Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 1046 - Rune Sequence

Chapter 1046 – Rune Sequence

Countless spectators rose from their seats, eyes fixed on Liu Wuxie, eager to witness what kind of evidence he would produce.

Forcing Yuan Huaiguang to slap himself in public was an outcome no one believed the patriarch would ever agree to. After all, he represented one of the Four Great Clans. With Elder Shi Yuan already serving as a humiliating precedent, the Yuan Clan had learned not to fall for such traps so easily.

“Liu Wuxie, why are you still standing there? Can’t provide any evidence?” voices from the crowd began to call out, urging him forward as he remained still, his expression unreadable.

Liu Wuxie finally raised his gaze and smiled.

“Patriarch Yuan, how about this? If I can’t produce any evidence, I’ll slap myself in front of the public and admit my mistake. But if I can, you will slap yourself and admit that you’re an idiot. How does that sound?” Liu Wuxie asked, clearly enjoying the moment of slapping faces.

Liu Wuxie wasn’t just enjoying the moment, but he was savoring it. This entire confrontation served a greater purpose. He had come to the commerce fair not just to compete but to make a statement: to elevate the name of the Heavenly Dao Society and humiliate the Three Great Clans, the Scarlet Dragon Cult, and the Profound Cloud Sect.

After all, the actual battle would begin once the fair was over. This was just the appetizer before the main event.

He wanted to seize this moment to strike a decisive blow, one that would show everyone the price of crossing him.

“Patriarch Yuan, what are you afraid of?” a disciple from the Liu Clan mocked loudly. “You were the one who started this, but now you’re hesitating the moment someone throws a challenge back at you? You’re disgracing the Four Great Clans. The Yuan Clan doesn’t even deserve to stand among us.”

“I agree with the Liu Clan,” another voice joined in, this time from one of the neutral factions. “The Yuan Clan started this. There’s no backing out now.”

One by one, more voices chimed in from the crowd. The pressure surged like a rising tide.

Since the Yuan Clan had stepped into the conflict, there was no turning back. Like it or not, they were now ensnared in a storm of their own making, with every gaze in the plaza locked onto them.

Beyond the central gathering, the onlookers outside the plaza joined in, voices rising in mockery and provocation. The crowd was fully engrossed in the spectacle, each person eager to fan the flames and push the confrontation to its breaking point.

“Yuan Huaiguang, if you don’t have the guts to accept the wager, then tuck your tail between your legs,” a sarcastic voice rang out. “Don’t act tough only to cower the moment the Heavenly Dao Society strikes back. And you call yourself one of the Four Great Clans? Pathetic!”

Though the Yuan Clan’s strength wasn’t insignificant, the Heavenly Dao Society had seized them by the throat, publicly and mercilessly.

Disciples and elders of the Yuan Clan stood frozen, their faces tight with fury and humiliation. All they could do was grit their teeth and endure it.

They knew all too well: if they failed to respond today, the Yuan Clan’s standing would take a devastating fall.

The mocking voices around the plaza grew louder, each word a dagger aimed at the Yuan Clan. Under the growing pressure, the members of the Yuan Clan shifted their glares toward Liu Wuxie, the one who had cornered them so thoroughly. Hatred burned in their eyes, especially Yuan Zilong’s, whose fists trembled from how tightly he clenched them.

Among the Three Great Clans, the one Liu Wuxie most wanted to crush was the Yuan Clan, and the reason was none other than Yuan Zilong. Back in the Sacred Ground, it had been Yuan Zilong and his allies who had ganged up on him. If not for them, Han Feizi wouldn’t have suffered the fate he did.

“Patriarch Yuan, you’re such a disappointment,” Liu Wuxie said, shaking his head slowly, his eyes filled with scorn.

Those words hit like a slap, further igniting the fury in Yuan Huaiguang’s chest. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tear Liu Wuxie apart.

“Patriarch, agree to his condition!” urged the members of the Yuan Clan. “I don’t believe he can provide any actual proof that the Heavenly Dao Society forged this sword!”

Over the past year, many had inquired about the Heavenly Dao Society’s forging capabilities, and all reports suggested they were far from the level they were currently displaying. That contradiction gave the Yuan Clan one last thread of hope, and they clung to it with everything they had.

The Yuan Clan wasn’t entirely wrong in their assumptions, but what they didn’t know was that the Heavenly Dao Society’s blacksmithing had undergone a complete transformation ever since Miao Feichen had joined them a month ago.

That secret, however, was tightly guarded within the Society. None of the weapons forged during the past month had been released to the public, which was why the outside world still held outdated perceptions of their capabilities.

“Patriarch, we can’t take this anymore!” the disciples of the Yuan Clan growled, their faces flushed with rage. Surrounded by mocking stares and pointed fingers, they could only grit their teeth in humiliation.

All of it, every ounce of ridicule and disgrace, had come from Liu Wuxie. And they knew that the only way to salvage their clan’s honor was to crush the Heavenly Dao Society’s rising arrogance here and now.

Every gaze turned toward Yuan Huaiguang, the weight of expectation pressing down on him like a mountain.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself beneath the mounting pressure. He knew full well that Liu Wuxie was provoking him on purpose, pushing him toward a decision he didn’t want to make.

Yet, what frustrated him the most was that Liu Wuxie had succeeded.

The crowd was in a frenzy, and the Yuan Clan was pushed to the edge with no path left for retreat.

Yuan Huaiguang, through the haze of pressure, began to realize the bigger picture. There were likely members of the Heavenly Dao Society embedded among the crowd, deliberately fanning the flames. It made sense. Those stuck outside the plaza, already frustrated at being excluded, were easily swayed. Liu Wuxie had masterfully redirected their resentment, turning it into a weapon aimed squarely at the Yuan Clan.

He could also sense the hands of the Liu Clan and the Nine Profound Sect maneuvering in the shadows, dragging the Yuan Clan deeper into this trap. The situation was far more treacherous than it appeared on the surface.

Shi Yuan stood off to the side in silence, not daring to intervene. He understood all too well. If the Yuan Clan lost today, the fallout would be devastating.

“Liu Wuxie, I agree with your condition,” Yuan Huaiguang finally said, his voice stiff with restrained fury. “But if you fail to prove it, I will personally cripple your cultivation.”

At last, he cracked under the weight of public scrutiny and took the gamble.

“Father, no! You can’t!” Yuan Zilong rushed forward, panic tightening his voice. He knew Liu Wuxie far too well. Nothing that man did was ever without careful calculation. If Liu Wuxie had issued a challenge this bold, it meant he had something prepared.

However, it was already too late. Yuan Huaiguang had spoken, and he couldn’t take back his words.

Ever since the events in the Sacred Ground, Yuan Zilong had developed an instinctive fear of Liu Wuxie. His calm, measured, and cold smile sent a chill down his spine. To him, Liu Wuxie didn’t appear to be a man in his twenties. He felt more like a predator, an ancient beast disguised in human form, patiently waiting to strike.

“Liu Wuxie, I’ve agreed to your terms,” Yuan Huaiguang said stiffly. “Now, present your evidence.”

He didn’t want to say it. But Liu Wuxie had forced him into this corner, step by step, until there was nowhere left to go.

Refusal would’ve turned him into a global laughingstock. Acceptance, at least, offered a narrow chance to salvage pride. At worst, he could still try to discredit the evidence, claiming it was forged. After all, no one could prove otherwise.

However, Liu Wuxie smiled again, cutting through that hope with a single sentence.

“Patriarch Yuan, I know exactly what you’re thinking. You plan to deny whatever I present, don’t you?”

He said it casually as if stating the weather, but his words struck Yuan Huaiguang like a hammer. For a moment. He no longer saw Liu Wuxie as a young cultivator but as an ancient force cloaked in a human shell. Could this man read minds?

“Liu Wuxie, stop wasting our time!” A Liao Clan elder stepped forward, trying to regain control of the narrative. “Whether the evidence is real or not, we can judge it for ourselves.”

They couldn’t afford to let Liu Wuxie continue steering the tempo. The longer he spoke, the more he controlled the room.

“Since you all insist on proving you’re idiots, I’ll gladly oblige,” Liu Wuxie said, throwing one final jab before making his move.

He turned slightly and glanced at Hu Shi.

Hu Shi immediately stepped forward, carrying the same sword used earlier in the assessment. Holding it up for all to see, he said clearly, “Every artifact forged by the Heavenly Dao Society carries a unique insignia, something no one else on the True Martial Continent can replicate.”

He raised the sword high, allowing the crowd to inspect it for themselves.

“Where’s the insignia?” many in the crowd asked, squinting in confusion. To them, the sword looked no different from any other.

“Everyone, please look here!” Hu Shi called out, pointing to a narrow groove at the base of the hilt. In the dim light, tiny, intricate symbols shimmered faintly.

“These are rune sequences,” he explained. “Each one starts from a foundational glyph and can be extended indefinitely from there. This forms the Heavenly Dao Society’s unique identifier.”

A collective gasp swept through the plaza.

Using a rune sequence as a unique insignia, something that could neither be duplicated nor removed, was nothing short of ingenious. It meant every artifact crafted by the Heavenly Dao Society was traceable and unmistakable. Unlike traditional forgers who engraved their names, the Heavenly Dao Society had embedded a method that ensured absolute authenticity.

Yuan Huaiguang’s expression darkened. This was not something an ordinary sect could conceive, let alone implement. The sheer craftsmanship, precision, and time required to embed such sequences into every weapon would have deterred even the most meticulous blacksmiths. Who would willingly triple their workload just for a signature?

And yet, the Heavenly Dao Society had done precisely that.

A chill rippled down his spine. It was almost unthinkable that Liu Wuxie had devised this method.

“But a rune sequence alone doesn’t prove the Heavenly Dao Society made this sword!” a Yuan Clan disciple suddenly shouted, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

Hu Shi turned, his expression full of mockery. “No wonder Master called you people idiots. You are hopeless.”

His tone was almost identical to Liu Wuxie’s, which made the insult sting even more.

The Yuan Clan’s disciples turned red with fury. It was one thing to be mocked by Liu Wuxie, but to be ridiculed by a mere subordinate? They were on the verge of lashing out as their fists trembled with restrained fury.

However, they didn’t dare to make a move. The Spirit Jade Pavilion strictly forbade open conflict during the commerce fair. Any violation meant immediate expulsion.

“Is a sharp tongue all the Heavenly Dao Society has?” Yuan Huaiguang muttered coldly, gesturing for his disciples to calm down.

He knew the situation had slipped from his control. But one chance remained: if the Spirit Jade Pavilion deemed the evidence insufficient, the Heavenly Dao Society would be expelled.

Just then, Hu Shi spoke again, and what he said turned the entire plaza upside down.

“You may not know this,” he said, holding the sword aloft, “but every artifact we forge is recorded in real-time within the Heavenly Dao Society using a Memory Talisman. When a customer purchases one of our weapons, they also receive a copy of the Memory Talisman. With it, they can watch exactly how their artifact was forged, from the first hammer strike to the final rune carved.”

The plaza fell silent.

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped.

Then, gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd.

Everyone couldn’t hide their disbelief. Every sect and clan treated their forging techniques as top-secret, tightly guarded knowledge passed down only to trusted disciples. Yet, the Heavenly Dao Society had not only recorded their methods but also voluntarily shared them with outsiders.

It was completely unheard of and even unthinkable.

And yet, that’s precisely what they had done.

A loud buzzing filled the air as stunned murmurs rippled through the plaza, shock visible on every face.

Yuan Huaiguang stood frozen, unable to utter a word. His mind was reeling. Why would the Heavenly Dao Society risk exposing its forging process to the public?

If Hu Shi was willing to reveal it now, it meant they had been doing this for some time.

From that day forward, anyone who purchased a weapon from the Heavenly Dao Society wouldn’t just walk away with a blade, but they would also receive a Memory Talisman, a detailed record showing the entire forging process. The source of the materials. The forging techniques. The spiritual infusions. Every step. Every rune.

Hu Shi ignored the crowd’s noise as if it didn’t concern him at all. With practiced ease, he retrieved a Memory Talisman and released it into the wind. The talisman unfurled with a shimmer, glowing faintly as it hovered mid-air.

A glowing projection bloomed above it, clear as crystal.

There was Hu Shi, standing calmly in the blacksmithing workshop, selecting spirit ores and rare metals from an array of materials. Then came the forging stage.

Blazing flames roared to life as hammer and anvil met with rhythm and force, each strike infused with power and precision.

Finally, Hu Shi placed the newly forged blade on the work table. He raised both hands and swept them through the air, and intricate and radiant runes flared into existence.