A Blind Swordsman's Sword Coffin

The crowd was struck dumb as seven ancient swords shot from the mountain peaks. Even some of the Daxia Sword Sect elders stood frozen in disbelief. Clearly, this was a secret known only to a chosen few.

The instant the seven swords appeared, they tore through the air and streaked toward Lu Kangnian. Each one pulsed with spirituality, their edges incredibly sharp.

Every blade shimmered with a different hue, crafted according to the Five Elements and supplemented by wind and lightning. The aura they released sent chills through every heart. Those with sharp eyes could tell that the swords were no ordinary spirit weapons.

They were ancient treasure[1] swords, seven of them. Ancient treasure weapons only appeared once or twice at top-tier auctions, and even then, they would be of far lesser quality. These seven ancient treasure swords had clearly been nurtured for countless years in a place overflowing with spirit qi.

“Gulp. It seems we’ve all underestimated the Daxia Sword Sect.”

“Indeed. Just when you think they’re spent, they astonish you again.”

“Who knows how many more cards they’re still hiding?”

The gathered experts whispered among themselves, unable to remain calm. Seven ancient treasure swords were a terrifying display of power.

Even the Mo Family had none, yet the Daxia Sword Sect had seven, a complete set.

Mo Zhiyuan’s gaze was cold as ice. He never imagined that a sect once mocked as weak and obscure could wield such might. Barely two years ago, they were nobodies. Only the Purple Sun Pavilion incident had dragged them into the public eye.

Mo Zhiyuan’s eyes swept the battlefield. The Mo Family’s forces were collapsing. The red-nosed elder fought like a demon, holding back countless enemies alone. The allies he had hired at great cost were either dead or wounded. Defeat was only a matter of time.

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind. His son was dead, body and soul alike, and he couldn’t even avenge him. The Mo Family’s name was in ruins, their reputation a laughingstock across the Daxia Territory. They were nothing more than fodder for idle gossip over tea.

Boom!

Mo Zhiyuan’s bloodshot eyes burned with madness. He knew he had no chance of breaking through. Lu Kangnian would never allow him.

His gaze fell on the ancient banner. He gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with ruthless resolve. “If nothing remains, then dust returns to dust, and earth to earth!”

Boom!

He seized the banner with both hands, pouring all his vital force into it as blinding golden light erupted. The banner exploded with sky-shaking might.

Woooo!

A ghostly wind howled and swelled, its reach expanding until a tornado over a hundred zhang wide rose into the sky, twisting the clouds and air into chaos.

Ancient trees were torn from the ground. Boulders rose and hurtled into the heavens. The sky itself split open with countless fine cracks.

The banner’s strange divine consciousness attack made everyone’s spirit platform and sea of consciousness quiver. Even Lu Kangnian’s face went pale.

“Daxia Sword Sect disciples, heed my command! Fall back!”

The elders and disciples retreated at once.

Crack!

The banner’s pole splintered, sending the raging storm straight at Lu Kangnian.

Mo Zhiyuan’s bloodshot eyes gleamed with a complex light. None could tell what he was thinking. “I’ll bury the entire Daxia Sword Sect with my son!”

Lu Kangnian sealed his senses with divine consciousness, his gaze locked on the oncoming storm. This power struck straight at the soul—if he were caught within, the consequences would be unthinkable. The force was beyond imagination.

His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath. Light flickered in his eyes, and his power surged to its absolute limit. His right hand shifted while his left formed a profound seal. Earthen-yellow runes blossomed behind him, weaving into a vast, intricate pattern.

The seven swords beside him burst forth like lightning. A colossal spirit sword, hundreds of zhang long, manifested in the sky.

It pierced the heavens, ripping through the vortex of black clouds. Blue veins bulged on Lu Kangnian’s neck, his face flushing red. The sleeve of his right arm tore open with a sharp snap. Muscles taut, he raised his arm and slashed down with all his might.

“Seven Swords, Open the Heavens!”

Boom!

A titanic sword light cleaved through the void. Mountains crumbled in its wake, and the dark sky split open as though the heavens themselves had been torn apart.

The raging storm was laid bare for all to see. That strike froze countless hearts in terror. Even the Divine Transformation Realm experts lurking in the shadows felt their chests tighten. They knew they couldn’t withstand such a blow.

The massive earthen-yellow sword shone with seven-colored light. Spirit qi rampaged madly, shaking the world.

The seven ancient swords blazed with dazzling radiance. The spirit sword, hundreds of zhang long, came crashing down, cleaving the storm clean in two.

Mo Zhiyuan’s eyes flashed with bitter resolve. He had lost the battle.

As Lu Kangnian’s strike fell, Mo Zhiyuan swallowed a pill in an instant. His vital force erupted violently. A palm-sized scroll appeared in his hand, which he crushed without hesitation.

A blinding silver light burst forth, carving a narrow path through the chaos—a tunnel barely a zhang wide.

Ling Daoyan immediately swung his sword, sending out a blazing red sword ray. “Where do you think you’re going!”

Mo Zhiyuan countered with several sword strikes, blinking thousands of zhangs away and narrowly evading the blow.

“We can’t let him escape!”

The onlookers’ faces turned grim.

“If Mo Zhiyuan escapes today, the Daxia Sword Sect will never know peace.”

“Exactly! A deranged Divine Transformation Realm cultivator is a nightmare.”

“If they let him live, there’ll be no end to their troubles.”

Everyone knew the rule—if weeds weren’t uprooted, they’d grow back stronger. Mo Zhiyuan, stripped of everything, was more dangerous than any great clan. He was already a mid Divine Transformation cultivator on the brink of breaking through to the late stage.

Lu Kangnian’s gaze turned cold. His figure flickered across thousands of zhang, swinging the heavenly spirit sword in a sweeping arc toward Mo Zhiyuan.

1. Item tiers from weakest to strongest: mundane → magical → spirit → magical treasure → ancient treasure → spirit treasure → heavenly spirit treasure. ☜