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

The two men finally realized that the old, useless man in front of them was completely different from what they had heard about him.

The tall, thin disciple got up from the ground, trembling and filled with fear.

The muscular disciple fared even worse; his crotch was soaked with sweat.

Zhou Lingxuan didn't give them much time to think.

He flipped his hand and took out the mid-grade flying sword bestowed upon him by the elder from his storage bag.

The burly disciple's pupils constricted sharply.

"A mid-tier... mid-level flying sword?"

The tall, thin disciple's legs were so weak he could barely stand.

The two of them combined are only at the sixth level of Body Tempering, and they are using the lowest grade low-level weapons.

This old man is using a mid-level flying sword against them?

What's the difference between this and using a dragon-slaying sword to kill a chicken?

But what made them even more desperate than the weapons was Zhou Lingxuan's act of drawing his sword.

He wasn't just threatening; he really intended to take action.

The tall, thin disciple finally couldn't hold on any longer and begged for mercy in a trembling voice.

"Don't be impulsive! We were arranged by Senior Brother Zhang!"

"That's right! Earth Sword Peak is behind us! If you mess with us, Senior Brother Zhang won't let you get away with it!"

"The entire inner sect will know that you, Zhou Lingxuan, killed a fellow disciple on your very first day here!"

"At that point, forget about abolishing your sect; even the entire sect won't tolerate you!"

Zhou Lingxuan stopped in his tracks.

The two thought their threat had worked, and the burly disciple even showed a hint of relief at surviving a disaster.

But then they saw Zhou Lingxuan reveal a disdainful smile as he held the flying sword horizontally in front of him and ran his thumb across the blade.

"Zhang Qian's men?"

"Then they absolutely must be killed."

The tall, thin disciple's mind went blank for a moment, and he was so frightened that he shouted.

"You're insane!"

Without wasting a word, Zhou Lingxuan took a step forward, his flying sword slashing diagonally downwards.

The arm strength honed through ninety years of blacksmithing, combined with the boost from the eighth level of body tempering, made this sword strike so fast that neither of them had a chance to react.

The tall, thin disciple's body was completely cut open from his left shoulder to his right waist.

Before the blood could even spurt out, Zhou Lingxuan had already turned around.

The burly disciple raised the broken sword in front of him with both hands, and Zhou Lingxuan cleaved him and the sword in two with a single strike.

From drawing the sword to sheathing it, it took no more than three breaths.

The cave fell silent.

Only four mangled corpses and the stench of blood remained on the ground.

Zhou Lingxuan looked down at the bloodstains on the flying sword, wiped them clean with the corner of the fleshy disciple's clothes, and put them back into his storage bag.

Then he bent down, picked up a section of the corpse's leg with one hand, and dragged it out of the cave.

The abandoned hall has no shortage of poison pits.

The accumulated poisonous liquid from monsters and the spiritual energy seeping from abandoned magical artifacts mixed together to form a deep pit bubbling with green bubbles.

Anything thrown in will be corroded clean in no time.

Zhou Lingxuan made two trips back and forth.

The four pieces of the corpse were kicked one after another into the nearest poison pit.

Green smoke billowed and engulfed the corpse, dissolving it at a visible speed.

In less than half an incense stick's time, the pit surface returned to calm.

It was as if nothing had happened.

Zhou Lingxuan stood at the edge of the pit, looking down at the calm green liquid surface.

First time killing someone.

I expected some kind of reaction, but there was nothing.

My mind was surprisingly calm.

Right.

Having spent ninety years in the outer sect, he had seen far more gruesome deaths than this.

The fourteen-year-old disciple was sent to explore the secret realm, and when he was found, he only had half an arm and a waist token left.

The servants encountered a monster while gathering herbs in the mountains, and the foreman didn't even bother to collect the corpse.

Two winters ago, a newcomer froze to death next to the sword-making furnace. He lay there stiff for three days before someone dragged him away.

What are disciples at the Body Tempering Realm considered in the Heavenly Sword Pavilion?

It's just consumables.

He used it and then threw it away, no different from the scrap metal he forged.

If two consumables die, who will investigate?

Zhang Qian?

He probably hopes no one will bring this up.

After all, if word got out that his subordinates were bullying his fellow disciples, he would be the one who would lose face.

Zhou Lingxuan glanced at the poison pit, then turned and left.

He had to report to the abandoned hall management office.

According to the rules, newly admitted disciples need to register with the steward and receive basic protective equipment and storage containers.

After walking deeper into the valley for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, a crooked wooden house came into view.

It was called a wooden house, but it was really just a few rotten planks nailed together and covered with some kind of animal hide.

There was a sign hanging at the entrance, the words were so blurry that they were almost illegible, but the words "Office of Managers" could be vaguely made out.

As Zhou Lingxuan approached, he noticed that the concentration of miasma at the entrance of the wooden house was much lower than elsewhere.

It's obvious that someone set up a miasma-repelling formation, and their skill level is quite high.

He pushed open the door, and a young man in his early twenties was sitting behind the counter.

But his face was unnaturally pale; it wasn't the gaunt, pale look of a cultivator after fasting, but rather the sickly appearance of someone who hadn't seen sunlight for years.

Her lips were grayish-purple, her eyes were sunken, and her hair was a messy pile on her shoulders.

The strangest thing was the surrounding temperature.

As soon as Zhou Lingxuan stepped across the threshold, he felt a chilling aura.

The coldness wasn't from the weather; it emanated from this young man.

It felt like stepping into an ice cellar.

Zhou Lingxuan paused slightly.

The Qi and blood of the eighth level of Body Tempering spontaneously accelerated within the body, resisting the chill that invaded the bone marrow.

He sized up the young man, quickly making a decision in his mind.

A place like the abandoned hall is a godforsaken place, and normal people would avoid it like the plague.

Those who can be in charge here either offended someone and were exiled, or they have some unspeakable secrets.

Neither of them are easy to mess with.

Zhou Lingxuan walked to the counter and stood there.

The young man didn't look up, remaining slumped in the chair as if he were asleep.

Zhou Lingxuan waited a few moments before speaking, but the other party made the first move.

The young man slowly raised his eyelids.

Those eyes were light gray with extremely small pupils, giving the impression of being pricked by needles when they looked at people.

Zhou Lingxuan's heart tightened.

It's not an illusion.

The moment the other person's gaze swept over him, he felt as if he had been completely stripped naked.

From skin and flesh to bones, from meridians to consciousness, everything seemed to be exposed to the other party.

This feeling…

Not right.

This guy's cultivation level is definitely more than it appears on the surface.

The young man stared at Zhou Lingxuan for about three breaths before his mouth moved.

"So you're the one who triggered the Heavenly Sword?"

His voice was hoarse, like that of a seventy or eighty-year-old.

Moreover, he had a lazy tone, as if he wasn't interested in anything.

"My name is Zhou Lingxuan. I have come to the abandoned hall today to report for duty."

The young man said "Oh," pulled a tattered booklet from under the counter, and threw it in front of Zhou Lingxuan without even flipping through it.

"Write your name down, then walk inside and stay wherever there's an empty room."

Zhou Lingxuan took the booklet and opened the title page.

The list of names is sparse, the most recent one being from thirty years ago.

He picked up his pen, wrote his name, closed the booklet, and put it back on the counter.

Just as he was about to turn around, the young man spoke again.

"I need to remind you of something."

Zhou Lingxuan stopped.

The young man remained slumped in his chair, his gray eyes slightly shifting as his gaze fell upon Zhou Lingxuan.

"This godforsaken place, hardly anyone comes here for eight hundred years."

"But if you're planning something, you'd better watch out."

Zhou Lingxuan frowned slightly.

The young man gave a smile that was hard to decipher.

"I don't like to meddle, but that doesn't mean no one will."

After saying this, the young man closed his eyes again, resuming his half-dead posture.

The conversation has obviously come to an end.

Zhou Lingxuan did not press the matter further.

He turned and walked out of the wooden house, stepping back into the valley filled with miasma.