Chapter Seventy-Four: Kenpachi, Supreme Thought Master, Void Sword

"One hundred eleven thousand one hundred points—he’s entered the fifth level! My god, he actually reached the fifth level. What does this mean? What does it mean? At the very least, it means he’s at the peak of the Grandmaster realm, perhaps even a Great Grandmaster."

"An eighteen-year-old Great Grandmaster?"

"Good heavens, is he even human? Could he be the reincarnation of a Martial Saint, the illegitimate child of a Martial Immortal, blessed with divine blood, or born with the true dragon’s bone?"

"A regular student from a small city—this is simply defying the heavens!"

Exclamations and voices of disbelief echoed everywhere, spreading throughout the entire Federation.

Jiang Ming’s background was investigated and laid bare in no time.

"An orphan, and just a few days ago he hadn’t even achieved the Resonance of Bone and Muscle. Now, he’s at least at the Grandmaster peak? That’s preposterous!"

"It’s possible to make a miraculous leap after entering the secret realm, but the odds are minuscule. Also, if he didn’t have the Resonance of Bone and Muscle days ago, it means his innate talent was ordinary. How could he suddenly achieve resonance, attain minute control over strength, and break through so quickly?"

"Incredible, simply inconceivable!"

"Wait, there’s more news: an old principal from Central Heaven Divine Martial University returned to his hometown, happened to find him to be a rare talent, and gifted him a Foundation Nurturing Pill. After that, he soared to the heavens."

"That sounds too fantastical!"

"Fantastical? Isn’t that pretty normal these days!"

"Well, you’re not wrong."

The martial examination’s preliminary round hadn’t even concluded, yet Jiang Ming had already become the focus of the entire nation.

In previous years, the top place—let alone the top ten—in the martial examinations was always taken by students with astonishing backgrounds, heirs of powerful families or scions of vast corporations.

Now, suddenly a commoner’s son had emerged, and naturally, the discussion was even more intense.

Fifth Floor of the Sky-Piercing Tower.

Jiang Ming arrived here. After his recent experience of shifting between floors as if stars revolved and space folded, he found his comprehension of spatial intent had reached a new height.

"Notice: Upon entering the fifth floor of the Sky-Piercing Tower, the maximum time allowed per stage is increased to two hours!"

"Notice: First challenge of this floor—behead the Lord of Xue Fort."

No sooner had Jiang Ming steadied himself than the system prompt sounded, golden words appearing before his eyes, then fading into blue smoke.

A countdown was all that remained.

"Generally speaking, once one reaches the Great Grandmaster realm, endurance improves greatly; extending the time limit is only natural!"

Natural? Hardly.

Raising his head, Jiang Ming saw ahead a fortress, as large as a small town, with more than ten auras of Grandmaster-level powerhouses.

As for the rest?

There were at least a hundred experts.

And this was only the first challenge, yet only two hours were allotted?

It was rather harsh!

Jiang Ming didn’t want to waste time. He executed a body-lightening technique, moving as swift as lightning, covering a hundred meters in a blink, and landed on the fortress wall.

Without hesitation, he drew his sword: a storm of sword energies filled the air. This was the standard form of the Myriad Swords Return to One technique—focused on overwhelming quantity, not strength, perfect for mowing down groups.

"Bold wretch! How dare you trespass Xue Fort? Prepare to die!"

A thunderous shout rang out as a burly man leapt into the air, wielding a mountain-splitting axe, and swung it down with earth-shattering force.

It was as if the sky itself split in two.

A strange Dao rhythm spread, even the air seemed to freeze and sink.

"Peak Grandmaster, heavy intent—this axe is impressive!"

Jiang Ming commented, flicking his sword. Suddenly, a vast river seemed to appear in the sky, endless and mighty, surging down to engulf his foe.

The River Sword Intent.

With a single stroke, Jiang Ming slew his adversary.

Looking up, he saw a middle-aged man standing atop the fortress battlements, sword in hand, posture straight as an arrow.

Even just standing there, his invincible aura inspired awe and reverence.

At that moment, more enemies charged at him.

All were of the Grandmaster realm.

"This trial is interesting. To behead the Lord of Xue Fort, I must first cut down these underlings. The Lord himself will not act until then. Is this to let me adapt, or simply to let examinees rack up points?"

Jiang Ming pondered, but his hands didn’t stop moving.

Myriad Swords Return to One—one strike, all were slain.

Though these opponents were Grandmasters of the fourth tier, they were far inferior to the white-robed youth from the previous stage.

Even further beneath Jiang Ming himself.

Whether in true energy output or in the ever-evolving sword technique, they were no match for him.

"This sword art, Myriad Swords Return to One, needs finer categorization. If I keep stacking sword intent, it quickly becomes bloated and unwieldy."

With that thought, Jiang Ming leapt straight for the Lord of Xue Fort.

"Die!"

The Lord of Xue Fort slashed, sending out a blade light over forty meters long—enough to make Jiang Ming’s pupils contract. This was not the secret realm, but the Sky-Piercing Tower simulated in the real world.

Even for him, this was formidable.

The limitation was not a lack of true energy, but the output capacity of his meridians.

What was more terrifying was that this slash contained the complete Mountain-Splitting Intent, with the sharpness to cleave anything, coupled with overwhelming force, far beyond the reach of ordinary Grandmasters.

"Raindrop Sword!"

Jiang Ming thrust his sword. Mist swirled, condensing into the meaning of rain, accompanied by a sudden chill. All the power of the Dao rhythm contracted into a single gleam at the tip, piercing through the blade light.

Boom—

The shockwave exploded, forming a ring in midair.

Most of the buildings below were destroyed.

Jiang Ming was flung back, landing on a ruined rooftop, regarding the Lord of Xue Fort with gravity.

Their clash had ended in a draw.

He quickly analyzed the situation.

"In terms of realm, he’s above me, his Dao rhythm more refined, exerting a suppressive effect. But the number of artistic concepts I comprehend is enough to offset this. As for true energy, the guardian of the fifth floor’s first challenge won't have developed too many acupoints. I can match him, perhaps even surpass him. As for ultimate techniques, I am not inferior. Therefore, in this battle..."

A fierce fighting spirit flared in Jiang Ming’s heart. "I have no reason to lose!"

"Again!"

He let out a long roar, sword intent surging, crossing the void to attack.

"This battle is the perfect opportunity to refine my techniques!"

"Reenacting Myriad Swords Return to One."

"If I integrate various sword arts, perhaps even the Three Swords of Immortal Execution can be merged in."

"The first sword—Sword One: Sword Qi Soars to the Heavens!"

His sword swept across, unleashing a dense storm of sword energy, filling a hundred meters of space, forming a domain of swords.

This was the original Myriad Swords Return to One—victory by sheer volume of sword intent.

"The flaw here is obvious. It lacks flexibility and adaptability."

As Jiang Ming reflected, the Lord of Xue Fort cleaved through the sword energies with a single slash.

A perfect example of overwhelming force breaking through myriad techniques.

"Sword Two: Life Blooms with a Single Stroke!"

Jiang Ming shifted his sword intent; a flourishing vitality filled the air, as if spring had arrived, green grass sprouting, flowers bursting into bloom.

It could even stir the life energy within his foe.

The Lord’s own vitality seemed to be seeping away.

But this sword was ultimately too gentle, imparting a sense of old age.

"Sword Three: Nine Suns Burn Rivers and Seas!"

Jiang Ming’s sword art shifted again, nine suns seeming to rise above his head, blazing with incandescent, destructive energy.

This technique was wildly fierce, the surging heat distorting the very air.

"Sword Four: Mountains and Rivers Tremble with a Stroke!"

"Sword Five: Golden Brilliance Sweeps the Sky!"

"Sword Six: The Milky Way Descends from the Heavens!"

Each sword technique embodied a different sword intent.

Wood, fire, earth, metal, water—each imbued the sword art with unique power, and every style could be further developed, allowing for endless variation.

He knew well that these improvised sword arts, though broad in scope, were still immature.

But the framework was there; further contemplation and refinement would perfect them.

Jiang Ming lost himself in inspiration.

By now, his foundation was deep, and with such a strong opponent to draw out his potential, his creativity surged like the tide.

"Sword Seven: Wind Sweeps Clouds to the Ends of the World!"

Sword energy merged with raging winds, soaring to the horizon, perfectly blending the explosive, fierce, and swift qualities of wind.

Boom—

The Lord of Xue Fort was blasted into the air, his body torn apart midflight by sword energy, reduced to a mist of blood.

Jiang Ming paused, the spark of inspiration dissipating.

"Dead already?!"

He felt a twinge of regret.

"I’d only just conceived the seventh sword!"

He could still continue developing the technique, but it was clear it wouldn’t flow as smoothly as before.

"Next challenge!"

Jiang Ming’s gaze was bright and determined as he looked ahead.

For him, this was no longer just an exam—it was a true cultivation journey, a perfect opportunity to integrate his skills.

He pressed onward, reviewing the swords he had just created by fusing various techniques and intentions. Each sword, with its unique characteristics and targeting specific weaknesses, was strong in its own right.

"Most are offensive swords."

"I need a defensive sword as well!"

"Defense? Yin and Yang? Light and darkness?"

"Yin and Yang would be best!"

"Yin and Yang—mutual generation and restraint. The utmost yin gives birth to yang, the utmost yang transforms to yin. Yin and yang in perpetual rotation, silent and ceaseless."

"The Yin-Yang Taiji Diagram—a method of defense. If I incorporate it into my swordplay?"

"Yin and yang, rotation, the shifting of the stars..."

As Jiang Ming advanced, true energy formed a glowing shield around him, transforming into a spinning Taiji diagram, constantly adjusting. Up ahead, new challengers appeared—the next stage.

The Taiji shield absorbed the first attacks with barely a pause.

His gaze sharpened, killing intent surging.

His true energy began to shift; each tiny particle of energy, originally arranged as a miniature Taiji diagram, now, under his will, transformed into sword energy.

The tiny Taiji diagrams stretched, flattened, some exploded, some collapsed, others, though deformed, retained their resilience and intent.

At last, the sword energy fully formed.

The Taiji shield remained unchanged, but within, the true energy particles became countless streams of yin-yang sword energy, endlessly swirling, layer upon layer.

Suddenly, the field expanded, spreading out to a radius of fifty meters.

Within this area, nothing but yin-yang sword energy raged. From afar, it looked like a spinning shield of light, but any opponent trapped inside was shredded to pieces in moments—the challengers of the second stage, all slain.

"This sword technique is formidable!"

Jiang Ming’s eyes shone bright with excitement.

"Sword energy cycles endlessly, shifting and rotating, with neither beginning nor end."

"I’ll name it: Sword Eight, Yin-Yang’s Eternal Rotation!"

He fixed the technique’s name.

Indeed, the concept of yin and yang was immensely powerful—while its precise level was unknown, it surely stood at the pinnacle among myriad intentions.

"This sword art deserves focused contemplation."

Sword intent swirled in Jiang Ming’s eyes, yin and yang coalescing, revealing endless transformations and infinite Dao rhythms.

With a mighty spirit and boundless true energy, he had no fear of depletion.

He maintained Sword Eight without pause.

As it rotated around him, it served as both his strongest defense and attack—a true domain power, integrating offense and defense.

Third stage, fourth stage...

One after another, Jiang Ming advanced, sustaining the pseudo-form of Sword Eight, refining it further as he slaughtered every opponent blocking his path.

Boom—

Suddenly, a blade light descended from above, splitting mountains, forcibly tearing through his yin-yang shield, and driving downward.

Jiang Ming raised his head, eyes narrowing. The yin-yang energy spun faster, layer after layer, blocking the blade light.

With every drop of blade light, countless streams of yin-yang sword energy collided.

Thunderous explosions shook the skies, the very earth trembled.

The unleashed power shattered mountains and split the peaks.

The collision was terrifyingly intense.

The falling blade light slowed, ever more sluggish.

"Heaven and earth split, none can stand before me—open!"

A young man stood above, wielding a great golden ring-bladed saber. As he roared, the shirt on his upper body burst apart, revealing a lean, muscular chest.

Light bloomed across his body, like stars, each radiating streams of true energy into his saber.

Vibrations hummed—the long blade’s power soared, forcing its way down again.

"Is that the power of acupoints?"

Jiang Ming noted the gleaming points on his opponent’s body, committing the observation to memory.

Then, forming his fingers into a sword, he let out a long cry: "Yin-Yang Torrent!"

The swirling yin-yang sword energy around him suddenly gathered forward, becoming a raging flood that shattered the bursting blade light, then surged upward.

About to slay the young man, Jiang Ming saw him suddenly enveloped in a layer of saber light, which tried to protect him, but was swiftly torn apart and destroyed by the yin-yang torrent, which then blasted into his body, detonating him on the spot.

"The Dao of Yin and Yang is truly terrifying!"

Even Jiang Ming was shaken.

Endless transformations, infinite interpretations—though grouped as Sword Eight, it was a supreme technique among supreme techniques. In terms of pure attack, only the Three Swords of Immortal Execution surpassed it.

Immersed, Jiang Ming pressed on.

Looking up, he saw a black-robed man standing on a stone pillar a hundred meters tall, clothes fluttering, long hair streaming in the wind.

He exuded a terrifying, razor-sharp presence.

Clang—

The sword on the man’s back shot into the air, leaping toward Jiang Ming.

"Swordsmanship by thought? No, it’s guided by mental power." Jiang Ming instantly recognized his foe’s specialty.

This was clearly a practitioner who had awakened psychic power.

The flying sword split into fifteen blades, which orbited the main sword and shot toward Jiang Ming.

They were incredibly fast.

In the blink of an eye, they reached him, barraging his yin-yang shield—but couldn’t break through.

"Each blade carries nearly the same force." Jiang Ming stood motionless, observing the attacks, analyzing and learning.

His own use of psychic power was still crude.

Then, the blades scattered, attacking from every direction, spinning and weaving like streaks of light.

Raindrops drumming against banana leaves—the relentless assault began to tear at the yin-yang shield.

"Each blade is controlled by a separate thought, or rather, divided attention, yet each matches the strength of an ordinary Great Grandmaster."

Jiang Ming was caught off-guard as the fifteen blades converged back into the main sword, whose aura then surged exponentially.

A hum—

With a slight tremor, the sword seemed to pierce through space itself, puncturing his yin-yang shield with ease.

"That’s sixteen times the power!"

"He combined the force of all the blades—how is that possible?"

Jiang Ming inhaled sharply and retreated rapidly.

Yin-yang sword energy clashed with the flying sword but couldn’t match its speed or tearing force.

"Even this can’t stop it!"

Jiang Ming was both shocked and astonished.

"So this is the true terror of a psychic swordsman?"

As he pondered, he reached out, gathering the yin-yang sword energy into a sword to block the incoming blade.

Boom—

The impact unleashed a torrent of force.

Even so, the defense was breached.

"Extreme power can suppress Dao rhythm—point over plane. But I too can focus to a point!"

"Yin-Yang Star-Point Finger!"

He thrust out a finger, yin-yang sword energy condensing into a single point of light. The instant he released it, his expression changed drastically.

He hadn’t previously integrated yin-yang intent into this finger technique; now, used hastily, he couldn’t maintain the extreme focus of power.

Boom—

The flying sword was blasted away.

Jiang Ming too was sent flying.

Looking at his hand, the flesh and bone of his finger was shredded, nearly obliterated; but within moments, muscle wriggled and regrew, completely healed.

"It’s not that the yin-yang intent isn’t strong enough, but the sword technique itself is still rough; my use of intent hasn’t reached profound mastery."

Jiang Ming gained deeper understanding.

That one move revealed many shortcomings.

The power within the yin-yang intent was vast as a sea, and he had only just begun to tap into it.

His opponent—a psychic swordsman—was clearly at the peak of the fifth tier.

Whoosh—

The flying sword swept toward him again.

Clang!

Jiang Ming drew his sword, striking in midair, meeting the oncoming blade. The nearby void twisted.

The terrifying energy in the flying sword abruptly dissipated, and the sword tumbled down.

The black-robed youth atop the stone pillar’s expression changed: "You’ve grasped spatial power and twisted my psychic control, severing my link to the sword, even temporarily."

"Indeed."

Jiang Ming pointed, and the fallen sword rose again—this time even faster.

It moved like a shooting star.

"Imbued with wind intent? So it can be done!"

Jiang Ming’s pupils contracted in surprise.

It was so fast, even he struggled to react.

His sword twisted through space, warping and deflecting the flying sword, but still, it was an immense effort.

"Can’t a psychic swordsman comprehend intent?"

The black-robed man answered coolly.

Silently, the story moved forward, meaning it would now be excluded from certain rankings—regrettable.

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(End of chapter)