Chapter 116: I Have Brought Hope to Your Sword Pool Palace [Please Vote for This Month]

Sword energy soared to the heavens, shaking the stars; the entire city was hung with swords!

At Jiangju Tower, An Le set down his cup. His palm pressed against the Mo Chi sword at his waist. This blade, which he had nurtured to the fifth rank, was now trembling uncontrollably, as if it longed to heed the call of the woman Sword Saint and soar into the sky to join the legion of swords suspended above Jiangling Prefecture.

Qingshan, however, remained still. Clearly, the grade of Qingshan was unaffected by the Sword Saint’s intent.

A gentle breeze wafted by, carrying the intoxicating, fragrant scent of the Bamboo Leaf Green wine that the old man from the Imperial Ancestral Temple, Zhao Huangting, had spilled from his shattered flagon.

Facing the powerful cultivator who had struck so abruptly right after Li You’an’s departure, An Le had expected the old man to be forced into revealing his trump cards. A peachwood sword, laden with purple heavenly lightning—the attacker had stirred the very heavens, clearly a practitioner of the ninth realm. The old man had just explained to An Le the realms of cultivation beyond the fifth; each was vastly different, and those who could ascend to the ninth realm were undoubtedly geniuses of incredible talent.

Yet, An Le had not expected the old man to resolve the problem in such a manner. He still recalled Zhao Huangting telling him that during his travels in the pugilistic world, he had known many confidantes—some human, and some… not. He never expected to encounter one of the old man’s confidantes the moment they arrived in Jiangling.

An Le looked at the plump woman known as Meiniang, who had brought up three flagons of Bamboo Leaf Green. She wore a beaming smile, and An Le could guess that it was she who had sent word to this domineering Sword Saint, who had arrived to fill the sky with suspended blades. Perhaps Jiangju Tower itself was a place for such intelligence to be passed. The old man had headed straight for Jiangju Tower upon entering the city, as if he had anticipated everything all along. Li You’an had likely guessed this too, which was why he had left with such peace of mind. Indeed, these veterans of the jianghu would never easily place themselves in danger; if they lacked such means, they would not survive long.

Around Jiangju Tower, the swords were suspended upside down, their tips pointing toward the ground. Sharp sword energy surged, causing the blades to clang and ring against the natural energy of the world. The peachwood sword, wreathed in purple lightning, whistled toward them.

The woman Sword Saint, full of heroic spirit, stood like the lead bird in a migrating flock, blocking the path in front of Jiangju Tower and the old man leaning against the railing. Zhao Huangting stood in his plain robes, his temples frosted with white, his deep eyes carrying a touch of tenderness as he watched the heroic woman arriving on her sword. Memories seemed to surface in his gaze, bringing a lingering melancholy.

Remembering the past, time felt like a song. Once, he had summoned swords across an entire city with a smile, stepping upon them to support his lady. Now, as the stars shifted and time flowed, it was she who brought the swords to fill the city, standing up for him. Perhaps this was the karma of the sword’s rise and fall.

In the glow of the setting sun, who could understand the meaning of leaning against the rail in silence? The lakeside breeze and the sword energy of the world ruffled the old man’s frost-white hair and long brows.

In contrast to the old man’s sentimentality, the woman was filled with righteous fury, her feet treading on sword energy, her aura soaring to the heavens. Just as she had shouted, shaking the entire city: "What kind of stray cat or dog dares to point a sword at my husband! A newly ascended True Person from the Celestial Master’s Mansion? Are you even worthy?!"

The woman Sword Saint flicked a finger. The incoming peachwood sword, enveloped in endless purple lightning, was knocked off course by that single strike and whistled up into the firmament. With a point of her sword-finger, the countless blades hanging over the city surged toward the peachwood sword. Each one struck it with reckless abandon, as if they were soldiers unafraid of death!

Purple lightning splattered and arced. Some swords shattered into pieces; others developed jagged notches and fell limply. But there were simply too many, a dense, fearless swarm. The thunder on the peachwood sword was completely extinguished, and it let out a mournful wail under the relentless assault, finally falling to the ground like a broken twig.

High above the Jiangling Prince’s mansion, the ninth-realm True Person from the Celestial Master’s Mansion was struck as if by lightning, his face turning pale. The intent he had poured into his peachwood sword had been completely washed away by the tide of desperate blades. His wide sleeves fluttered as he made a sharp gesture, summoning the sword back. It was covered in notches, causing the Taoist great pain. A flicker of fury appeared in his eyes, but as he looked at the dense sea of swords, his anger gradually subsided. Finally, he understood what the Prince of Jiangling had meant by "Jiangling Prefecture is not far from Sword Pool Palace."

"Su Muzhe, Palace Master of the Sword Pool Palace in Shu."

As a ninth-realm practitioner of the Celestial Master’s Mansion, the Taoist naturally recognized the woman who had arrived on thousands of blades to crush his millennium-old peachwood sword. However, being called a "stray cat or dog" left the proud Li Qingchuan, who had attained the ninth realm, quite indignant. He considered himself a man of reputation in this world. He had heard of how the old imperial uncle, Zhao Huangting, had used a bamboo sword to kill the Yuan-Mongol Emperor. He had hoped to use his own peachwood sword to challenge the old uncle and secure his own fame—the old uncle had only used three swords to kill the Emperor, so there was little difference in the prestige to be gained.

A terrifying killing intent filled the vast city of Jiangling. The heroic Su Muzhe stood upon her sword, her eyes hard as iron. She was not satisfied with just defeating the peachwood sword. The Taoist’s defiant and angry look incensed her—daring to point a sword at her husband and still being unrepentant?!

Her robes fluttered as she pressed her palms downward. The countless swords in the sky coalesced into a colossal palm of blades. It slammed down, and a gale of sword energy whistled in its wake. Li Qingchuan’s expression shifted. He formed a seal, his brow glowing with golden light, and his white whisk began to tremble, growing and swirling behind him like a cascading waterfall.

Inside the Jiangling Prince’s mansion, in a quiet pavilion by the water, the Prince of Jiangling sat across from the Second Prince and smiled lightly.

"I told you, the old imperial uncle is safe in Jiangling. His ties to the Sword Pool Palace have lasted five hundred years; how could such a man be without support here?" The Prince of Jiangling laughed, then flicked his cup toward the sky. The wine splashed upward, transforming into a brilliant screen of light that blocked the palm of blades. "Palace Master Su, this new True Person from the Celestial Master’s Mansion is a stranger to Jiangling and doesn't know the rules. Could you give me some face?"

The Prince’s voice echoed from the mansion, but Su Muzhe, standing on the head of her sword, showed no intention of holding back or granting favors. The palm of swords struck the light screen, ripples spreading as the blades threatened to pierce through. Inside the mansion, the Prince of Jiangling frowned. His face… held no weight with this woman.

At that moment, from Jiangju Tower, Zhao Huangting waved a hand. "Alright, alright, a lesson is enough."

"You are the Palace Master of the Sword Pool Palace now; you need at least a Great Celestial Master from the Mansion to be worth your full effort."

At his words, Su Muzhe nodded immediately. "My husband is right."

She withdrew her hand, and the countless swords turned into streaks of light, returning to her body like a thousand streams flowing home, vanishing into her brow. Faintly, within her brow, there appeared a palace of sword energy, filled to the brim with blades.

Above the Prince’s mansion, Li Qingchuan felt his back drenched in cold sweat, his face looking rather unsightly. The Prince of Jiangling narrowed his eyes, truly surprised. He hadn't expected the old imperial uncle, having used his Heart Sword to suppress his Nirvana fire, to have softened so much as to call Su Muzhe off. In the past, Li Qingchuan would not have left without shedding blood.

He raised his wine cup and stepped into the air, his ornate robes billowing, exuding an indescribable nobility and grace. "Old Imperial Uncle, since you have graced Jiangling again, I have nothing better to offer than a cup of wine." He stepped toward Jiangju Tower.

However, Zhao Huangting, leaning on the railing, didn't even look at him. He spat out a single word like a thunderclap: "Scram."

He turned and walked into the tower, ignoring him entirely. The Prince of Jiangling froze in mid-air, his heart burning with shame, yet his face remained fixed in a calm, scholarly smile. He drank the wine, gestured toward the tower, and returned to his mansion.

Li Qingchuan also retreated inside. The Second Prince, Zhao Pei, drank the deep red wine the Prince had brewed himself, his brows furrowed. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes—with Su Muzhe’s support, capturing An Le would not be easy. As a top-tier power, the Sword Pool Palace was in no way inferior to the Celestial Master’s Mansion.

"I have asked the old uncle many times to let me wield Qingshan, but he never would," Zhao Pei said, shaking his head. "I can understand why he wouldn't give it to Zhao Xianyou—his bloodline is tainted by what Qingshan despises. But why can't I?"

He smiled faintly. As a genius who had inherited the Celestial Master’s legacy, he was ranked just behind Zhao Xianyou on the Little Saint List. He didn't care to compare himself to the monster that was Zhao Xianyou, but apart from him, he was peerless.

"I, too, wish to see the Sword Pool Lake. If the boy cannot sharpen Qingshan, perhaps… I can?"

The Prince of Jiangling watched them, his expression complex. The Second Prince’s future was bright, and if the current Emperor failed to extend his life, the Purple Qi Golden Lotus the Second Prince possessed would be a vital bargaining chip.

On Jiangju Tower, Su Muzhe landed gracefully. She was an heroic woman, wearing scale-armor that accentuated her waist over a green tunic, appearing like a sword drawn from its scabbard. She sat before Zhao Huangting, staring at him.

"One hundred years. You haven't come to see me in a hundred years," she said, her voice laced with accusation. "Now that you've ignited the Nirvana fire and suppressed it with your Heart Sword, you finally come… how many days do you have left?"

Zhao Huangting sighed and pointed to An Le. "This is An Le, a young friend. I have given him Qingshan, and I brought him here to try and sharpen it once more."

An Le cupped his hands. "Greetings, senior."

Su Muzhe looked at the handsome youth. He had a proud spirit like green bamboo, reminiscent of the old man in his younger days. Her gaze softened. "The Sword Pool Lake is always there. If you can ring the sword bell, no one will stop you."

"I know," Zhao Huangting grinned, feeding a piece of stir-fried pork liver to the woman. "Here, eat some. The stir-fried pork liver at Jiangju Tower, paired with Bamboo Leaf Green, is peerless."

An Le stood by, feeling like an innocent bystander being fed a mouthful of dog food. The old imperial uncle was quite the charmer.

"How is the old Sword Saint?" Zhao Huangting asked after feeding her.

Su Muzhe shook her head. "Not well."

Zhao Huangting’s brows furrowed. "If even you say 'not well'… then it is truly dire. The Sword Pool Palace relies on him. If he is gone, the lake's future is unpredictable. The Prince of Jiangling is ambitious, Dali is watching like a tiger, and the Yuan-Mongol Empire will never give up on the lake… the few ninth-realm experts in the palace will struggle."

He sighed, but there was nothing to be done. Even he was reaching his limit, let alone the old Sword Saint who had been famous before he himself had even made a name. Even a tenth-realm Earth Immortal had a limit.

"I've brought you hope," Zhao Huangting said, patting An Le’s shoulder. "This boy is born for the sword. Once he sharpens Qingshan, the old Sword Saint will know how to grasp this hope."

Su Muzhe looked at An Le again. Despite his lack of cultivation, the old man’s confidence was absolute—a confidence stronger than anything she had ever seen him hold for himself. She wondered: what was it about this boy that made the old man value him so much?