My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible - Chapter 472 The Ten Thousand Blade Grotto Opens

Chapter 472  The Ten Thousand Blade Grotto Opens

Two spent the entirety of the day moving through Nine Heavens City, gathering information about the Ten Thousand Blade Grotto.

The information came easily. The grotto opening was the kind of event that dominated conversation in every tea house, every weapon shop, every gathering place where cultivators congregated. People talked about it openly, sharing rumors and speculation with the kind of enthusiasm that came from knowing they might witness something extraordinary even if they couldn’t participate themselves.

Two listened more than he spoke, asking occasional questions that seemed natural rather than probing, piecing together a comprehensive picture from dozens of fragmented conversations.

By evening, he had what he needed.

***

The Ten Thousand Blade Grotto was a secret realm, similar in concept to the secret realm that the original Liam possessed, but fundamentally different in purpose and origin.

Where Liam’s space was filled with medicinal plants and spirit trees bearing fruits that functioned as natural elixirs, the grotto was something else entirely. The cultivators who spoke about it used a particular phrase repeatedly: sword grave.

The term carried weight, as it was reverent.

According to the most prevalent rumors, the grotto had once belonged to an immortal-level sword cultivator who had reached the absolute pinnacle of sword cultivation before ascending to the higher realms more than a thousand years ago.

His name had been lost to time, or perhaps deliberately obscured, but his legacy remained in the form of this inheritance ground that opened periodically to test those who walked the sword path.

Two absorbed this information with particular interest. An immortal-level expert’s cultivation haven would contain insights that couldn’t be replicated through normal training. The very environment would be saturated with sword intent accumulated over countless years of practice at the highest levels.

The grotto had first opened one hundred years ago, and it had been opening every twenty years since then. Five times total, which meant five generations of cultivators had entered, tested themselves, and emerged changed by the experience.

But what caught Two’s attention most was the recurring rumor that appeared in nearly every conversation he’d overheard: the grotto’s true purpose wasn’t just to test cultivators. It was to find a successor.

Somewhere within that space, the immortal sword cultivator’s will supposedly lingered, waiting for someone worthy to inherit his complete legacy. What that legacy contained, nobody knew. The cultivators who’d entered previous openings either hadn’t found it or had chosen not to speak about what they’d discovered.

What everyone did know was that the grotto tested every person who entered, and those who performed well received rewards proportional to their achievements. Incomplete or complete sword techniques, comprehension insights, weapons. The grotto distributed benefits based on merit.

That last detail made Two smile. The Myriad Armament Constitution he possessed wasn’t just compatible with sword cultivation. It was specifically designed to excel in weapon-based combat, to draw insights from martial implements in ways that normal cultivators couldn’t match. An environment saturated with sword intent, filled with the accumulated wisdom of an immortal expert, would be perfect for tempering his abilities.

But the opening was still six days away. And while the grotto would be accessible to all sword cultivators regardless of sect affiliation, there were practical considerations to address first.

The entrance was located deep within Nine Heavens Thousand Sword Sect territory, which meant the sect controlled access completely. They stationed guards at the portal site and charged an entrance fee of two hundred spirit stones per person.

Two hundred spirit stones wasn’t a trivial amount for most cultivators. It was the kind of sum that would require months of careful saving for an independent practitioner, or a significant expenditure from a minor sect’s treasury.

For Two, it was nothing. The Dimensional Space contained vast quantities of spirit stones that had condensed at the bottom of the Spirit Qi Well. He could pay the entrance fee without even noticing the deduction.

What he needed was a sword.

That was the only real preparation required. The original Liam had never bothered acquiring a proper cultivation weapon because his combat style relied on the MyriadnArmament’s capabilities. But Two was operating independently now, and walking into a sword-focused inheritance ground without an actual sword seemed strategically foolish.

He would need to acquire one before the opening day arrived.

***

The days passed with surprising speed.

Two spent most of his time in the modest room he’d rented at an inn near the city center, cultivating during hours when he had nothing else productive to do. He didn’t strictly need to actively cultivate—the passive absorption granted by his physique, amplified by the cultivation boost cards still in effect, meant his strength increased automatically regardless of conscious effort.

But there was something satisfying about the deliberate practice anyway. The focused circulation of Primordial Essence through his meridians, the gradual refinement of his foundation, the sense of tangible progress—it felt purposeful in a way that passive advancement didn’t quite match.

And practically speaking, every increment of strength gained by this body was strength gained by all the bodies simultaneously. The technique shared everything. Power, insight, experience—all of it flowed back to the unified consciousness that existed across multiple vessels.

The faster he grew stronger, the faster the original Liam and the other clones benefited.

Between cultivation sessions, Two made his preparations. He acquired a sword—nothing extraordinary, just a Earth Grade weapon. The blade was well-balanced and the steel properly tempered.

It would serve his purposes adequately until he acquired something better inside the grotto itself. If he’s lucky enough.

He also observed the city’s changing atmosphere as the opening day approached. Nine Heavens City had always been crowded, but the population density increased dramatically over the final few days. Cultivators arrived from across the region, drawn by the opportunity to test themselves.

The streets became packed with practitioners of varying cultivation levels. Some wore sect robes that marked them as members of established organizations. Others dressed in the simpler garments of independent cultivators who walked their paths without institutional support.

All of them carried swords. The variety was staggering—straight blades, curved sabers, massive two-handed weapons, elegant rapiers. Every variation of sword design imaginable was represented among the gathering crowd.

Two watched from his window, noting the patterns in how people moved, how they grouped, how they sized each other up with the kind of casual wariness that came from knowing that many of them would soon be competing in an environment where strength determined everything.

Competition would be fierce. That much was obvious just from observing the numbers. Thousands of cultivators had gathered for an event that would test them all simultaneously, and while the grotto supposedly distributed rewards based on individual performance rather than direct combat, the crowd dynamics suggested that conflict was inevitable.

Two wasn’t worried. Unlike many of the cultivators gathering in the streets below, he had advantages they couldn’t match—a constitution specifically designed for weapon mastery, a cultivation base that was advancing faster than should be possible, and sufficient combat experience gained from destroying an entire organisation.

He was as prepared as he needed to be.

***

The morning of the opening arrived with clear skies and the kind of electric anticipation that preceded significant events.

Two rose early, dressed in his cultivation robes, and secured his newly acquired sword at his side. The weapon felt comfortable there, the weight familiar despite having owned it for less than a week.

He left the inn and immediately encountered the crowd that had been building for days.

The street leading toward the grotto’s entrance location was packed with cultivators. Not just crowded, but genuinely difficult to navigate. Bodies pressed together, voices overlapped in a constant din of conversation, and the spiritual pressure from thousands of practitioners gathered in close proximity created an almost physical weight in the air.

Two joined the flow of traffic, allowing himself to be carried along by the crowd’s momentum rather than fighting against it. Pushing to the front would gain him nothing—the entrance procedure was structured to prevent exactly that kind of chaos.

He’d gathered enough information over the past week to understand how the opening worked. The portal would appear at the designated time, guarded by disciples of the Nine Heavens Thousand Sword Sect. Entry would be controlled and orderly, processed in a specific hierarchy.

First, the sect’s own members would enter.

Second, members of affiliated minor sects would be permitted entry. These were smaller organizations that had formal relationships with the Nine Heavens Thousand Sword Sect, agreements that granted certain privileges in exchange for loyalty and tribute.

Only after both groups had entered would the portal open to unaffiliated cultivators and independent practitioners. Two fell into this final category, which meant he would be among the last to enter regardless of where he positioned himself in the crowd.

Better to conserve energy and avoid unnecessary jostling than waste effort fighting for a position that wouldn’t matter.

He found a relatively stable position about halfway back in the massive crowd and settled in to wait. Other cultivators pressed in around him, some muttering complaints about the delay, others discussing strategy for what they’d do once inside the grotto.

Two ignored most of it, keeping his awareness broad but his focus internal. The cultivation cards’ multiplicative effect continued working in the background, steadily advancing his foundation even as he stood motionless in a crowded street.

Time crawled forward with the peculiar slowness that preceded significant events. Minutes felt longer than they should have. The crowd’s energy built gradually, anticipation mixing with impatience, creating a pressure that had nothing to do with spiritual power and everything to do with collective human psychology.

Then, finally, movement at the front of the crowd.

Two couldn’t see what was happening directly—too many people blocked his line of sight—but he could sense the change in atmosphere. The spiritual pressure shifted as powerful cultivators appeared, and the crowd’s noise level dropped as people recognized that something was beginning.

A portal opened.

Two felt it before he saw it—a tear in space that created a distinctive resonance, like reality itself flexing to accommodate the passage between locations. The sensation was unmistakable to anyone who’d experienced spatial manipulation before, and it drew every eye toward the front of the crowd.

The Nine Heavens Thousand Sword Sect members began entering immediately. Two watched them lift off the ground in organized groups, flying through the portal in orderly procession. The sect clearly took pride in their discipline—no scrambling, no disorder, just efficient movement that spoke to years of institutional practice.

The affiliated minor sects followed with slightly less precision but similar organization. These cultivators flew in smaller clusters, sect robes marking their allegiances, weapons displayed openly as both practical tools and status symbols.

The wait continued.

Two estimated at least twenty minutes passed between when the portal first opened and when the guards finally gestured for the unaffiliated cultivators to approach. The crowd surged forward immediately, thousands of people trying to move toward the portal simultaneously, creating exactly the kind of chaotic press that the structured entry system was supposed to prevent.

Two lifted off the ground, rising above the worst of the crush. Flight was more efficient than walking when dealing with this kind of crowd density, and he was far from the only one who’d reached that conclusion. The air filled with cultivators ascending, all moving toward the same destination.

The guards stationed at the portal collected entrance fees with practiced efficiency. Two landed briefly, paid his two hundred spirit stones without hesitation, and received a token that would mark him as having legitimate entry rights if anyone questioned his presence inside.

Then he was through.

Two flew into the portal, feeling the familiar sensation of spatial transition, and emerged into the Ten Thousand Blade Grotto.