Chapter 121: The Youth Observes the Passage of Time to Forge a Sword, a Single Hammer Stroke Ignites Immortal Fire Like Fireworks

Fine rain drizzled, and a gentle breeze stirred; the myriad willows of the city swayed amidst a haze of emerald mist.

Between heaven and earth, there seemed to be an abundance of intangible and indescribable sword qi, weaving through the spring rain. The Second Prince, Zhao Pei, felt a bone-chilling cold permeate his entire body. He stood in awe and reverence before the old Sword Saint, who had emerged from the Sword Pool Lake. After all, this elder was one of the few terrestrial immortals in the world, a true pinnacle of power. For someone of such standing, any attempt by Zhao Pei to use the weight of imperial authority to suppress him would be nothing more than a laughingstock. Even if the Emperor of the Zhao clan were present, this old Sword Saint would likely not deign to offer a polite glance.

Yet, the old Sword Saint had suddenly remarked, "The Purple Gold Lotus is not bad," a comment that left the Second Prince shivering. The Purple Gold Lotus, cultivated by the Celestial Master's Mansion over two hundred years using secret rites to gather national fortune, was naturally a treasure of immense rarity and wonder. The old man’s casual praise sounded dangerously like a precursor to seizing it.

Zhao Pei was unwilling to surrender the lotus. As he stood there, caught between the impossibility of leaving and the peril of staying, Li Qingchuan of the Celestial Master's Mansion stepped forward with a solemn expression. "Senior Sword Saint," he began, "the Purple Gold Lotus is a treasure of our Mansion, intended only for the Great Zhao Imperial Family..."

Before he could finish, the old Sword Saint cast a single glance his way. An overwhelming pressure instantly descended upon the newly ascended ninth-tier Daoist. Li Qingchuan’s complexion turned a bruised purple; he felt the crushing weight of the sword intent saturating the air, as if death itself were looming over him.

*Puff!*

A mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips. The ninth-tier master was sent flying as if struck by a heavy kick, his body arching in mid-air before he was propelled nearly a hundred meters back. He struggled to plant his feet and stabilize his trembling frame.

"The Purple Gold Lotus is not reserved solely for the Great Zhao Imperial Family; it is merely that your Celestial Master's Mansion chooses to gift it to them in hopes of securing the title of State Religion and gathering the fortune of Great Zhao. A pity that the Emperor of Great Zhao does not play by those rules," the old Sword Saint said coolly. "As such, treasures of this nature have always belonged to those with the proper affinity."

"I have lived for many years; do you truly think I am so shortsighted that I need you to explain such simple truths to me?"

Li Qingchuan was left with lingering fear, acutely aware of the vast disparity in their power. This old Sword Saint of the Sword Pool Palace was truly absurdly strong; despite being a ninth-tier master, he had been shaken to the point of internal injury by nothing more than a glare and a burst of aura.

"Rest assured, I am old enough that I have no interest in snatching a lotus from a youngster like you. However, treasures like the Purple Gold Lotus carry immense fortune, and not everyone can bear the weight of it... As I said, they belong to those with affinity. You would do well to look after yourself," the old Sword Saint said, his words pregnant with hidden meaning.

He spoke to An Le with gentle warmth, but his tone toward others remained ethereal and profound. After the Prince of Jiangling bowed and offered his apologies, he pulled the silent Second Prince away, heading toward the exit of the Sword Pool Palace.

Zhao Pei’s body, frozen by terror, finally regained the power to move. Yet, he dared not utter a single word. He understood that if he wished to gain the favor of this old Sword Saint, his status as the Second Prince of Great Zhao was useless. The most effective and direct method was to strike the Sword Bell. If he could strike it thirty-six times like An Le, the old Sword Saint would surely look upon him with kindness.

But even with the Purple Gold Lotus in his possession, he had no confidence. Thirty-six strikes of the Sword Bell... it was a feat beyond human capability. The Second Prince still could not fathom how An Le had achieved it, breaking the records of the Sword Pool Palace and drawing the Sword Saint himself out to offer congratulations.

As they left the palace, the silent Li Qingchuan, still coughing blood from the old man's glare, followed closely behind. The trio walked in a stifling silence, having arrived with high spirits only to leave in disgrace.

Standing before the jade stele archway outside the mountain gate, the Prince of Jiangling released his grip on Zhao Pei. The Second Prince’s face was dark and ugly. As a prince of the Zhao clan, he had never suffered such a slight. Even the Old Celestial Master of the Celestial Master's Mansion treated him with the utmost courtesy, even bestowing the Purple Gold Lotus upon him. Yet here, in the Sword Pool Palace, he was viewed with utter contempt. Conversely, An Le was the center of attention, the apple of every sword practitioner's eye.

"I do not like the Sword Pool Palace," Zhao Pei said coldly.

The Prince of Jiangling withdrew his gaze, holding an oil-paper umbrella like a refined scholar, and chuckled softly. "Coincidentally, the Emperor sitting on the throne in Lin'an also dislikes the Sword Pool Palace."

"Look at this Brocade Official City; it has long since merged with the Sword Pool Palace. And yet, this city belongs to the Zhao family. The power of the Zhao family resides here, yet it holds no control. Naturally, His Majesty is unhappy to see this, which is why he dislikes the palace so much," the Prince of Jiangling said with sophisticated grace.

The three walked through the spring rain, moving beyond the vicinity of the Sword Pool Palace and onto the cobblestone streets.

"I have changed my mind," the Second Prince said, taking a deep breath, his expression grave. "I no longer wish to capture An Le. I want to kill him as quickly as possible."

"This boy... his growth is too rapid. Today, his cultivation broke through repeatedly, stepping into the dual fifth-tier. With that invincible momentum, once he enters the sixth-tier, his breakthrough will be unstoppable—faster and more ferocious than the legendary top scholar, Li You'an!"

The fact that An Le had struck the bell thirty-six times today was simply too inconceivable, filling the Second Prince with deep apprehension.

"Once news spreads that he struck the bell thirty-six times before the Sword Pool Lake, the whole world will know that the Sword Pool Palace has produced a reincarnated sword immortal with a clear sword heart."

"A seed of such potential will inevitably draw the covetous eyes of the world's powerhouses. The Hell Mansion, which serves as the state religion for that demonic father and son in the Western Liang Kingdom, will surely hunger for the corpse of such a talented youth. I have heard that the holy monk Duhai of the Lotus Temple also has a grudge against him; once the news spreads, he will certainly not sit idle while the boy grows."

"Wait... the sheer magnitude of the invincible momentum on his body is also a great opportunity. If I can kill him myself, I could inherit at least half of that momentum!" As this realization dawned on him, a brilliant, piercing light flickered in Zhao Pei’s eyes. His heart raced uncontrollably, and his blood surged with heat.

"Yes, I must kill him with my own hands!"

Holding his umbrella, the Prince of Jiangling watched the increasingly agitated Second Prince. Beneath the veil of rain dripping from the edge of the umbrella, the Prince of Jiangling smiled, his expression growing ever more enigmatic.

"An Le is staying within the Sword Pool Palace; there is no way to kill him there," the Prince of Jiangling noted.

Zhao Pei curled his lips into a smile, filled with anticipation for the moment he would kill An Le, inherit that invincible momentum, and step into the sixth-tier in perfect state. His path would be smooth, the barrier to the ninth-tier easily shattered, and he would stand at the pinnacle of cultivation. After stretching his limbs and solidifying his resolve to kill An Le, the frustration he had suffered earlier vanished entirely.

"He cannot hide in the Sword Pool Palace forever..."

"My old imperial uncle still has to go north."

"He will step out of the gates of the Sword Pool Palace sooner or later."

...

Back before the Sword Pool Lake, as the Second Prince and the Prince of Jiangling departed, the old Sword Saint withdrew his indifferent gaze. He had no interest in the Second Prince, and he felt a deep-seated aversion toward the Prince of Jiangling. The mere sight of that man, standing there with his refined facade, radiated an aura that made the old man frown.

"Sumozhe, do not allow the Prince of Jiangling to step half a step into the Sword Pool Palace from this day forth," the old Sword Saint said calmly.

Su Sumozhe nodded immediately. She knew the old man held no regard for this hereditary Prince of Jiangling, and she was well aware that the man had long eyed the Sword Pool Palace with predatory intent. Since a falling out was inevitable, denying him entry was only right.

After bestowing two strands of sword qi upon An Le, the old Sword Saint shifted his gaze to Zhao Huangting. "If you go north this time, you will surely never return. Do you have any regrets?"

He looked at Zhao Huangting—the once reckless boy who had unknowingly reached his limit and even ignited the Nirvana fire.

"My time is near. A trip north to look upon the mountains and rivers of my homeland, to savor the mortal life I once knew... that is quite enough. I have no regrets."

"As for the battle with the Yuan-Mongol Emperor, I shall seek only a clean, swift end," Zhao Huangting said with a carefree laugh. "This is likely my last time at the Sword Pool Lake. Aside from seeing Sumozhe, I came to sharpen the Green Mountain sword for the fifth time."

"However, the one to sharpen it this time is not me, but An Le."

Hearing this, the old Sword Saint cast his gaze upon the Green Mountain. The bamboo sword floated upward, hovering before him. His wrinkled hand gently touched the blade. "Why have you always been so obstinate about sharpening the Green Mountain?" he asked. "Perhaps this bamboo sword does not need to be sharpened?"

The old man’s fingers joined together, brushing over the surface of the Green Mountain. His eyes narrowed, and a sharp glint seemed to flash within them.

"No, the Green Mountain must be sharpened. Only then can it part the mist and reveal its true form!" A rare, fanatical light appeared in Zhao Huangting's eyes.

"The one who once gave me the Green Mountain could not sharpen it, so the task fell to me. If I, Zhao Huangting, cannot do it, then An Le will. If An Le cannot... he will eventually find someone else worthy of wielding it, and it will be passed down, always passed down!"

"The Green Mountain remains."

His voice was resonant, echoing through the surroundings. Su Sumozhe’s eyes held complex emotions, while the old sword smith showed a mix of appreciation and a sigh. The old Sword Saint’s expression gradually returned to its usual unreadable state. Suddenly, he raised his hand and pressed it against Zhao Huangting’s chest.

A massive surge of sword qi roared into Zhao Huangting’s body. The Nirvana fire seemed to be suppressed in an instant.

"Then I shall look forward to that swift end of yours," the old Sword Saint said softly.

Zhao Huangting’s complexion regained a hint of ruddiness; his spirit seemed to return to his body. The Nirvana fire, previously suppressed by his heart-sword, was now further quelled by the strand of sword qi. The pain he had been enduring diminished significantly.

"The Nirvana fire is one of the three disasters of the tenth tier. My heart-sword could only suppress it for you, but I can only provide the finishing touch with my sword qi."

"However, this sword qi will help you enter the Yuan-Mongol capital. Otherwise, if you went north with such grandeur only to be blocked at the gates of the capital, you would become the world's greatest laughingstock."

"My disciple Su Sumozhe’s man shall not be a laughingstock," the old Sword Saint said flatly.

Zhao Huangting laughed, bowed, and thanked the old man. The old Sword Saint handed the Green Mountain back to An Le, a kindly smile returning to his face. "Little fellow, you also wish to sharpen the Green Mountain?"

An Le took the sword and hung it at his waist. Without hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, Senior." He knew that sharpening the Green Mountain was the wish of the old man in the Imperial Temple. With the Nirvana fire ignited and the old man’s days numbered, An Le was willing to strive for that wish.

The old Sword Saint smiled, tapped his toes on the ground, and countless strands of sword qi began to roar behind him. His figure drifted to the center of the lake, hovering above the surface. His hempen robes fluttered, and his white hair and beard danced in the wind.

"To sharpen the Green Mountain, you must first forge a sword with your own hands."

"You struck the bell thirty-six times; by tradition, the Sword Pool Palace will forge a sword for you. Wang Yansheng, you shall assist this little fellow in forging and sharpening."

"If the Green Mountain can be sharpened, it will be of great benefit to you as well."

As he spoke, the waters of the Sword Pool Lake churned into massive waves. The old Sword Saint’s figure sank back into the lake, and the water returned to a calm, mirror-like state, as if everything had been nothing but a reflection in a pool.

The silver-haired old sword smith bowed slightly toward the spot where the old Sword Saint had vanished, then looked at An Le. "Follow me to forge your sword. Once the sword is complete, you will have the grasp and the ability to sharpen the Green Mountain."

An Le nodded solemnly, saying nothing. Even though he was anxious to sharpen the sword, he knew such things could not be rushed. Yet, if he failed to complete it before the old man’s time ran out, it would be a regret he would carry forever.

"Jie Liu, take An Le to rest for three days. Let him stabilize his newly broken-through realm and adjust his blood energy and spirit. Bring him to my forge tomorrow," the old smith said, his hands clasped behind his back, before he vanished into the sky.

Wan Jieliu bowed respectfully and watched him go.

...

The news that a young man in white had struck the Sword Bell thirty-six times spread quickly. It moved beyond the Sword Pool Palace to the Brocade Official City, and from there, to the entire world.

The name of the Sword Pool Palace naturally shook the world. Beyond its reputation for sword-smithing, the mere existence of the reclusive old Sword Saint was enough to make all major powers take notice. It was a martial force comparable to the Daoist Zhenwu Temple, the Celestial Master's Mansion, and the three great Buddhist temples.

The Sword Bell of the palace was legendary. Since ancient times, many wandering swordsmen who felt they had an affinity for the sword had traveled there to try their luck. Striking it nine times would earn them a sword forged by the palace; eighteen times would earn them world-wide fame.

Now, news had spread that a young sword immortal had struck it thirty-six times, prompting the old Sword Saint to emerge and offer congratulations!

When the name of the "Young Sword Immortal" spread, it was like a drop of water in a pot of boiling oil. This young sword immortal was An Le, the top scholar of the recent Spring Imperial Examination, who had thwarted the Emperor's plot before the Heavenly Profound Palace and been stripped of his title. His name was already known across the land, but this feat at the Sword Pool Palace made it resound like thunder.

Every detail of his life was unearthed: the youth who had triggered the evolution of ancient martial scriptures on the Martial魁 Stone; the youth who had been framed for examination fraud and channeled the spirit of righteousness before the Prime Minister’s residence; the youth who had climbed from the bottom of the Lesser Saint List, winning streak after streak, gathering invincible momentum until the white python transformed into a heavenly dragon.

One achievement after another stacked up—he was a legend of the age. Truly, who in the world did not know him now?

...

Mountains like paintings outside Brocade Official City, spring rain drifting over flowers.

Wan Jieliu found a spacious two-courtyard residence in Persimmon Alley on the main street of the city. In the spring, Brocade Official City was always shrouded in a fine drizzle, and the whole city was wrapped in the fragrance of flowers. Zhao Huangting and Su Sumozhe had gone off to tour the mountains and waters around the city, enjoying their limited time together.

Compared to the small courtyard in the Imperial Temple Lane of Lin'an, this residence was much larger, and because the land in the city was cheaper, it was a comfortable home for An Le.

The alley was named for its many persimmon trees. In An Le’s courtyard, there was one as well, currently lush with spring greenery, soaking in the rain.

The house was simple. After settling in, Wan Jieliu departed. For An Le, the atmosphere of Brocade Official City was far more comfortable than Lin'an. While it lacked the dreamlike prosperity of the capital, it had everything one needed. Under the influence of the Sword Pool Palace, the city’s pace was slow; everyone practiced the sword or wore one, making it a pleasant place to be.

Although the old smith had given him three days to stabilize his realm, An Le did not bury himself entirely in cultivation. He used the time to adjust his state of mind and calm his surging blood and spirit while soaking in the ancient charm of the city.

Because his breakthrough had been aided by the waves of the bell, his internal energy and spirit were unstable. The innate spiritual energy flowing from his inner elixir also needed to be nurtured—from one strand to two, then three and four. As they grew and gathered into a sea, he would reach the sixth-tier of body tempering: the Sea of Qi. It was easy to say, but difficult to do; nurturing that energy required time and effort.

At dawn, with the drizzling rain, An Le woke from his meditation. He practiced body tempering in the courtyard, performing the Five Animals of the Ancient Demons, using the demon energy from the treasure jade at his waist to refine his physical body and stabilize his blood.

He habitually inserted the Green Mountain and the Ink Pool into the trunk of the persimmon tree. The tree was thinner than the old locust tree in the capital, so he dared not insert them too deeply. As for the golden-backed blade, *Settling the Storm*, he hung it from a branch.

After his training, An Le would put on clean clothes, strap on his sword and blade, open his oil-paper umbrella, and stroll the long streets. After a meal at a street stall, he would head straight to the Sword Pool Palace.

He had become immensely famous there, with many admirers, such as Lü Shisan. Whenever he arrived, Lü Shisan would rush over to lead the way. An Le enjoyed the company, and as they walked, he would ask about sword-smithing. Every disciple of the palace touched upon it, and Lü Shisan shared his knowledge without reservation.

An Le listened intently, taking the opportunity to absorb five strands of "Aged Qi" from him, carefully observing each one. For the disciples, their first sword was always forged by their own hands, so there were many memories of the forging process stored within that qi.

Under Lü Shisan’s guidance, An Le met other talented disciples and continued to harvest Aged Qi. With his breakthrough, he could now absorb five strands from each person, and the number of people he could interact with had increased to six. This meant he could gather thirty strands a day!

Over three days, An Le gathered ninety strands. He used them to observe the forging processes and experiences of many disciples, applying the insights to his "Eternal Talent" and "God-like Sword Physique."

On the third day, as the morning sun spilled over the world, Wan Jieliu arrived at the courtyard and knocked on the door.

An Le opened it. Inside, he had just finished his morning training, his blood energy steaming.

"Master An, the elder asks that you come to the forge," Wan Jieliu said respectfully.

An Le changed into the green robes of the Sword Pool Palace and followed him. As they walked along the cobblestone paths, listening to the rhythmic clanging of hammers, An Le felt a surge of anticipation.

"You’re here," the silver-haired Wang Yansheng said, holding a large jar of hot tea as he waited.

An Le bowed.

"Jie Liu, there is a piece of Essence Iron embryo in the furnace that has been burning for three days and nights. Go and teach An Le how to swing the hammer. First, have him strike it until it loses its shape," the old smith said, sitting in his chair.

Wan Jieliu nodded and led An Le into the sweltering heat of the forge. The Earth Immortal Fire roared in the furnace, sparks flying, the heat enough to drench one in sweat in an instant.

An Le stared at the glowing red, irregular iron embryo. He grasped the heavy, thousand-jin iron hammer Wan Jieliu handed him. His heart surged, his blood energy rolling. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories of the three days of observing others forge come to mind—like waves on a river of time, clashing with the sparks of the furnace.

An Le opened his eyes. His *Niwan* palace cracked open; a sword furnace rang out, his primordial spirit sitting within, surrounded by glowing mist!

Wan Jieliu, standing to the side, was about to offer guidance when his eyes narrowed. He noticed An Le’s aura change instantly. The youth swung the thousand-jin hammer with the practiced familiarity of a disciple who had spent years at the anvil.

His green robes tightened, blood energy churned, and a massive force surged from his fifth-tier body. He twisted his waist, his feet planted like ancient pine roots. The massive hammer swung in a high arc, cutting through the air with a mournful whine, and slammed down!

*CLANG!*

A sound, sharper and more piercing than the ringing of the Sword Bell, erupted within the forge! A surge of flames roared upward, and sparks bloomed like fireworks in the night sky!

The red-hot iron embryo in the furnace instantly buckled like soft dough, deformed by the blow! The sound of the strikes, accompanied by the rolling heat, created a sudden wind within the forge.

Wang Yansheng, sitting in his chair, took a sip of hot tea... and forgot to swallow.