Chapter 10 — The Sword Tomb Does Not Accept Immortals

"An Immortal..."

Beyond the ancient stone doors, millions of swords stood beneath a black sky.

At the center of that endless sword plain, a pair of enormous eyes slowly opened.

"...in the mortal world?"

Jian Wuchen turned toward Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan remained silent.

Jian Wuchen waited.

Shen Yuan continued staring through the doorway.

"Master."

"Hm?"

"It called you an Immortal."

"I heard."

Jian Wuchen looked at him.

Shen Yuan looked back.

Rainwater still dripped from Jian Wuchen's hair. Blood covered half his robes. His face was pale from injury.

Yet somehow—

his eyes had become remarkably clear.

"Earlier," Jian Wuchen said, "I asked what realm you were."

"You did."

"You said complicated."

"Correct."

"Immortal doesn't sound complicated."

Shen Yuan considered that.

"It becomes complicated when you're not supposed to be one."

Jian Wuchen stared.

That answer created significantly more questions than it resolved.

Before he could ask any of them, the Sword Tomb moved.

Hum—

Millions of swords trembled.

The sound wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

The vibration passed directly through the soul.

Jian Wuchen's face changed.

His broken sword reacted immediately.

Clear Wind shook violently in his hand.

The ancient eyes beyond the doorway narrowed.

Then—

pressure descended.

Jian Wuchen dropped to one knee.

Boom.

The stone beneath him cracked.

Shen Yuan remained standing.

He looked around.

The pressure wasn't targeting him.

Not exactly.

It was targeting everything entering the Sword Tomb.

Testing it.

Measuring it.

Shen Yuan took one step forward.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold—

the entire Sword Tomb froze.

Every sword stopped trembling.

The black sky split.

A red line appeared across the heavens.

The system flashed.

[Warning.]

[Ancient Sword Tomb rejecting Host.]

Shen Yuan stopped.

"Rejecting?"

The system answered.

[Host cultivation exceeds inheritance trial parameters.]

That made sense.

Then another notification appeared.

[Additional rejection factor detected.]

[Host existence conflicts with Sword Tomb world laws.]

Shen Yuan's expression changed slightly.

That sounded less normal.

He took another step.

Crack.

The red line in the sky widened.

The entire Sword Tomb shook.

Jian Wuchen looked up.

"Master."

"Yes?"

"I think it's breaking."

"I noticed."

"Should you stop?"

Shen Yuan looked toward the endless sword plain.

Then at his foot.

Then reluctantly stepped backward.

The moment he left the threshold—

the red crack began closing.

The swords settled.

Shen Yuan sighed.

"Sensitive."

Jian Wuchen slowly stood.

The ancient voice returned.

"Immortal."

This time, it sounded clearer.

"You may not enter."

Shen Yuan raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

Silence.

"Because I'm too strong?"

Nothing.

"Because I'm an Immortal?"

Still nothing.

Shen Yuan frowned.

"Because you don't like me?"

Jian Wuchen looked at him.

"Master."

"Hm?"

"Are you arguing with an ancient inheritance?"

"It started it."

Jian Wuchen suddenly understood why someone this powerful had apparently been living quietly on a mountain instead of ruling half the cultivation world.

The ancient voice finally answered.

"The inheritance belongs to the swordsman."

Shen Yuan glanced at Jian Wuchen.

Fair enough.

"Can I watch?"

The Sword Tomb was silent for several breaths.

Then—

"No."

Shen Yuan looked mildly offended.

Jian Wuchen's mouth twitched.

Shen Yuan noticed.

"Something funny?"

"No, Master."

"Good."

It was clearly funny.

The ancient eyes slowly shifted toward Jian Wuchen.

Pressure returned.

Not hostile.

Heavy.

Examining.

Jian Wuchen's broken meridians began burning.

He gritted his teeth.

The black token floated from beneath his robes.

It moved toward the stone door.

Click.

The token entered the first circular depression.

Golden light spread.

One of seven ancient symbols ignited.

The Sword Tomb spoke.

"Bearer of the First Key."

"Enter."

Jian Wuchen looked through the doorway.

Millions of swords waited.

Then he looked at Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan understood.

"You should go."

Jian Wuchen didn't move.

"What is it?"

"If I enter..."

He looked toward the Sword Tomb.

"...how long will I be inside?"

Shen Yuan checked the system.

No answer.

"I don't know."

"What happens during the trial?"

"Also don't know."

"Can you help me?"

"Apparently I'm banned."

Jian Wuchen nodded slowly.

That was inconvenient.

For both of them.

Shen Yuan studied his second disciple.

Jian Wuchen was injured.

His body had been stabilized, but not fully healed.

His cultivation was gone.

His weapon was broken.

And the Sword Tomb wanted him to walk alone into a world containing several million swords.

Shen Yuan smiled.

Actually—

that sounded appropriate.

"Wait."

Jian Wuchen stopped.

Shen Yuan retrieved the fourth-grade healing pill from earlier.

He tossed it over.

Jian Wuchen caught it.

Then stared.

"Master."

"What?"

"I already said I can't repay this."

"You're my disciple now."

Jian Wuchen paused.

Shen Yuan smiled.

"So your opinion has become less important."

Jian Wuchen looked at the bottle.

Then at him.

"Is that how being a disciple works?"

"On Cloudveil Peak."

He wasn't sure that was true.

Cloudveil Peak had existed as a functioning master-disciple lineage for approximately two days.

Rules were still developing.

Jian Wuchen opened the bottle.

The system immediately reacted.

[Disciple Jian Wuchen received: Fourth-grade Blood Lotus Restoration Pill.]

[Evaluating investment...]

Shen Yuan's attention sharpened.

Here it came.

His first investment in his second disciple.

[Resource suitability: Moderate.]

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

[Disciple need: High.]

[Compatibility bonus detected.]

[Current destiny event detected.]

[Cashback multiplier determined.]

[50× Cashback activated.]

Shen Yuan wasn't disappointed.

Not every gift needed to return ten thousand times.

More importantly—

this confirmed Jian Wuchen worked with the system exactly as expected.

[Obtained: Sixth-grade Nine-Vein Restoration Pill.]

Shen Yuan inspected it.

[Nine-Vein Restoration Pill]

Grade: Sixth

Repairs severe meridian injuries.

Reconstructs damaged spiritual pathways.

Strengthens dantian stability.

Warning:

Use on Disciple Jian Wuchen is not recommended.

Conventional restoration may interfere with developing Sword Meridians.

Shen Yuan almost laughed.

The system had returned a better healing pill—

that he specifically shouldn't give Jian Wuchen.

Useful elsewhere, at least.

Jian Wuchen swallowed the Blood Lotus Restoration Pill.

Medicinal energy spread.

His complexion improved almost immediately.

Broken ribs began repairing.

Internal bleeding stopped.

His damaged organs stabilized further.

His meridians remained untouched.

Good.

Shen Yuan retrieved another item.

A sword.

Jian Wuchen's eyes immediately sharpened.

It wasn't extraordinary.

Third-grade Spirit weapon.

Straight blade.

Dark scabbard.

Simple guard.

One of several Shen Yuan had accumulated years ago.

"Take it."

Jian Wuchen looked at the sword.

Then at Clear Wind.

"No."

Shen Yuan paused.

"No?"

"I'll use this."

He raised the broken sword.

Shen Yuan looked at half a blade.

"That sword is broken."

"I know."

"The inheritance contains millions of swords."

"I can count."

"Can you?"

Jian Wuchen stared.

Shen Yuan smiled.

Jian Wuchen looked toward the Sword Tomb.

Then back at Clear Wind.

"This sword stayed with me when I lost my cultivation."

Shen Yuan's smile faded.

Jian Wuchen continued.

"When my meridians broke, everyone told me to replace it."

"They said a broken sword would only remind me of what I'd lost."

His thumb brushed the damaged edge.

"They were wrong."

Shen Yuan waited.

"It reminded me to keep swinging."

Silence.

Shen Yuan stored the new sword.

"Fine."

Jian Wuchen looked surprised.

"That's it?"

"What did you expect?"

"An argument."

"You gave a good reason."

Jian Wuchen looked down at Clear Wind.

Then nodded.

Shen Yuan activated Disciple Inspection.

Something had changed.

Disciple: Jian Wuchen

Cultivation: None

Innate Trait: Innate Sword Heart — Awakened

Sword Meridians: 17% Formed

Sword Intent: Exceptional

Weapon Bond — Clear Wind: 91%

Weapon Bond?

Shen Yuan selected it.

[Clear Wind has accompanied disciple through significant Sword Dao transformation.]

[Although physically damaged, weapon possesses embryonic spiritual resonance with disciple.]

[Recommendation: Do not replace.]

Shen Yuan looked at the broken blade differently.

Interesting.

Perhaps broken things really were popular around Jian Wuchen.

Broken meridians.

Broken cultivation.

Broken sword.

And somehow—

all three were becoming more valuable because of it.

The system chimed.

[High-value investment opportunity identified.]

Shen Yuan's eyes narrowed.

[Repairing Clear Wind conventionally: Not recommended.]

Of course.

[Recommended future investment:]

Allow weapon to evolve alongside disciple's Sword Meridian path.

Shen Yuan smiled.

That could wait.

"Go."

Jian Wuchen looked toward the doorway.

Then bowed.

"Yes, Master."

He stepped across the threshold.

Nothing broke.

Good start.

The moment Jian Wuchen entered—

the stone doors began closing.

Shen Yuan frowned.

"Wait."

Jian Wuchen turned.

"What?"

Shen Yuan considered several pieces of advice.

Be careful.

Don't die.

Don't trust mysterious ancient voices.

Don't touch anything glowing.

Unfortunately, cultivators generally had to touch glowing things to receive inheritances.

So he settled on:

"If an ancient soul tries to possess you, stab it."

Jian Wuchen stared.

The ancient voice inside the Sword Tomb spoke.

"...Impudent."

Shen Yuan smiled.

"I wasn't talking about you specifically."

Silence.

"Unless I should be."

The doors slammed shut.

Boom.

Shen Yuan stood alone in the cave.

He looked at the sealed door.

Then sighed.

"Rude."

Inside the Sword Tomb—

Jian Wuchen stood beneath an endless black sky.

The doors behind him were gone.

No cave.

No exit.

Only swords.

Millions.

Perhaps more.

They stretched beyond the horizon.

Some were enormous.

Blades taller than buildings.

Others were tiny.

Daggers.

Needles.

Greatswords.

Sabers.

Curved blades.

Straight blades.

Weapons Jian Wuchen couldn't even name.

Many were broken.

He felt strangely comfortable.

The ancient voice spoke.

"Walk."

Jian Wuchen looked around.

"Where?"

"Forward."

"Toward what?"

"Your sword."

Jian Wuchen frowned.

"I'm holding it."

Silence.

Then—

"Walk."

Apparently ancient inheritances shared some of Shen Yuan's communication habits.

Jian Wuchen started walking.

The moment he passed the first sword—

a vision struck him.

Blood.

Battle.

A swordsman standing against an army.

Slash.

The vision vanished.

Jian Wuchen stumbled.

He looked toward the rusted sword beside him.

A remnant.

A memory.

He took another step.

Another sword.

Another vision.

A woman practicing beneath falling peach blossoms.

Ten years.

Twenty.

Fifty.

One movement.

Again and again.

The vision disappeared.

Jian Wuchen breathed heavily.

He understood.

Every sword contained something.

Not necessarily an inheritance.

A memory.

A fragment of its wielder's Dao.

He continued.

Third sword.

A cultivator cutting a waterfall.

Fourth.

A child learning their first stance.

Fifth.

An old man dying with a sword across his knees.

Sixth.

A battlefield covered in corpses.

Seventh.

A sword breaking during a heavenly tribulation.

Jian Wuchen stopped.

His Sword Heart pounded.

The ancient voice spoke.

"Millions have carried swords."

"Millions have called themselves swordsmen."

"Most were not."

Jian Wuchen looked toward the horizon.

"How do you decide?"

"I do not."

"Then who?"

The Sword Tomb answered.

"The sword."

The ground moved.

Hundreds of nearby blades turned.

Their tips pointed toward Jian Wuchen.

Pressure descended.

His expression changed.

The first sword flew.

Jian Wuchen raised Clear Wind.

Clang!

The impact pushed him backward.

A second sword came.

Then a third.

Five.

Ten.

Jian Wuchen moved.

No cultivation.

Only his body.

His Sword Intent.

Clear Wind.

Clang!

Clang!

A blade cut his shoulder.

Another sliced his leg.

He continued.

The ancient voice echoed.

"A cultivator uses Qi."

Twenty swords attacked.

"A swordsman uses a sword."

Jian Wuchen parried.

Dodged.

Countered.

"What remains when Qi is gone?"

A blade struck Clear Wind.

Crack.

The broken sword nearly slipped from his hand.

Jian Wuchen tightened his grip.

"What remains?"

The ancient voice repeated.

Jian Wuchen's eyes sharpened.

"Me."

The Sword Tomb went silent.

Then—

one hundred swords rose.

Jian Wuchen stared.

"...I should have said something else."

They attacked.

Cloudveil Peak.

Morning arrived.

Chen An stood before a desk with three stacks of documents.

He stared at them.

Then toward Shen Yuan's empty seat.

Then back at the documents.

The stack on the left contained applications from outer-sect disciples requesting permission to visit Cloudveil Peak.

The middle contained requests from sect elders asking to examine yesterday's cultivation phenomenon.

The right contained letters from several cultivation clans whose younger members had attended recruitment.

All three stacks had grown overnight.

Chen An sighed.

Six years.

He had served on Cloudveil Peak for six years.

During the first year, his work had been simple.

Prepare tea.

Maintain the palace.

Coordinate servants.

Carry messages.

Keep track of the Peak Master's schedule.

By the third year, he had discovered that Shen Yuan did not actually possess a schedule.

By the fifth, Chen An had become skilled at inventing one whenever people asked.

"Peak Master Shen is in seclusion."

"Peak Master Shen is comprehending the Dao."

"Peak Master Shen is unavailable."

The last one was usually true.

Then Lin Yue arrived.

Two days later—

the entire administrative structure of Cloudveil Peak had collapsed.

"Senior Chen?"

Chen An looked up.

Lin Yue stood at the entrance.

She had changed into her Cloudveil robes.

Her silver-blue cultivation aura was completely restrained.

Chen An still hadn't become accustomed to that.

Two days ago, she had possessed damaged spiritual roots.

Yesterday, she had broken a training post.

Today—

Chen An no longer wanted to guess.

"Miss Lin."

Lin Yue shook her head.

"Just Lin Yue is fine."

Chen An smiled.

"Then you should call me Chen An."

Lin Yue entered.

She looked at the documents.

"What are those?"

"Problems."

She blinked.

"All of them?"

"Most documents eventually become problems."

That sounded suspiciously like something Shen Yuan would say.

Six years had consequences.

Lin Yue picked up one letter.

Request for Cultivation Exchange — Jade Lotus Peak.

Another.

Formal Inquiry Regarding Yesterday's Lunar Phenomenon.

Another.

Request to Visit Cloudveil Peak.

Another.

Request for Lin Yue to demonstrate her new cultivation foundation before the Sect Elders.

Her expression changed.

"Do I need to do these?"

"No."

She relaxed.

"Peak Master Shen needs to decide which ones you need to do."

Her relief disappeared.

"Master isn't here."

"Correct."

"When will he return?"

"I was hoping you knew."

They stared at each other.

Neither did.

Chen An sat down.

"Before you arrived, this was easier."

Lin Yue looked slightly guilty.

"Sorry."

Chen An immediately shook his head.

"That wasn't a complaint."

He looked around the previously empty hall.

"Cloudveil Peak needed disciples."

Lin Yue paused.

"Did Master think so?"

"No."

That answer came quickly.

Lin Yue smiled.

Chen An continued sorting documents.

"Six years."

"He rejected every recruitment ceremony?"

"Every one."

"Why?"

"He said teaching was troublesome."

Lin Yue's eyebrow twitched.

That sounded like him.

"Then why did he become a Peak Master?"

Chen An stopped.

He had wondered that himself.

Many times.

"The previous Peak Master chose him."

"Did Master want the position?"

"No."

"Did he refuse?"

"Repeatedly."

"What happened?"

"The Sect Master accepted on his behalf."

Lin Yue stared.

Chen An nodded solemnly.

"Sect Master Gu is very experienced."

Lin Yue laughed.

It was brief.

But Chen An noticed.

Good.

When she'd first arrived, the girl had looked as though relaxing might cause the heavens to punish her.

That was changing.

Chen An returned to the documents.

Then paused.

"Peak Master Shen said something about another disciple before leaving?"

Lin Yue looked up.

"Yes."

"What exactly?"

She hesitated.

"He said he was going to see whether my future junior brother was about to die."

Chen An's hand stopped.

He slowly placed the document down.

"Future junior brother."

"Yes."

"Those exact words?"

"Yes."

Chen An leaned back.

Six years.

No disciples.

Then two in less than a week.

He looked toward the thirty-six residences below the palace.

A terrible possibility occurred to him.

"Lin Yue."

"Yes?"

"How many disciples do you think Peak Master intends to accept?"

She followed his gaze.

Thirty-six residences.

"I don't know."

Chen An became quiet.

Then he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing."

"For what?"

"Disaster."

Lin Yue looked concerned.

Chen An dipped his brush in ink.

At the top of the page, he wrote:

Cloudveil Peak Disciple Registry.

Underneath:

First Disciple — Lin Yue.

Then he left the second line blank.

Lin Yue watched.

"You're already adding him?"

"If Peak Master Shen called him your future junior brother before leaving..."

Chen An sighed.

"...I have learned not to bet against him."

He set the paper aside.

Lin Yue looked at the empty lines beneath her name.

For some reason—

she smiled.

Inside the Sword Tomb—

Jian Wuchen had lost count.

Two hundred swords?

Three hundred?

It didn't matter.

His body was covered in cuts.

The healing pill had restored much of his strength.

Most of that strength was now gone again.

Clear Wind had gained another crack.

Jian Wuchen breathed heavily.

Around him—

hundreds of swords floated.

The ancient voice spoke.

"Your body is weak."

"I know."

"Your meridians are destroyed."

"I know."

"Your foundation is gone."

"I know."

A pause.

"Your sword is broken."

Jian Wuchen looked at Clear Wind.

"Everyone seems very concerned about that."

The ancient voice fell silent.

Perhaps Shen Yuan was already influencing him.

That was unfortunate.

The swords attacked.

Jian Wuchen moved.

This time—

something changed.

He stopped trying to use techniques.

Stopped remembering the sword arts he'd learned as a genius.

Stopped attempting to reproduce movements designed for a body with spiritual Qi.

Those techniques belonged to his old cultivation.

That Jian Wuchen was gone.

So—

one sword.

Parry.

One step.

Cut.

Turn.

Thrust.

Simple.

His Sword Intent moved.

Through the damaged channels in his arms.

Across his chest.

Down his spine.

Pain erupted.

Jian Wuchen ignored it.

The golden pathways Shen Yuan had described—

Sword Meridians.

He couldn't see them.

But he could feel something.

Every time he swung—

the Sword Intent traveled the same route.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The path became clearer.

A sword flew toward his throat.

Jian Wuchen moved.

Clear Wind struck.

Clang!

The attacking blade shattered.

His eyes widened.

He hadn't used Qi.

Hadn't used a technique.

Yet something had passed through Clear Wind.

Sword Intent.

Not around the blade.

Through it.

The Sword Tomb reacted.

Hum—

Every sword stopped.

The ancient voice became quiet.

Then:

"Again."

One sword rose.

Jian Wuchen steadied himself.

It attacked.

He swung.

Clang!

The weapon shattered.

Pain ripped through his right arm.

One of the damaged pathways inside him widened.

Jian Wuchen gasped.

The ancient voice spoke.

"Again."

Another sword.

Slash.

Broken.

The pathway expanded.

Blood emerged from Jian Wuchen's skin.

"Again."

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

Each strike carved the invisible pathway deeper.

Then—

the system notification Shen Yuan could not see appeared nowhere.

There was no system inside the Sword Tomb.

Only Jian Wuchen.

Only the sword.

And something ancient recognizing what he was becoming.

The voice whispered:

"Sword Meridian."

Jian Wuchen froze.

Shen Yuan had used the same words.

The ancient presence seemed surprised.

"Someone already saw it."

Jian Wuchen smiled faintly.

"My master."

Silence.

Then—

"Your master is strange."

Jian Wuchen thought of Shen Yuan arguing with the Sword Tomb.

"Yes."

The voice almost sounded amused.

"But he saw correctly."

The endless sword plain changed.

Millions of blades sank into the earth.

All except nine.

Nine swords remained.

Each different.

Each radiating terrifying pressure.

The first was rusted.

The second broken.

The third black.

The fourth white.

The fifth transparent.

The sixth burned without flame.

The seventh seemed made from lightning.

The eighth had no blade at all.

The ninth—

Jian Wuchen couldn't look directly at it.

The ancient voice spoke.

"Nine Sword Meridians."

"Nine gates."

"Nine deaths."

Jian Wuchen's expression changed slightly.

"Deaths?"

"Perhaps."

He stared.

The ancient voice continued.

"Complete them..."

The first sword rose.

"...and your broken path will become something greater than the one you lost."

Jian Wuchen tightened his grip.

Clear Wind trembled.

The first sword pointed toward his heart.

"First Gate."

Pressure descended.

"Heart Meridian."

Jian Wuchen raised his broken sword.

Then—

smiled.

"Come."

The rusted sword disappeared.

Outside the Sword Tomb—

Shen Yuan sat cross-legged before the sealed doors.

He had been waiting for several hours.

He was bored.

Very bored.

He had attempted meditation.

The Primordial Autonomous Dao Body made that unnecessary.

He had attempted studying the sword marks.

Interesting for approximately one hour.

Then he'd tried tea.

He had no tea.

A serious oversight.

Eventually—

the system chimed.

[Disciple Jian Wuchen's destiny is undergoing significant transformation.]

Shen Yuan immediately opened his eyes.

[Sword Meridian formation accelerating.]

[17% → 23%.]

He smiled.

Good.

Then—

[27%.]

[31%.]

Fast.

Very fast.

The stone door trembled.

Shen Yuan stood.

A powerful Sword Intent erupted from behind it.

The entire cave shook.

Sword marks across the walls lit up.

Then—

Shen Yuan felt something else.

Not Jian Wuchen.

Far away.

Several presences had entered the ruined valley.

Strong ones.

Core Formation.

Nascent Soul.

One—

Soul Transformation.

Shen Yuan's expression flattened.

The system notification appeared.

[Warning.]

[Ancient Sword Tomb activation has been detected by external factions.]

Of course.

Ancient inheritance opens.

Powerful cultivators arrive.

Some traditions apparently existed across every cultivation world.

Shen Yuan extended his divine sense.

Outside the cave—

figures appeared above the ruined valley.

Dozens.

Different robes.

Different factions.

At their front stood an elderly man carrying a black iron sword.

The old man's aura spread.

Nascent Soul.

Beside him stood another figure.

Middle-aged.

Red robes.

Soul Transformation.

Then another.

More were approaching.

Shen Yuan counted.

One.

Five.

Twelve.

Twenty-three.

He sighed.

Jian Wuchen was still inside.

Which meant Shen Yuan had one job.

Keep everyone else out.

He walked toward the cave entrance.

Outside—

the first arriving elder looked toward the waterfall.

His eyes burned with excitement.

"Ancient Sword Intent."

Another cultivator laughed.

"The inheritance has finally opened!"

Several immediately moved.

Then—

Shen Yuan stepped through the waterfall.

His white robes remained completely dry.

The cultivators stopped.

The elderly swordsman narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?"

Shen Yuan looked at the growing crowd.

Then toward the cave behind him.

Then back.

He really wished he'd brought tea.

"Shen Yuan."

The old man frowned.

He didn't recognize the name.

The Soul Transformation cultivator beside him did.

His expression changed.

"Azure Origin Sect."

The old swordsman looked over.

"Who?"

The red-robed man stared at Shen Yuan.

"Cloudveil Peak Master."

Several people reacted.

Shen Yuan was somewhat pleased.

At least someone knew him.

Then the man continued.

"The twenty-seven-year-old Soul Transformation genius."

Shen Yuan's pleasure disappeared.

That information was now extremely outdated.

The old swordsman relaxed slightly.

Soul Transformation.

Powerful.

But manageable.

"Peak Master Shen."

He clasped his hands.

"This inheritance does not belong to Azure Origin Sect."

Shen Yuan nodded.

"Correct."

"Then you cannot claim it alone."

"Also correct."

The elder seemed surprised.

That was easier than expected.

Shen Yuan continued.

"It belongs to my disciple."

The old man's expression changed.

"Your disciple?"

"Yes."

"On what basis?"

"He opened it."

Silence.

The old man frowned.

"Ancient inheritances belong to those capable of obtaining them."

Shen Yuan thought about that.

"Then obtain it."

The elder's eyes narrowed.

Shen Yuan stepped aside.

The waterfall behind him revealed the cave.

Several cultivators smiled.

Then Shen Yuan added:

"You'll have to pass me first."

The smiles disappeared.

The Soul Transformation cultivator studied him.

"Peak Master Shen."

His aura slowly rose.

"You are talented."

Shen Yuan waited.

"Perhaps the greatest genius Azure Origin Sect has produced in centuries."

Still waiting.

"But there are many powers in the Northern Region."

Shen Yuan sighed.

Speeches.

Why did powerful cultivators always give speeches before making poor decisions?

The man's Soul Transformation aura erupted.

Clouds scattered.

The valley shook.

Several weaker cultivators retreated.

Shen Yuan's robes moved slightly.

That was all.

The red-robed man's expression changed.

Shen Yuan looked at him.

"My disciple is taking a test."

He pointed toward the cave.

"I would prefer not to disturb him."

The man frowned.

"And?"

Shen Yuan smiled faintly.

"So I'll ask once."

He raised one hand.

No Immortal aura appeared.

No overwhelming spiritual pressure.

Shen Yuan simply pressed his palm downward.

The world changed.

Every cultivator in the sky—

fell.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Dozens of figures slammed into the valley floor.

The Nascent Soul elder crashed to one knee.

The Soul Transformation cultivator hit the ground with both feet and immediately sank waist-deep into stone.

His face went pale.

He tried to rise.

Couldn't.

Everyone stared at Shen Yuan.

He remained standing beneath the waterfall.

Calm.

Dry.

Mildly inconvenienced.

His voice carried across the valley.

"No one enters."

Deep inside the Sword Tomb—

Jian Wuchen raised his broken sword against the First Gate.

Back on Cloudveil Peak—

Chen An added a second empty line beneath Lin Yue's name.

And across the Northern Region—

for the first time, rumors began spreading about a young Peak Master whose cultivation might not be what everyone believed.

Cloudveil Peak had spent six years almost forgotten.

That quiet period—

was ending.