Chapter 123: The Radiance of Sunrise and Sunset Converge to Forge the Supreme Sword—The Swallow Returns Home【Request for Votes】

The drizzle was light, the plum rain season had just arrived, and the air was suffused with the scent of unripe plums.

The scenery of Jingguan City was exquisite, rivaling that of Jiangling Prefecture. Given the special status of the Sword Pool Palace within this city, the Prince of Jiangling had established an estate here as well.

With its carved beams, painted rafters, rockeries, pavilions, and winding corridors, the estate was a display of luxury. In a secluded courtyard, a leisure pavilion stood in the center of a small pond, surrounded by shimmering water.

Three people sat quietly in the pavilion: the Prince of Jiangling, dressed in a scholar's robe; the Second Prince, Zhao Pei, with a hairline crack in the golden sand mark on his forehead; and Li Qingchuan, a master of the Celestial Master’s Mansion, clad in Taoist robes.

A charcoal brazier burned in the pavilion, warming a pot of bright, crimson wine. The Prince of Jiangling picked up a few plums and dropped them into the red wine. As the plums tumbled, they released a slightly tart, sweet aroma that blended with the fragrance of the wine.

"The news has already spread. The boy’s reputation was already circulating throughout the world. Having taken top honors in both the literary and martial arts examinations of the Spring Imperial Palace Examination, he became the most short-lived top scholar in the history of the Great Zhao Dynasty. Furthermore, after being accused of cheating, he drew upon the aura of integrity before the Prime Minister’s residence. His reputation in the world is not insignificant."

"Now, he has even struck the Sword Bell of the Sword Pool Palace thirty-six times, drawing out the reclusive old Sword Saint. With a clear sword heart, he is clearly the future treasure of the Sword Pool Palace."

The Second Prince sat upright on a hollowed-out carved stone stool, a faint smile on his face.

"I hear that the Hell Palace of the Western Liang Kingdom has already been stirred. A ghost messenger from the Hell Palace has crossed the river, intending to claim the boy's corpse to refine a corpse puppet."

The Prince of Jiangling and Master Li smiled, unimpressed.

"The Hell Palace, as the most notorious demonic sect in the world today, is revered as the state religion by the Western Liang Kingdom and is in its prime. It specializes in targeting geniuses for slaughter, using ghost arts and evil techniques to achieve its ends."

"If he is targeted by a ghost messenger from the Hell Palace, An Le is in for a headache."

As a Taoist institution, the Celestial Master’s Mansion naturally stood against the Hell Palace and loathed its methods. Yet, they had to admit that with the full support of the Western Liang Kingdom, the Hell Palace had risen to a status not inferior to their own.

"Worrying about that is useless. As long as An Le remains in Jingguan City—no, as long as he remains in Shu—the ghost messengers of the Hell Palace would never dare to make a move, nor even show their faces. To take An Le's life, everyone is surely waiting for the old Imperial Uncle to head north and for An Le to leave Lin'an Prefecture."

"However, the ghost messengers of the Hell Palace... they have no shortage of patience. They can afford to wait. It is rumored that one such messenger waited ten years just to assassinate a single target," the Prince of Jiangling said with a soft chuckle.

He lifted the pot of boiled plum wine and poured it for the Second Prince and Master Li. The scarlet liquid swirled in the celadon cups, emitting an eerie glow.

The Second Prince took a sip. The tart sweetness of the plums mixed with the crisp, cold bite of the wine burst forth in his mouth.

"Is it good?" the Prince of Jiangling asked with an elegant, cheerful smile.

"Excellent wine," the Second Prince replied truthfully.

The Taoist, Li Qingchuan, also took a sip. "Indeed, it is excellent. I have never tasted such wine before. I heard that the Prince of Jiangling enjoys brewing and is quite an expert. Having tasted it now, I can see the reputation is well-deserved."

Hearing their praise and observing the scarlet stain left on their lips after drinking, the Prince of Jiangling revealed a gentle smile.

"A mere empty name. Brewing is simply a personal hobby; I care little for such labels. If it is good, then by all means, drink more."

The plum rain fell upon the dark tiles of the pavilion, creating a soft, rustling sound.

Suddenly, the Prince of Jiangling paused in his drinking. An invisible heatwave, shaped like a rippling shockwave, swept through the pavilion with incredible speed, forming a gust of wind.

The Prince of Jiangling’s scholar’s robe fluttered violently. He frowned and looked toward the direction of the Sword Pool Palace. The Second Prince and Master Li also turned to look.

They saw a crimson heat rising into the clouds; the falling plum rain was vaporized, creating a sunset-like glow that reflected the red screen of light. A surging sword aura and intent poured forth, churning deep within the Sword Pool Lake.

The Second Prince and Master Li were confused, not understanding what had happened. However, the Prince of Jiangling, who frequently dealt with the Sword Pool Palace, felt his eyes narrow.

"The furnace has exploded... No, this power, it is not a normal explosion. Such a heatwave—only the sword-casting furnace of Wang Yansheng, the world's greatest sword smith, could suppress such Earth Immortal fire!"

"Wang Yansheng is suffering an explosion? Impossible... Unless he has begun to stake everything on that sword he has been tempering for decades, making one final push!"

"Wang Yansheng is forging a First-Grade Supreme Sword!"

A First-Grade Supreme Sword?!

The Second Prince and Master Li were horrified. Of all the swords in the world, it was already difficult to reach the first grade. Those that reached the level of a First-Grade Supreme Sword were the pinnacle of the world!

The Prince of Jiangling frowned. Wang Yansheng had been tempering his craft for decades; why risk everything to forge a First-Grade Supreme sword today? Such a heatwave meant the furnace had burst, leaving no path to return.

An Le had just struck the bell thirty-six times, and Wang Yansheng was now attempting a First-Grade Supreme forge. Was it a coincidence?

...

The exploded sword furnace seemed to roar as an extremely suppressed sword aura whistled out from within.

The furnace, having forged countless treasures, was no ordinary object. If graded, it could be considered a third-grade magical artifact. Though not a true artifact, it had birthed too many legendary swords. As the top smith of Sword Pool Lake, Wang Yansheng’s status and seniority were unparalleled, making his furnace the most prolific in history.

And now, this furnace had shattered. Every wisp of sword aura and the spirit of the blades forged within it were now unleashed, causing a gale to erupt within the workshop!

As the glowing, red-hot sword embryo, its surface still flowing like liquid, was moved from the furnace and placed beneath the massive iron hammer that An Le swung with all his might, the air seemed to twist. As the thousand-pound hammer descended, it emitted a strange, mournful wail, like an infant sword spirit crying out in misery.

It even made An Le’s heart tremble, his resolve wavering, hesitant and afraid to let the hammer fall.

"Hold your focus! Strike!"

"Do not have any hesitation! The most important thing right now is to forge the sword!"

"Everything is false; everything is an illusion!"

"Strike!"

"Strike!!!"

However, just as An Le’s heart wavered, Wang Yansheng’s resonant, powerful voice exploded in his ears, sweeping away all his distracted thoughts.

An Le’s blood and energy surged again. His refined, resilient life force roared like an angry beast. The essence of the Five Ancient Beasts filled the space around him!

The hammer fell, slamming fiercely into the molten sword embryo that Wang Yansheng had guided and fused with the essence-spirit iron!

*Clang—*

A massive sound instantly swept out like a storm. Vaguely, invisible waves of fire spread densely, impacting everything around them! Even An Le, the one who caused it, felt as if his eardrums were about to burst; blood began to trickle out!

A shrill, piercing cry erupted from the embryo on the forging platform. An Le’s strike felt as if it hadn't hit a piece of metal, but rather the body of an infant!

At the same time, Wang Yansheng struck without hesitation. The crisp sound helped An Le clear away all his lingering confusion and softness.

Beside the furnace, Wan Jieliu, who was controlling the intensity of the Earth Immortal fire, was dumbstruck. He was... horrified!

"Teacher!" Wan Jieliu growled.

But the response was Wang Yansheng’s angry reprimand: "Shut up!"

"If you don't want to do this, get out!"

Wan Jieliu immediately fell silent, not daring to say another word. Even after being scolded by his teacher, he felt no resentment. He knew how critical this moment was. That was a sword embryo tempered for decades, the very foundation Wang Yansheng intended to use to forge a First-Grade Supreme sword.

Yet, today, Wang Yansheng had shattered his own furnace without hesitation to extract the embryo and fuse it with the one An Le was hammering. It was too insane, too decisive!

If he failed, decades of hard work would be wasted, and the possibility of ever forging a First-Grade Supreme sword would be gone forever, perhaps leaving him with a lifetime of regret! And even if he succeeded, this sword would not belong to Wang Yansheng, but to An Le!

Wan Jieliu’s heart trembled. He had never imagined his teacher would take this step. But he had no right to dissuade him, nor could he. Wan Jieliu’s eyes turned red; he understood what this moment meant. The teacher was seizing a fleeting thread of fate, and that fate lay in the hands of the young man before him, who was forging a sword for the first time!

He dared not speak. He would not leave. At such a moment, he had to give his all, even if it was only to control the fire. Wan Jieliu focused his mind and began to control the Earth Immortal fire, which was surging wildly due to the furnace's destruction.

Outside the workshop, everyone was stunned. What kind of status did this boy have, to make two master smiths assist him? The smiths of the Sword Pool Palace trembled, thinking Wang Yansheng had gone mad. How was this action any different from madness?

A First-Grade Supreme sword—the lifetime pursuit of how many smiths? Yet, Wang Yansheng was betting everything on a boy!

Su Muzhe’s expression changed drastically, a look of worry appearing in his eyes. Zhao Huangting’s gaze was not one of shock, but of complexity. Perhaps only Zhao Huangting understood Wang Yansheng’s feelings at this moment.

Though Wang Yansheng’s end had not yet come, it was near. Having failed to break into the tenth realm, he could only bet everything to ensure there would be no regrets in his final days. When a thread of fate brushed past, if one could not grasp it, one would live in regret for the rest of their years.

Just like himself, Zhao Huangting, wanting one final battle to clear his mind and feel a sense of release. It was merely to make his life complete, to have no regrets. Even if Wang Yansheng failed to forge the sword, at least he had been mad enough to try. Because he had tried, he would have no regrets.

A smile touched Zhao Huangting’s lips as he watched the silver-haired old man in the workshop, drenched in sweat, his eyes flashing with a brilliance that seemed to restore his youthful spirit. The fire of nirvana, suppressed by his heart-sword, seemed to be leaping, eager to break out and consume everything.

Zhao Huangting closed his eyes, feeling the flames that burned his life away with every passing second, yet feeling a unique sense of emotion. It was the most brilliant reflection of his life. As the images of the years flashed before him, listening to the sound of the hammers, casting aside everything, without resentment or regret, he felt a surge of emotion in his heart.

Everyone else was shocked; only he was smiling.

...

An Le felt his arms going numb. His blood and energy seemed frozen by the sword aura, unable to circulate, and the innate spiritual energy in his dantian was suppressed by the sword aura, unable to flow even a fraction!

This sword aura was terrifying; just the breath flowing from the embryo was too much for him to handle! Every swing of the hammer was excruciatingly difficult. If not for his Divine Sword Body, he feared he would not even be able to lift the hammer.

His primordial spirit was trembling. The heart-sword embryo beneath him seemed to be undergoing a baptism of sword aura, being hammered and tempered. Even if the forging failed now, An Le’s gains would be immense. His heart-sword embryo was nearly taking shape; he had been far from completing it, but these days of forging had shaped not just a physical sword, but the heart-sword within his furnace.

Perhaps, soon, it would truly manifest!

"Strike!!!"

A roar pulled An Le’s mind back. His primordial spirit opened its eyes, like a deity in wrath. The heart-sword embryo radiated light, allowing An Le to regain control of his body and strike again!

*Clang—Ding!*

*Clang—Ding!*

The rising momentum grew ever higher, surging upward like waves in a vast ocean, stacking layer upon layer until they formed a terrifying giant wave tens of feet high!

Though Wang Yansheng was assisting, every one of his sharp roars pulled An Le back from the brink of losing his mind. Blood seeped from every pore in An Le’s body; his physical form was changing through this tempering. With every strike, blood spilled from his nose and mouth.

The pressure he was under was immense! Every time he struck the First-Grade Supreme embryo, the rebound and pressure were greater than the combined force of the past five days and nights!

However, An Le’s body seemed to emit a brilliant sword hum. The Divine Sword Body allowed his sword aura to flow transparently, from top to bottom, venting all that power.

*Boom!*

The ground was covered in a dense web of cracks. The entire workshop shook, fissures climbing the walls and spreading outside! With every strike, accompanied by the double sound of the impact, the cracks in the ground deepened and widened.

Another strike, and the roof shattered and exploded. Curiously, the broken roof did not fall downward; instead, it was swept away by the powerful sword aura, disintegrating into dust and debris that scattered in every direction.

The walls were shattered, the tiles had flown away, leaving only the two figures exposed to the world, facing the hammer and the furnace.

A boy and an old man. One in the prime of life, the other in his twilight years. Like the contrast between the rising sun and the setting sun, like the meeting of spring and the cicada.

Everything in the world fell silent, leaving only the sight of the boy and the old man swinging their hammers, and the sound of the hammering exploding into the world!

The embryo had completely fused into a sword a palm’s width wide. Just from its shape, one could see it was not a delicate blade. Unlike the Green Mountain, and even more unlike the Ink Pool, a desolate and unique aura was spreading!

The thousand-pound hammer fell again. The molten embryo no longer emitted the mournful cries of an infant; it gradually fell silent. The sword aura that had been whistling and pouring into the furnace suddenly shot into the sky, then seemed to flow backward, rushing back into the embryo. At this moment, the sword became the center of the world.

An Le’s green robe exploded, revealing his lean but sturdy upper body. With every strike, the ancient script on his skin would appear, looking quite strange. The Green Mountain at his waist trembled slightly; the Ink Pool had long since dared not move. Facing the near-complete First-Grade Supreme sword, even though the Ink Pool was a Fourth-Grade sword, it dared not move in the face of such absolute suppression!

"Almost there!"

"Do not relax! Continue!"

Wang Yansheng’s eyes shone, his face revealing an endless sense of peace. He held his hammer, following An Le’s rhythm, supporting his strength.

*Like a spring silkworm spinning its last silk, like a candle burning to ashes.*

The old man seemed to be using the light of his entire life to assist in forging this peerless First-Grade Supreme sword! As he opened and closed his eyes, he seemed to see his entire life of sword-casting in the embryo.

He had picked up the hammer at the age of five, beginning his life of tempering iron. Day after day, the sound of the hammer had run through his entire existence. Now, having lived for over five hundred years, he had forged countless swords. At the end of his life, he would finally forge the dream sword he had always desired!

An Le’s heart-sword shone brightly. The furnace rang incessantly, and the sword aura boiled. He bit his lip, striking continuously; it was the only thing he could do. His body was covered in blood, the brilliant ancient script seemingly obscured, but his eyes were bright!

The old man assisted him, his face filled with nostalgia for his dull yet passionate life of sword-casting.

When the last wisp of sword aura flowed into the embryo, which lay quietly in the cracked furnace, Wang Yansheng saw only one image: amidst the falling snow, his five-year-old self, picking up the hammer for the first time, striking the first blow against an iron embryo.

That was the beginning of the bond between a child and sword-casting. Like a young swallow returning to its nest.

A gentle smile touched the old man’s lips. As An Le swung the thousand-pound hammer, the old man silently lowered his own hammer and took a step back, filled with satisfaction and a sense of release. He watched as An Le’s hammer cut an astonishing arc and finally slammed into the embryo in the furnace.

*Woom—*

A high-pitched sword hum suddenly erupted from the furnace! Every other sword in the world seemed to tremble.

Then, a beam of sword light shot into the sky from the shattered furnace. Like a hidden dragon emerging from the abyss, like a fish leaping in the vast ocean! Like a great Roc soaring to the nine heavens!

Everyone looked up to see that peerless blade dancing in the sky, stirring the electric dragons. The evening clouds were scattered, and the rain ceased.

In the Sword Pool Palace, everyone looked up. In Jingguan City, everyone raised their eyes to gaze at the peerless blade dancing in the firmament, stirring the lightning.

Before the ruined workshop, magma rolled out from the two shattered furnaces, and the Earth Immortal fire flickered. Yet, the old man, Wang Yansheng, looked up at the arrogant, unrestrained blade in the sky with a smile on his face. His aura climbed steadily.

He carried An Le, soaring into the sky, standing amidst the clouds.

The sword emerged from the furnace, its cold light intimidating the stars!

Looking at the sword that was still shrouded in heat, the old man spoke with a light laugh: "An Le, this sword was forged by both of us. It is your first sword. You were the main force; I was the assistant. Before tempering it in the Sword Pool Lake, the name should be given by you."

"However, I have tempered the embryo for decades. Now that the sword is complete, it will follow you from this day on, but I wish to request the honor of naming it."

High in the air, Wang Yansheng’s silver hair fluttered, accompanied by the cold, lightning-interwoven blade. He bowed to An Le.

An Le hurriedly returned the bow: "Senior, you speak too highly. Tempering the embryo for decades was the key; I only added the finishing touches."

"It is only right that you name the sword, Senior."

An Le knew when to advance and retreat. If it were up to him alone, he wouldn't even be able to forge a second-grade sword, let alone this one.

Wang Yansheng smiled in gratitude. He looked at the blade and reached out to grasp the rough, unpolished hilt. Instantly, countless currents of electricity danced, and a massive sword aura swept out. The old man’s clothes fluttered, his frost-white hair and sword-like sideburns wild.

The old man gently stroked the still-hot sword. One could see intricate patterns interwoven on the blade: clouds, ancient cinnabar, flying swallows, and even a small child swinging a hammer, filled with the joy of success... it was truly strange.

The old man’s eyes grew softer. An Le looked at the old man and the sword, and asked softly: "Senior, what shall we name this sword?"

The old man tapped the blade with his finger. The sound was like a swallow’s cry, turning a thousand times, dreaming back to his youth, his initial intention never forgotten.

"This sword shall be called..."

"Swallow Returning to the Nest."