Chapter 642: No Sun and Moon in the Sky, I Shall Be It!

Chapter 642: When Heaven Has No Sun or Moon, I Shall Create Them!

Zhao Changhe’s consciousness, entering the sword, began to weaken.

What was called “lighting up the stars of the heavens” was no simple matter of just sending out a sword aura. The sword aura was merely the form of expression and the key to initiation; the essence lay in pouring all of one’s spirit and sword intent into communicating with the starry foundations within the sword blank, seeking out the corresponding stars to light them. The mental effort required was astronomically immense.

The more significant the star—such as the Four Symbols—the greater the spiritual power needed to communicate and light it. By the moment all Four Symbols blazed, Zhao Changhe was on the verge of collapse.

But the Four Symbols alone were not enough. What of the countless lesser stars? Their number was the greatest of all, and he was already exhausted before even reaching that point?

With such strength, he dared to call himself an Emperor?

Outside the forge, Zhao Changhe’s physical eyes gradually turned crimson—an outward sign of his power pushed to its absolute limit. The entire underground chamber seemed to shimmer with a galaxy of stars, a Milky Way cascading down. Wild forces scoured everywhere, causing even the furnace flames to flicker.

San Niang’s eyes widened in shock.

Was he… attempting a breakthrough?

A breakthrough to the Third Secret Vault in the midst of battle?

Yes… the prerequisite for breaking through the Third Secret Vault—the bloodthirst of slaying gods—had long been fulfilled. What he lacked was merely the precipitation and accumulation of power. Had the accumulation of these past days been enough? The dual cultivation with Tang Wanzhuang and Xia Chichi? Or the reforging of Longque into a spirit, which also counted as part of his cultivation advancement?

Perhaps all of it counted, but it was still insufficient.

More crucially…

Here, beneath the Imperial Ancestral Temple, above he resonated with the stars, below he felt the mountains and rivers… San Niang watched closely and saw thousands of dragon qi converging upon Zhao Changhe, faintly forming a dragon shape like that of Xia Chichi.

Zhao Changhe naturally possessed dragon qi. He had once carelessly given all his original dragon qi to Wu Zhui, but after supporting Xia Chichi’s ascension and becoming the established “heir apparent” once more, the dragon qi had re-condensed. In the eyes of Tang Wanzhuang and others, the sovereign was always him.

And he understood the cultivation of fortune and faith, knowing how to wield it. He had even fully grasped the meaning of this underground firmament.

Outside, the Four Symbols cultists were shocked to discover that the weakening aura from below had begun to surge again. It was as if another firmament and another landscape existed beneath the earth, forming a complete miniature world. In this small world, fortune converged, mountains and rivers were one, heaven and man resonated, and the true dragon stood alone.

A fierce, surging power swept through his body. The strength of mountains and rivers, like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, merged into the Six Harmonies Divine Art, driving the bloodthirst force. They spiraled and interwove, charging straight into the heavens.

“Boom!”

Sparks of starlight scattered from around Zhao Changhe’s body, sinking into the sword blank.

One star, two stars… countless stars blazed within the sword.

Zhao Changhe’s Third Secret Vault—the Night Emperor’s sword filled with boundless starlight; the underground starry dome, a galaxy of brilliance.

San Niang’s eyes turned into hearts. So handsome…

“Chichi,” Zhao Changhe panted slightly, then suddenly spoke.

Above, Xia Chichi drifted in, her voice low: “I am here.”

“Help your senior uncle stabilize the fire. Use Wood to generate Fire, keep the flame’s power steady.”

“Yes.”

Xia Chichi unconsciously replied with “Yes,” and San Niang found it utterly natural.

The Azure Dragon’s power poured into the furnace fire. The flame, which had been weakening, roared back to life.

Zhao Changhe’s mind once again plunged into the sword blank.

The stars in the sky flickered, now bearing the true essence of a starry sky. Beneath that sky, spiritual energy swirled thickly, and the form of a spirit was nearly coalescing.

The sword spirit was being born.

If he continued along this path, he could complete it. But aside from the difference of “Milky Way first, then Four Symbols,” it would still be hard to claim he had “surpassed the Night Emperor.” At best, it would be a correction.

Just as he had used bloodthirst force as the guide within Longque to make it truly his blade, now what would make this sword truly his?

What were the key elements that the Night Emperor had fundamentally overlooked?

Besides the lesser stars, there were greater ones—like the Seven Luminaries, especially the Sun, which even the Night Emperor and Xia Longyuan had neglected.

In daytime, no one would ignore the Sun. But at night, people rarely thought of the Sun in the sky, even knowing it hadn’t vanished—it was just below the horizon. After all, the night sky simply had no Sun.

Was the Sun one of the stars of the heavens? At least modern people would tell you it was undeniably a star… Could it be ignored?

If, in his final moments, the Night Emperor had broken free of his original framework, he still most likely had never considered the Sun. Without the Sun, he could only be called the Night Emperor, never the Heavenly Emperor.

Every person has their own cognitive blind spots—even the mightiest gods and buddhas are no exception. Especially in ancient times, when there might have been a “Sun Emperor” or the like… As of now, they hadn’t encountered such a being, and didn’t know if it existed. If it did, it would naturally be seen as an opposing entity, not a part of the same system.

But for Zhao Changhe, who had spent a month contemplating the Sun so close at hand among the Spirit Race, he could not forget what he had seen day and night—whether at dawn or dusk, there were times when the Sun, Moon, and stars shared the sky.

Yet could the Sun be lit so easily? Even the foundation of forging the sword blank might not include the Sun. If you wanted to light it, where would you find it?

If it didn’t exist, where would you light it?

If it wasn’t there originally, add it!

Zhao Changhe reached into his ring and pulled out a leaf.

The Cloud Sun Leaf obtained from the Spirit Race, once used to nourish Tang Wanzhuang’s soul.

Clouds encircling a warm sun, nurturing its spirit—it was both the essence of blazing sun and the essence of nurturing spirit.

The Cloud Sun Leaf plunged into the sword blank, making a sizzling sound, and soon vanished, its power rapidly absorbed by the blank.

Zhao Changhe watched the process of absorption, his mind stirring: “Longque.”

“Master.”

“Do you know what to do?”

The blade spirit was one with its master’s heart. Of course, Longque knew what Zhao Changhe was thinking. For the first time, it hesitated.

Relying solely on the Cloud Sun Leaf, it was impossible to form a “Sun.” It only provided a foundational essence, guiding the subsequent formation toward the Sun’s shape without turning into something else.

To truly create it, the same pattern of “tempering the sword with one’s body” was still needed. But this had long been recorded: “When Heaven has no Sun or Moon, the King shall create them!”

Now, at last, the time had come to realize it.

Longque suddenly swung itself, slashing straight at Zhao Changhe’s chest.

Amid San Niang and Xia Chichi’s horrified cries, a jet of blood shot straight into the furnace fire, drenching the sword blank. The furnace flame roared upward, growing fiercer.

Zhao Changhe’s face turned pale, but his voice was calm: “Vermilion Bird.”

Huangfu Qing had long been at his side, watching silently. She replied in a low voice: “I am here.”

“This is the Southern Brightness Lihuo Fire, the flame of the Vermilion Bird. Guide the fiercest part of the flame to temper the very center of the sword—this is the essence of blazing sun,” Zhao Changhe said. “This is the Night Emperor’s sword. Surely, Venerable One will not refuse?”

“Can blazing sun also be night?” The Vermilion Bird wanted to ask this, but seeing Zhao Changhe drenched in blood, she held back and simply said, “Very well.”

A slender finger pointed. The core heat of the flame gathered at a single point.

Within the sword blank, Zhao Changhe’s spirit could see his own blood and bloodthirst force merging with the essence of the Cloud Sun Leaf, forming a hazy, turbid mass of blood-colored mist. The mist rose into the sky, hanging in the eastern heavens like a crimson sun just rising above the horizon, while the stars and moon still lingered.

But this sun lacked the brilliant warmth of dawn; it was fierce, overflowing with bloodthirst.

That was not the sun. That was Zhao Changhe’s blood.

Tempering the sword with one’s body—nothing more.

When Heaven has no Sun or Moon, I shall create them!

“Rumble…” The firmament seemed to tremble as if the “sacrificial forging” was complete. Sun, Moon, and stars shone together, forming a stable sky.

A blood-colored infant-shaped spirit hovered in the void, knees drawn to its chest—the sword spirit was being born.

This was truly being a father—even the blood was his own.

“Forged.” Zhao Changhe waved his hand, and the sword blank landed on the anvil; the hammer struck heavily upon the blade edge.

“Clang!”

In the void, an infant gradually stretched out its body, floating and drifting, lying upon the Milky Way, its head pillowed on the blazing sun, its feet upon the full moon.

On the blade gradually appeared the sword’s name: “Star River.”

—Xuanwu, by divine command, surveyed these mountains and rivers and forged them into a divine sword. On the day the sword was completed, it could be called Star River.

Zhao Changhe looked up; San Niang, Chichi, and Zhuque had all stopped their work, each looking at him with complex expressions.

Stepping out of the underground chamber to look outside, the morning sun was rising at the horizon, while the stars and moon still lingered.

The divine sword’s power radiated over the entire imperial palace. Outside the entrance above the Imperial Ancestral Temple, countless Four Symbols cultists knelt in dense rows, silent, foreheads touching the ground, not daring to lift their heads.