Chapter Forty-Two: The Radiance of Sword Energy, Leading the Youth to Soar into the Heavens

Beneath the mountain’s foot, only the gentle sound of spring rain falling upon the earth remained, as if it wished to seep this astonishment into everyone’s heart.

Qingzhou’s Luo Qingchen, once renowned in the capital for daring to challenge the legendary top scholar Li You’an—though he failed, his deeds spread across Lin’an Prefecture.

A dazzling genius who broke through the fifth realm in both martial arts and spiritual cultivation!

And now, he too comes to vie for the position of Mountain Guardian?!

With such a figure in the contest...

Is there any suspense left?!

If the two mighty warriors ranked on the Martial Temple’s list seemed like mountains blocking the path for cultivators, then Luo Qingchen’s appearance was like a surging river, completely cutting off the hopes of those who wished, by luck, to be chosen as Mountain Guardian by the Sixth Mountain Lord. Their ambitions faded to nothing.

Though rumors said that the Mountain Lord’s selection wasn’t based on cultivation but rather on affinity, when someone’s abilities are strong and brilliant enough, only he remains in the eyes of the world.

Affinity may be intangible, but ultimately, it seldom escapes the grasp of those with extraordinary talent, for the brighter the person, the more they attract attention.

The more eyes upon them, the more affinity arises.

Without talent, who would care for your fate?

Even Zhong Shunchao and Ye Chong, both, narrowed their eyes and watched closely.

To have broken the fifth realm in both martial and spiritual cultivation—such strength was far from ordinary. To compete for the Mountain Guardian’s place, perhaps he truly had a chance to fulfill his wish.

Luo Qingchen wore a smile at his lips, surrounded by a luminous silver sword aura. Bathed in the golden light piercing the dusk clouds, he appeared ethereal and otherworldly.

Facing the pressure from Zhong Shunchao and Ye Chong, he felt nothing, hands clasped behind his back, stepping atop sword light as he approached, like an immortal from beyond.

Suddenly, Luo Qingchen stopped, hands still behind his back, his scholar’s robe fluttering, and turned his gaze toward the distant golden avenue, where a luxurious carriage stood amid tender grass and budding flowers along the mountain path.

Many cultivators followed his gaze and saw the Lin Family’s carriage, with two young women and a youth standing beside it.

Most knew Luo Qingchen served as an adviser to the Qin Chancellor’s household, and the enmity between Qin and Lin families was well known. Thus, the cultivators believed Luo Qingchen was looking at the only girl from the Lin Family who could vie for the Mountain Guardian’s position: Lin Zhui Feng.

Among Lin’an’s young cultivators, Lin Zhui Feng was quite famous. Her reputation was forged with a fire poker—no one had expected that among the current generation of Lin sons and daughters, few stood out, and yet an adopted girl revealed sharp brilliance.

Even Lin Zhui Feng herself thought Luo Qingchen was looking at her; her eyes narrowed, hand resting on her fire poker, a hint of fierceness rising.

She had no affection for the Qin Family, and besides, Luo Qingchen wasn’t even half as handsome as Young Lord An—what was he staring at!

Only An Le sensed Luo Qingchen’s gaze; even across the distant mountain path, he could feel the chill and severity carried by the spring wind.

Even An Le hadn’t expected that Luo Qingchen would come to compete for the Mountain Guardian qualification.

Lady Hua had described Luo Qingchen’s talents to him: a genius who had broken the fifth realm in both disciplines.

He himself had only just formed his spiritual fetus, his energy and blood at their peak, still far behind.

But An Le did not belittle himself. He had merely started late; now, with the Dao Fruit of “Talent Through the Ages,” he would catch up sooner or later. The path to enlightenment has its own order—those who come later may surpass those who come first.

Standing in the spring wind, An Le met Luo Qingchen’s gaze and smiled gently.

Luo Qingchen looked at the smiling youth amid the spring breeze, then withdrew his gaze and turned away.

On the mist-shrouded mountain path, the scenery above remained unclear, yet faint glimpses revealed peach trees in full bloom, laughing amidst the spring wind.

The entire foot of the Sixth Mountain fell silent.

Two Martial Temple warriors and a genius who once challenged the legendary Li You’an.

Many cultivators who had come to witness this lineup abandoned all hope of competing for Mountain Guardian.

Now, their focus shifted to who among the three would catch the Sixth Mountain Lord’s eye and be chosen to enter the Sacred Mountain.

Luo Qingchen seemed to have the greatest chance.

The Sixth Mountain Lord was rumored to be an unparalleled sword cultivator, carrying a pinewood sword case with three thousand swords, said to contain all swords of the world.

Luo Qingchen too practiced swordsmanship, and thus, should fit the Mountain Lord’s preference.

Zhong Shunchao and Ye Chong were both Martial Temple warriors—one skilled with the bow, the other with the spear. Though they had some acquaintance with sword arts, compared to Luo Qingchen, who specialized in the sword, the difference was clear.

Luo Qingchen wore a confident smile, hands behind his back, sword aura swirling around him like a coiled serpent.

He stepped onto the mountain path, dampened by spring rain and slightly muddy, but his clean boots remained untouched by dirt.

Luo Qingchen was the first to take the initial step up the mountain.

Zhong Shunchao and Ye Chong followed, their energy and blood interwoven, like ancient war drums beating, as they too ascended.

Both carried the hopes of their respective families and would not give up until the very end.

Clouds wrapped three hundred feet of pine, mist shrouded ten thousand ridges!

The mist atop the mountain grew ever thicker, even obscuring the figures of the three who wished to ascend.

The figure standing in the idle pavilion halfway up the mountain, having spoken only one phrase to open the mountain—splitting the spring rain and dusk clouds, casting down golden sunlight—made no further movement or speech.

Those below could not guess the Sixth Mountain Lord’s thoughts, and could only watch silently.

...

...

Mist floated across myriad valleys.

In the idle pavilion halfway up the mountain, a figure in green.

A pinewood sword case stood quietly by his side. The middle-aged man’s gaze was deep; wherever he looked, he saw the brilliance beneath the golden light.

The calls of Zhong Shunchao, Ye Chong, and Luo Qingchen reached his ears.

He gazed forward, the sea of clouds midway up the mountain shifting and transforming. He raised his hand and gently brushed forward, releasing sword energy.

Instantly, the cloud sea became as rice paper, sword energy turned into ink, sketching a picture of ink bamboo.

The man studied the ink bamboo, lips curling in a smile, eyes half-closed. The sword case beside him trembled lightly, then opened an inch.

A sword’s cry rang out as sword light emerged. A three-foot-long, ink-colored blade hovered before him, sword energy swirling and lifting his robes.

“My sword case holds three thousand swords; the myriad swords of the world are gathered here. Only Zhao Huangting’s ‘Green Mountain’ does not enter the case. If the youth can draw a trace of sword energy from Green Mountain, it is excellent—Green Mountain reflects talent, ink bamboo reveals backbone.”

“Zhao Huangting surely did not inform the youth of the predetermined choice... Since he does not ascend, let him be invited up.”

The man’s lips curled, and a smile spread across his rigid face.

He tapped the ink-colored blade with a finger.

The blade released a clear sword cry, then transformed into a streak of ink light, flicking its tail like a black thread, tracing the mountain path downward—a river of ink separating heaven and earth.

It split the mountain’s mist and spring rain, opening a clear path.

...

...

Heaven and earth suddenly rang with a sword cry.

Just as Luo Qingchen began his ascent, he abruptly looked up, joy spreading across his face.

“It’s here.”

His lips curled upward, confidence blossoming like a flower.

Looking up, he saw atop the mountain, the mist and rain parting on either side as an ink-colored blade, carrying sword light, whistled downward.

Sword energy sparkled upwards!

The quality of this sword moved Luo Qingchen’s heart.

The ink-colored blade traced the mountain path, heading straight for Luo Qingchen, standing on the path.

Behind him, Zhong Shunchao and Ye Chong felt their hearts sink.

Luo Qingchen felt exhilarated; at this moment, even the dust Lady Hua Jie Bing had sprinkled on his Dao heart seemed shaken off.

As the ink-colored blade neared, the sword energy around him gathered. He raised his hand, fingers pressed together, sword energy swirling and weaving around him, solemnly preparing to receive this sword that symbolized the Mountain Guardian’s identity.

Yet, as the sword came within three feet, Luo Qingchen’s expression changed dramatically.

For the blade, tearing through mist and rain, did not slow, its sharpness making his scalp tingle.

The sword was not meant for him!

Luo Qingchen’s eyes narrowed, waves crashing in his heart—impossible!

Who under Green Mountain could be more suited to this sword than he?

“This sword should be mine!”

He was even a bit embarrassed and angry.

He reached out directly to grab the sword.

Silver sword energy covered his palm, fiercely grabbing the ink blade’s body.

But—

The ink-colored blade sliced through his sword energy with ease, as if cutting through the mountain’s mist and rain.

It left a sword wound on his palm, blood spraying onto the muddy path, adding a touch of brutality after the fresh rain.

Luo Qingchen stood frozen, eyes wide in disbelief.

The sword whistled past. Zhong Shunchao and Ye Chong, both stunned, attempted to intercept, but realizing the sword was not meant for them, quickly withdrew, allowing the ink blade to sweep by, slicing open the clear mountain path, moving into the peach blossom grove toward the mountain’s base.

...

...

At the mountain’s foot, an uproar erupted.

For all could see, the mountain mist and spring rain had been split by a single sword.

It was the Sixth Mountain Lord’s sword, the one to call forth the Mountain Guardian!

This meant whoever held this sword would enter the Sacred Mountain, soaring to new heights!

In the Qin Family’s luxurious carriage, Young Lord Qin had already lifted the curtain and stood atop the shaft, watching the ink-colored sword light, smiling as he expected Luo Qingchen to receive the sword.

Yet, the sword light sliced open Luo Qingchen’s palm, staining the peach blossoms with blood, and continued toward the mountain’s base.

Young Lord Qin’s smile faded away, little by little.

He watched as the ink-colored blade cut through the mist, descended to the foot of the mountain, and continued along the ground.

Along the way, many cultivators watched in shock, hurriedly stepping aside to make way for the sword.

The ink blade sped along the avenue of sunlight, gradually slowing as it neared the luxurious carriage parked beside tender grass and new flowers.

Finally, it hovered before the carriage, in front of the youth in white with a broken bamboo sword at his waist.

Lin Zhui Feng and Lin Qing Yin froze, as did all the cultivators at the mountain’s foot.

The bamboo sword youth, after a moment’s daze, suddenly smiled, looked at the ink blade, and reached out his hand.

From the bamboo sword at his waist, a strand of sword energy coiled outward, winding like a snake up his arm.

He grasped the sword; the snake-like sword energy wrapped around the ink-colored blade.

In that instant—

Sword energy shone with flowing light, lifting the youth skyward, soaring straight up the ninety ridges of Green Mountain!