The man’s expression was hideously contorted as he forced words through gritted teeth. "The Kua Yu Sword... is the guardian blade of the Hundred Swords Mountain. It has always been haughty, looking down upon the world. How could it possibly acknowledge a mere waste of an ant like you—someone without spiritual roots—as its master?"
Ming Zhu lowered his long lashes, looking down at the shimmering, flowing light of the blade in his hand with a casual air. He sighed softly. "It seems I truly misjudged my little Junior Brother before. Being called 'one without spiritual roots' over and over again is, after all, a bit unpleasant. Sigh, I should probably apologize to him when I get back."
The man snarled, "Answer me!"
Ming Zhu curled his lips into a smile, acting entirely like a rogue. "I refuse."
He took a slow step forward with the sword. The ghosts kneeling on the ground shuddered in unison, nearly burying their heads into the earth.
Ignoring them, Ming Zhu walked unhurriedly until he was five paces away from the man shrouded in black mist. His waist-length hair drifted without a breeze. He said tonelessly, "I have always lived by the principle: if others do not provoke me, I do not provoke them. Previously, I tried to negotiate with you in good faith, Senior, but you did not understand the wisdom of leaving a path open for others. You insisted on driving us juniors to a dead end."
He lightly raised the sword. Faint light spilled from the side, creating a sharp contrast between light and shadow that made his peerlessly beautiful smile look like that of a life-claiming demon. "He who kills is destined to be killed in turn. Surely, Senior, having lived longer than I, understands this truth? If I kill you, it shouldn't count as adding to my karmic slaughter, right?"
As he finished speaking, the tip of his sword tapped the void before him three times, as light as a dragonfly skimming the water. The spiritual power within the Kua Yu Sword poured out leisurely, suddenly transforming into three ethereal, hovering blades in the air.
The halberd continued to tremble violently. The man was shaken by the sheer pressure radiating from Ming Zhu. Then, a flash of fury crossed his face. He exerted all his strength to grip and raise the halberd—which had nearly shrunk into a ball of cowardice—and struck it lightly against the ground. Though the strike looked faint, the sound of clashing metal rippled across the earth. The surrounding black energy was instantly drawn in, condensing into a massive skeleton behind him that roared in fury at the Ming Zhu standing mere inches away.
Ming Zhu’s long hair whipped about in the wild wind. He looked lazily at the demon-like skeleton and chuckled. "Living in the Waste Sword Tomb and being an artifact spirit capable of manipulating sword qi... this trip has truly been an eye-opener."
The man said coldly, "Do not compare me to those low-level sword spirits."
Ming Zhu’s slender fingers tapped the air casually, and the three wind blades containing sword qi began to rotate obediently around his fingers. He asked, "Then what breed are you exactly? A ghost? A ghost capable of controlling the weapons in the Waste Sword Tomb... that’s a first for me."
The weapons in the Waste Sword Tomb were all discarded armaments whose masters had died and whose sword spirits had dissipated. They were sealed with the souls of everyone their masters had killed in life. He had never heard of a ghost being able to control these weapons.
The man leveled his trembling halberd, pointing the tip at Ming Zhu, clearly unwilling to let him talk any further. Although the damaged sword spirit within the halberd was suppressed by Kua Yu, the man had likely been a powerhouse of immense spiritual power in life. Even as a tattered ghost, the aura he exuded was terrifying.
He thrust the halberd, sending out a wave of sword qi laced with black mist. It whistled through the air, tearing through the void as it aimed straight for Ming Zhu’s vitals.
Ming Zhu sneered. "A mere grain of rice dares to compete with the sun's brilliance?"
However, as soon as those words left his mouth, his expression twitched slightly, as if he found the line a bit embarrassing. With a slight flush on his face, he waved his well-defined hand toward the incoming sword qi. Spiritual power erupted, surging forward with unstoppable force to collide with the black mist.
Red and black clashed violently in mid-air. Although the Kua Yu Sword possessed a superior aura, Ming Zhu was ultimately a half-baked "useless" cultivator. After holding out for a moment, his red sword light was suppressed by the man’s sword qi. With a "bang," the red light was swallowed, and the black surge rushed toward Ming Zhu without losing momentum.
Unfazed, Ming Zhu threw out another wave of red sword light, shattering the weakening black qi right before it reached his face. Spiritual power drifted down like falling catkins.
The man raised his halberd again, preparing to condense more sword qi, when he suddenly saw a flash of red light. The skeleton behind him roared abruptly, its pale, withered bones crossing in front of him to block the Kua Yu Sword as it swung down. It intercepted a fatal blow for the man.
A buzzing hum echoed throughout the entire Waste Sword Tomb. Discarded weapons on the mountain walls rattled and fell to the ground in heaps.
Ming Zhu pressed his sword against the meddlesome skeleton and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He hooked his pinky finger slightly, and the final wave of sword qi, guided by his will, whistled past his cheek and struck the halberd in the man’s hand with unerring precision.
A crisp snapping sound rang out. Ming Zhu took the opportunity to retreat, tossing the Kua Yu Sword aside and letting it hover freely in the air.
The halberd in the man’s hand had been snapped clean in half by that sword qi. Black spiritual power swarmed out from the break, quickly falling still and silent.
The man gasped in rage and shock. "You!"
Ming Zhu said, "It’s better if it stays completely quiet. I’ll take it back later for my Junior Brother to play with."
The skeleton behind the man let out a sudden roar. Its spiritual power surged, and it gradually merged with the mist-shrouded man. His form blurred into a ghostly afterimage, and in the next instant, he lunged straight at Ming Zhu.
After breaking the halberd, Ming Zhu had assumed the man posed no further threat. He had been lightheartedly considering how to scavenge more spiritual scraps for Lu Qingkong. He hadn't expected the man to have a final trump card. The afterimage was too fast; he couldn't track the man's movement at all. He only felt a black shadow flash before him as a suffocating killing intent lunged at his face.
The man’s face was as distorted as a demon's. He pounced in front of Ming Zhu, hissing in a mad rage, "Ant! Leave your life behind!"
Ming Zhu’s entire body shuddered under the pressure. His body instinctively dodged the fatal move. Then, as if possessed by an uncontrollable instinct, he gripped the Kua Yu Sword and swung a fierce strike at the man in black without a second thought, barely parrying the lethal blow.
His face was as calm as deep water. The Kua Yu Sword in his hand seemed to carry a vast, scorching flame. When it blocked the terrifying black sword qi, it actually surged back with even greater force.
After several sharp clangs of metal, the Kua Yu Sword in Ming Zhu’s hand plunged straight into the center of the man’s spiritual veins in his chest. Flames erupted with a "whoosh," spreading upward and slowly burning the ghost into a pile of ash.
Ming Zhu held the sword, staring blankly at the scene. He had killed his enemy with ease, which should have been a pleasant thing, but for some reason, his mind went haywire again. A look of shock and fear gradually crept onto his face, and even the hand holding the sword began to tremble slightly.
Half of the man’s body had been charred black by the scorching flames. Knowing his end was near, he stopped resisting. A sinister sneer slowly appeared on his mangled face. He rasped, "Red Lotus Fire... Hahaha, you even use the Ming Heart Art that Ming Zhao never teaches outsiders... and yet you claim Ming Zhao is your enemy?"
Ming Zhu’s whole body shook. He stumbled back two steps and yanked the Kua Yu Sword out of the man with a trembling hand. He looked at him coldly and said, "Shut up."
The man laughed self-mockingly. "Years ago, Ming Zhao used a sword spirit to make me die miserably by my own weapon. I’ve been trapped in this Waste Sword Tomb for over a decade without release. And now, I’ve actually fallen at the hands of his son. Hahaha, how ridiculous."
Ming Zhu’s hand was shaking as he held the Kua Yu Sword. He lowered the tip, his long lashes trembling. He whispered, "Shut up. He is not my father."
The man didn't bother to expose him further. His sinister eyes glared at Ming Zhu with pure malice. "Boy, do you believe in fate?"
Ming Zhu lowered his head and remained silent. He was likely disgusted by the fact that he had instinctively used the Ming Heart Art. He wished he could just chop off the hand that had held the sword to find peace.
"You don't believe?" Half of the man’s body had already turned to ash, with only a single bone supporting him from collapsing.
In life, he had been a demonic cultivator shunned by the world, hiding for half his life only to die by his own blade. After death, he had lingered as a piece of dead flesh for so many years. In both life and death, he had lived like a laughingstock.
But as his soul was about to dissipate, he seemed to summon all the fortitude of his entire life. His withered bones stood tall and upright.
Ming Zhu watched the man’s collapsing frame and finally answered after a long silence, "I don't believe."
The man’s face also slowly turned to ash. He grinned, his face cracking and shedding grey flakes. In his crimson pupils, the last embers of fire seemed to linger. He said, word by word, "I believe. Because I can see it."
Ever since using the Ming Heart Art, Ming Zhu had become physically and mentally exhausted. He had no desire to speak to anyone. Even the man’s claim of seeing fate failed to pique his interest.
"I have seen your fate, Ming Zhu." The man had completely turned into a skeleton, but his voice seemed to drift from his vanishing soul. "I saw your miserable end, crawling out from ten thousand withered bones. I saw the rest of your life spent in ignominy, despised by all. I saw all those you love leave you one by one... leaving you alone, burdened by a sea of blood and ten thousand corpses... that is your end..."
"Ming Zhu, you will be... just like your father..." The bones crumbled onto the ground, swept up again by the unextinguished Red Lotus Fire. "Never obtaining what you seek in this life... your beloved shall perish like withered blossoms, while those you hate shall live for a hundred years..."
The final malicious curse was slowly consumed by a flicker of flame. When it died out, it was like cold ashes from a dead fire, leaving no trace behind.
Ming Zhu stared blankly at the pile of white ash. Whether provoked by the curse or for some other reason, the hand holding his sword shook violently. Soon, the Kua Yu Sword slipped from his grasp and hit the ground with a loud "clang."
Ming Zhu seemed startled awake by the sound. He looked vacantly at the sword on the ground. He seemed to want to lean down and pick it up, but the moment he moved, his legs gave way and he fell straight to his knees.
"My... sword..." His pale lips moved slightly. Then, his vision went black. His thin frame collapsed onto the ground, and the blood from his back quickly stained the earth a vivid crimson.
*The beloved shall perish like withered blossoms, while those you hate shall live for a hundred years?*
Ming Zhu thought dizzily, *Well, that really is quite tragic.*
***
