Another incense stick’s time passed. Bound by three ice-blue chains and layers of spiritual power, the sword’s struggles grew weaker and weaker. A sharp gleam flashed in Yun Che’s eyes as he opened his mouth and expelled another breath of pure ice-aspected spiritual energy. That energy transformed into icy mist, enveloping the sword, while the chains coiled like living serpents around it—tightening instantly whenever the sword showed the slightest sign of resistance.
Time flowed silently.
Contrary to expectations, the sword’s resistance did not diminish. Stimulated by the invasive spiritual power, it began to tremble violently instead! The icy mist surrounding it melted at a visible pace. Yun Che’s expression darkened. Gritting his teeth, he spat out yet another breath of vital energy, his hands forming rapid seals as he continued forcibly refining the sword using the most orthodox Divine Refinement Method.
One night passed.
When the pale morning light of the ice plains filtered in through the window, the sword’s trembling finally subsided somewhat. Yun Che’s face was deathly pale. Over the course of the night, he had expelled nearly twenty mouthfuls of origin energy. Even with his profound foundation at the peak of the Void Radiance Realm, and sustained by the nourishment of the Cold Marrow from the stone bead, he still felt spiritually drained and his dantian nearly empty.
The refinement continued.
The flying sword hovered quietly in midair as threads of ice-blue spiritual power—imbued with Yun Che’s divine sense imprint—slowly seeped into the sword body like a spiderweb.
At that moment, Yun Che’s expression shifted slightly.
A short while later, light knocking sounded at the door, followed by Zhang Mingyuan’s voice:
“Yun Che, the Hundred Artifacts Pavilion just received a new batch of cold iron today. Want to go take a look?”
Yun Che drew a deep breath and replied aloud, “I’m at a critical stage of cultivation. Senior Brother Zhang, please go ahead without me.”
Silence fell outside the door. Then came the faint rustle of robes—Zhang Mingyuan had not left. Instead, he sat down cross-legged outside the door, clearly standing guard for him.
Yun Che no longer allowed himself any distractions and fully circulated his spiritual power. By the time night fell again, he had already consumed three bottles of Cold Marrow Spirit Liquid. Yet the sword’s core restriction was like a bottomless icy abyss—spiritual power sank into it like mud into the sea. The refinement progress was painfully slow.
Left with no choice, he called out inwardly, “Elder Li.”
“Hmph, you finally know to ask for help?” Li Han’s unhurried voice sounded. “I’ve been waiting. Though this sword is merely a replica, its forging method is quite ancient, with layers upon layers of core restrictions. If you insist on refining it through conventional means… seclude yourself for five years, consume half a pool of Cold Marrow, and you might have a thirty percent chance.”
“So long?” Yun Che frowned.
“What did you expect?” Li Han sneered. “The true Blood-Refining Soul-Devouring Sword ranks among the top hundred demonic weapons. Even this imitation carries a trace of its ferocity. That Blood-Refining cultivator’s disciple must have inherited some legacy—only then could he barely control it. If I still had my physical body, I could erase the old imprint and reforge the sword with a flick of my finger. But now…”
He deliberately dragged out the last word.
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Yun Che, already familiar with the old monster’s temperament, did not urge him and simply waited.
After a long pause, Li Han muttered in annoyance, “Fine. I’ll teach you a method—the Blood Sacrifice Soul-Linking Art. Its advantage is immediate success, turning the sword into a true life-bound weapon. As for the drawbacks… sword and cultivator injure each other, minds become linked, and the sword’s demonic nature will erode its master in turn. You’ll need to constantly nourish it with your own blood essence.”
Yun Che pondered briefly. “Please impart the method, Elder Li.”
Li Han suddenly changed his tone. “But I have one condition—after you reach the Foundation Establishment realm, you must find me a body of an Extreme Yin Constitution. I’ve been trapped in this stone bead for far too long. I need something to look forward to.”
Yun Che neither agreed nor refused. “Let’s deal with what’s in front of us first.”
Li Han knew his temperament and did not press further. He directly transmitted a complex and sinister incantation into Yun Che’s sea of consciousness.
After digesting it, Yun Che opened his eyes. His hands crossed, forming a series of strange, ancient seals. He suddenly bit his tongue and spat out a mouthful of essence blood glowing with icy blue light!
The blood mist hung in midair, refusing to disperse. As his right hand seals changed, it spontaneously formed a twisted dark-red rune in the air. The moment the rune took shape, the blood mist surged into it like rivers returning to the sea.
“Go!”
Yun Che struck forward with his left palm. The blood rune shot out as a streak of light and branded itself onto the sword!
“Hiss—!”
The sword shuddered violently. Gray-white mist billowed from its surface, and faint, piercing shrieks echoed from within, as if countless residual souls were wailing.
Yun Che’s face grew even paler, yet he did not pause. He bit his tongue again, expelling a second mouthful of essence blood. This time, the rune he formed was even more intricate and sinister, faintly resembling a ferocious ghostly visage.
When the blood rune struck, the sword trembled even more violently. The dark-gold patterns on its surface flickered erratically—resisting, yet greedily absorbing the blood essence at the same time.
The process lasted a full six hours.
On the morning of the third day, a clear, piercing sword cry rang out from within the room—then abruptly cut off, as if forcibly strangled by an invisible hand.
Zhang Mingyuan, who had been guarding outside the door the entire time, snapped his eyes open and sprang to his feet.
The door opened soundlessly. Yun Che stepped out. Though his face was still pale, there was a trace of relief and quiet joy in his eyes.
“Senior Brother Zhang, thank you for standing guard.”
Zhang Mingyuan looked at him strangely. “What kind of cultivation art were you practicing? That sword cry just now… it was terrifyingly sharp.”
Yun Che smiled faintly and opened his mouth.
A streak of dark-green light flew out, transforming into a three-inch-long miniature sword suspended before him. The blade was translucent like jade, yet thin bloodlines flowed within it, emitting a faint, chilling blood aura.
Zhang Mingyuan’s pupils shrank. “This… this is my master’s Blood Fiend Sword? You actually refined it successfully?! No—this blood aura… it’s several times denser than when it was in his hands!”
Yun Che nodded. With a thought, the small sword turned into a streak of light and returned into his mouth. As for the bloodstained aura he could not conceal, he felt some helplessness—Li Han had only leisurely informed him after the ritual: any demonic weapon refined via the Blood Sacrifice Soul-Linking Art would inevitably carry blood fiend energy. The more it killed, the heavier the fiendish aura, eventually turning against its master and eroding their sanity.
“The price of blood refinement,” Yun Che explained simply.
Zhang Mingyuan stared blankly at the way Yun Che retrieved the sword. After a long while, he sighed deeply. “Yun Che, today I truly admit defeat. With this sword in hand, combined with its teleportation ability… within the Qi Condensation realm, you’re probably nearly unmatched.”
After reminding him of matters regarding the upcoming auction in three days, Zhang Mingyuan took his leave.
The room fell silent once more.
Yun Che retrieved the pitch-black sword sheath from his storage pouch and examined it carefully in his palm.
The sheath felt warm and smooth to the touch. Under the light, the twisted patterns on its surface seemed to wriggle faintly, as if alive. Unlike the sword’s blatant savagery, the sheath emanated a deeply buried, ancient killing intent—one that had settled through countless years.
The longer he gazed at it, the clearer that killing intent became.
Gradually, Yun Che’s vision blurred. He seemed to stand within a boundless sea of blood. At its center was a colossal sword that pierced the heavens and earth, its blade entwined with innumerable wailing souls. And the sword sheath… floated silently beside it, like a slumbering ferocious beast, waiting for the next moment to drink blood and seal the blade.
As his divine sense wavered, Li Han’s grave voice rang out beside his ear:
“Kid, steady your mind! This sword sheath… may have an origin even more terrifying than that flying sword!”
power now over safety later, binding himself to a weapon that grows stronger with blood—and danger.
The flying sword has been refined, but the sword sheath clearly hides an even deeper secret.
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Do you think the Blood Sacrifice Soul-Linking Art was the right decision at this stage of his cultivation?
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Which worries you more: the sword’s blood aura, or the unknown origin of the sheath?
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With this weapon in hand, how far do you think Yun Che can go in the Qi Condensation Realm?
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