Chapter 9: The Sword Tomb, the Foe Yan Chen, and the Glutton Xiao Ling’er!
“Now, let me show you—nine tolls mean nothing special to me!” As Ling Tian’s words fell, the sword bell rang out with a long, resounding ninth chime.
A celestial phenomenon manifested, proving that Ling Tian had reached the highest realm of the sword, the unity of man and blade.
It wasn’t that Ling Tian wished to show off, but compared to Lin Pingfeng and the others, if he hadn’t achieved the ninth toll of the sword bell, some might claim he was using tricks, that he could only manage eight. With nine, however, not a word could be said against him.
Lin Pingfeng stared at Ling Tian like a man possessed. Nine tolls. Truly nine! The realm he had pursued so desperately was so easily surpassed before his eyes.
“Hahaha! I was not wrong, I did nothing wrong. Is it wrong to pursue strength? No! The fault is yours—for you should never have appeared!”
Lin Pingfeng began to laugh maniacally. He admitted he had misjudged, but he would never confess to being wrong. In his mind, there was nothing wrong with seeking power.
“Heh, you needn’t say such things to me,” Ling Tian replied with a shrug. “Better worry about surviving Qingqiu Luo’s hand.”
Lin Pingfeng tried to speak again, but with a mere thought from Qingqiu Luo, he vanished. He had already chosen the path to his own destruction.
“Truly, heroes emerge ever younger… er, infants now, even…”
“The Emperor’s disciple is indeed a peerless prodigy!”
“To reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship at such a young age—this is the very goal of all sword cultivators! Unbelievable!”
Luo Changsheng gazed at Ling Tian with unconcealed delight, already calculating in his mind whether he might petition the Supreme Elder to make Ling Tian the Holy Son of their sacred land…
For a time, praise filled the air.
Some were sincerely amazed, believing Ling Tian truly extraordinary; others merely swayed with the wind, aligning themselves with whichever side offered greater benefit.
“Your Majesty, forgive us. This matter was entirely Lin Pingfeng’s doing. We knew nothing of it. Whether he lives or dies, we leave it to your judgment.”
Elder Qiao, seeing the affair had ended, hurried forward with apologies. If Qingqiu Luo believed the Sword Pavilion was involved, disaster would surely follow. To be remembered by an Emperor was to invite endless trouble and no gain.
“Yes, yes, I counseled him otherwise, but alas, my words carried no weight and could not turn him back,” Elder Xu added with a bitter sigh, glancing sideways at Elder Qiao—what an old fox, always a step faster!
Returning to Qingqiu Luo’s side, Ling Tian could not help but marvel: two sly foxes, indeed! The saying about wisdom coming with age was ever true. If not for Lin Pingfeng’s obsession, he would never have fallen so easily.
“I expect an explanation from you both for this matter,” Qingqiu Luo said mildly, her meaning clear. Even if they had no part in it, they owed her a gesture of sincerity before the matter could be laid to rest. An Emperor was not someone whose forgiveness could be won by a few simple words.
“Of course,” Elder Xu replied, seizing the moment before Elder Qiao could speak. “The Sword Mound of our Pavilion will soon be opened. Within lie divine swords accumulated over tens of thousands of years. With your disciple’s talent, it would be a rare opportunity for him to enter.”
In truth, this was something he and Elder Qiao had already agreed upon. They knew the matter could not be so easily resolved and hoped to befriend Ling Tian as well. The Sword Mound held many divine blades, but only chose those it deemed worthy—if Ling Tian failed to obtain one, it could hardly be blamed on them.
Securing a divine sword for him would forge a bond of goodwill—no matter how one looked at it, the Sword Pavilion would not lose out. Elder Xu finished, casting a smug look at Elder Qiao.
“Agreed,” Qingqiu Luo said after a moment’s thought. She had heard of the Sword Mound—back in its days of glory, the Sword Pavilion’s treasury had been filled with treasures.
Having spoken, Qingqiu Luo prepared to leave, but Ling Tian leapt up and tugged her hand. She bent down and picked him up. She didn’t need to, but she preferred it this way.
“That way,” he said, his tiny finger pointing in a particular direction.
He was not one to seek trouble, but a string of prompts echoed in his mind:
[In the Flame Spirit Secret Realm, the Holy Son of the Fire God Sect gravely wounded you, humiliated you, and seized your treasure—shattering your Dao heart, breaking your invincible momentum, and becoming your inner demon.]
[When enemies meet, there can be no peace.]
[Counterattack quest triggered.]
[Use available resources to inflict damage upon Yan Chen’s Dao heart, thus avenging your humiliation! (Long-term, staged quest)]
[Reward: Ancestral blood essence (selectable).]
Studying the words only he could see, Ling Tian was curious—just what sort of person was this Yan Chen, who could become a true inner demon for him?
He realized that while he retained some memories, they were fragmented; every time he encountered something related, a counterattack quest would be triggered.
But on reflection, that was fine—after all, not every happy event required a counterattack. Counterattack meant defeating others, after all!
Tsk. The late-stage Saint Sovereign Realm—by the system’s reckoning, ninety-nine years hence, this Yan Chen would be only one step beneath an Emperor. Truly terrifying.
To damage his Dao heart? An eye for an eye. Ling Tian found the system’s approach quite to his liking. The only issue was, he currently had no connection to this Yan Chen at all.
But then again, in this lifetime, Ling Tian was destined to stand peerless in his era—so all the so-called prodigies would one day be beneath his feet. In that case, damaging their Dao hearts was inevitable—why not…
Having come to a decision, Ling Tian resolved to keep this Yan Chen close, giving him time to surpass him—until the gap was insurmountable, and only then would his Dao heart be truly shaken.
Both objectives accomplished.
“Ling’er, do you see? There’s always someone beyond you, always a higher sky. How does your talent compare to his? When we return, you must focus on cultivation—no more idle play.”
Sect Master Xiao Ding of the Fire God Sect looked at his seven- or eight-year-old daughter with a sigh.
“Mmm, I know, I know…” Xiao Ling’er, round-faced and dressed in red, mumbled around her candied hawthorn.
Beside Xiao Ding stood a youth in white, his features cold and his gaze unwavering—save when it rested on Xiao Ling’er, where a faint ripple could be seen.
As the three walked, a sudden pressure immobilized them.
“I do not know how I have offended Your Majesty. Please forgive me!” Xiao Ding’s face changed. He was at the seventh stage of the Saint Sovereign Realm; only the Chaos Emperor here could so easily restrain him.
“You have not offended my master,” Ling Tian piped up sweetly. “But I sense a fated bond with the boy beside you—I wish to take him away.”
He had no desire to explain further, even though Yan Chen was the Fire God Sect’s Holy Son. With Qingqiu Luo at his side, taking someone away was a mere trifle.
Refuse? Did they have the right? Fairness? In this world, only the strong could speak of fairness!
Hearing this, Xiao Ding breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought he’d angered Qingqiu Luo; but it was merely this.
“Yan Chen, to become the disciple of the Emperor is a rare chance. Go with him and accept your fate.”
Yan Chen was talented, but not enough for Xiao Ding to risk his life to protect him. Besides, in the present circumstances, even risking his life would change nothing! Better to let go—after all, he still had his precious daughter, his own flesh and blood.
Truth be told, Xiao Ding had another motive as well: he always thought Yan Chen was a pig eyeing his tender little cabbage. From his perspective, sending Yan Chen away was no loss.
Yan Chen’s expression flickered at Xiao Ding’s words.
“Father! How can you do this to Brother Yan Chen? I won’t allow it!” Xiao Ling’er protested. “And you—how can you take Brother Yan Chen away just because you say you have a bond?”
As Ling Tian spoke, Qingqiu Luo released them. The previously cowering Xiao Ling’er now stood forward, indignant, shoving Xiao Ding aside and glaring at Ling Tian as she clutched her two half-eaten sticks of candied hawthorn.
Her pouting, earnest little face was almost comical.
“Oh, my little ancestor, come here now. She’s just a child—please, pay her no mind…” Xiao Ding was at wit’s end. Was there ever a child so bent on ruining her own father?
He now wished even more to send Yan Chen away.
“How interesting,” Ling Tian said, floating in mid-air with Qingqiu Luo’s help to meet Xiao Ling’er’s gaze. After all, he had neither a mount nor cultivation yet; levitating alone was impossible, and he had no desire to look up at others from his short stature.
Xiao Ling’er pursed her lips at the boy before her. What an old soul for such a little brat—not even as old as she was!
“I—I just don’t want you to take Brother Yan Chen away!” She hesitated, but would not give a reason.
“If you tell me the truth, perhaps I’ll consider letting him stay,” Ling Tian said, rubbing his soft chin and blinking innocently, looking for all the world like the picture of honesty.
“Really? Well… Brother Yan Chen often brings me treats after he’s done cultivating…” After an inner struggle, Xiao Ling’er decided to trust him and bowed her head, confessing the truth.
Ling Tian’s mouth twitched. So she was a foodie at heart!
[Yan Chen’s Dao heart damaged by 1%.]
Hmm? Ling Tian’s gaze flicked to Yan Chen. Could it be…? As expected, even heroes are helpless before beauties, though Yan Chen did seem rather precocious.
If so…
Ling Tian moved swiftly before Xiao Ling’er. In a flash, he wiped the remaining crumbs of candied hawthorn from the corner of her mouth, popped them into his own, and said with complete composure, “Actually, I quite enjoy these too. Yours are tasty, but not as good as the ones I’ve had. And as for candied hawthorn, it’s not the best snack—there’s also…”