Volume Two: The Mortal Realm Chapter Ninety-Four: The Swordbearer of the Mortal World

How could there exist a sword so heavy in this world?

A sword as weighty as mountains and seas.

Ye Mingke closed his eyes. The first time he grasped the heavy sword called "The Mortal Realm," he deeply felt his own insignificance and fragility in contrast to the blade.

Through the perception of his spiritual eye, the colossal sword leaning upright in the snow before him resembled a towering mountain hundreds of feet high, and he was but a man standing at its base, gazing upward.

What kind of giant could wield a mountain as a sword?

Or at least, what breadth of heart and strength would one need to dare to make a mountain a sword?

In a daze, Ye Mingke seemed to return to those afternoons during six years of training in the small town, climbing the steep mountain behind it. Once again, he confronted the overwhelming pressure radiating from that peak, as vast as the sky itself.

That relentless pressure, which repeatedly tested his inner resolve, he had originally thought forbade any flaw or fear in the heart. But after the shattering of his dreams in the town, he finally understood.

True strength in the heart is not the absence of fear, but the ability to cling to one’s conviction despite fear.

The blue-clad swordsman, who had been brushed aside by a woman’s punch and spat blood, had recovered and was now advancing toward him and the girl behind him.

He remembered the promise made to Li Han, the vow to the girl from his butterfly dream, the unknown fate of Sword Uncle and Aunt Dragon lost in another half-world, and his own desire to live clearly, peacefully, and serenely in this world.

Ye Mingke gripped tightly the towering great sword before him and slowly opened his eyes. Veins bulged on his hands as he stared intently at the blue-clad swordsman, whose cold and menacing presence was drawing near. Then, he slowly drew the colossal sword upright.

He had conquered the shackles within his heart.

Though the sword was immensely heavy, it was not impossible to lift.

Seeing him raise the heavy sword, Yi Er, whose expression had been calm, suddenly hesitated, a flicker of surprise and doubt crossing his face.

"This heavy sword, only known because of the sword-worshiper’s appearance—could it really be the divine weapon once wielded by the Human Emperor?"

"The Human Emperor’s body and the Human Emperor’s sword. Could there be some secret within that threatens me?"

He cautiously slowed his approach, wary.

Yet, no more than a few breaths after Ye Mingke lifted the sword, his body uncontrollably tilted from the sword’s weight, and he weakly thrust the blade back into the ground.

Only when truly grasping the sword did Ye Mingke realize that the already ponderous blade grew heavier the longer it was held, until even his innate monstrous strength could scarcely bear it.

He tried several times to lift the sword again, but each time, after a few breaths, he had to put it down.

His face turned pale as paper when he finally let the heavy sword rest once more.

Yi Er watched this ridiculous spectacle, his expression shifting from doubt to mocking disdain.

"Is it the sword that’s wrong, or the man?"

"Or even if both are right, is it actually useless?"

"Enough. Don’t waste my time anymore."

He took a step forward, spanning several yards, reaching out toward Ye Mingke’s chest. A faint blue spiritual energy shimmered between his palms.

---

Ye Mingke’s gaze hardened; this blue-clad swordsman had clearly run out of patience.

Though he had been utterly defeated in their brief skirmish, having fully experienced the flawless techniques of this swordsman who had reached the pinnacle of the Dao, Ye Mingke refused to surrender.

He loosened his grip on the heavy sword, then grasped it again just as it returned to its original weight, swinging it horizontally to block the incoming blue palm.

That glowing azure palm, seemingly gentle and slow, touched the heavy sword as if strumming a stringed instrument.

“Clang!”

A thunderous clang echoed through the raging snowstorm again, but this time Ye Mingke deliberately released his grip momentarily. The heavy sword hummed under the impact but was not knocked away. In Ye Mingke’s perception, the blue spiritual energy shattered upon contact with the blade.

Was this spirit-breaking?

A gleam flashed in Ye Mingke’s eyes. He sidestepped, seized the broad heavy sword, and held it horizontally, shielding more than half his body.

The clash of iron rang out.

The blue-clad swordsman pressed in, his palm techniques light and fluid yet striking with the force of thunder. Despite their finesse, all his attacks were ruthlessly blocked by the heavy sword, as immovable as a mountain.

Both men moved like swirling butterflies stepping lightly over the snow, advancing, retreating, twisting, and entangling. Yet under Ye Mingke’s exquisite calculation and control—loosening and tightening his grip—the heavy sword always stood firm between them.

A swordsman turning his blade into a tortoise shell.

Yi Er had attempted to seize the heavy sword, but on one hand, Ye Mingke’s deft calculations avoided all his strikes; on the other, Yi Er could not bear the oppressive weight of the sword when attempting to grasp it.

What should have been a one-sided battle was gradually turning into a stalemate because of this heavy sword.

As time passed, Yi Er’s attacks grew faster and heavier. Ye Mingke, as if walking a steel wire high above the abyss, constantly calculated and controlled the sword to block every onslaught.

Yi Er’s handsome, aloof face darkened with mounting killing intent and impatience. The blue spiritual energy flowing from his fingers thickened and surged like waves.

He no longer confined himself to close combat. His eyes narrowed as the arrows originally stuck in the snowy ground trembled violently, rising like a torrential storm hurled against the sky.

He floated backward as the dense rain of arrows, like swimming dragons, soared into the air before crashing down fiercely in Ye Mingke’s direction.

Yet, Yi Er silently watched the storm of arrows fall away, then slowly reached behind and drew his own blue spiritual sword.

Not far off, Ye Mingke, who had once again plunged the heavy sword into the snow to rest briefly, stood upon the snowfield littered with countless arrows, his gaze still grave and focused. Neither he nor the girl behind him bore a scratch.

For someone like Ye Mingke, who possessed precise control, rapid calculation, and spiritual eye perception, such a large-scale attack was only threatening if its power made survival impossible anywhere within its range. As long as there was a sliver of hope, he could find a way to survive.

“I did not want to draw my sword against you at first, because your strength does not merit it, and because someone who uses a sword as a tortoise shell does not deserve my blade. But time is short, so I will give you no chance.”

Yi Er slowly drew the blue spiritual sword behind his back and respectfully held it horizontally before his brow.

At his level, even facing Ye Mingke with that strange heavy sword, he would not normally need to draw his sword.

But in this freezing winter, where the wind and snow kill all life, his wood-elemental spiritual energy was limited to wood arrows. His ranged attacks were severely restricted, while close combat was blocked by that strange heavy sword.

---

But that did not matter. No matter how thick the tortoise shell, it could be cut through.

Yi Er opened his eyes and, through the sword held before him, stared directly at Ye Mingke, who gripped the heavy sword once more. It was as if the youth behind the blade had been sliced apart by the sword’s edge.

Ye Mingke tightened his grip, watching Yi Er’s every move.

In his perception, Yi Er’s spiritual energy grew ever more brilliant and pure, like a spiritual sword slowly drawn from its sheath.

He lowered his body, tensing every muscle, his waist and abdomen braced as if a great dragon arched within. His palms, clutching the heavy sword, were inexplicably slick with cold sweat.

...

Meanwhile, on the distant snowfield, the disheveled woman’s momentum surged relentlessly. Her steps thundered like rolling thunder, and her punches rang like bells, repeatedly forcing back Yi Er, who had transformed himself into a giant bell with metal spiritual energy, driving him further into the blizzard.

Above, two entwined tornadoes roared, and with a sudden crack of thunder, both swirls expanded and collapsed almost simultaneously, scattering a heavy mass of clouds and revealing a clear, deep blue winter night sky and a huge, snow-white full moon.

Pure white moonlight streamed through the vast hole torn in the clouds, shining down upon the dark earth below. Within the moonlight, two figures fell like shooting stars.

With a tremendous boom, the first figure struck the snow with great speed, sending up a vast cloud of snow dust. The second figure followed closely from the night sky.

Then, more thunderous rumbles echoed from within the swirling snow dust.

With a heavy “bang,” one figure uncontrollably pierced through the thick snow and was hurled backward, dragging a deep furrow across the snow before finally kneeling, using hands and feet to halt his momentum in a wretched posture.

The figure struggled to lift his head, revealing the rosy face of the Immortal Lingchen—still with the youthful visage of white hair but now flushed with a sickly pallor.

“Heaven and Earth Harmony, the Innate Twelve Layers Tower. The legendary realm long thought lost has been achieved by you, this mad warrior.”

He raised his eyes toward the snowy haze, disbelief shining in his gaze.

“Hahaha, Lingchen, your Tongyuan Great Realm is somewhat exaggerated. You have drunk the fresh blood of the living for ten years, yet have you only gained a false Tongyuan realm?”

A bold and mad laughter erupted from the rolling snow dust. The swirling snow split open a seam, revealing a tall, elderly figure with wild white hair.

That figure strode through the snow, clearing dust and bringing clarity wherever he passed.

This was the manifestation of Heaven and Earth Harmony.

It was the supernatural phenomenon appearing when the three barriers and nine apertures of martial cultivation are penetrated, allowing the small inner world within the human body to circulate self-sufficiently in this realm.

Heaven and Earth Harmony does not harmonize with the natural rhythms like the immortals, but rather compels Heaven and Earth to harmonize with one’s own rhythm.