Chapter 142: Sword in the Well

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Greetings, your peerless scholar of Nameless Town is now online.

Amidst Ling Chen's bewildered gaze—having spent an entire day meticulously observing Ling Chen wield his flying sword—Ye Mingke returned to the inn, unfurled a sack of calculation paper, and, to Ling Chen's utter shock, began a period of closed-door seclusion to deduce and calculate.

First, he drew the spiritual energy model of the Sword-Flying Technique that he had observed with his spiritual eyes. Whenever a detail was unclear, he would ask the Immortal Ling Chen to demonstrate it once more. Then, bypassing the step of sensing the Dao, he directly initiated a reverse calculation of how the Dao operated to control the minute, subtle changes in spiritual energy, thereby forming the spell.

For a spell that could hardly be considered advanced, the sheer volume of data required for the actual calculations was vast as an ocean.

If Xu Zixian were here to help with the calculations, he would likely view someone who governed spirits through the Dao as akin to a person aided by a massive computer program. To bypass the level of the Dao and command spirits directly was equivalent to a primitive man using a wooden stick to calculate calculus.

One approach had a multitude of programs and formulas to assist in simplification, while the other confronted the entire, ever-changing vast world directly.

Fortunately, Ye Mingke had received the education of a Heavenly Derivation Master from childhood, whose ultimate goal was to deduce the universe. The heavens and the earth could be calculated; naturally, the fluctuations of spiritual energy could be calculated as well.

In the pursuit of learning, there is no distinction between day and night. Having not been tormented by Auntie's Heavenly Derivation Chess for a full year, Ye Mingke rediscovered that familiar, agonizing yet blissful sense of fulfillment through the study of the Sword-Flying Technique.

Heh, Auntie, I really miss you.

Awakening from a pile of draft paper in the early morning, Ye Mingke listened to the birds chirping outside his window, pressed his lips together slightly, and murmured softly.

...

Beyond the Six Realms, the previously dead, pitch-black, and boundless void suddenly trembled violently. Wisps and threads of light flowed from the purest darkness, growing brighter and brighter until, in the end, it seemed as though a sun had risen from that void. From every corner of that void came the indescribable sound of space fracturing, a sound fierce enough to make even souls shudder.

That rising sun soared upward from the deep abyss of the dark void, swift as a shooting star or a falling meteor, radiating endless light and heat. Yet this light and heat did not disperse into the space; instead, winding and twisting, they folded back into the rising sun, keeping it eternally luminous.

"Whoosh."

In an instant, the rising sun vanished, leaving behind only a majestic figure clad in a golden imperial robe and crowned with a sovereign’s beaded diadem, standing silently in the void. All the meteorites and cosmic dust in the boundless void around him silently altered their trajectories, revolving in orbit around him.

He looked down at the dark void beneath his feet that had imprisoned him for a full year, a complex and unreadable light flowing within his deep, reddish-gold eyes.

"So this is your scheme? Very well, We shall accept it."

He spoke quietly to himself, then turned around, tearing through space with a single step and stepping into a towering, myriad-foot-tall giant gateway. Inscribed upon the portal were massive ancient seal characters brimming with profound Daoist rhyme and divine power—

The South Heavenly Gate.

He ascended in slow, measured steps.

At the very first instant they beheld him, every armored war god upon that giant gateway fell to their knees in fanatical worship, shouting in unison: "Emperor Lord!"

He had returned to his Heavenly Court.

The moment he stepped inside, everyone in the entire Heavenly Court stood in solemn, dead silence.

Though they had not witnessed his personal presence for a full year, and the Azure Heaven Palace had widely disseminated news of the Heavenly Emperor's demise, no one dared to believe it. This colossal Heavenly Court still operated strictly according to his will.

Not a single soul dared to rebel merely a year after his disappearance. Many did not even dare entertain the treasonous thought that he might no longer be of this world.

Returning to the imperial throne perched high atop the summit of the nine heavens, his expression remained calm and indifferent, devoid of the slightest trace of fatigue or weakness.

"Issue the decree to the mortal realm."

He spoke slowly, his majestic voice echoing heavily through the vast, empty hall below.

...

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Above the myriad ripples of the East Sea's fairyland, a divine giant turtle towing an immortal island against the great tide of Guixu raised its head and emitted a distant, magnificent, and lingering cry.

On Penglai Island, a palace constructed entirely from white jade was pure white from top to bottom. A white-robed figure with white hair and a white beard, cradling a long silver sword, sat upon a white straw meditation mat in the center of the grand hall.

Spring had already arrived in the mortal realm, yet the dome of this palace—situated upon a sea warm in all four seasons—was covered entirely in transparent icicles. The serene figure sitting upright was likewise blanketed in frost and snow.

The distant cry of the divine turtle reached even this hall. The white-robed figure trembled slightly and opened a pair of narrow, clear eyes akin to snow and glazed ice. Within those eyes, there was not the slightest trace of emotional fluctuation, resembling an endless, falling blizzard.

A few moments after he opened his eyes, a black-robed figure whose eyes and ears were blindfolded and plugged appeared silently within the shadowy corner of the hall, bowing slightly and speaking softly.

"Sword Master, an imperial purple- polar secret decree has been transmitted from the Heavenly Court of the Immortal Realm."

"It is... it is the personal decree of His Majesty."

When uttering the words "His Majesty," the previously impassive figure could not help but involuntarily imbue his tone with a trace of fanaticism.

"Purple-Polar? His Majesty. His Majesty has truly returned."

Those ice-like pupils slowly closed, and that soft chanting, laced with a faint tremor, drifted through the empty, desolate hall.

Then, he opened his eyes once more, looked toward the figure whose eyes and ears were covered, and asked indifferently: "Which disciple on the island do you think is best suited to undertake this mission?"

"Among the three thousand inner sect disciples on the island, Sword Nine is the most fitting. Moreover, as a criminal bearing grave sins, he fulfills the other condition of the secret decree—the Thorny Command." The figure straightened up and replied calmly.

The moment the dark shadow's words fell, the entire hall plunged into an intense, biting frost, as if instantly transported to the desolate wilderness of the extreme north.

"You may withdraw."

After a long silence, the white-robed figure seated in the center of the hall spoke slowly.

...

"Hey, Sword-Rack, what kind of soul-bewitching soup did that fellow surnamed Ye feed you anyway?"

Clad in red, Song Mingyu sat beside an ancient well adorned with numerous chains, her gaze filled with worry as she looked forward and spoke to the well.

"You, who have always detested trouble the most, actually destroyed the entire Yangjing Watchtower for his sake, and even ruined the Grand Sacrificial Ceremony."

"Tell me, Sword-Rack, you couldn't possibly... you couldn't possibly be fond of... men, could you?"

Song Mingyu's words were laced with bewilderment and sorrow, her voice trailing off into a whisper at the end, heavy with a despair that felt like a dying heart.

Bound by multiple iron chains engraved with intricate patterns beneath the ancient well, Sword Nine raised his head calmly. He seemed not to hear her words at all, listening instead to the divine turtle's lingering cry between the sea and the sky.

"Forget it, if you like men, go ahead and like them. Anyway, my liking you has nothing to do with you." Song Mingyu lowered her head and muttered in deep dejection.

"A sword will always break eventually." Sword Nine, seated within the well, did not look at Song Mingyu's face, speaking instead as if to himself.

"What are you saying?" Song Mingyu only then reacted to the fact that Sword Nine, who had remained silent all this time, had suddenly spoken, yet she failed to understand his meaning for a moment.

However, Sword Nine still did not answer her question; instead, he raised his head and asked:

"How is the girl I brought onto the island?"

Song Mingyu sniffed and said, "Don't worry, of course I'll handle things you entrust to me. She is staying with me now, and in a couple of days, my master will formally accept her as a personal disciple. Her talent is truly exceptional; some even say her potential might rival yours. Unlike me, always so clumsy and unable to keep up with you."

Song Mingyu's mood was visibly low, her words unconsciously growing heavy. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked down into the well at the man who, despite bearing heavy shackles, still gave an impression of immaculate purity.

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"Sword-Rack, you shouldn't worry about others. My mother said that this time, even she cannot help you. Violating an order descending from the Heavenly Court—who knows what kind of punishment the sect will inflict upon you."

"I don't know if you'll have to suffer again, or if you'll be locked away where I can never see you again."

As Song Mingyu spoke, tears began to fall. But at that exact moment, Sword Nine suddenly lifted his gaze to look behind her. A tall, white, and majestic figure stood silently behind Song Mingyu, a pair of eyes as pure as ice and snow looking past her shoulders straight toward Sword Nine.

Their gazes met.

Song Mingyu, who had still been speaking just a moment ago, suddenly and soundlessly slumped forward, falling asleep against the rim of the ancient well.

Only two pairs of equally indifferent eyes remained, gazing calmly at one another.

The white-robed figure spoke slowly.

"I thought you were a pure sword. But I never expected that you are merely a pure human."

Sword Nine did not answer, merely gazing quietly at the handsome man clad in white, whose entire being seemed sculpted from accumulated ice and snow.

Inside the well and outside the well, those two equally detached faces bore an astonishingly striking resemblance.

"I was merely wondering whether it was worth it."

"Do you think it was worth it?"

Sword Nine looked at that face, which mirrored his own yet possessed a perfection and coldness far surpassing his, and spoke slowly. This time, although his expression remained calm, his tone carried a faint, yearning, and painful undertone of interrogation.

"I allowed you to become a human, but ultimately, you ought to be a sword. Do not forget this."

The cold, detached words drifted through the well.

Those ice-like pupils reflected the lonely, chained figure at the bottom of the well. The figure's back was slightly arched, yet he resembled a sword enduring, craving blood, and poised to burst forth from its scabbard.

"Do not forget that you are not unique to me. A sword can always be reforged."

The white-robed figure slowly turned around.

"This time, you should have died, but I am willing to bestow upon you one more chance. Someone else will die in your place."

"Remember who you are."

"You are a precious sword, but you are not irreplaceable."

"Within the Dragon-Locking Well, until you reach the Realm of Asking the Heavens, you are forbidden to step out of the well."

That figure vanished from the field of view visible from the wellhead, leaving only his voice echoing repeatedly within the well.

"You only wanted a sword, yet why did you instill a pure human soul into a sword?"

The white-haired man sitting deep within the well slowly raised his head to gaze at the small, round patch of sky overhead.

"Heh, the heavens turn out to be only this large after all."

He smiled faintly, a shallow, detached smile.

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