Chapter 92: Stone for Questioning the Sword

Li Muqiu and the other masters of Qingchi all came sweeping in through cloud and mist, but when they arrived at Qingchi Mountain they did not fly straight into it. They dismounted at the mountain’s foot and climbed the stairs slowly, step by step. At the time, Che Wuyou found it deeply strange. Qingchi Mountain was so high that even for renowned experts, the ascent should have taken time.

Only years later did he truly understand that it was not because they disliked entering directly. An ancient protective sect array shrouded the mountain from outside, and everyone who came to Qingchi Mountain had to ascend by the mountain stairs. If one tried to break through by force, even a master from the Ask-Immortal Realm would likely be wiped out instantly by that ancient array.

It took them about half a day to reach the summit. On the top of Qingchi Mountain, ancient pines stood in still dignity, mist swirled all around, and spiritual energy surged everywhere. It was truly a sanctified place for cultivation. Even though Che knew Li Muqiu had brought him there to extract the Buqudan, seeing such an immortal vista still made him glow with joy.

After walking farther, Che suddenly looked up and saw, beside the ancient path leading to the Qingchi Sword Sect, a turquoise giant stone tower hundreds of meters high. Its shape was ancient and plain, its surface roughened by wind and frost, and on it were carved in blood-red archaic characters the words: “Qingchi Sword Sect.”

When Che first saw those four bold strokes, as if etched by an iron brush and silver hook, the shock inside him was beyond description. In a daze, he even seemed to see an ancient colossal sword shooting skyward, carrying an air of unbearable dominance as it surged upward into the vast heavens.

As if the sword’s approach had stirred the skies themselves, the heavens shifted and thunder flashed. The sword moved with impossible speed, and in an instant vanished into the dense cloud sea. Then came a tremendous boom that seemed to shake all of space; the sword had collided violently with something.

Dazed and lightheaded by the roar, Che covered his ears and kept staring upward. But the high vast sky was wrapped in dense clouds, lightning and thunder lashing all around—there was no trace of the sword to be seen.

Just as Che searched everywhere, another massive boom rolled in, and before he could respond, peals of thunder came one after another. It felt like an eternity, or perhaps only a moment, and then a bolt of lightning as thick as a pillar of heaven descended from the far distance at the source of the sound, bearing a terrifying force. In a flash, the thick clouds were torn apart. The old giant sword, now striking against the very sky in a scene of overwhelming power, suddenly appeared before Che’s eyes. The heavens he had thought unreachable now seemed within reach.

With each growling roar, the sky above him, under the sword’s unending blows, cracked like splintering stone, giving off one sharp snapping sound after another. Then, as if in chain reaction, the cracks multiplied, and at last came one colossal “roarling” explosion—like the world at its edge crying out in rage. The sky above Che’s head plunged into absolute darkness at once, followed by countless collapsing sounds.

“The sky is falling… the sky has really fallen,” Che whispered, drenched in sweat. It was terrifying. Heaven had an end, and at that end was unknown blackness. Where was the Immortal World then? Where had the great experts who once split through voids and opened heavenly gates gone? Were they alive still, and if they were, where now?

Che’s eyes held deep confusion and shock. What he had witnessed today was too shocking; it was not the same world he knew. Since childhood he had been taught that heaven was endlessly remote, impossible to approach, impossible to touch.

Only in old myths had one occasionally heard of mighty gods touching heaven, even shattering it—but those were myths, impossible tales, for this world had no gods. What people called gods were merely idle fabrications made by ancient ancestors to satisfy their own needs. Yet today he had truly seen a scene from those ancient myths, and beyond it, the edge of heaven as unknown darkness.

“Awake!”

The deafening shout cut through his ears. Che snapped around in a trance-like shock and, with dazed eyes, glanced about, then toward the towering sky. The immense world-ending sword had already vanished. Heaven no longer collapsed. In front of him, Li Muqiu’s awe-inspiring, commanding face kept growing larger.

“What did you see?”

For once Li Muqiu showed visible interest. At his words, the others of Qingchi also looked up with curiosity. It was obvious they, too, wanted to know what this child of ordinary aptitude had seen at that moment.

“I... I saw—”

Che hesitated, then described everything he had witnessed. Since they had asked so intently, he realized this stone was special. He too wanted to know why he had seen this vision and whether others had seen something like it.

Yet as soon as he finished, all the Qingchi men wore odd expressions, and Li Muqiu burst into cold, knowing laughter. “Hm, hm… So he is a rare prodigy indeed. I expected that though your talent was somewhat poor, to obtain a city-class pill like Buqudan you must have had some fortune, and thus some destiny to spare. Yet what you saw was the world-ending sword of an ancient myth. Truly, truly…”

Seeing Che’s searching stare, Li Muqiu exhaled sharply through his nose and asked, “Do you know what stone this is?”

Che merely shook his head.

“This is the Sword-Questioning Stone of the Qingchi Sword Sect. It is celebrated not only in the Southern Frontier but is also renowned throughout all Nanzhanbu Prefecture.” Li Muqiu said with obvious disdain. “Everyone who enters Qingchi Sword Sect for the first time, no matter his level or age, gains something at this stone.

“Some receive a sword formation. Some receive the secrets of a sword technique. Some even receive a vision of a master performing swordwork. In short, the higher one’s talent and the better one’s fortune, the more precious the gift. But a low-talent person like you may receive a relic of ancient myth. Your innate talent is truly mediocre.”

“Besides being the holy stone of Qingchi Sword Sect,” Li Muqiu continued, smiling coldly at Che’s gaping silence, “it also serves another crucial purpose. A disciple candidate must obtain at this stone either a third-tier sword-method insight or a third-tier cultivation insight. If he fails, he is eliminated. And you have clearly already forfeited any chance to join Qingchi Sword Sect.”

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