Chapter 132: The Barbarian-Slaying Sword Technique

A brilliant radiance erupted from the calligraphy hanging within the great hall. Amidst that blinding light, Patriarch Ling clearly beheld a mountain piercing the heavens, upon which countless figures and sword-lights danced.

He realized with a jolt of insight that the sword-lights were manifestations of the Founding Patriarch’s will, sealed within this space, while the countless figures were the lingering remnants of powerful beings who had perished beneath the Patriarch’s blade. Even in death, the residual will of those warriors was so formidable that it chilled him to the bone.

Between the figures and the sword-light, the form of a swordsman in green robes gradually solidified. Surrounding him were hideous, ghastly faces. The largest among them, wreathed in sinister black mist, roared with venomous malice: "Wang Wei! You have sealed me for ten thousand years, yet you still cannot erase me! When I break free, I shall slaughter every last one of your disciples and descendants!"

Within the light, the swordsman in green laughed aloud: "Ha! If you can break free after ten thousand years, it will only mean that my sect is too weak to hold you. You need not act; I shall descend from the heavens myself to strike down my own disciples!"

Though no sound waves were emitted, Patriarch Ling heard the dialogue as clearly as if it were whispered in his ear. Gazing at the spirited, vibrant face of the Founding Patriarch within the sword-light, he slowly began to bow down.

The swordsman in green seemed to sense this; he tilted his head and cast a glance in his direction, lifting a hand in a light gesture. Patriarch Ling found himself unable to complete the bow.

Suddenly, a beam of sword-light burst from the painting, piercing through the roof of the great hall and soaring into the sky. Within that magnificent radiance lay a vast, boundless sword intent, carrying a terrifying fluctuation that threatened to destroy all things. It caused the very fabric of space to tremble, ripples of grey light spreading outward, while an ancient, mysterious power—one that compelled all to kneel in reverence—echoed across the firmament.

Supreme experts from all directions, no matter how far away, felt that ancient and mysterious power. One after another, they turned their gazes toward the Sword Sect, gripped by inexplicable shock. Almost simultaneously, experts near the Sword Sect began to converge upon the location.

Inside the Sword Sect, Sect Master Ying hastily ordered the sect’s protective formation to be activated to its highest level. The entire sect was enveloped in a semi-transparent barrier, and the pavilions and halls were illuminated, casting them in a breathtaking, ethereal glow.

Within the forbidden grounds, all the experts who had been in deep seclusion emerged, gathering around the great hall with expressions of both tension and agitation. The last to appear, an elder in black robes, landed beside Sect Master Ying and asked bluntly, "Boy, what is the meaning of this?"

"Grand Ancestor, the 'Subjugator Sword Technique' will surely be reborn today!" Sect Master Ying replied, his eyes brimming with tears of joy.

"Say that again!" the elder in black exclaimed. His response was a sudden, thunderous burst of laughter from Patriarch Ling.

That roar of sheer, unbridled joy was so piercing that, even with the protective formation mitigating its force, it caused the blood of most disciples in the sect to churn. Sect Master Ying and the others outside the hall retreated, while the experts from the forbidden grounds, like the elder in black, dispersed to cast screens of sword-light to protect the disciples below.

The Dragon-Slaying Sword within Patriarch Ling’s body flew forth, hovering above his head. A tyrannical sword-light surged from the blade, yet compared to that heaven-shaking beam, it was but a firefly beside the moon. His body rose with the sword-light, agile as a dragon, circling and dancing around the colossal pillar of light.

On Yingxia Peak, Yu Youwei’s face paled as she felt the terrifying sword intent erupting from the calligraphy. The Scarlet Flame Sword at her wrist hummed and trembled, its desire for battle surging. Had she not forcibly suppressed it, the sword spirit would have taken flight to test its mettle against that overwhelming intent.

The Scarlet Flame sword spirit roared within her consciousness: "Do you not understand the loneliness of a master?"

Yu Youwei rolled her eyes helplessly. The painting contained the sword intent of a supreme expert, condensed to the ultimate degree and still as formidable as ever after ten thousand years. If the Scarlet Flame sword spirit, currently damaged and unrecovered, were to clash head-on with that intent, wouldn't it be dragging her, a mere novice, to her death?

Fine, she understood the loneliness of the heights! She understood the difficulty of finding a worthy opponent! But at the very least, one’s strength should be somewhat comparable, shouldn't it? Otherwise, it would be nothing more than a death wish.

The sword spirit continued to roar: "The sword is the king of all weapons! A swordsman must possess a fearless, indomitable heart! If you, a novice, lack the heart of a master, when will you ever achieve divinity?"

Had the timing not been so dire, Yu Youwei would have burst into laughter. Achieving divinity was far too distant for a novice like her. Ignoring the spirit's ranting, she focused her mind to observe the sword-light soaring into the sky.

While Yu Youwei could still withstand the sight of that heaven-shaking light, the members of the Yu family beside her collapsed one after another, their eyes vacant and filled with ultimate terror. If left unchecked, the sword-light would soon shatter their will, turning them into walking corpses.

"Stand tall!" Yu Youwei commanded sharply. Her voice, like a morning bell, jolted those around her back to their senses.

Leaping into the air, Yu Youwei began to chant the "Ballad of the Old General," her voice ringing out across the mountain. The radiance of her Green Frost Sword spread like spring water, covering Yingxia Peak. At that moment, an expert from the Sword Sect who was casting a screen of light to protect the mountain saw her—mistaking her for a powerful master presiding over the peak—and, without looking closely, shifted his defensive light elsewhere.

The light of the Green Frost Sword acted like cooling water, keeping the minds of the Yu family disciples clear. With the Scarlet Flame sword spirit intercepting the bulk of the pressure from above, they were able to observe Patriarch Ling’s sword dance in the sky in its entirety. As for the heaven-shaking sword-light itself, even experts on the level of Sect Master Ying could barely perceive its essence, let alone those beneath them.

Within the entire Sword Sect, the Yu family disciples were the ones who gained the most from this manifestation of the Founding Patriarch’s calligraphy. With Yu Youwei watching over the disciples on Yingxia Peak, and Yu Ruoshuang under the protection of her grandfather, all achieved a measure of enlightenment. While watching the celestial phenomena, the Sect Master did not forget to keep an eye on his granddaughter, and he was overjoyed to see her entering a state of profound realization.

Ling Yanfeng, under the protection of his own ancestor, found his mind filled with wicked thoughts. When the sword-light appeared and the pressure descended, he was unable to maintain his focus even with his ancestor's protection, his eyes rolling back as he fainted. While the entire sect gained something from the light, he alone suffered, his spirit damaged instead.

"Feng'er?" The Supreme Elder Ling noticed the abnormality and called out in a low voice. Receiving no response, his heart tightened. However, this opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime, and he dared not divert his attention. Leaving Ling Yanfeng to his fate, he focused his gaze on the sky, carefully studying the sword moves performed by Patriarch Ling.

Because Ling Yanfeng remained unconscious and untreated, the damage to his foundation caused his cultivation to plummet in a very short time. It was as if the heavens had eyes; his accumulated evils had finally brought him his due retribution.