji nor Zhou Duanyue.

It was his own voice.

Or rather, it is the voice deep within his heart, simulated by the prisoner's essence.

"You've reached your limit."

"Take one more step and you will die."

"You really can die."

Is it worth it?

"For people who...don't even know you?"

"For that... Xun Wenruo who used you as a pawn?"

"For those...comrades who might abandon you at any moment?"

Is it worth it?

Lu Li closed his eyes.

He recalled some scenes.

Under the locust tree, the old blind man coughed up blood and said, "Yun Potian made the same choice back then."

In the dungeon, Yun Jin, with her gradually blinding eyes, said with unwavering determination, "I see... you need the natal talisman."

Outside the blacksmith's shop, Lin Qingyuan gripped the hilt of his sword and said resolutely, "I will walk this path with you."

There was also Shi Yong, that honest and simple-minded boy, who carried a huge bag and fled all the way from Mount Shu back to Lin Yuan City, just to deliver a message.

and also……

There are even older ones.

On a stormy night, the father's departing figure.

Inside the ancestral hall, the memorial tablets are cold and lifeless.

In the darkness, there was that vague, warm, and never-truly-possessed...imagination of "home".

does it worth?

he does not know.

But he knew that if he gave up now, those images, those sounds, those few moments of warmth he still remembered would all disappear.

They were devoured by the prisoners.

Engulfed by darkness.

and so--

Lu Li opened his eyes.

The dark circles under his left eye suddenly contracted at that moment.

It's not fading away, but rather coalescing.

When concentrated to the extreme, it condenses into a single point.

A pure, dark point that seemed to devour all light.

Then, he took that step.

The first step of the last three steps.

The broken swords around them all erupted in a frenzy.

It wasn't sword energy, but sword intent—the purest, most fundamental sword intent, containing the lifelong insights of countless sword cultivators over three thousand years, pressing down like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing down.

Lu Li's body began to break down.

Starting from the fingertips, skin, flesh, and bones, inch by inch, turn to ashes.

But he's still walking.

The second step.

The fly ash spread to the wrists, elbows, and shoulders.

His left arm was gone.

His right arm was also reduced to half its length.

But he's still walking.

third step.

last step.

He stood before Zhi Ge.

The black broken sword was stuck in the rock, its blade trembling slightly, as if welcoming it, or as if resisting it.

Lu Li stretched out his remaining half of his right arm—the end of his arm, where all his fingers had disappeared, leaving only a bare palm that was turning to ashes.

He gripped the hilt of the sword.

The moment he grasped it, an indescribable flow of information surged into his consciousness along the hilt of the sword.

That was a scene from three thousand years ago.

It is the final battle between the Sealers and the Prisoners.

It was a resolute decision by which nine men faced death and were divided among the nine provinces.

It was the final sigh of the swordsman when the sword of cessation broke:

"If I could do it all over again... would I still choose this path?"

"meeting."

"Because some things... always have to be done by someone."

The image is shattered.

Lu Li used his last bit of strength to draw his sword—

"Clang!!!"

The sword that stops the fighting is three inches off the ground.

Then, it stopped.

It wasn't that Lu Li was out of strength, but rather that the sword was transmitting a force of resistance—it was rejecting him.

Reject someone who has a prisoner's fragment inside them.

Refuse someone who might become the next prisoner.

Lu Li looked at the sword, at his reflection in its blade:

His left eye was completely black and blue, and his right eye was only a little brown. Most of his body had turned to ashes, like a wreck that had crawled out of hell.

He smiled.

That smile contained relief, sorrow, and resolve.

Then, he let go.

It's not about giving up.

It is a choice.

Choose to believe.

Believe in this sword, believe in the will left behind by the swordsman three thousand years ago, believe... in the last glimmer of humanity.

"If..." he began, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "if you think I'm not good enough..."

"Then kill me."

"Use your sword intent to utterly shatter my soul."

"Let me... no longer be anyone's pawn."

"I will no longer... hurt anyone."

After saying that, he completely relaxed all resistance.

He allowed the prisoner's essence to rage within his body, allowed the sword intent to erode his soul, and allowed his body to continue turning to ashes.

He is waiting.

Waiting for a verdict.

Waiting for the decision of the sword of cessation.

Time seemed to stand still.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

Then--

The sword that stopped the fighting trembled slightly.

That force of resistance disappeared.

Instead, a gentle sword intent, like an elder caressing a junior, flowed into Lu Li's body along the hilt of the sword.

Wherever the sword intent passed, the flying ash stopped spreading.

The shattered internal organs began to slowly heal.

The missing limbs began to regrow.

It wasn't a complete recovery, but rather a slower, more thorough process—the sword intent was transforming his body, fusing his prisoner essence with his flesh and bones more deeply, while simultaneously setting up silver-white sealing chains composed of sword intent.

The chains wrapped around the source temporarily suppressed its restlessness.

The dark circles under Lu Li's left eye receded into the depths of his eye socket.

The brown color in my right eye has become clear again.

His humanity level stopped at 40%.

It did not fall further.

But... it's unlikely to recover.

Because he has completely merged with the Prisoner's Origin.

We are inseparable.

He was part of the prisoners.

The prisoners were also part of him.

"Is this... the price?" Lu Li asked in a low voice.

Zhige Sword did not answer.

But a force from the sword gently pushed him away.

Then, the sword pulled itself out of the rock.

Suspended in the air, the sword tip points into the depths of the abyss.

Xuanji's figure appeared there.

The old man looked at Lu Li, and at the floating Zhige Sword, and for the first time, a smile appeared on his face.

It was bland, bitter, yet there was a hint of a comforting smile.

"It has accepted you," Xuanji said.

Lu Li looked at the Zhige Sword.

The sword was tilted slightly, as if it were nodding.

"So..." Lu Li asked, "Can I borrow the Turtle-Suppressing Dagger?"

Xuanji shook his head.

"It's not a loan."

He raised his hand, and from the depths of the abyss, a bronze-colored light pierced through the air and hovered in his palm.

It was a dagger.

Made entirely of bronze, the dagger is engraved with a tortoise shell pattern, its shell covered with ancient runes. The dagger exudes a heavy aura, seemingly capable of suppressing heaven and earth.

Suppressing Turtle Dagger.

"It's a gift," Xuanji said. "The person recognized by the Zhige Sword is qualified to wield it—albeit temporarily."

He tossed the dagger to Lu Li.

Lu Li caught it.

It felt heavy in my hand, like holding a mountain.

With three daggers in hand—to suppress the dragon, the phoenix, and the tortoise.

The three colors of light—blue, red, and bronze—shone simultaneously, resonating with each other to form a stable triangular sealing array, which was imprinted on Lu Li's chest.

The spread of the seal has completely stopped.

The restlessness inherent in the prisoner's nature was also temporarily suppressed.

Lu Li gripped the three daggers tightly, feeling the long-lost, barely "balanced" state within his body.

Then he bowed:

"Thank you, senior."

Xuanji waved his hand.

"Don't thank me. Thank yourself, thank that sword, thank that person from three thousand years ago... who was just as stubborn as you."

He paused, then turned his gaze to Zhou Duanyue and his three companions, who were standing guard not far away, a cold indifference flashing in his eyes:

"As for you—"

"Sword Tomb does not welcome outsiders."

As soon as he finished speaking, Xuanji raised his hand.

It's not about drawing a line, but rather about loosely clenching your fists.

Throughout the entire Sword Tomb, ten thousand swords rang out in unison.

Countless silvery-white sword intents surged from every ancient sword, every rock, and every inch of soil, weaving in the air into a net that covered the heavens and the earth. That net was denser and heavier than before, carrying an undeniable pressure, as if it were the law of heaven.

Zhou Duanyue's expression changed drastically: "What do you mean by this, Senior?"

"Show the guest out." Xuanji's voice was devoid of any emotion.

He tapped lightly with his fingertips.

The first sword intent descended, binding Zhou Duan Yue's remaining right leg. It wasn't an attack, but a restraint—the silvery-white sword energy spread upwards like vines, forcibly solidifying the dark gold armor fragments, flesh, and bones in its path. Before Zhou Duan Yue could even react, his entire body, from the waist down, was enveloped in a huge, semi-transparent amber of sword energy.

"Commander!" the three members of the Heavenly Punishment team roared, drawing their swords at the same time.

But the second wave of sword intent had already arrived.

Not one path, but three thousand.

Like living silver snakes, they instantly coiled around the three men's limbs, necks, and waists. Each sword intent tightened, etching dense silver patterns onto their bodies—the forbidden runes of the Sword Tomb, specifically designed to repel outsiders. The three struggled, unleashing their power at the Dharma Aspect Realm, but the sword patterns tightened even more, finally forcing them to their knees, unable to move.

"Mysterious silence!" Zhou Duanyue roared within the amber sword energy, his golden pupils emitting a terrifying light.

Xuanji didn't say much, and formed a hand seal.

Above the Sword Tomb, the net woven from the intent of ten thousand swords suddenly contracted.

The silvery-white light engulfed Zhou Duanyue and his companions.

Like a broom sweeping away dust, the will of the Sword Tomb, through Xuanji's hand, forcibly erased these four people from its domain.

The light exploded.

The four people disappeared.

Not even a trace of its breath remained.

The Sword Tomb fell silent once more.

Only Lu Li and Xuan Ji, who was suspended above the abyss, remained.

And there are those ten thousand silent ancient swords.

Lu Li stood there, looking at the spot where Zhou Duanyue had disappeared, a complex emotion welling up in his heart—not relief, but a deeper chill.

This is absolute power.

This is the being that has guarded the Sword Tomb for three thousand years.