Chapter 641: Sword of the Night Emperor

Chapter 641: The Sword of the Night Emperor

In truth, San Niang felt a twinge of sourness in her heart.

It was clear from Zhao Changhe’s attitude that he might be genuinely interested in the forging of the Night Emperor’s sword itself—the fervor of a martial artist eager to see how a divine blade is crafted. But he had no interest in inheriting the Night Emperor’s legacy, becoming the Night Emperor, or winning the devotion of the Four Symbols Sect. On the contrary, he was quite wary and hesitant.

At her current level of cultivation, San Niang could understand Zhao Changhe’s reluctance. Taking on that legacy meant debts to repay in the future—a thunderbolt far heavier than the Sword Emperor buried beneath the Tang family.

What nonsense was this about “not being the Night Emperor but going further than him”? If you were so wary, the normal choice would be to simply not touch it at all. If you liked swords, forge one for yourself and use it—it’s just an object, carrying far less karmic weight.

Yet he still chose to meddle, preferring this awkward, roundabout way to increase the difficulty and avoid risk, forcing his hand regardless. There was no other reason—it was entirely for Vermilion Bird.

Either he joined the sect and embraced the Four Symbols doctrine, or he made himself a benefit to the Four Symbols Sect, thereby completely dissolving any potential rift or conflict between them. Zhao Changhe could never choose the former, so he opted for the latter, the hardest path.

He really, truly liked Vermilion Bird.

It was true, wasn’t it—dangerous women were the most alluring.

San Niang sniffled, her voice sour. “You can reforge Dragon Sparrow yourself now—what help do you need from me?”

Zhao Changhe said, “Controlling the heat… I need to pour my entire being into the sword’s intent and the stars. I have no energy left to manage the fire.”

Fine…

San Niang looked at the sword blank he had produced, and a thrill of eager anticipation stirred within her.

No matter how sour she felt, she was still the Black Tortoise of the Four Symbols Sect. How could she not be excited about forging the Night Emperor’s sword?

On the other hand, this was also her karma. In ancient times, the Black Tortoise had assisted the Night Emperor in forging his sword. Though no one knew why a being of water was chosen for such a task, here and now, it was still the Black Tortoise and the Night Emperor forging a sword together… In the unseen threads of fate, the legacy continued.

San Niang grunted, pulled out two crystal cores, and tossed them aside. Two simple-minded water spirits emerged, kneeling before her: “Our god…”

Zhao Changhe stared, dumbfounded. “When did you learn that trick?”

“I am the Sea Emperor now. Want to shoot me?”

“…Another day.”

“You said it yourself—next time, give it your full strength. For Vermilion Bird, only nine-tenths. Why do you go to such lengths and take such risks for her? Am I not tempting enough?”

“…”

San Niang snorted, cursing under her breath, but still directed the two water spirits to work the bellows.

Ordinary fire would suffice to melt Dragon Sparrow, but it was far from enough to melt the Night Emperor’s sword blank. They needed reinforcement. With San Niang controlling the process, Zhao Changhe could finally focus entirely on the sword itself.

He took a deep breath and placed the sword blank into the forge.

This was an almost complete sword blank, lacking only the final steps. Except for being unsharpened, it could often be used as a finished weapon. Zhao Changhe had once shot it out, killing the giant octopus possessed by the Sea Emperor’s yin energy.

The reason it hadn’t been finished was the absence of the most crucial component: Night Drifting Sand.

In the final days of his life, the Night Emperor—like Xia Longyuan, who had come from the present world—had attained a certain enlightenment. He needed a flowing night curtain to represent the heavens, something not static. And the only substance that possessed the attributes of “night curtain,” “flowing,” “neither here nor beyond,” at a sufficient level and with enough energy, was Night Drifting Sand.

Thus, the top experts of two eras had, by coincidence, used this material to forge their celestial canopies. This signified that the Night Emperor had finally taken that crucial step of enlightenment before the era suddenly collapsed, leaving him no time to finish.

Zhao Changhe stared at the sword blank, now red-hot and softening, and a thought crossed his mind: Could the collapse of the era have something to do with the Night Emperor’s breakthrough? Like an NPC in a game evolving into a GM, causing the world to crash? Or perhaps it triggered a backlash from the original Heavenly Dao, which deemed the world unsalvageable, as everyone had rebelled…

It was possible, but the sequence of events remained uncertain.

He had no time to dwell on it now. Zhao Changhe fixed his gaze on the softening blank, suddenly reached out, grabbed a handful of Night Drifting Sand, and spread it evenly over the blade. As he watched the sand merge and be absorbed into the sword, his spirit plunged into the searing metal.

Unlike Dragon Sparrow, which already had a spirit and didn’t need his spiritual guidance to awaken one, the Night Emperor’s sword blank required this crucial step to be guided by him. Given that the blank was already formed, it could only accept the preordained intent of the celestial stars. Anything else would be incompatible, and not only would the forging fail, but he would also be repelled. That was why it was always said that forging this sword required a compatible sword intent, not just the missing materials.

As his spirit delved inside, he perceived a sky like a sea of burning clouds, flames everywhere, scorching hot. Even Zhao Changhe’s spirit struggled to endure; all his strength was spent resisting the internal heat, leaving him unable to do anything.

San Niang, watching from the side, saw sweat pouring down Zhao Changhe’s face. She reached out and touched his brow.

A coolness spread through his mind, and the blazing heat inside the sword seemed to ease. A moist, gentle breeze swept across the sky, softening the fiery clouds.

Was this why the Black Tortoise’s assistance was necessary?

As the Night Drifting Sand gradually seeped in, the sky shifted from crimson to dim, growing darker until it became a vast, boundless night.

The night was starless, pure black like satin, flowing softly.

But stars were there, hidden within the sword blank’s foundation. He had to find and light them one by one. If he couldn’t, he had no right to forge this sword.

Zhao Changhe stood silently beneath the night canopy for a moment, then suddenly pointed at the sky with two fingers.

This was a sword. The intent of the stars had to merge with the sword’s intent—many pitfalls lay here, requiring full alignment.

What could differ was each person’s understanding of the stars. If it were the Night Emperor, his finger would point to the Four Symbols. If it were Xia Longyuan, it would point to the sun and moon. To a modern person’s understanding, what were the Four Symbols anyway…

But Zhao Changhe’s sword finger pierced the sky, pointing at something entirely random—neither sun, moon, nor Four Symbols. A tiny star, utterly unknown to anyone in this world, suddenly appeared in the night sky, twinkling.

The Black Tortoise’s records said: “Beyond the Four Symbols, is a tiny star not part of the heavens?” Zhao Changhe had once told San Niang and Xia Chichi to look beyond the Four Symbols framework and gaze at the starry vault.

This was the path the Night Emperor had ultimately wanted to tread. This simple gesture went further than the Night Emperor of old.

But you couldn’t just point randomly and call it the celestial stars. There had to be a basic logic—why light this one first, and then what, forming a coherent system. This was a concept Zhao Changhe had never fully grasped before; he always felt he was far from it. It wasn’t just about slapping on a system like the twelve zodiac signs—it had to be your own sword intent.

After long contemplation, Zhao Changhe had a draft.

The first star lit, and suddenly the sword energy erupted, thousands of strands and ten thousand swords shooting forth, charging at the sky.

As the myriad sword energies flowed, a Milky Way appeared in the sky. The first star he had lit was merely a grain of sand among countless stars in the galaxy.

With no other stars, only the Milky Way, it looked like a true river hanging upside down, its momentum extraordinary, as if falling from the nine heavens. A wild, surging dharma image rose behind him—the Milky Way above, and the same within him—so they reflected each other, growing ever brighter.

A faint spiritual energy gathered in the sky, like mist floating above a river.

A spirit was coalescing.

Unseen, Xiazi clenched her slender hands. Though she was a spirit, she felt as if she were sweating.

She had always thought he had no real grasp of the celestial star intent, that he wouldn’t succeed. She had planned to watch coldly, laugh at his failure, and wait for him to ask, “Xia Xia, what do I do? Give me some tips…”

But Zhao Changhe, without a word, had secretly pondered and now truly possessed his own fusion of sword intent—a star intent that was genuinely his own.

Was it because Xia Chichi’s establishment of a reign title had inspired him? But at the time, he hadn’t seemed to understand it particularly well. Could it be that even his reactions were now deliberately hidden from her?

With the Milky Way opened, Zhao Changhe grew even more unrestrained.

A much thicker sword energy shot straight into the sky, and a cold, hazy moonlight appeared faintly in the air.

With the moon, he began to light the Four Symbols. And almost simultaneously, ten thousand swords emerged again, and all Four Symbols manifested. He did not deliberately avoid or transcend the existence of the Four Symbols; rather, he sought to encompass them.

The moment the Four Symbols lit up, San Niang, who was huffing and puffing controlling the fire, felt something and turned back in shock.

Far away in the Empress Dowager’s bedchamber, Huangfu Qing suddenly stood up, turning her head north.

In the imperial study, where she was privately discussing matters with Tang Wanzhuang, Xia Chichi sprang to her feet in alarm, nearly knocking over the inkstone before her.

Tang Wanzhuang was stunned: “Your Majesty, what alarms you?”

Xia Chichi’s face was indeed pale, and she murmured in shock: “The Night Emperor descends to the mortal world? No… this intent is similar yet different… This is… Changhe?”

“Whoosh! Whoosh!” Huangfu Qing, Xia Chichi, and the Four Symbols Sect members in the palace turned into streaks of light, rushing toward the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Tang Wanzhuang was left staring at the empty imperial study, utterly dumbfounded.

Countless Four Symbols Sect disciples gathered at the entrance of the temple, almost all holding their breath.

Huangfu Qing put on her Vermilion Bird mask and stood at the entrance, raising her hand to silence the surging questions. She said in a low voice: “Everyone, calm down. Do not disturb.”

Xia Chichi came close and whispered, “Venerable, the intent suddenly dimmed… Did it fail?”

“Almost…” Huangfu Qing looked up at the sky. Dawn was about to break, but the sun had not yet appeared.

"A hair's breadth away... just like the Night Emperor back then, missing that final sliver to complete it. The Night Emperor lacked its intent, and what he lacks is..."

Xia Chichi murmured softly: "Cultivation?"

Below, Zhao Changhe's clothes were already soaked through with sweat.

The direction of his sword intent was correct... but his cultivation was insufficient.

A second-tier secret vault was far from enough!

Third Lady was also sweating; even the fire's heat was inadequate to sustain such forging!

If one were to follow the ancients in casting a divine sword, whether lacking sword intent or insufficient flame, there was a common solution.

To enter the furnace oneself and temper this divine sword.