Chapter 72: The Third Life-Bound Treasure Spirit

Sword Saint is expecting me?

Fang Wang was inwardly surprised. He hesitated, considering whether to reveal himself, but then recalled Zhou Xue’s words. Zhou Xue had urged him to conceal his identity, surely for good reason.

As they continued on, the man in yellow spoke incessantly. At first, Fang Wang thought he was intentionally offering guidance, but soon realized the man was merely complaining.

After the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the yellow-clad man led Fang Wang to a pavilion by the lakeside. The area before the pavilion was blanketed with dense lotus flowers, mist swirling about them, half-hidden, lending the place an ethereal, celestial air.

“This lake has a natural spiritual vein deep underground. The Sword Saint drew it to the surface with a sword formation. You may cultivate your spirit here as you wish, stay as long as you like.”

With those words, the man in yellow turned and departed.

Fang Wang gave him a respectful salute, then stepped onto the wooden platform by the lake. The platform before the pavilion was simple and crude; directly ahead lay a broken bridge, resembling a sword thrust into the lotus-filled waters.

He did not enter the pavilion, but instead walked onto the wooden bridge, admiring the scenery before him.

Dense fog shrouded the lake in dreamy beauty, but could not conceal the majestic mountains across the water. Lotuses gently swayed in the breeze, and occasionally, a red fish would leap from the surface, as if striving to break free from fate and transform into a dragon.

Little Violet wriggled out from Fang Wang’s embrace and crawled toward the pavilion behind him. Fang Wang did not stop her, but sat down cross-legged where he was.

He had already used his divine sense to probe the pavilion; there was neither person nor vermin within, and not a soul in the surrounding miles. He was far from the Sword Saint’s sword attendants—this place was tranquil, free from disturbance.

As he drank in the scenery of Sword Heaven Marsh, Fang Wang found himself growing fond of the place. There were no rules, no strife—it was truly a place fit for cultivation. Perhaps this was why so many sword cultivators were willing to serve as sword attendants.

Half an hour passed before Fang Wang closed his eyes to begin his practice.

To forge a spiritual treasure, he first needed to sense the spiritual vein beneath the lake.

With his eyes shut, the sun set and the moon rose, days passed swiftly. Mist rolled over the lake, clouds churned violently in the sky, as if the world itself had been set to fast-forward.

…

In the blink of an eye, a month slipped by.

That afternoon, Little Violet lay on a lotus flower, basking in the sun. Suddenly, she sensed something, and jerked her head up to look. She saw spiritual energy converging on Fang Wang, forming a visible whirlwind encircling him.

“Is he really forging a spirit treasure?”

Little Violet was quietly shocked. She had thought Fang Wang was merely deceiving Gu Tianxiong, since he already possessed two innate treasures.

But unexpectedly…

Three innate treasures…

Little Violet recalled a legend she had glimpsed within the Great Sage’s cave, hope shining in her eyes.

After a month, Fang Wang finally sensed the spiritual vein of the Dao beneath the lake. His treasure space began to tremble—he had finally found the feeling needed to forge a spirit treasure.

He was ready to begin!

Streams of profound Yang true fire welled up from his body, swirling around him, rising toward his crown, gathering above his head.

Meanwhile, several dozen miles away by the lakeshore, Gu Tianxiong and several sword cultivators followed a boy along a covered walkway. Among them was Fang Hanyu.

Fang Hanyu, his eyes covered by a black cloth, walked at the rear of the group.

Gu Tianxiong, as always, was exuberant, chatting happily with the accompanying sword cultivators.

Fang Hanyu admired the scenery of the lake in silence.

Turning a corner in the walkway, a woman’s voice rang out ahead: “Brother Song, you should come out and practice your sword. How long will you remain so despondent? Though the Sword Saint hasn’t said anything, his continued refusal to summon you shows his displeasure.”

Gu Tianxiong and the others fell silent and turned to look. In front of the door stood a woman in simple attire, her long hair tied in a ponytail, two swords at her waist, exuding heroic spirit. She stood at the threshold, brows tightly furrowed.

Seeing them approach, she stepped forward to give way.

The boy nodded slightly to her and brushed past.

As the group walked by, mocking words drifted from the house: “Practice swordsmanship? What’s the point? Sword Dao comprehension and heart are nothing compared to the grade of one’s treasure. Heaven has already set the rules…”

Song Jin Yuan!

The Sword Saint’s sole direct disciple!

Hearing his words, no one responded, and they continued onward.

After walking a hundred steps, a sword cultivator sighed, “Song Jin Yuan once followed the Sword Saint back to Great Qi, and with his sword alone swept through disciples of the nine great sects at his level, so spirited. Now… alas!”

Another chimed in, “There’s nothing to be done. Heavenly Origin treasures… That Lu Yuanjun, relying on a mid-grade Earth Origin treasure, became famous in the Great Qi cultivation world and could even fight across realms. Compared to that, one can scarcely imagine how powerful a Heavenly Origin treasure must be.”

Others voiced their own opinions. The Heavenly Origin treasure had already become renowned throughout the cultivation world of Great Qi. In the past two years, the name Fang Wang had become so well-known that cultivators regarded it as thunderous.

Fang Hanyu, bringing up the rear, had grown accustomed to it, especially in the past month. The story of Fang Wang defeating thirteen of the age’s top geniuses in a single move had spread far and wide. The legends of those geniuses had been dug up anew; the more one learned of their strength and exploits, the more unfathomable Fang Wang seemed.

Moreover, the Nine Dragons Divine Transformation Technique had become widely known. Ten years ago, when the secret realm of the Extreme Radiance Sect appeared, sects fought bloody battles over the Nine Dragons Divine Transformation and the True Skill of the Saintly Body, eventually cooperating to excavate the Great Sage’s cave. No one expected the Nine Dragons technique to end up in the hands of a genius with a Heavenly Origin treasure. Some even claimed the divine skill had chosen its own inheritor.

Though cultivators defied the heavens in pursuit of immortality, over time, they grew ever more convinced of fate.

If it is meant to be, it will come; if not, there is no use in forcing it.

Listening to tales of Fang Wang, Fang Hanyu felt no pride—only boundless resolve. He would strive to catch up to Fang Wang, to fight at his side.

Gu Tianxiong began boasting again, claiming his daughter was close to Fang Wang. Naturally, the other sword cultivators didn’t believe a word.

After a while, the boy finally stopped before a door, turned, and bowed to it.

“Sword Saint, these have passed the first trial.”

He spoke softly; it was said that the Sword Saint’s sword attendants were permitted to address him directly, by his own instruction.

Bang—

The door suddenly opened; a fierce wind howled out, whipping the boy’s robe wildly behind him, startling the sword cultivators into bowing deeply.

Gu Tianxiong bent low, but glanced up. A figure in white strode out, surrounded by countless tiny sword shadows. With each step, afterimages lingered behind him, as if his soul were leaving his body. Gu Tianxiong stared, transfixed.

Sword Saint!

His hair was snowy white, coiled beneath a jade crown. His face was radiant, full of vitality and spirit, and his eyes shone bright, as though two tiny figures brandished swords within his pupils, sword light bursting forth.

“Take them to the Sword-Nurturing Pool for the baptism.”

With that, the Sword Saint turned into a gust of wind and vanished into the mists over the lake. The sword cultivators looked after him, seeing only traces of sword qi left on the water.

“So that’s the Sword Saint? I wonder what realm he has reached,” Fang Hanyu thought to himself, startled.

Even in the Taiyuan Sect, he had never met such a master.

Even the sect master, Guang Qiuxian, might not compare to the Sword Saint.

“Come with me, all of you,” the boy said, moving forward again. The sword cultivators felt a pang of regret—they still could not meet the Sword Saint directly.

…

On the wooden bridge above the lake, Fang Wang sat in meditation, his body suspended in midair. Fearing he might ignite the bridge, he lifted himself aloft.

With the heart of battle mastered, he could turn his body into a magical artifact and use sword-riding techniques to lift himself; such skills came easily to him.

Profound Yang true fire gathered above his head, forming a ball of flame. Waves of heat occasionally swept outward, shaking the pavilion and scattering the mist over the lake.

Little Violet stared at Fang Wang with anticipation in her eyes.

She failed to notice a figure approaching from the edge of the lake behind her; through the billowing mist, the Sword Saint slowly emerged.

The Sword Saint strode across the waves. The aura of sword qi was gone, his presence blended with nature, indistinct. His gaze fixed on Fang Wang, white brows tightly knit.

“This fire… where have I seen it before…”

The Sword Saint pondered for several breaths, his pupils widening.

“Could it be Profound Yang true fire? No… With his cultivation, how could he have entered such a forbidden place…”

The Sword Saint’s gaze locked onto Fang Wang, watching the treasure above his head, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

At that moment, Fang Wang’s consciousness was turned inward, examining his treasure space.

The third innate treasure was being forged!

Fang Wang had long planned this third treasure. He did not wish to create another long or short weapon, but instead intended to make a support-type treasure.

Ideally, it would possess the power of sealing. In his designs, he had always leaned toward sealing abilities.

But to his disappointment, he failed. Perhaps his understanding of sealing techniques was insufficient; creating an innate treasure relied on imagination, but must be grounded in knowledge. One could not conjure powers never encountered, and the Soul-Binding Curse did not truly count as a sealing art.

Since he could not presently forge a sealing-type treasure, he would change course.

He had to bring forward his plan for the fourth innate treasure.

He would forge a folding fan!

A fan with terrifying wind power, reminiscent of the Banana Leaf Fan from Journey to the West. Of course, creating such a fan now was impossible.

This wind would not only affect physical objects in the world, but also souls—he wanted the folding fan to possess the power to vanquish ghosts and capture spirits!

This design was meant for Lu Yuanjun, and for Green Cicada Valley as well—to sweep away poisonous mists and devastate obstacles.

Profound Yang true fire already had the ability to suppress souls, so his plan was feasible.

Gradually, the ball of fire above his head began to change, coalescing into the shape of a folding fan.

Spiritual energy surged wildly toward him from all directions, forming a great wind that swept across the land.

Thunderclouds rolled in from the horizon, converging on Sword Heaven Marsh, casting the world into darkness.