Chapter 131: A Thunderbolt Streaking Across Heaven and Earth—Will the Origin Emperor Dare to Fight? [Please Vote]

Shu Region, Jingguan City.

As the astonishing sword light faded into the distance, all the swords suspended throughout the city fell like rain, returning to the hands of their owners.

As the swords grew still, the twilight clouds, which had been stifling the sky all morning, could no longer hold back, and a fine drizzle began to fall. Perhaps because the clouds had been cleaved open, the rain trapped within them poured out with surprising intensity. The raindrops tumbled into the world, striking the bluestone pavement and shattering into spray, each droplet seeming to contain a trace of sword intent.

The chaotic rain drummed against the surfaces of umbrellas, dancing incessantly.

Prince Jiangling held an oiled-paper umbrella, his gaze slowly withdrawing from the sword light that had vanished into the horizon. A strange look flickered in the depths of his eyes.

"To think... Zhao Huangting and An Le would leave the city so quickly."

"Truly swift and decisive," Prince Jiangling said softly.

"Just yesterday, they released their sword intent to challenge the Northern Lands and the Yuan-Meng capital. After only one night of rest, they have already crossed the river on a beam of sword light... They are truly in a rush to seek death."

Prince Jiangling knew full well what it meant for Zhao Huangting to cross the river. He did not believe anyone could challenge the Emperor of Yuan-Meng and return alive; given the arrogant and tyrannical nature of the Yuan-Meng Emperor, he would never allow such a thing to happen. Therefore, in Prince Jiangling’s view, Zhao Huangting was surely doomed.

"Crossing the river is a good thing... It means there will soon be an opportunity to deal with An Le."

Beside him, the Second Prince, Zhao Pei, wore a look of expectant delight. The humiliation he had suffered on the Sword Bell stone platform by the Sword Pool Lake was something he could never forget for the rest of his life. In all his years of cultivation, Zhao Pei had never suffered such a setback. He had even used the Purple Qi Golden Lotus from his brow, yet he had been forcibly thrown from the platform by An Le. Even though the world might think nothing of it, in Zhao Pei’s heart, it was an indelible stain. He had to kill An Le to wash away this humiliation.

Of course, if he could kill An Le, it would also be for the "invincible momentum" that An Le possessed. If he could obtain the momentum An Le had accumulated for so long, he, also being at the Fifth Realm, would surely be able to break through to the Sixth Realm with ease—forging the body, observing the sea of qi, and refining the spirit to ascend like a cloud!

"Does Your Highness want to kill him that much?" Prince Jiangling asked, looking at the Second Prince with a scholarly, refined smile.

"Does my uncle not wish to kill him?" The Second Prince looked at Prince Jiangling. Despite the uncle’s refined disguise, he could still sense the killing intent hidden within.

"It is not just because An Le defied the Emperor; it is also because... killing him would bring me great benefits."

"Those reasons are more than enough," the Second Prince replied softly.

Nearby, Li Quchuan, a True Master of the Celestial Master’s Mansion who had been severely injured and had yet to recover his aura, wore a grim expression. Zhao Huangting’s sword strike had been a heavy blow to him, but he was not the type to be easily defeated. Unfortunately, since Zhao Huangting was crossing the Canglang River today to enter the Northern Lands, he was certain to die. Li Quchuan would have no chance for revenge, but... he could transfer this hatred to An Le. After all, the boy was Zhao Huangting’s successor. Having been entrusted with the Green Mountain Bamboo Sword, he was, for all intents and purposes, a disciple. A master’s debt is repaid by the disciple; it is only natural.

On this day, as Zhao Huangting’s sword qi surged into the Northern Lands, the entire world seemed to shudder. Compared to the North, there were even more people south of the Canglang River who wished for An Le to die. Dark currents, as if mixed with the falling rain, converged toward that treacherous barrier of heaven and earth—the Canglang River.

...

...

A terrifying sword radiance tore through the firmament!

After crossing the Canglang River, the sword light suddenly soared, crashing into the Wall of Blood and Qi woven by the generals of the Yuan-Meng Empire!

Yet, this formidable wall was sliced open by the brilliant sword light!

The sword immortal from the south carried a domineering intent within his strike; his soaring spirit was unstoppable, even before a wall of blood and qi!

The Ninth Realm of Body Forging is the pinnacle!

Cultivating the body is like climbing a mountain; only by reaching the summit can one glimpse the landscape of the invincible. The Yuan-Meng generals who formed the wall were no weaklings; having held a stalemate against Ye Longsheng and the others at the Canglang River for so long, they were certainly not ordinary!

However, on this day, Zhao Huangting had ignited a portion of his Nirvana Fire, faintly manifesting the stature of a half-step Earth Immortal. The Yuan-Meng generals were well aware of the sword qi he had released the day before to challenge the Northern Lands and the Yuan-Meng capital. They also knew the purpose of his journey. Thus, seeing Zhao Huangting’s momentum like a rainbow, ignited by the flames of Nirvana, they were unwilling to clash head-on with a peerless sword immortal who had sacrificed his life. If they were to be taken down by this man in his final moments, it might affect the outcome of the Canglang River battlefield.

Therefore, as the wall of blood was cleaved open, it twisted silently, carving out a spacious path.

Zhao Huangting walked with his hands behind his back, his plain clothes fluttering and his long eyebrows trailing in the wind. Stepping at the very forefront of the sword light, he crossed the wall and plunged straight into the Northern Lands, vanishing in an instant!

The wall of blood collapsed with a roar, but the lingering sword light left behind by Zhao Huangting exploded at that very moment! The Yuan-Meng generals, who had allowed him to pass, were furious, unleashing their blood and qi to suppress the sword energy.

Amidst this chaos, a figure appeared on the river surface, a sword resembling a willow branch tied at his waist. Carrying a sword box, he stepped upon the roaring, surging waves, leapt onto the shore, and transformed into a streak of sword light, silently following the trail left by Zhao Huangting.

The sword light was quickly smoothed over.

The Yuan-Meng generals stood with their blood and qi looming, gazing coldly at the departing Zhao Huangting, their eyes filled with murder. They had noticed Wan Jieliu, who had slipped through in the chaos of Zhao Huangting’s sword qi, but they did not care. Letting Zhao Huangting pass, letting Wan Jieliu pass—it mattered little. It was easy to cross the river and enter the North, but returning... would be as difficult as ascending to heaven!

...

...

The sword qi galloped across the earth like a white dragon rolling through the twilight clouds.

Nirvana fire flickered faintly on Zhao Huangting’s body. The Heart Sword, gifted by Master Su Zhu, was suppressing it, but it was becoming difficult to fully contain the leaping flames. Zhao Huangting did not mind; he stood with his hands behind his back, riding the light, feeling the howling wind strike his body and face, a smile playing on his lips.

"Five hundred years... what a familiar scent. This is the scent of the Central Plains."

Bathed in the breeze, Zhao Huangting’s mood was stirring, complex, and nostalgic.

The country is broken, but mountains and rivers remain; spring in the city brings deep growth to the grass and trees. As he opened his eyes, he saw the mountains, rivers, and lakes below reflected in his vision. An Le stood quietly on the sword light, looking down at the lush mountains and winding rivers. He was unfamiliar with the landscape of the North, but he could feel the emotion conveyed by the old man’s slightly trembling body. It was an irrepressible, deep-seated feeling of returning to one’s homeland.

An Le watched in silence. Zhao Huangting was allowing him to glimpse the Northern mountains and rivers, though it could only be a rough look; he could not linger, for he had ignited his Nirvana and had to reach the Yuan-Meng capital quickly. Perhaps, in the future, An Le would have the chance to traverse this Northern land on his own feet.

Zhao Huangting sat cross-legged and gestured for An Le to do the same.

"Look below, the mountains are leveling out. This is the region of Fengxiang Prefecture. I once walked through Fengxiang; I once drew my sword here in anger to slay a group of bandits who were slaughtering villages."

An Le followed the old man’s finger and looked down, catching glimpses of ruined cities. The old man spoke unhurriedly of the interesting things he had experienced in Fengxiang, mentioning the local snacks and fine wines.

The sword light continued to gallop, heading north. Eight thousand miles was not a long distance for a sword immortal, but the old man slowed his pace, taking An Le to slowly view the Northern landscape.

"This is the territory of Jingzhao Prefecture. Do you see that city in the distance? That is the famous Chang'an, the capital of the previous dynasty. Now that it has fallen under the control of foreign tribes, it is truly lamentable."

"Outside Chang'an lies a small town called Lintong, and outside that town is a mountain named Mount Li... You possess the Green Mountain sword; in the future, you should visit Mount Li. There is a ruin there. The geniuses of the Yuan-Meng Empire and various martial sects will all be there to explore. If you go, you might gain quite a lot."

Zhao Huangting pointed into the distance. An Le sat on the sword light, looking out. He saw a magnificent ancient city looming in the mist. Someone in that city seemed to sense the sword light, opening their eyes, their primordial spirit sweeping across the sky, watching coldly. The ancient capital of the former dynasty had become a place of occupation for the Yuan-Meng Empire. Even An Le felt a pang of sorrow.

Following Zhao Huangting’s guidance, An Le looked further and saw a mountain shrouded in thick, heavy twilight clouds, as if the sky were pressing down upon it. As he gazed at that mountain, the Green Mountain sword at his waist suddenly trembled slightly. An Le reached out to stroke it, suppressing its restlessness.

"Mount Li?" An Le murmured. He knew... that mountain must be connected to the Imperial Stone Statue.

The sword light did not head toward Chang'an; under the watchful gaze of the Yuan-Meng powerhouse in the ancient city, it streaked across the sky and moved on.

Bathed in the Northern breeze, Zhao Huangting continued to talk to An Le, pointing out the mountains, rivers, and cities below. His eyes shone with a brilliant light; while introducing them to An Le, he was also revisiting the memories of five hundred years ago.

Qingyang Prefecture, Hezhong Prefecture, Pingyang Prefecture, Daming Prefecture...

One by one, the names of great prefectures spilled from Zhao Huangting’s lips. In Qingyang, he said, he met Su Muzhe—the woman who hid a sword in her brow, the heroic woman who had once been full of spirit and was now the Palace Master of the Sword Pool Palace. But in Zhao Huangting’s eyes, she would always be the swordswoman leading a white horse. In Hezhong, he said there had once been a great drought, and he and Su Muzhe had met a youth there who could pluck stars from the sky, but the youth had wept because he could not change the weather to end the drought. Zhao Huangting had taken the youth and the white-horse-leading Su Muzhe, and together they had slain the old dragon in the riverbed that refused to bring rain.

Story after story tumbled from Zhao Huangting’s lips. An Le listened intently with a smile, as if he, too, had returned to the youthful days of Zhao Huangting. Everyone has a youth, even this peerless old sword immortal now burning with the fire of Nirvana.

Alas, flowers may bloom again, but people never return to their youth. The traces left by time are hard to erase; people cannot be reborn like flowers, so they can only wither slowly under the passage of time, becoming something they could never have imagined.

Under Zhao Huangting’s description, the Northern landscape seemed to become vivid and tangible before An Le’s eyes. A glow gradually erupted in Zhao Huangting’s eyes.

Below, in one city after another they passed, powerful auras erupted, each one fixed on Zhao Huangting and An Le. The appearance of these Yuan-Meng powerhouses shattered Zhao Huangting’s reverie of the beautiful landscape. He frowned and sighed.

"It is a pity that this great land was ceded to foreign tribes as we moved south. The more I think about it, the more stifled I feel."

Zhao Huangting exhaled softly. An Le said nothing. The Yuan-Meng powerhouses in those cities watched the sword light pass, seemingly aware of Zhao Huangting’s purpose. After all, the sword qi from his challenge the day before had reached every powerhouse in the North. But precisely because of that challenge, few came to intercept him. These Yuan-Meng powerhouses were incredibly confident—or rather, they had absolute faith in their Emperor. They believed this sword immortal from the south would pose no threat, that he would be struck down by the greatest Emperor in the world, his sword broken, his head severed and hung from the city walls for all to see. They were happy to watch the show.

The sword light roared, continuing north, faster and faster. The old man beside An Le spoke less and less. He stopped introducing the scenery and looked toward the north, his aged, deep pupils faintly reflecting a towering, majestic city.

An Le also fell silent, his expression turning rare and serious. On this journey north, he had viewed eight thousand miles of mountains and rivers and shared in the old man’s youth.

He knew, perhaps, that the time for parting had arrived.

"An Le, watch closely. I have taught you the Three Swords of the Ci Poem, but today, if you look carefully, you will see the true majesty of those three swords!"

Zhao Huangting rose from the sword, his expression more solemn than ever. On the flat ground ahead, a majestic city appeared; even An Le could feel the oppressive weight of that city! Most importantly, around the city, the earth seemed to churn with heavy, thick dragon-vein energy, as if hundreds of rivers were flowing into the sea, all converging within the city to be absorbed by a powerful existence.

"This is the Dragon Vein, the Dragon Vein of the Central Plains..."

"The Yuan-Meng Emperor occupies the Central Plains and drains the power of the Dragon Vein to nourish his entire empire. That is why geniuses and demons emerge in Yuan-Meng, far surpassing Zhao, Dali, and Xiliang..."

"Draining the Dragon Vein to destroy the foundation of the Central Plains—it is a cruel method. Unfortunately, the Zhao dynasty, having abandoned the Central Plains, does not even have the right to intervene."

"The Dragon Vein is drained to nourish the cultivators of the Yuan-Meng Empire, but the people of the Central Plains must suffer all kinds of disasters: droughts, floods, locust plagues... impossible to stop."

"This is sucking the blood of the living in the Central Plains to strengthen themselves!"

"This is the calamity of a foreign race!"

Zhao Huangting’s gaze was solemn as he looked at the rolling dragon energy, his expression heavy and sorrowful. Having viewed the thousands of miles of landscape from the sword, An Le had indeed seen many things: ruined cities, people in rags, bones strewn along the roads, and the ravages of drought and flood. An Le had once wondered why, and now, he had his explanation.

An Le remained silent. The sword light, which had been galloping, suddenly began to descend, falling like a meteor outside the magnificent city.

The sword qi gradually surged outward. The two landed on the soil of the Central Plains. The earth roared, and their primordial spirits could clearly feel the pulse of the earth trembling violently. The sword light that had pierced the stars returned to the yellow pear-wood sword box on his back. His plain clothes stopped fluttering, and his long eyebrows ceased their dance.

In the distance, a figure arrived on a sword—it was none other than Wan Jieliu of the Sword Pool Palace. After arriving, Wan Jieliu did not speak, simply following silently beside An Le. He knew his task: to protect An Le and ensure the boy returned safely.

Zhao Huangting stood on the earth, looking at the majestic city rising from the ground. Compared to the city, his figure looked like an ant.

"An Le, I know you have a heroic spirit and grand ambitions. Bringing you north to view the mountains and rivers today was because I have expectations of you. Once, I only wanted you to see a moment of great exhilaration, a display of boundless heroism. But today, I want you to understand that this Yuan-Meng Emperor... although he is the best in the world, he is... not invincible!"

"The Zhao Emperor in the Tianxuan Palace of Lin'an has feared him for five hundred years."

"I want you to see that he is not invincible, so that you may remain fearless."

"I hope that one day, you can be like a fire, burning from the south toward the north, consuming the grasslands that the Yuan-Meng Empire has spread over the Central Plains!"

"Just like the line you wrote in your imperial examination essay."

"Expel the barbarians and restore the Central Plains!"

Zhao Huangting said every word clearly, expressing his hopes and expectations for An Le. As a member of the Zhao imperial family, he should not have said such things, but seeing the shattered mountains and rivers of the Central Plains today, his heart was filled with complex emotions.

Zhao Huangting looked at An Le, his eyes shining like stars. An Le was stunned. Behind him, Wan Jieliu’s eyes flashed with surprise, then returned to calm.

The Northern wind was cold and sharp. The old man raised his hand, patted An Le on the shoulder, and smiled lightly.

"For now, you don't need to think too much. Open your heart, open your eyes, and enjoy this scene to the fullest..."

"A great exhilaration!"

As his words fell, Zhao Huangting turned and began to walk toward the majestic capital city that crouched upon the earth. At first, his steps were small, barely a foot long. Then, his stride began to widen, his feet striking the soil, which seemed to splatter with blood soaked in from war. By the end, his movements were like a peerless light-body technique, each step a leap through the air.

Step by step, he seemed to be measuring the mountains and rivers of the Central Plains!

A hundred paces from the city, as the old man strode forward, he raised a hand to his brow, pulling outward as if plucking a flower. A Seven-Colored Glazed Heart Sword was pulled, bit by bit, from his Niwan Palace!

When Master Su Zhu’s Heart Sword was completely drawn, the strange weapon disintegrated, its seven-colored light transforming into endless sword qi. The sword qi intertwined, turning into a vast sea!

The old man strode across the sea of sword qi. With every step, red Nirvana flames leapt from his body. High in the sky, the sea of clouds was torn asunder, as if purple lightning snakes were coiling and rolling. On the ground, within the ocean of sword qi, the old man transformed into a red thunderbolt, carrying the sea of sword qi as he crashed toward the city that spanned the heavens and the earth!

"Yuan Emperor, dare you fight me!"