The intent of the spaceti sword annihilated the space-i storm.
Amid this seemingly endless cycle of offense and defense,
mystical changes began to manifest around Li Zhexian.
Space and ti grew hazy and distorted…
He seed to be standing within a flowing river of ti itself, where the boundaries between upstream and downstream blurred.
Only an instant passed in the outside world,
yet the river of ti around him had already surged for a thousand years.
And through countless cycles of witnessing the collapse and rebirth of spaceti storms, his understanding of spaceti sword intent deepened ever further.
At this mont—
Had it been when he first ascended to the Divine Realm,
he might already have seized dominion over the laws of space and ti.
And within the eternal rhythm of starfields falling into silence and reigniting once more, an indescribable enlightennt—like dawn piercing an endless night—blossod brilliantly within the depths of his heart…
At this mont,
space and ti lost all boundaries before Li Zhexian.
With a slight movent of thought,
the Qinglian Sword extended forth,
lifting a stream of pure radiance from the endlessly flowing river of ti.
The instant that water left the river, it shattered into countless crystalline droplets.
Within every droplet was reflected a scene from the past, carrying every step he had walked along his path of the Dao.
"I, Li Zhexian, am by no ans ordinary…"
"To hear the Dao in the morning—death in the evening would suffice…"
"When I created the first sword of the Qinglian Sword Song, I nad it Yaoguang…"
"Plum blossoms wither but their fragrance endures; swords may age, but intent remains evergreen—the third form of the Qinglian Sword Song…"
"The eleventh form of the Qinglian Sword Song—Primordial Ruin—has been completed…"
Each droplet
was a fragnt of his life, an engraved mory.
With the vision of the present Sword Lord of the Heavens, he scrutinized every detail of his past.
He searched for the subtle flaws he had once left behind, and with his current transcendent state, filled them in.
"Too ornate—thus descending into inferiority…"
"Overly domineering, yet losing the true principle of the sword…"
Standing atop the summit and looking back,
those once-overlooked subtleties were now as clear as lines on his palm.
Li Zhexian's sword path grew stronger—complete and flawless.
And beyond that—
he was still searching.
Searching for those sparks of sudden insight that had once flashed through his mind, yet slipped away due to circumstance.
Trying to capture, from among the myriad fragnts, the opportunity that would lead him to the final sword.
Clang!
Clang!
Across the boundless universe, only the resonant chi of swords echoed, as if the sword Dao of all ages were resonating together at this very mont.
Under the dazzled gazes of the gods, countless sword-wielding phantoms appeared around Li Zhexian at the heart of the space-ti storm.
They were versions of him existing at different nodes of ti…
Sotis a spirited youth, testing his blade for the first ti.
Sotis locked in exhilarating battle against powerful foes.
Sotis a stubborn yet resolute figure, youthful and unrefined, standing firm against adversity.
"No… no…"
"Still cannot find it…"
Surveying the river of ti,
he found no sword that could make his present self's eyes light up.
Li Zhexian casually stirred the ripples of ti, his gaze sweeping across every past node.
What appeared before him were all the swords he had once regarded as his peak achievents—each move once dazzling a realm, each strike astonishing in talent.
Yet now, to his eyes, they were all within expectation.
"So that's it."
His gaze narrowed slightly.
"With my current realm, I can be said to hold authority over the sword Dao of past, present, and future."
"The of the past—my vision, cultivation, and state of mind were all confined to that mont. How could the sword I wielded then surpass the understanding of my present, perfected self?"
Li Zhexian was about to wave his hand and disperse these droplets of ti.
And just then—
his gaze was caught by a droplet so small it was almost imperceptible.
Unlike the others, filled with surging sword intent and awe-inspiring might, this droplet reflected a single, humble figure.
It was a young child, tender and small, holding a crude wooden sword, his little face glowing with pure joy.
"Teacher Chen Xin!"
The child looked up, eyes filled with starlight.
"Is this… my weapon?"
"Mm. Though you have yet to awaken a Martial Soul, there is spiritual brilliance hidden within your eyes, and your bones are straight and refined like a sword. This is talent bestowed by heaven—there can be no mistake."
"Zhexian, rember this well: the sword will be your closest companion in the future."
The small child nodded vigorously, hugging the wooden sword tightly to his chest.
"Zhexian, now—strike your first sword."
The child did as instructed, exhausting all his strength as he awkwardly yet earnestly swung forward, delivering a first sword strike that lacked form, lacked structure, and could not even be called a technique.
There was no sword qi, no radiance, no Dao rhythm.
Only the purest sincerity toward the "sword."
Li Zhexian stared blankly…
Staring at the starlight in the eyes of his younger self, free of all impurities.
Staring at the joy that welled up from the depths of his heart as he swung the sword.
Like chaos splitting apart, like the universe shattering open—
A realization surged into his mind.
"I understand now…"
"I understand now…"
Li Zhexian smiled broadly as he looked at the child within the water droplet.
At this mont,
his vision blurred, and tears nearly fell.
"The final sword I have been desperately searching for—one that could astonish even my present self, one that could truly inspire …"
"Was never so exquisite technique, nor overwhelming power…"
"But rather this…"
"This original heart."
The gods only saw—
Li Zhexian, standing at the center of the spaceti storm with an aura vast as a sea of stars, tremble slightly.
The countless sword phantoms around him, the innurable droplets of ti, all froze in that instant.
He slowly raised his hand.
Not to grasp the Qinglian Sword that could cleave star rivers—
But to reach into the river of ti itself, and seize that rough wooden sword.
Boom—boom—boom—boom!
Boom—boom—boom—boom!
The Qinglian Sword, which had accompanied Li Zhexian through countless battles, let out a gentle, llow hum.
It was no longer dazzling.
Instead, all its brilliance withdrew, and rustic, wood-like patterns gradually erged along its blade.
At the sa ti,
the crude wooden sword that carried his original intent began to emit a hazy, pure radiance.
One sword stood at the pinnacle of the sword Dao—a supre divine artifact.
One sword marked the very beginning of the sword path—a mundane wooden weapon.
The two swords drew close in space and ti, the ultimate sword Dao of the present and the original intent of the beginning perfectly rging at this mont.
Clang—!!!
A sword cry resounded throughout the cosmos,
like the first note of the Dao at the dawn of creation.
The newborn sword retained its original form, its entirety suffused with a hazy texture as if chaos had yet to part.
Within its blade, miniature star vortices could be seen forming and extinguishing in cycles, as though nurturing the embryonic forms of countless laws.
At this mont, the Qinglian Sword crossed beyond the boundary of a "supre divine artifact."
It was no longer a weapon—
but a vessel of Dao laws, the very authority that cleaves chaos and defines rules.
It was—
a Creation Artifact.
All the gods stared at Li Zhexian and his sword in stunned silence.
"When the Dragon God still lived, his 'Rising Dragon Pillar' was the strongest supre divine artifact in the Divine Realm!"
"No matter how strong the Rising Dragon Pillar was, it remained within the realm of supre artifacts—Sword Lord's weapon has transcended that level!"
"A Creation Artifact can open laws and create an entirely new great world, yet even beings as powerful as God Kings cannot wield such a thing!"
Under the gods' incredulous gazes,
Li Zhexian gently grasped the Qinglian Sword.
He closed his eyes.
As if traversing endless ages of ti,
returning to that very first origin.
And once more—
he struck that clumsy first sword.
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