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

Zhou Lingxuan stood at the door of the wooden house, his gaze fixed on the mountain path outside the abandoned hall courtyard.

The morning mist hadn't completely dissipated, and the mountain path was damp. A slender figure was climbing the stone steps, unsteady on its feet.

That was a boy.

Their attire was extremely strange. Although the late autumn in the Southern Region was chilly, most of the outer disciples were only wearing a layered blue robe.

The boy was wrapped in a thick, tattered animal skin coat, with a patch of grayish-white fur peeking out from the collar.

The animal skin coat was covered in dried mud and dark red bloodstains, and the hem was torn in several places.

The boy walked very slowly, and with each step he took, his body swayed violently.

His face was frighteningly pale, his lips were dry and cracked, and he exuded a sense of decay from exhaustion.

Zhou Lingxuan narrowed his eyes.

He was at the Body Tempering Realm. Moreover, his Qi and blood were extremely weak, and he couldn't even muster a trace of proper true Qi in his meridians. He looked exactly like a refugee fleeing a war.

But Zhou Lingxuan's vigilance instantly rose to his throat.

A few nights ago, he had just crushed a killer from the Northern Region to death with his bare hands in the house, and then threw the body and the murder weapon into the fire pit and burned them to ashes.

Early this morning, a young man wearing a fur coat unique to the Northern Region appeared at the entrance of the abandoned hall.

What a coincidence!

Zhou Lingxuan did not make any rash moves. He turned his head and looked at the other side of the courtyard.

Old Qin was carrying his old, worn-out stool, strolling around the yard looking for the sun.

The old man was still holding a handful of sunflower seeds, cracking them open with relish.

Zhou Lingxuan walked over, raised his chin, and gestured towards the mountain path.

"Old Qin, take a look," Zhou Lingxuan said in a low voice. "Isn't that kid the same kind of person as the one from a few nights ago?"

Old Qin stopped and looked in the direction Zhou Lingxuan pointed.

He stared at the staggering boy for a long time, then spat the sunflower seed shells from his mouth onto the ground and shook his head.

"It doesn't look like it."

Old Qin patted the crumbs off his hands.

"That assassin from a few days ago, although his cultivation wasn't high, couldn't hide the sinister, bloodthirsty aura about him. This kid is no good; his qi and blood are severely depleted, and he probably has hidden injuries in his internal organs. Forget about killing anyone, a strong wind could blow him apart."

Zhou Lingxuan frowned: "Then how do you explain his Northern Region attire?"

"They're fleeing from disaster," Old Qin replied casually. "Every day in the cultivation world, sects are destroyed and aristocratic families are slaughtered. In that harsh, cold land of the Northern Region, people would fight tooth and nail over a single spiritual vein. There are plenty of rogue cultivators who can't survive and flee south."

As he spoke, Old Qin prepared to sit down again and eat some melon seeds.

But just as he bent over, his movement suddenly stopped.

A sword was tied to the boy's waist with a tattered straw rope.

The sword didn't even have a scabbard; the blade was broken in half, and its surface was covered with pits and chips, making it look like a piece of scrap iron.

Several strips of blackened cloth were wrapped around the hilt of the sword, and a charred mark was faintly visible on the guard.

Old Qin stared intently at the mark, letting out a very soft sound of surprise.

"What's wrong?" Zhou Lingxuan noticed Qin Lao's unusual behavior.

Old Qin straightened up, his nonchalant expression completely gone.

He looked around to make sure no one else was nearby before approaching Zhou Lingxuan.

"Brother Zhou, the feng shui of this abandoned hall has been a bit strange lately."

Old Qin's voice was very low, and it carried a heavy tone.

"Stop keeping me in suspense."

"See that broken sword on that kid's waist?"

Old Qin pointed.

"The charred mark on the hilt is a lightning bolt pattern."

Zhou Lingxuan looked in that direction and indeed saw a blurry lightning pattern.

"The Lei family of the Northern Region." Old Qin uttered four words, his tone tinged with a hint of regret, "They were once a first-rate sword-cultivating family in the Northern Region."

Zhou Lingxuan knew nothing about the power in the Northern Region, so he could only listen quietly.

"The northern region is frequently hit by snowstorms and thunderstorms. The environment is extremely harsh."

Old Qin continued.

"The swordsmanship practiced by the Lei family is completely different from the style of our Southern Region, which emphasizes lightness and elegance. They draw heavenly lightning into their bodies and temper their swords with wind and snow. Their swordsmanship is fierce and domineering, with wide and sweeping movements, and it is a completely reckless fighting style."

"Back when the Lei family was at its peak, even the top sects in the Northern Region were unwilling to easily provoke these madmen."

Zhou Lingxuan understood the underlying meaning: "A once first-rate family?"

"Yes, it used to be."

Old Qin sighed.

"About five or six years ago, the Lei family offended some terrifying being. Overnight, the entire family, along with the top-grade thunder vein they occupied, was uprooted. Not a single one was spared."

Old Qin looked at the young man who had already walked to the entrance of the abandoned hall's registration office.

"That broken sword is a standard-issue lightning-patterned sword that only direct descendants of the Lei family are entitled to wear. I never expected that there would be any survivors from the Lei family who managed to escape all the way to the outer gate of our Heavenly Sword Pavilion."

After hearing this, Zhou Lingxuan frowned even more deeply.

An orphan from a once-powerful family, wiped out by massacre, travels thousands of miles to the Southern Region carrying only a broken sword. The karmic entanglements and grudges behind this journey are undoubtedly a massive problem.

This abandoned hall is getting more and more lively.

The boy had already walked to the wooden table at the registration desk.

With trembling hands, he pulled a wooden plaque for an outer gate servant from his pocket and handed it to the steward in charge of registration.

Zhou Lingxuan stood at a distance, quietly watching the boy's back and the tattered Thunder Pattern Sword at his waist.

Suddenly, without warning, the yellowed booklet that Chen Baichuan had given me flashed through my mind.

On the last page of the booklet, the last words left by the powerful being who was closest to ascension were clearly visible.

"Becoming a blacksmith is the closest path to this path."

Zhou Lingxuan's heart skipped a beat.

He worked the blacksmith for a hundred years and forged a million swords. He always thought he had mastered the craft of blacksmithing.

But now, looking at that young man carrying a blood feud and fleeing with a broken sword, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck Zhou Lingxuan's mind.

What exactly is a blacksmith?

Why do master craftsmen in the cultivation world forge iron? To prove their skills, to pursue stronger magical artifacts, and to follow the path in their hearts.

They used materials as tools and fire as a means to forge their own unique works.

But the blacksmith is not.

The blacksmiths in ordinary blacksmith shops never forge iron according to their own preferences.

The farmer needs a hoe, so the blacksmith forges a hoe. The butcher needs a pig-slaughtering knife, so the blacksmith forges a pig-slaughtering knife. The swordsman needs a sword to kill, so the blacksmith forges a sword to kill.

The blacksmith has no code of his own.

The blacksmith's way is to meet the needs of his customers.

Zhou Lingxuan reflected on his past hundred years.

He stood in front of the furnace every day, mechanically swinging the hammer.

The sect needed standard longswords, so he forged standard longswords. One million of them, all exactly the same.

He never thought about who would use the sword or what it would be used for.

He was just completing a task.

"If forging a sword truly achieves enlightenment, it truly involves drawing upon the essence of heaven and earth to infuse the sword's embryo..."

Zhou Lingxuan muttered to himself, his voice so soft that only he could hear it.

"Isn't heaven and earth the greatest guest?"

Zhou Lingxuan felt that he had grasped an extremely crucial thread.

Those failed weapon-refining masters were blown apart by the energy of heaven and earth because they were too self-centered!

They attempted to forcibly control the power of heaven and earth using their own Dao.

It's like a blacksmith forcing a jewel-encrusted sword onto a farmer who wants a hoe.

The farmer would certainly smash the sword in the blacksmith's face.

The same applies to the Qi of Heaven and Earth.

To bear the energy of heaven and earth, one must erase one's personal will and the so-called path of one's true nature.

Transform yourself into a mere tool, a blacksmith devoid of emotion and preference.

You forge a sword of whatever shape Heaven and Earth require.

This is the true meaning of being a blacksmith!

Zhou Lingxuan felt a sudden sense of clarity. The fog that had been lingering in his mind for the past few days was completely dispelled by this unexpected enlightenment.

He even vaguely sensed that the Qi Refining Level 1 True Qi within his dantian, which had just stabilized, had become a bit more active.

"Brother Zhou, what are you daydreaming about?" Old Qin waved his hand in front of Zhou Lingxuan's eyes.

Zhou Lingxuan came to his senses.

At the registration desk in the distance, the boy had already completed the formalities. He put away the wooden plaque and, with heavy steps, walked towards the row of dilapidated servants' huts deep inside the abandoned hall.

The boy's back view was extremely desolate, and the broken sword at his waist swayed slightly with each step, making a faint clanging sound.

As Zhou Lingxuan looked at the broken sword, a thought suddenly popped into his mind.

The Lei family's swords are fierce and domineering. This young man carries a blood feud, and the killing intent and resentment in his heart are absolutely intense.

If I were to help this boy reforge that broken sword as a pure blacksmith...

Without mixing in any of his own ideas, he completely followed the hatred in the boy's heart and the characteristics of the Lei family's swordsmanship.

Is it possible to even touch the threshold of "interaction between heaven and earth"?

Once this thought came to mind, it grew wildly in Zhou Lingxuan's heart like weeds.

He was about to pull himself out of his thoughts and turn back into the house to think carefully about this audacious plan.

Suddenly, a very faint sound of footsteps came from behind.

Zhou Lingxuan and Qin Lao turned their heads at the same time.

Qin Zhaoyun appeared behind the two of them without them noticing.

The steward of this abandoned hall, who was once ranked second on the sword list, had completely dissipated the chilling, deathly aura that had lingered around him for years.

He was wearing a faded blue long gown, and although his face was still a little pale, his spirit and energy were completely different.

Standing there, he resembled a sharp sword hidden in its sheath—restrained yet extremely dangerous.

Qin Zhaoyun was carrying two dusty wine jars.

He glanced at Zhou Lingxuan, then at Old Qin, whose face was covered in melon seed shells, and handed the wine jar in his hand forward.

"Walk."

Qin Zhaoyun's tone was calm, yet it carried an air that left no room for refusal.

"Let's go get a drink."