A Blind Swordsman's Sword Coffin

Agony. Unbearable, excruciating pain.

Li Guanqi’s face twisted in torment. Drool spilled from the corners of his mouth, veins bulged along his neck and forehead, and his face turned red.

This wasn’t like a heavenly tribulation that ended quickly and left behind spiritual nourishment. This was the sheer destruction of his body.

The searing lightning tore through him with such ferocity that he nearly passed out. Through it all, Li Qingcheng’s voice thundered in his ears. “Absorb my sword intent! What are you waiting for?! Keep this up and you’ll die!”

His tone was frantic, as if genuinely worried. But Li Guanqi’s mind was already slipping into a haze. He could no longer understand what Li Qingcheng was shouting.

Li Qingcheng, standing nearby, grew visibly anxious. He couldn’t figure out why Li Guanqi still wasn’t absorbing his sword intent.

Li Qingcheng had expected him to absorb it from the start. Yet Li Guanqi only trembled violently. The pain was unbearable, and when he opened his mouth, bolts of lightning surged in and tore his lips apart.

His body convulsed as lightning rampaged inside him. The agony was indescribably bone-crushing and soul-shattering.

But even through the torment, Li Guanqi’s mind stayed clear. He could not absorb the sword intent. Whether or not Li Qingcheng harbored ulterior motives, one thing was certain: the sword intent itself rejected him.

It didn’t feel like pure thunder, righteous and destructive. It was cold. Unnatural.

Wait... cold?

A sudden chill swept through him, and realization struck like lightning. He lifted his bloodied face, his voice hoarse and laced with frost. “You... old bastard... this is Yin Lightning!”

Li Qingcheng dropped his facade of righteous concern and slowly stood up. He smirked and crossed his hands behind his back. “Heh. Didn’t expect you to catch on. But even if you did, so what?

“Hahaha! If you want to live, you’ll have to absorb my sword intent, whether you like it or not!”

Li Guanqi’s heart sank. The so-called inheritance was indeed a trap. The Yin Lightning carried the elder’s remnant soul, waiting to seize control of his body.

If he caved in and absorbed it, he would become a puppet. The old man was so confident because he knew how brutal and agonizing his attack was. Li Guanqi’s skin was shredded, his blood sprayed from his torn flesh, and even his bones showed through.

Li Guanqi’s soul had been separated from his body, and even Sword Spirit couldn’t sense what was happening. No matter how he cried out, no help would come.

He licked his cracked lips, tasting the blood pooling in his mouth. Under Li Qingcheng’s confused gaze, he closed his eyes.

Li Qingcheng frowned. Li Guanqi’s composure surpassed his expectations. Anyone else would have panicked. But not him.

Li Guanqi’s thought process was simple. If Li Qingcheng had to trick him into absorbing the sword intent, then he lacked the strength to take his body by force.

So he made his choice: absorb enough of the sword intent to blunt the pain, but never surrender to it fully. If he did, Li Qingcheng would take control.

Now exposed, Li Qingcheng dropped all pretenses, his face twisting in a snarl. “So what if you’ve figured it out? If I die, we both die! Absorb it or die!”

He raised his hand, and the Yin Lightning surged once more.

The lightning bolts ripped into Li Guanqi’s body. In the midst of agony, he clenched his teeth so hard he tore a chunk of flesh from his own lips.

He steeled his will and let the sword intent seep in, cautiously, bit by bit.

Seeing this, Li Qingcheng relaxed. A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Heh. No one wants to die. You’re no different.”

Buzz!

The overwhelming sword intent enveloped Li Guanqi, and the Yin Lightning finally weakened. His face drained of color, but he kept his eyes closed, cautiously sensing the invading sword intent. Within moments, he detected a bloodthirsty and evil aura.

Foreign memories flooded his mind.

He saw an elderly figure wielding a longsword, cutting down disciples of his own sect. The elders and disciples fought back, but they were no match for him. The slaughter was deliberate and ritualistic—he was using their blood to strengthen the Yin Lightning.

The sect he was butchering was the very one where Li Guanqi now stood.

The vision shifted. Several powerful elders gathered the last of their strength and sealed the old man beneath the sect’s main hall.

There had never been an inheritance.

This sword intent wasn’t righteous. It was born of massacre and death—a killing sword intent, perfectly in tune with Yin Lightning, which thrived on destruction.

Li Guanqi now understood. He yelled resolutely, “A mere sword intent of slaughter. Not worthy of me, Li Guanqi!”

Boom!

The vision shattered, replaced by an endless sea of corpses and mountains of blood.

He stood amidst the carnage. The air reeked of rot and gore. Limbs clawed toward him, severed heads twitched, and arms gripped at his ankles. The dead included people of all ages and genders.

A deep sorrow welled in his chest. He exhaled and sat cross-legged upon the mountain of corpses.

One by one, old memories came flooding back.

The first time he held a sword.

The first time he flew on it.

The first time he practiced with it.

The memories flickered through his mind.

A question rose in his heart. What kind of Sword Dao do I believe in?

That single thought sent him into deep contemplation. Meanwhile, the blood ocean below him slowly rose, submerging his ankles.

Back in the grand hall, Li Qingcheng stared at him with burning eyes. He could sense that Li Guanqi had finally begun to absorb his sword intent.