Chapter 330

Lin Xun didn’t fully understand what those words meant.

But after a moment’s daze, he saw a flash of white before him.

The young man’s figure had disappeared, leaving only a voice carried on the fierce wind, tinged with a smile: “Watch closely!”

The first Demon God had entered this world, with only a small portion of its body still in the demonic realm.

They had to deal with it before it broke free from the formation.

Lin Xun would not see the piercing sword energy that surged in the eyes of the white-robed sword cultivator as he turned.

Nor would he see the youth’s smirk fade, replaced by a tight, straight line at the corner of his mouth like a blade’s edge.

Tian Xianzi was well aware of his own strength.

Jueming had died in the great battle, and if he were to face a Demon God, what chance could he possibly have?

Sensing the sword energy, the giant of flames let out an earth-shaking roar, swinging its fire-wreathed arm.

In an instant, sparks filled the air, brightening the surroundings like daylight.

The flames flared, and dust and sand whirled, shaking the dunes.

Multiple demonic energies surged toward Tian Xianzi, who silently recited a sword incantation, striking them down one by one.

“Uncle master, what should we do?”

Lin Xun saw Tian Xianzi’s disadvantage but, lacking strength, couldn’t help his master in the slightest, only gripping the spiritual energy pills in his hand in vain.

Wen Hemian’s throat moved as if to speak, but no words came out.

Another wave of demonic fire surged toward them, and Tian Xianzi was forced back several yards, swallowing the thick blood in his mouth.

Jueming had been a stubborn man.

Back when he, Tian Xianzi, Zhen Xiao, and Wen Hemian practiced swordsmanship together, Jueming would answer solemnly if asked why he pursued the sword: “It’s for slaying evil and protecting all beings.”

Tian Xianzi had thought, Tsk..what an old antique.

His own aspirations were worlds apart from that man’s.

In the dazzling light of his sword, the white-robed young man stood still amidst the flames, his eyes illuminated by the firelight.

What of a Demon God?

An intense battle spirit surged. Tian Xianzi gathered his strength and leapt into the air, his sword slicing down and forcing back layers of demonic fire.

In his white robes, he charged forward, heading straight for the fiery, molten demon.

“And you?” Jueming had asked, unconvinced, his face serious.

“Why do you study the way of the sword?”

The youth of that day cradled his sword, laughing.

“Since my name is Tian Xianzi, I aim to be the world’s greatest sword cultivator!”

What of Demon Gods?

What of destiny’s constraints?

This title of ‘world’s greatest’—

Wasn’t for nothing!

Sword energy surged, and flames roared.

Two overwhelming forces collided, sending fiery fragments of the Demon God crashing down, accompanied by its wails.

Tian Xianzi’s face turned pale, his sword energy growing heavier with each strike.

He was exceeding his spiritual limits.

He could feel the agony of his meridians about to snap.

This was his last, all-out attack.

The final lesson he could impart to his disciple.

A pity—he realized he felt some reluctance after all.

He liked that worn, empty little house in the Xuanxu Sword Sect.

Years ago, he’d nearly had to sell it in poverty, and the sect elders had sobbed and scraped together spirit stones to help him keep it.

He also liked the pursuit of swordsmanship, and the constant sparring with the battle-hungry Zhen Xiao and He Xiaochen, who always bribed him with shiny spirit stones.

Was he the sort to sell himself for money?

Yes, he was.

Only now, he vaguely realized that, more than the way of the sword, he’d grown even fonder of his gaggle of unruly disciples.

He really wanted to teach them swordsmanship for a lifetime.

There were so many cherished people and things in this world.

When Jueming swung his sword that day, just how resolute must he have felt?

As the two forces clashed, blood seeped from his hand, which held the sword, unceasingly.

Tian Xianzi pressed down with his remaining strength, his mind dimming.

Suddenly, he sensed an unexpected wind.

It wasn’t the scorching desert wind, nor the fiery, foul wind drawn by the Demon God.

It was something else—purer, gentler…

Sword energy.

It was Wen Hemian’s sword energy.

He had been adrift, vowing never to tread the path of the sword again, and had come to the desert without his sword.

Tian Xianzi lowered his head in realization, seeing the young man beside him, his white robes lifted by the wind, along with a glint of pure white sword light.

He recognized it immediately; it was the long-lost sword of Jueming—

Zhu Xie.

“I took the spiritual energy pills and forcefully opened my spiritual sea of consciousness. I can help you for two strikes at most.”

Wen Hemian brushed off the dust on the ancient sword, ignoring the blood at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s been years since we fought side by side… old friend.”

Those last words could have been for the man before him or for the one long gone.

Tian Xianzi, Wen Hemian, Jueming.

After so many years, the three brilliant sword cultivators had finally reunited.

The world had changed.

But their sword energy remained.

Meanwhile, in the distant Ziwei Realm, a sword spirit who had waited alone for centuries suddenly lifted her head, a flash of clarity in her murky eyes.

She recognized the sword energy drawn.

Long-forgotten memories surged up, and in that moment, she remembered her name and the one who had once fought alongside her.

Her name was—

“Zhu… Xie.”