Chapter 493: Bashan Sword Tomb

Chapter 493: The Sword Tomb of Bashan

No wonder Yue Hongling did not even give chase.

For she knew that the moment her sword struck, Shi Wuding was already dead, ending the karmic thread she had woven when she first journeyed to Bashan.

That he could still stagger out and exchange words with Han Wubing was only because the lingering sword energy within him belonged to another...

Well, this time, at least she had played a crucial role, not letting herself be trampled by that young man. Yue Hongling felt a quiet satisfaction. If others focused their attention on Han Wubing, so be it—what she did was not meant for their eyes.

A flicker of reflection passed through her mind. No wonder Shi Wuding, as the most representative swordsman of Great Xia, had devoted himself wholeheartedly to breaking through the limits of the sword, doing so much, living like a great villain, yet never able to pierce the Third Secret Vault.

Of course he could not. He did not even know who he was. An incomplete man—how could he ever break through the Third Secret Vault, the pinnacle of martial power in this age?

Even if he had, perhaps he would have only become nourishment for another.

As for the Snow Owl and his sword slaves, his purpose was not necessarily the same as Shi Wuding's... Shi Wuding truly sought the Way of the Sword, to gather myriad sword intents. He did not use his sword slaves for any martial conspiracy. The Snow Owl's motives, however, were far less certain...

Yue Hongling turned her gaze toward Zhao Changhe. His battle, too, was nearing its end—no assistance needed.

As Zhao Changhe had judged, the Venerable Dorje himself was a wreck. His flesh had to borrow from Shi Wuding, his life force stolen from him as well, and his very soul had fled after tangling with the Corpse Demon. That he could manifest a magnificent form of blood rebirth, bending space into a blood moon and staining the heavens crimson in a terrifying display of demonic arts, was largely due to the power of the Heavenly Book.

The Heavenly Book does not flourish with Yao nor perish with Jie. It cares not who you are; to be near it is to receive its blessings.

But to claim it—that requires a certain threshold. At the very least, this page of the Heavenly Book, founded on life itself, would never allow itself to be taken by such incomplete, broken existences.

Thus, Shi Wuding and the Venerable Dorje could not simply take the Heavenly Book away. They could only attempt to transform it on the spot. But Zhao Changhe grabbed it with a casual hand, requiring no authentication—his aura was far too intimate with the Heavenly Book.

Having carried two pages with him for so long, and often giving them spa treatments, that bond was no joke.

Once the Heavenly Book became Zhao Changhe's private possession and ceased to supply power to the Venerable Dorje, the latter was instantly crippled.

Not only did the terrifying force he had been about to unleash dissipate in an instant, but even the blood man that had just grown robust began to visibly wither. When Shi Wuding died, the blood man's life force vanished completely. A wisp of black qi shot out from the blood bubble, attempting to bore its way out of the space.

It was met by a cloth sack descending upon it: "This is the spirit pouch that once housed the Corpse Demon—oh, you called him Xue Wu, didn't you? It can contain souls. Go in and have a whiff of his scent?"

A mighty demon of the Imperial Realm could not evade this simple sack. It tumbled straight in, and the mouth of the bag was swiftly tied tight.

Violent struggles erupted from within the bag, bulging in all directions as if it might break free.

Zhao Changhe slapped another talisman onto it. The world fell silent.

"Xia Xia, a thing this terrifying—and you really could hold back from intervening?"

"Terrifying? Couldn't you see it was a spent force? As long as you aren't intimidated by the spectacle and face it with enough courage, it's no harder than Yue Hongling's battle."

"And that wave of life-draining earlier—was that also just courage? Without the Qinghe Mirror, I'd never have broken it!"

"Are you bragging about having soft rice to eat?"

"Damn it..."

"Changhe." Yue Hongling strode forward. "Your expression keeps shifting—are you hiding an injury?"

"No, no." Zhao Changhe stowed the spirit pouch and the Heavenly Book, spreading his arms. "My Hongling is still the most reliable. Mission accomplished—how about a kiss?"

Yue Hongling did not hesitate. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her lips fiercely to his.

From the flight out of Bashan until now, there had been countless battles—Miao sorcery, the Human Roll and Earth Roll, ancient sacred beasts, Imperial Realm demons. They had barely caught their breath, always feeling their lives hung by a thread, their bodies battered until every bone seemed to crack.

Now, on this Dragon Boat Festival at high noon, the dust had settled. The sword had shattered the Earth Roll, and she had ascended to the Second Secret Vault.

Even for Yue Hongling, with her unyielding spirit, there was an inevitable sense of physical and mental exhaustion—and a complete release now that everything was done. She only wanted to embrace her lover and kiss passionately, to vent the fervor in her heart.

The book, the pouch... nothing else mattered for now. As long as he was here, Yue Hongling felt she no longer needed to think too much. Ever since he had come to her aid by the Cang Mountain, the helplessness she had felt while fighting alone in the Southwest had vanished utterly. He was like the pillar of a home, holding everything up.

As they kissed, the bloody visions spawned by the "Undying Blood Demon Body" began to fade.

The crimson sky cleared, and even a few traces of rainbow-hued light lingered. The earlier sense of ferocity and oppression vanished completely, replaced by freshness and vitality. The life force that had leaked from the Heavenly Book enveloped the sacred mountain, making it burst with vigor. Even the insects, snakes, eagles, and beasts raised by the people grew spirited. Some who raised gu worms were delighted to find their worms had advanced a rank.

Ahead, the blood moon's color faded, the array's concealment dissolved. The Ling tribespeople, who had been kneeling outside, watched as the blood-red curtain over the mountain's jagged peak slowly lifted, revealing once more the rocks, grass, and trees atop the mountain—lush and green.

Amid the fierce battle, plants and rocks had been shattered and scattered. In the center, the holy envoy and his woman embraced, kissing as if no one else existed, savoring the joy of victory.

Sunlight poured down, and behind them seemed to halo with a divine radiance.

It was beautiful.

Sisi's teeth ached with jealousy.

The most tragic part was that she could not show any jealousy at all. Instead, she had to set an example, leading the crowd in a kowtow: "We pay homage to the Holy Envoy."

All the Ling tribespeople awoke as if from a dream, and a thunderous cry arose: "We pay homage to the Holy Envoy!"

Judging by their fervor, this holy envoy was now firmly established. At this moment, Zhao Changhe's prestige might even surpass Sisi's.

But Sisi no longer felt any of the earlier conflict.

If such a man was not worth entrusting herself to, then who was?

The roaring cries startled the kissing couple. They turned to look, and Yue Hongling showed no embarrassment. She smiled and said, "Go play your holy envoy. I'm going back to rest."

"There's nothing much to do." Zhao Changhe stepped forward and spoke only one sentence: "This envoy is a messenger sent by the Ancestral God. I hereby proclaim the Ancestral God's will: Appoint Si Meng as the Holy Maiden. What she transmits shall be divine oracles. All matters of the Ling tribe shall be handled entirely by Si Meng."

Sisi stared at him, her eyes misty.

Zhao Changhe waved a weary hand: "Today is the Dragon Boat Festival at high noon. Hold your own sacrificial rites. The Ancestral God will grant his blessings. This envoy is going back to rest. That is all."

He was truly exhausted. The agony he had suffered earlier, though transferred by Sisi, still left his body lacerated with a thousand cuts. This battle had reopened his wounds, and his spirit was utterly drained. All he wanted was to sleep.

The Ling tribespeople kowtowed and shouted: "Farewell, Holy Envoy!"

Yue Hongling shook her head, supporting Zhao Changhe as they slowly descended the mountain. Halfway down, Han Wubing was still sitting cross-legged there. When he saw the pair coming down, the three exchanged glances and all smiled.

Yue Hongling handed him a sword: "Shi Wuding's blade, which he dropped earlier."

Han Wubing took it. "Thanks."

Zhao Changhe said, "Hey, you killed Shi Wuding, but the Proclamation of Chaos didn't flash. Maybe because we were inside the secret realm... I wonder if it will flash once we're outside."

Han Wubing replied, "It might have flashed, but we just couldn't see it from inside... Anyway, it wasn't my kill. If the Proclamation of Chaos records anything, it will be your sister-in-law's feat."

Zhao Changhe said, "Are you talking more now?"

Han Wubing's face stiffened.

Zhao Changhe continued, "I mean, you're not as sparing with words as before. So say a bit more? Like that term 'sister-in-law'—say it a few more times. I like hearing it, and your sister-in-law likes it too."

Han Wubing closed his mouth in exasperation, ignoring him.

Yue Hongling was also exasperated. She shifted from supporting him to twisting his ear: "Who likes it, huh? Who likes it? Ask Wubing—does he even know how many sisters-in-law he has?"

"So you're admitting you're a sister-in-law... Ow, dammit... They're still worshipping the holy envoy over there. Give me some face, leave some..."

"Get back and heal your wounds. All you do is run your mouth. So what if you're the holy envoy? If you dare touch a single girl of the Ling tribe, this female warrior will execute a lecher like you!"

Han Wubing twitched his mouth, watching the pair leave.

It wasn't just that he talked more—he felt Yue Hongling had changed too, becoming far more outrageous than him.

She had gained a touch of worldly fire, and she was growing more possessive.

But her sword was only growing stronger...

Han Wubing withdrew his gaze, falling on Shi Wuding's corpse ahead. He was silent for a long, long time. Finally, he rose, took the sword Yue Hongling had given him, and slowly dug a grave in the earth, burying Shi Wuding's body. He carved a wooden plaque and planted it above, inscribing four words: "Sword Tomb of Bashan."

After carving, he buried the sword alongside the body in the earth, then strode down the mountain.

At that moment, outside the secret realm, the whole world looked up, watching the golden light of the Proclamation of Chaos pierce the sky.

In March, Yue Hongling paid homage to the sword at Mount Ba, stumbled upon a hidden truth, and fled wounded. Shi Wuding pursued her for a thousand li; Yue Hongling vanished into the Miao borderlands.

In May, Zhao Changhe and Yue Hongling fought Shi Wuding together at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, were outmatched, and both escaped into a secret realm.

Shi Wuding chased them into the secret realm, fell into an ambush, and plunged off a cliff, barely surviving.

At the Dragon Boat Festival, Yue Hongling fought Shi Wuding again. In the midst of battle, she broke through to the second layer of the Secret Vault and slew Shi Wuding atop Cloud Sun Mountain.

With Shi Wuding gravely wounded, the ranking was deemed unfair; the position should be filled in order of succession. Yue Hongling ascended to the Earth Ranking.

Earth Ranking, thirty-sixth: Yue Hongling, the Sunset Divine Sword!

“Vainly grieve the floating world, clouds ever drifting; much lament the fleeting years, waters never returning. Spurning the lands of former grace, I return to knock at the gate of Zen.”

This verdict was utterly baffling. It seemed not to speak of Yue Hongling at all, but rather to lament Shi Wuding—and someone else besides.

Was it because the battle in the secret realm was deliberately vague, or because a touch of personal sentiment had crept in? No one could understand what it meant.

In short, not only did it fail to follow the convention of replacing the rank, but it also deliberately downplayed a certain foot-bath honored guest who had played a pivotal role in the affair, leaving the whole process shrouded in mist. It even suggested that Yue Hongling had merely picked off a gravely wounded Shi Wuding—a victory unworthy of true prowess.

Yet no amount of biased rhetoric could erase Yue Hongling’s feat: comprehending the sword in the heat of battle, breaking through two layers, and slaying an Earth Ranking master in open combat.

Everyone was pondering one question.

Was this woman the youngest second-layer Secret Vault holder and the youngest Earth Ranking in history?