Legendary Sword God Sect - Chapter 195

“Young lad, you seem troubled.” The old man stepped into the room and placed the sword on the table before Nightin’s bed. Moving a few steps back, he sat down on his chair without even looking around.

“Senior, what is your motive for bringing me here?” Nightin seeked the answer, his eyes glowing with light while his lips rose upwards. His legs dangled freely off the bed, finding comfort off the wooden flooring. Sitting upright, his eyes glanced at the sword before averting his gaze to the old man. Deep within his heart, he was astonished by the perfect craftsmanship of the sword.

The forging steps were definitely planned out beforehand on a detailed blueprint to achieve this level of success. The sword was made of a rare material known as Cysero metal. This metal can only be found in mines categorised in the danger level exceeding the seven ranks which corresponds to the cultivation realms, a mining area that is threatening enough to take the life of a Martial Saint.

When any area is related to the middle realms and above, there is a codex to measure their danger level from the first rank to the seventh rank. Any above and they are known as forbidden grounds categorised from class one onwards. In order to extract the Cysero metal, the minimum requirement is a class one forbidden ground with enough nourishment to enrich its continuous starvation.

Even so, one can risk their life just to obtain Cysero metal the size of a baby’s finger. Nightin didn’t know the information or background of the sword to this extent, but one glance was enough for him to understand that it’s definitely an epic sword which has yet to form a bond with anyone.

Leaning back, the old man sighed. “Young lad, have you ever experienced what it means to see your beloved die in your embrace?” A question, one which might determine how things turn out from here. That was Nightin’s first thought as he remained silent, waiting for the old man to elaborate further.

“I see, you have yet to experience it. But be prepared young lad, for what’s destined will be coming your way soon and you’ll soon experience it through the cycles of life. Countless have tried only to fail despite their valiant efforts to go against the current of fate. Everything that happens to us, is nothing but a script written by those Archangels who are born as a Saint, even a young teen among them would be a Great Arch-Saint with combat prowess that defies our knowledge. They are the race born to lead the universe with their cruel methods of a clean up every ten thousand years to reign the universe.” The old man explained, his face growing grim every passing moment.

Seeing the beads of sweat dripping down the old man’s forehead, Nightin asked in concern “Are you alright? You can take a rest first if necessary.”

“It’s fine, that sword has already devoured the remainder of my life essence.” The old man said weakly, swallowing the restless blood trying to escape through his sealed mouth. Leaning back, the old man glanced at the sword, telling Nightin “Take the sword, it has the potential to grow and is already at the low Fabled grade, a weapon rarity which only Overlords should possess.” Before the old man could finish speaking however, the blood rushed up his throat as they painted the ground green.

Despite the shock of seeing green blood, Nightin calmed down quickly enough and rushed up, helping the old man to lean back as he continued “Please take good care of the sword which possessed the blood of the first oracle half a step into the third star in the Overlord realm. Also, don’t let anyone know about the bloodline within this sword or every single living being in the world will hunt you down…” When the old man finished speaking, his eyelids closed as he took in his last breath with a relieved smile.

“Old man! Wake up! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You have yet to tell me why you were willing to put in this much effort to help me!” Nightin panicked and called for the old man to wake up, the commotion somehow waking Alexander up.

“Alexander, do you have any solutions on how to save someone who has used up all his life essence?” Nightin turned to Alexander for help despite knowing that it was futile.

“Sect master, just give up, the old man has already told me his last words through a dream. He wants you to dig out his heart and feed it to the sword by stabbing it with his proudest work in his life.” Alexander said as his face grimaced in pain. The old man may only be a stranger to him, but this is also the first time he has seen someone being this selfless.

With a brittle smile full of emotions, Nightin turned his attention to the sword and picked it up. Looking at it, Nightin could tell that the process was rushed and in order to increase the speed of the process, the old man had used his life essence again and again at every step, further improving the quality while decreasing the time needed during the forging process.

It’s heavy. That was Nightin’s first thought. Up until now, he has never wielded a heavy sword despite destructive power. It’s not that the notion has never come across his mind, but because there is no existing sword he knows of that can prove heavy enough for him. To make things worse, he was progressing too quickly and if he really needed a sword heavy enough to suit him, then he would need the lacking means and connections to get the swords promptly after each breakthrough.

Maybe it’s about time I change my style. Raising the sword, Nightin closed his eyes and stabbed it into the heart of the old man, allowing the sword to devour all the blood essence as it deemed fit. Maybe this is what the old man meant by some things in life are predestined.

After all this was over, Nightin bent over and picked up the body of the old man with the intention of giving him a proper burial. But a mysterious barrier stopped him from making body contact with the old man and before he could realise what’s going on, the body of the old man was incinerated by flames.

Yet the ashes he and Alexander had been expecting didn’t make an appearance, all that remained of the old man was a scroll. Bending down to pick it up, Nightin opened the scroll, his heart hurting slightly even though some time had already passed since he accepted the death of the old man.

He may have seen through life and death, but this is the first time he had been helped out so much by someone he didn’t even know. If it was anyone else, he might have been able to steel his heart and forget about it, but this old man had just been guiding him about the ways of life and death before his departure from the cultivation universe and without his life and blood essence, being reincarnated into the cycles of life isn’t possible.

Opening the scroll, it was just one sentence of extreme importance, it held the clue to where the Soaring Sword sect is.

[Close your eyes and imagine it, the rainbow clouds will appear before your eyes to lead you. Don’t resist, it’s predestined according to your future. It’s either one of dazzling flames or soothing water, one of radiating hope or the abyss of despair]

“I am just a weakling…”