Chapter 65: The Ancient Fragmented Poem

Ancient Battlefield.

It is said that this place was once the site of the ancient Sword Sect, existing independently within a pocket world. Now, after ten thousand years, most of the Sword Sect’s ruins have vanished, leaving only a fragment of this pocket world—this fragment was mainly the battleground for sword cultivators of old, thus earning the name “Ancient Battlefield.”

Upon this battlefield remain traces of ancient formations, fragments of sword techniques, lingering sword intent, and transmissions of the sword path… There are also places held as secret by the Ten Thousand Swords Gate, never revealed to outsiders, and treated as forbidden ground even for most disciples. Of course, each of the Nine Sects and clans has its own treasured land, so a delicate balance has been maintained for nearly a thousand years, undisturbed by any.

The flying vessel descended into a valley.

On the deck, Master Wen Yu introduced the place to the people of the Eastern Spirit Sect and others.

“The entrance to the battlefield’s barrier lies in this Hidden Sword Valley. Originally, there was no valley here—it was our sect’s ancestor Yu Huang who, with the power to move mountains, piled up this valley to protect the barrier, thus creating today’s Hidden Sword Valley.”

Jiang Min listened and looked out at the valley beyond the vessel.

Ancient trees soared skyward, lush greenery abounded, and streams flowed—nothing here resembled a landscape shaped by human hands.

“A powerful cultivator can shift mountains and fill seas. As for me now… at most, I could cut through a stream or split a stone.” Jiang Min marveled at these legendary realms, awe-struck.

Besides the disciples of Eastern Spirit Sect, those who had attended the banquet at Falling Blossom Valley, including Lin Guanyu and others, continued to accompany them.

After a brief contest, Ten Thousand Swords Gate had won resoundingly. Pride showed on the faces of their sword cultivator disciples; on the Eastern Spirit Sect’s side, some hung their heads in dismay. Among their own, they were considered top sword talents, but upon arriving at Ten Thousand Swords Gate, they discovered many more formidable than themselves—there is always a higher mountain.

The group disembarked and entered the barrier of the Ancient Battlefield, hidden within the valley.

The moment they passed through, Jiang Min felt a slight dizziness, her vision flickered, and the scene transformed entirely.

This fragment of the pocket world was filled with swirling yellow sand.

The sky was dim, without sun or stars; instead, strange black rifts floated above, and merely glancing at them seemed to draw the gaze inward.

Ahead,

A cliff a hundred feet tall rose abruptly; to Jiang Min, it resembled a colossal sword, snapped in half, with only one half still embedded in the earth.

She looked up. The cliff’s stone face was inscribed densely with words and images, some of which shifted and changed. Yet much of it had been deliberately defaced—many symbols and writings were damaged, not by the passage of time, but by human hands.

“This cliff is the Sword Comprehension Cliff, bearing countless fragments of sword techniques left by ancient sword cultivators ten thousand years ago. Friends and disciples, you have one month to study here. After that, we will proceed to the Ancient Sword Intent Path.”

Master Wen Yu turned to the Eastern Spirit Sect and spoke.

“However, please remain below the Sword Comprehension Cliff and do not wander. This is, after all, the site of an ancient battlefield, riddled with deadly restrictions—set foot in the wrong place and you will die.”

“Of course, the area beneath the cliff is safe and secure. Even a single phrase from these sword technique fragments can bring great benefit.”

“If there are no questions—let us begin our study of the sword arts.”

With that, Master Wen Yu nodded to Master Qing You and the others, then found a spot, closed his eyes, and began to cultivate.

The three Foundation Establishment Masters accompanied them not only as hosts but also to guide the guests, ensuring they did not stray. For even those familiar with the Ancient Battlefield dare not trespass upon certain perilous places, where the restrictions cannot be unraveled or destroyed.

After Master Wen Yu spoke, the disciples of Ten Thousand Swords Gate moved with practiced ease to the open ground below the cliff. Some brought their own meditation mats and sat to study the fragments; others found a spot to practice swordplay. Soon, various phenomena arose from them—some saw visions, some felt sword intent descend upon them—leaving the Eastern Spirit Sect and others astonished.

These disciples of Ten Thousand Swords Gate could so quickly enter the rare state of sword comprehension. The guests could not fall behind, lest they become the butt of jokes.

Thus,

Yu Xiu and his companions followed suit: some took out mats, some sat directly on the ground, others stood and observed. Each began to study the fragments.

Jiang Min found a place at the edge, sat cross-legged upon the sandy earth, and gazed at the images and writings on the cliff.

Now closer, whenever her sight landed on a certain spot, Jiang Min immediately felt a sharp pain in her mind, as if a keen blade pierced her forehead. Startled, she quickly looked elsewhere.

After some study, she began to understand how to choose among the myriad sword technique fragments.

“So many fragments, and the sword intent within them varies in strength. Those with powerful intent I cannot even look at, let alone comprehend. I’d best seek out something weaker…”

Yet the fragments on the cliff were so numerous that even searching for the weaker ones, Jiang Min found nothing she could comprehend.

The reason was simple: most were far too obscure and challenging, utterly beyond the grasp of a minor sword cultivator at her level.

“The essence of the sun is the Li trigram; the essence of the moon the Kan. The stars map the five elements and connect to the seven luminaries. Thunder and lightning in the Mao position, Zhen is thunder…”

For example, when Jiang Min looked at such passages, the words conjured scenes of the sun and moon cycling, winds and thunder raging. But these mysteries were too distant for her now—studying them would be futile.

Or,

“The essence of yang manifests in brilliance; the qi of yin emerges in vibration…”

This seemed to be a sword technique; as Jiang Min watched, she glimpsed the circulation of yin and yang, profound and mysterious. Yet she had not even mastered the Thunderfire Ten Thousand Swords Art; it would be unwise to seek more techniques—greed would only hinder her.

After viewing many images and texts, Jiang Min’s gaze suddenly fell upon a spot midway up the cliff.

There,

There was a fragment of a poem.

“…
The sword’s moves are many yet simple; the blade has intent, yet no intent at all.
The sword strikes swiftly, breaking all arts; it returns to me with a smile, as if devoid of emotion.
…”

The poem had neither beginning nor end, both sides broken and faded, unreadable. But as Jiang Min looked upon it, a towering figure appeared in her mind’s eye, standing with sword in hand.

Then, the figure bent its knees slightly, taking a stance, wrist raised in the simplest sword posture.

Draw, carry, lift, parry, strike, thrust…

The moves the figure performed were those taught to beginners, yet every strike felt to Jiang Min like not just one sword, but ten thousand—countless swords, all returning to one.

As the figure practiced sword moves,

Ancient echoes lingered, passing through ten thousand years to reach Jiang Min’s ears.

“When one sword is mastered, all arts are understood. Even among our kind, none have attained this.

Only by cutting down one sword today, and another tomorrow, accumulating practice, will there come a moment of sudden understanding…”