Chapter 890
Winter Snow in Hongyun City
The broken sword in the center of the stone platform suddenly rose from the ground.
A burst of purple-gold light erupted from the broken edge of the sword.
It transformed into a forty-foot-long purple-gold sword beam.
The sword's edge hovered in mid-air.
The sword tip was pointed directly at Zheng Yi.
"Take my sword."
The aged voice faded away.
The purple-gold sword light slashed down with a thunderous roar.
Zheng Yi raised his longsword.
The golden flames surged.
He took a step forward.
Facing the sword's edge.
It was chopped off on the head.
"Zheng—!"
The golden and purple rays collided in mid-air.
The air currents spread outwards.
The stone platform trembled violently.
The cliff face is cracked.
The fog was torn apart instantly.
Everyone felt as if their eardrums were about to burst.
Someone groaned and backed away.
Some people sat down cross-legged to resist the aftershocks.
The sword's edge and the golden flames were locked in a stalemate for a moment.
finally.
The purple-gold sword light shattered inch by inch.
It transformed into countless purple and gold specks of light.
Zheng Yi sheathed his longsword.
A tear was made in the sleeve by the sword energy.
But it didn't damage the skin or flesh.
The jade slip lit up.
The aged voice carried a hint of surprise:
"Second stage... Passed."
The broken sword hung in mid-air.
The sword trembled slightly.
It's like an endorsement.
It's like... anticipation.
Zheng Yi looked up.
Look at the tip of the sword.
The voice was calm.
"The third level."
"bring it on."
The aged voice fell silent for a moment.
A final sigh:
"The third challenge - the Sword of Fate."
"I'd trade my life for this sword."
"The victor inherits the legacy."
"The loser... will have their soul scattered."
The words fell.
The broken sword suddenly emitted a clear and melodious sword cry.
The sword's blade emitted a burst of purple-gold light.
It transformed into a human-shaped phantom.
The phantom's face was blurred, yet it held a long sword.
The sword intent soared to the heavens.
It directly points to Zheng Yi.
Zheng Yi took a deep breath.
The longsword was drawn again.
Golden flames swirled around.
He looked at the crowd behind him:
"Step back."
Zhao Sanhuai was the first to speak:
"Sir! We'll go with you—"
Zheng Yi shook his head:
"This is the sword of life."
"Interference from others will only diminish the sword's intent."
"retreat."
Everyone fell silent.
Ultimately, they retreated step by step.
Only Zheng Yi remained.
Standing in the center of the stone platform.
Facing that purple-gold sword shadow.
The snowstorm has stopped.
The fog condensed.
Only two people remained in the world.
One gold.
One purple.
Zheng Yi suddenly laughed.
Extremely pale.
Extremely cold.
"bring it on."
"let me see……"
"Your sword, three hundred years old."
"How heavy is it exactly?"
The purple-gold sword shadow rose.
The sword tip pointed directly at Zheng Yi's brow.
next moment.
Two sword lights lit up at the same time.
After Zheng Yi's sword light swept across the wall of mist at the end of the stone steps, it was as if a wound had been torn open, with purplish-gold light seeping from the edges. The mist didn't dissipate; instead, it grew thicker, carrying the scorched smell of metal that had been repeatedly quenched. The moment the group stepped in, the stone slab beneath their feet sank slightly, as if stepping on a very thin layer of ice, then immediately shattered, but not truly broke, only emitting a low "crack" sound, like someone smashing a porcelain bowl from a great distance.
Behind the wall of mist was not the empty stone platform one might have imagined, but a long, suspended stone bridge. The bridge was less than three feet wide, its surface mottled, covered in sword marks—some deep enough to fit two fingers side-by-side, others shallow enough to resemble a cat's claw scratch. Below the bridge lay a bottomless abyss, its depths obscured only by swirling, purplish-black clouds, like boiling ink, occasionally punctuated by bursts of lightning that illuminated the scene for a fleeting moment before being swallowed up again. There were no railings on either side of the bridge; only the wind rushed up from the abyss, carrying with it extremely fine, sharp blades that felt like countless ice needles piercing one's face simultaneously.
Zheng Yi walked at the front, the hem of his fox fur coat billowing in the wind, revealing an ordinary iron sword at his waist. The scabbard trembled slightly in the wind, emitting a very faint hum, as if responding to some call from the abyss beneath the bridge. With each step he took, a very faint sword pattern would light up on the bluestone beneath his feet, flashing and disappearing in an instant, yet causing the entire long bridge to tremble slightly, as if testing the weight of the approaching figure.
Zhao Sanhuai followed closely behind. Although his broken leg could now walk normally, he still felt uneasy stepping on the narrow bridge. He muttered under his breath, "This godforsaken place... even the wind can kill. Sir, do you think this bridge might suddenly collapse?"
Zheng Yi didn't turn around; his voice was torn apart by the wind, yet still clear:
"will not."
"The most hated thing in the trials of sword cultivators is laziness. If the bridge is broken, it means we are not worthy to move forward."
Behind him came the sound of Master Kulian coughing. The old man covered his mouth with his sleeve, his voice carrying a smile but also a hint of weariness:
“Young friend Zheng is right. I also walked across a similar bridge back then. When I was young and impetuous, I insisted on taking a three-zhang leap in one step. As a result, I was directly knocked off the bridge by the sword intent, broke three ribs, and floated down there for three days and three nights before I climbed back up.”
Lady Bixiao walked third, her short flute tucked into her sleeve, her arms crossed to keep warm, her voice clear and melodious.
"How old were you back then, senior?"
Master Kulian chuckled:
"Similar to you now. Also in the mid-stage of Mahayana, thinking you had a clear sword mind, but almost ended up being fed to the sword spirit at the bottom of the abyss."
Iron-Armed Marquis walked in the middle of the procession, his black iron warhammer slung over his one-armed shoulder, its head glowing faintly red in the mist. He let out a heavy snort:
"I refuse to believe this broken bridge can stop me! If it's going to break, then break it! I'll just smash it into a new road!"
The figure of the Ghostly Old Man loomed at the rear of the procession, his eerie voice drifting from the mist:
"Smash it? You try smashing one. The sword spirits below Cambridge love hard bones. The harder you smash it, the more they gnaw on it."
Iron-Armed Marquis was about to retort with his neck stiff when Zheng Yi suddenly raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
A figure appeared in the center of the bluestone bridge through the mist ahead.
The figure was extremely faint, like a shadow thinned by the wind, yet it stood there undeniably. The figure wore a tattered black robe, the hem of which was jaggedly torn by sword energy. In its hand, it held a broken sword, the blade reduced to only a foot long, from which a purplish-gold liquid dripped continuously. Each drop that landed on the bridge surface made a hissing sound, corroding a pit the size of a fingernail.
The figure slowly raised its head.
The face was blurry, only a pair of eyes were clearly visible.
Those eyes had no pupils, only two constantly rotating purple-gold sword beams, like two stars about to explode.
An aged voice rang out from all directions, yet it only exploded in everyone's eardrums:
"The first challenge, the sword of the heart."
"Ask your heart."
"Answer wrong, die."
"Correct answer, pass."
The figure raised his hand as soon as he finished speaking.
The broken sword was pointed at Zheng Yi.
A glint of purple-gold starlight appeared at the tip of the sword.
The starlight was tiny, yet it made everyone present's hearts skip a beat.
Zheng Yi took a step forward, blocking the group behind him.
His voice was calm:
"ask."
The figure remained silent for a moment.
Suddenly he spoke, his voice like countless swords being drawn simultaneously:
Why do you cultivate swordsmanship?
Zheng Yi looked into those purple-gold eyes.
Without hesitation:
"For protection."
The figure paused for a moment.
The starlight at the tip of the sword trembled slightly, as if it were chewing on the answer.
Another question:
Whom to protect?
Zheng Yi's gaze passed through the figures and landed on the crowd behind him.
Zhao Sanhuai's fingers, gripping the dagger, turned white.
Guo Tianyou's armor rustled softly in the wind.
The illusory image of a blue lotus in the palm of the withered lotus master slowly rotated.
Lady Bixiao unconsciously stroked her short flute with her fingertips.
Iron-Armed Marquis's warhammer hung at his side, its head resting against the bridge surface.
The Ghostly Old Man had half his body hidden in the mist, revealing only a pair of eerie blue eyes.
Zheng Yi withdrew his gaze and looked at the figure.
The voice remained calm, yet carried an undeniable heaviness:
"Protect this city."
"The people inside the city walls."
"To ensure they can sleep soundly."
"Protect them so they can have enough to eat."
"Protect them so they can look up at the sky and not be afraid of cultivators' swords."
The figure remained silent.
long time.
The broken sword suddenly dropped.
The tip of the sword touched the bridge surface.
"laugh--"
The bridge surface was corroded, creating a deeper pit.
The figure's voice trailed off, like a sigh:
"……Pass."
The figure gradually faded away.
It transformed into a wisp of purple-gold light.
The light spot entered Zheng Yi's brow.
Zheng Yi grunted, and a golden flame flashed between his brows, engulfing the light spot.
The fog wall in front of the team shattered with a deafening roar.
The second section of the stone bridge is revealed.
The bridge is narrower.
Broken swords were stuck in the cliffs on both sides.
The hilt of the sword faces outwards, and the tip of the sword faces inwards.
Each sword was entwined with a faint afterimage of a sword spirit.
The afterimage opened its eyes and looked at the intruder.
The aged voice rang out again, this time tinged with weariness:
"The second challenge, the Sword of Intent."
"Controlling the sword with intention".
"If the intention is impure, the sword will sever the soul."
Zheng Yi took a step forward.
The people behind him gripped their weapons tightly at the same time.
He turned around, his voice very soft:
"Wait."
"I'll get through this alone."
Zhao Sanhuai became anxious:
"Sir! We—"
Zheng Yi shook his head:
"The Sword of Intent recognizes only one person."
"If you follow me, you will only dilute my sword intent."
The withered lotus immortal sighed:
"Young friend Zheng...be careful."
Zheng Yi nodded.
Turn around.
I stepped onto the second stone bridge. The wall of mist behind me closed up again.
Keep everyone outside.
The bridge was silent.
Only the sound of the wind.
He Jianming.
Zheng Yi stood in the middle of the bridge.
The longsword was drawn.
The sword hummed.
He closed his eyes.
Golden flames seeped from between his brows.
Travel along the meridians.
Ultimately, they converge at the tip of the sword.
A golden glint appeared at the tip of the sword.
The golden light was extremely small.
But it was blindingly bright.
The broken swords on both sides of the bridge trembled simultaneously.
The afterimage of the sword spirit opened its eyes.
Hundreds of sword intents surged forth like a tide.
Zheng Yi opened his eyes.
A sword was swung out.
There are no sword techniques.
There is no method or structure.
Only the purest intention.
The golden flames transformed into a straight line.
It thrusts straight ahead.
The tide of sword intent collided with the golden thread.
Like waves crashing against rocks.
It emitted a deafening roar.
The gold thread is advanced inch by inch.
The tide of sword intent crumbled inch by inch.
The bridge surface trembled violently.
The cliff face is cracked.
One broken sword after another.
The sword spirit's afterimage let out a mournful cry of resentment.
finally.
A golden thread pierced the end of the fog wall.
The fog wall exploded with a deafening roar.
The third stone bridge appears.
At the end of the bridge stands a dilapidated stone temple.
The stone hall's main gate was wide open.
Purple and gold rays of light soared into the sky from inside the gate.
Zheng Yi sheathed his longsword.
Turn around.
The fog wall reopened.
He looked at the crowd behind him.
The voice was calm.
"Second hurdle, passed."
"The third level..."
He looked at the stone hall.
"go together."
The group exchanged glances.
At the same time, step onto the third stone bridge.
The team regrouped.
They walked towards the stone hall.
The snowstorm has stopped.
But it was even colder.
The stone hall's main gate was wide open.
Inside the door, a complete longsword hangs in mid-air.
The sword is purple-gold in color, and the hilt is wrapped with dragon tendons.
The sword tip is pointing downwards.
Directly below the tip of the sword is a stone platform.
On the stone platform, there was a jade slip.
Beside the jade slip, a line of text was engraved:
"He who possesses my sword will inherit my will."
"My commitment to protecting the Way will never change in this lifetime."
Zheng Yi walked to the stone platform.
stop.
The people behind him held their breath.
He stretched out his hand.
Touch the jade slip.
The fingertips just touched the jade surface.
The entire stone hall suddenly shook.
The sword hummed.
The purple-gold sword light surged.
It transformed into a human-shaped sword shadow.
The sword shadow's face was exactly the same as the previous phantom.
But it is more solid.
Its aura... has reached the peak of the early stage of the Tribulation Transcending Realm.
Jianying looked at Zheng Yi.
The voice was aged, yet filled with contentment:
"Junior...you've arrived."
Zheng Yi clasped his hands in a fist salute:
"senior."
Sword Shadow nodded:
My name is Yue Duan.
"It is named so because it can cleave mountains with a single sword."
"My whole life has been dedicated to one thing—protection."
“Protect my way, protect my city, protect my people.”
"Today... I see that your sword intent is pure and your will is unwavering."
“I… am willing to pass on my mantle to you.”
Zheng Yi remained silent for a moment.
Suddenly he spoke:
"senior."
"This junior...does not practice swordsmanship."
The stone hall fell silent instantly.
Sword Shadow was taken aback:
"Not practicing swordsmanship?"
Zheng Yi nodded:
"This junior cultivates... protection."
"A sword is merely a tool."
"Protection is the true path."
The sword shadow fell silent.
long time.
He suddenly burst into laughter.
The laughter shook the stone hall, causing dust to fall in a flurry.
"it is good!"
"What a great protector!"
"What I've sought my whole life but could never obtain..."
"I saw it in you today."
Sword Shadow raised his hand.
A purple-gold longsword flew in.
It landed in Zheng Yi's palm.
The sword trembled.
Actively acknowledging a master.
A line of extremely small seal characters appeared where the purple-gold dragon tendons wrapped around the sword hilt:
"Broken Mountain".
Jianying looked at Zheng Yi.
The sound gradually faded away:
"This sword... is yours."
Protect what you want to protect.
"Kill whoever you want to kill."
"I... am leaving."
The figure transformed into purple-gold light spots.
It is integrated into the longsword.
The longsword hummed softly.
It's like saying goodbye.
It's like entrusting something to someone.
Zheng Yi tightened his grip on the sword hilt.
look up.
He looked at the crowd behind him.
The sound was very soft:
"...It's done."
Zhao Sanhuai was the first to rush forward, his voice trembling:
"Sir! This sword...this sword is yours!"
Master Kulian stroked his beard and laughed heartily:
"The Broken Mountain Sword! The legendary Broken Mountain Sword! This old man has finally seen something amazing in his life!"
Lady Bixiao's eyes were slightly red.
"Sir...you protected us again."
Iron-Armed Marquis patted Zheng Yi heavily on the shoulder:
"I knew it! Following the master is definitely the right thing to do!"
The Ghost Shadow Elder snorted coldly, but a smile crept onto his lips:
"Kid...not bad."
Zheng Yi looked at everyone.
Look at their smiles.
Seeing their tears.
Suddenly he spoke:
"Back to the city."
"go home."
The group turned around.
We walked towards the mouth of the valley.
The stone palace behind them gradually collapsed.
But no one turned around.
Because they know.
A real opportunity.
It was never on the sword.
And what is being protected.
The snow started again.
But it was no longer cold.
Because it was in the center of the group.
That purple-gold longsword.
It is chiming softly.
It's like saying:
"I am coming."
"I will... protect you."
Snowflakes fell on the sword.
It instantly turned into water droplets.
It slid down the blade.
It dripped onto the stone steps.
It splashed up tiny water droplets.
In the splashing water.
It reflects the entire Hongyun City.
Tiny.
But it was blindingly bright.
The winter snow in Hongyun City arrived late and left slowly. By the time Zheng Yi's group finally returned from Broken Sword Valley, most of the snow at the base of the city walls had melted, leaving only dirty gray ice shards under the eaves and in shady areas. Stepping on them made a "crunch" sound, like someone's bones were being crushed. The guards at the North Gate saw the twenty-three figures in the distance and began to beat their gongs. The gongs struck one after another, deep yet urgent, and soon the entire main street could hear them.
Before the city gates were fully open, Guo Tianyou had already led a group of men out. He hadn't even had time to properly put on his armor; two buttons on his breastplate were missing, and his hair was a mess from the wind, as if he'd just crawled out of bed. Seeing Zheng Yi leading the way, he abruptly stopped, then sprinted after him, nearly slipping on the melting snow-covered flagstones. (End of Chapter)