A Mortal's Journey to Immortality: Starting as a Sword-Forging Servant and Ascending to Immorta

Zhou Lingxuan tucked his right hand into his sleeve and walked along the stone path toward his residence.

After the wisp of residual sword intent was absorbed into the sea of ​​consciousness by the purple jade hammer, it never settled down.

Every few breaths, it would strike the inside of the hammerhead, causing Zhou Lingxuan's temples to throb slightly.

Turning past a pile of junk, he saw the short, stout servant who had carried the boxes yesterday.

The other person had two pairs of animal skin gloves tucked under their arm and was walking very fast.

After they met, he stopped and glanced behind Zhou Lingxuan.

"Hey bro, are you going today?"

"Go, go later."

Zhou Lingxuan raised his finger and pointed in the direction of the fire pit.

"Just leave the boxes in the usual place, don't wait for me."

The short, stout handyman's tense shoulders relaxed.

"That's fine then. Today, Qifeng sent six boxes, and Dantang gave us three more. One of the boxes contains Poison Fire Crystals, and the box itself is blackened from smoke. We were worried you wouldn't take it."

"Reseal it tightly, don't let it leak on the road."

"Don't worry, we value our lives more than anyone else."

The short, stout servant readily agreed, clutching his gloves tightly as he hurried toward the valley entrance. After taking a few steps, he turned back.

"Brother, those poisonous fire crystals tend to emit poisonous smoke when near the ground fire, so you have to be careful."

Zhou Lingxuan waved his hand, indicating that he had heard.

Back in the cabin, he closed the door and bolted it, then moved the broken wooden table behind the door.

He only sat cross-legged on the bed after confirming that he could hear someone approaching from outside.

The bleeding from the several cuts on my fingertips has stopped.

Zhou Lingxuan casually tore off a piece of coarse cloth, wrapped it around his fingers, closed his eyes, and sank his consciousness into his sea of ​​consciousness.

A small purple jade hammer hangs in the center.

A thin, long blade, only the thickness of a hair, protrudes from the inside of the hammerhead, yet it retains its complete shape.

It kept moving around, and each time it encountered the purple light, it would immediately turn to the other side.

Zhou Lingxuan did not activate the small hammer, but only used a small amount of his consciousness to slowly approach.

The two were less than half an inch apart when the sword intent suddenly changed direction and thrust straight at them.

A sharp pain came from my mind.

Zhou Lingxuan frowned and immediately withdrew his consciousness. After the sword intent was suppressed by the purple light, he adjusted his position and tried it again from the side.

After dodging several sharp attacks, the inner workings of that lingering intent finally came to light.

The concentrated spiritual power resides in the deepest part, enveloped by several layers of intricate structure.

Each layer is interlocked with the others, and traces of swordplay can still be seen between them.

Zhou Lingxuan leaned forward slightly, and raised his hands that were originally resting on his knees.

He was overjoyed: "Good, it really works! Sword intent can indeed deconstruct."

The result was much smoother than expected.

Although sword intent can injure the physical body, its root cause does not lie in the five elements of spiritual power.

It originates from the consciousness of cultivators, and its core is spiritual power.

Swordsmanship, mindset, and willpower were constantly poured into it, which gave it a fixed form.

Zhou Lingxuan stared at the layers of structure, and a look of joy gradually appeared on his face.

He pondered to himself, "The Heavenly Hammer can temper the sea of ​​consciousness, and naturally it can also come into contact with sword intent. As long as it can be disassembled, there is a chance to reconnect it. This path is not wrong."

Finally, there was a real place to repair the Izumo Sword.

However, since the short sword had just shattered into iron dust last night, Zhou Lingxuan did not dare to strike directly with the hammer. He suppressed the power within the small hammer to the minimum, only drawing out a little purple light, and gently touched the outer layer of the remnant.

hum!

The flowing sword intent suddenly straightened.

The outermost layer of structure peels off rapidly, followed by the second and third layers.

The traces of Qin Zhaoyun's swordsmanship and personal mark disappeared one after another, and even the original sharpness dissipated in an instant.

Just as Zhou Lingxuan was about to withdraw his power, only a small ball of pure spiritual energy remained inside the hammerhead.

The joy on his face froze instantly.

"That's it?"

Zhou Lingxuan quickly probed the ball of spiritual energy with his consciousness and checked it twice.

It was spotless; nothing was left behind.

He opened his eyes, raised his hand to rub his temples, and looked somewhat helpless.

Zhou Lingxuan thought to himself, "The Heaven-Forging Hammer is too ruthless. In its eyes, Qin Zhaoyun's swordsmanship, will, and emotions are all impurities. If it's treated like this, the sword intent won't be repaired yet, but the contents inside will be washed away first."

The direction is right, but the one who takes action cannot be the one who forges the heavens.

Zhou Lingxuan looked at the small purple jade hammer in his sea of ​​consciousness and couldn't help but mutter to himself.

In the end, I still have to do it myself.

The small hammer can collect remnants of intent and allow him to see the internal structure, but it cannot help him distinguish what should be kept and what should be discarded. The true sorting and piecing together can only be done by his own hands.

Fortunately, although the deconstruction was rapid, traces of the sword intent before it dissipated remained in the sea of ​​consciousness.

Zhou Lingxuan suppressed his disappointment, closed his eyes again, and slowly gathered up the fading traces.

As the incomplete structure took shape, a powerful emotion surged forth.

mad.

Zhou Lingxuan straightened his back abruptly, and his right hand clenched unconsciously.

The remaining image was incomplete, leaving only a blurry figure carrying a sword.

There was clearly an easier path ahead, but the man didn't even glance at it. He gripped a common iron sword and headed straight for the most dangerous spot.

He only cultivates one sword technique in his entire life, and only uses one sword technique in his entire life.

As long as the sword is there, the person is there; if the sword is destroyed, the person is destroyed.

That madness kept assaulting Zhou Lingxuan's consciousness, forcing him to breathe faster.

He steadied himself and said in a low voice, "That's arrogant enough. No wonder Qin Zhaoyun dared to bet all his cultivation on a piece of ordinary iron."

This madness was not a momentary impulse.

Qin Zhaoyun relied on the sword in his hand to win all the way, and each victory made this emotion more solid, eventually engraving it into the foundation of the Cloud Sword.

Zhou Lingxuan continued deeper along the remaining traces.

A second sentiment quickly emerged.

confidence.

Once the sword is thrust out, whatever stands in its way should be cut down.

This confidence was even stronger than his previous arrogance, and Zhou Lingxuan felt an urge to continue forward as soon as they made contact.

He managed to regain his composure in time, preventing himself from being led astray by his reckless impulses.

After confirming that the two emotions were connected, the wrinkles between his brows relaxed, and he lightly patted his knee with his palm.

"It matches up."

Zhou Lingxuan was thrilled: "His arrogance emboldened him to draw his sword, and his confidence convinced him that this sword would surely win. The two supported each other, which was the root of the Izumo Sword's ability to move forward all the way."

He rose to fame at a young age, rarely encountering a worthy opponent, and then climbed to second place on the century-old sword ranking at the Sword Testing Stone.

Qin Zhaoyun channeled all his decades of victories into his sword, ultimately forging this invincible swordsmanship.

The fact that both the front and back layers could be successfully deciphered proves that Zhou Lingxuan's method was indeed effective.

He raised two fingers and slowly brought them together in the middle.

The two incomplete structures in the sea of ​​consciousness were drawn together and began to move closer to each other.

The connection point suddenly vibrated upon contact.

Snapped.

The two fragments of the original intent bounced off simultaneously, and the point where they had just been joined split open again.

Zhou Lingxuan's finger froze in mid-air, and the joy on his face faded.

He adjusted the traction and tried again.

The result was the same.

The third time, he first stabilized the structures on both sides completely, and then spliced ​​them together at a slower speed.

However, the moment the two touched, the crack still appeared, and it was even deeper than before.

Zhou Lingxuan withdrew his hand, staring at the repeatedly broken spot, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

He wondered, "Arrogance and self-confidence clearly come from the same source and have been compatible for the past few decades, so why do they fall apart at the slightest touch now?"

It's not that we lack strength, nor that the structure is misplaced.

Each time the two sword intents approach each other, the depths of the crack will tremble slightly.

Zhou Lingxuan narrowed his eyes, his doubts quickly turning into vigilance.

"There's something hidden inside."

Instead of continuing to take the blow head-on, he supported the remaining consciousness on both sides, separated a finer wisp of consciousness, and slowly probed it along the edge of the crack.

After only a short while, a long-suppressed emotion suddenly burst forth.

Zhou Lingxuan's shoulders tensed, and his fingers, which were clasped on his knees, immediately closed.

fear.

This fear was hidden deep beneath the arrogance and confidence. When the two sword intents separated, it made no sound; but as soon as they began to merge, it would burst forth and tear the connection point apart again.

Zhou Lingxuan paused for a few moments, then his tightly furrowed brows slowly relaxed.

He finally realized: "So that's how it is. What truly prevented the fusion of sword intents was Qin Zhaoyun's fear of that sword strike."

The doubts were resolved, but Zhou Lingxuan did not leave immediately.

He suppressed the stinging pain in his mind and controlled his consciousness to continue exploring the depths of that fear.

The surrounding debris suddenly shattered.

A blurry image assaulted my senses.

The arena for the sword duel was unclear, and the two combatants could not be found; there was only one sword strike ahead.

The moment the sword appeared, the arrogance Qin Zhaoyun retained in his lingering intent began to crumble. Following that was the confidence he had cultivated through decades of victories.

The Izumo sword couldn't even be fully unfurled; the three-foot-long piece of ordinary iron had already broken into three pieces.

There was no stalemate, no change of tactics, and no second chance to fight.

The lingering fear in the sword's momentum suddenly pressed down on his sea of ​​consciousness.

Zhou Lingxuan's body trembled, and he slammed his right palm heavily onto the bed. The small purple jade hammer rang out on its own, and the purple light it emitted dispersed the intruding sharpness.

The scene before my eyes then shattered.

Zhou Lingxuan suddenly opened his eyes and gasped for breath. The bed board beneath his hand had cracked, and several splinters were embedded in his flesh, but he didn't notice it for a moment.

"Only one sword strike..."

He pulled the splinter from his palm, looked down at the beads of blood seeping out, and the shock on his face lingered.

The mere trace left by the defeated's lingering will nearly shook his consciousness. The pressure Qin Zhaoyun endured when he directly received that sword strike back then would have been even greater.

Zhou Lingxuan looked at the crack in his sea of ​​consciousness again, and gradually understood: "Qin Zhaoyun's fear is not that he has lost once. He is convinced that no matter how many more years he trains, he will never be able to win back."

A single defeat may not destroy the invincible way of swordsmanship.

Losing is an option; you can fight again. If you can't catch up, you can keep chasing. What truly made Qin Zhaoyun stop was that he could no longer see any possibility of catching up.

This realization transformed into fear, which seeped into the sword intent of Chuyun.

Madness still yearns to soar through the clouds, confidence continues to propel the sword forward, yet fear stands between the two. Each time the remnants attempt to merge, it tears the connection back open.

As Zhou Lingxuan looked at the gap, his doubts dissipated, but his curiosity grew stronger.

He couldn't help but wonder, "What kind of sword strike could possibly reduce the second-ranked swordsman on the century-old sword ranking to the point where he no longer dared to even entertain the thought of catching up?"

Old Qin mentioned the Centennial Sword Ranking last night.

Qin Zhaoyun was ranked second back then, so the person who cut the Chuyun Sword was most likely the one who was ranked first.

The Sword Testing Stone preserves the sword marks left by the greatest swordsmen of all time. Since that person once appeared on the Centennial Sword Ranking, the power he left behind may still be within the stone.

Zhou Lingxuan tapped his fingers lightly on his knee twice, then his gaze returned to the rift between arrogance and confidence.

An idea gradually took shape.

He pondered to himself, "To remove impurities from blacksmithing, one must first see where the impurities are hidden, and then hammer along the grain of the material. If I can see that sword mark with my own eyes and understand the traces left by that force, I can pinpoint this fear and knock it out of the Izumo sword intent."

Without fear and obstruction, arrogance and confidence can naturally re-integrate.

The lingering intent within the three broken sword sections could then be reconnected.

Thinking of this, Zhou Lingxuan raised his head. Blood was still seeping from his palm, but he did not lower his head to deal with it.

His curiosity about that sword intent had already overshadowed the shock he had just experienced.

Zhou Lingxuan had one last thought: "If I could see the sword strike left by the number one sword on the century-old sword ranking list, then I would truly have something to learn from the Izumo Sword."