Seeking Truth with a Sword-Chapter 700 - 630: In the World

Rippling azure waves surged, and a group of seagulls swept across the sky with clamorous cries.

Their first stop was the East Sea.

An old man trod upon the water’s surface, his back to the sunset. Gazing at the boundless sea, he took a deep breath and knelt on one knee.

His withered and sunburned right hand held the sword hilt upside down. He inserted the longsword into the water and slowly rotated it.

Majestic and vast Spiritual Power centered around the sword blade. It spread in all directions, like lightning striking into the depths of the sea and bursting into branches of thunder.

Every demon beast within hundreds of miles trembled. This included those floating on the water, like island-sized Ben Jiu Turtles, and those hidden in deep-sea Horror Fish Communities. They instantly stopped hunting, feeding, reproducing, and resting, fleeing desperately in the opposite direction.

How long has it been?

Memories, sealed for many years, gradually loosened, and the old man reminisced about the first time he saw the sea.

It was the summer vacation of his second year at the Academic Palace. He had accompanied his masters and senior fellows out to sea for an inspection. Calling it an inspection was actually not much different from touring and having fun.

During the day, everyone traced sea beast tracks and recorded their habits. Come evening, they would gather on the deck to drink, sing, dance, and chat carefreely. It was as if leaving the land meant leaving all troubles behind.

The song of youth seemed to waft from a distance, and Lian Xuanyao blinked, snapping back to reality.

He had lived too long. His teachers and seniors had long passed away, and his peers had also left him one by one. Those spirited, youthful memories, now, had no one left to share them with.

"Enough."

He sighed deeply, forcefully twisting the sword hilt.

Tens of thousands of Sword Intents rapidly shot out. They pierced through the turbulent seawater, striking every demon beast stronger than those in the Cloud Patrol Realm.

Explosions were continuous, sparing no sea beast, turning them into masses of blood dispersing in the water.

Those fish too weak to be affected, after a brief daze, instinctively pecked at the floating bits of flesh.

Dozens of sea miles away, the people from the Academic Palace were riding on the Heavenly Boat. They, too, sensed this dazzling, sun-like fluctuation of Spiritual Energy.

By the time they rushed over, the water surface had already returned to calm.

「Zhou Kingdom. Capital City. Imperial Palace.」

A loud alarm bell echoed through the sky, plunging the court into chaos. Imperial Palace Tributors escorted the Empress and the Crown Prince, fleeing the palace through a secret passage.

Those of slightly lower standing, such as concubines, princes, and princesses, didn’t even qualify to escape through the secret passage. They had to lift their skirts and follow the armored Imperial Army along the official road, fleeing into the forest garden behind the palace.

For the royal family, who styled themselves as ’Sons of Heaven’, to engage in such an undignified, even utterly disorganized and disgraceful, behavior was not due to disasters like a demon tide. It was because of one man—Academic Palace Master, Lian Xuanyao.

Just moments ago, the upper echelons of the Zhou Kingdom had received an urgent report from Taihao Mountain. This was complemented by information from a spy hidden in the Yu Country, sent via a Nearby Worm, detailing the events in Xingzhou.

Zhao Ming had set a trap, causing cataclysmic floods. Lian Xuanyao had re-entered the Cliff Realm; his body and soul were on the verge of utter destruction. He was not long for this world.

Without any further concerns, what could a Cliff Realm Cultivator, forsaking life and death, accomplish in this brief time?

No one could answer that question.

"Is everything arranged properly?"

In front of the grand hall of the Imperial Palace, a general clad in armor and holding a Horse-slaying Saber solemnly asked.

A subordinate respectfully replied, "Everything is arranged, sir. All court officials of fourth rank and above have been evacuated from the Imperial City and are hiding in nearby farms. The city’s civilians are also following the curfew laws, staying indoors."

"Good."

The general nodded. Seeing his subordinate still not departing, he frowned and said, "What are you standing there for? Go save yourself."

"My life was saved by you on the battlefield, General. Naturally, I must follow you..."

Before he could finish, the General impatiently grabbed his subordinate by the collar. He lifted him high and threw him over the city wall. Then, he turned around to gaze at the grand palace.

Ahead of the grand hall stood several figures. These included Imperial Palace Tributors, members of the Zhou Kingdom’s royal family, and sect leaders—all Candle Cloud Realm cultivators, like the General.

They were guarding one person—a middle-aged man with a sorrowful expression.

He was the Sect Leader of the Zuiyue Sect. He was the youngest among all Candle Cloud High Realm cultivators in the Zhou Kingdom. Furthermore, he was unanimously regarded as the one most likely to break through to the Near-Cliff Realm in his lifetime and carve out a new future for the Zhou Kingdom.

"He’s here."

An octogenarian member of the royal family suddenly lifted his head, his gaze intensely fixed towards the east.

"Raise the barrier!"

An Imperial Palace Tributor turned his head and shouted. Meanwhile, the soldiers stationed in the tower desperately pushed the mallet to ring the copper bell.

CLANG—CLANG—CLANG—

The bells tolled melodiously. A pale yellow, semi-translucent barrier rose above the palace, resembling an inverted bowl covering the complex.

Chang’an Time, 5 p.m. Lian Xuanyao slew tens of thousands of sea beasts, ending their landward migration, and returned from the Endless Sea.

Chang’an Time, one quarter past 5 p.m. Lian Xuanyao crossed the Yu Country and reached the border of the Zhou Kingdom.

Chang’an Time, one and a half quarters past 5 p.m. Lian Xuanyao appeared above the Zhou Kingdom Palace.

The gaunt, sword-wielding figure hovered high in the sky. Though frail and old, continuously shedding Light Dust, he still looked down upon the mortal world, his eyes devoid of sorrow or joy.

The General took a deep breath, clenched his Horse-slaying Saber, and mustered his courage to shout, "Lian Xuan..."

His words were forcibly cut off, for the Mountain Master had already executed a sword strike towards the palace.

A blinding flash erupted in front of the palace. A fierce wind, like one toppling a haystack, flattened the palace walls.

A young soldier atop the tower felt a sharp pain in his eyes and a buzzing in his ears. The storm flung him from the tower, and then he lost consciousness.

When he gradually awakened and crawled out from the rubble, he saw only the desolated ruins of the palace. The plaza before it was scarred with deep cracks. On either side lay the Candle Cloud Cultivators, many severely wounded or dead, and the one they had previously guarded—the Sect Leader of the Zuiyue Sect—now reduced to a pile of bloody mush.

「Northern Territory. Grasslands. Turkic Royal Court.」

"A long, long time ago, in the grasslands to the south, a ground-shaking war took place. The defeated tribes were slaughtered, leaving only two men and two women. Under the protection of Eternal Heaven, they fled northward to a dangerous gorge known as E’er Gu nie Kun. There, they formed two couples. Through generations, a new tribe arose on the grasslands—our Turkic ancestors.

"The lands to the south were rightfully ours, a promise made to us by Eternal Heaven.

"To the south, war, conquest! Only those Turkic people who stride towards this aim can, after death, return to the embrace of Eternal Heaven."

In the northern grasslands, within the Turkic Royal Court, a High Priest was kindly narrating this story to a group of children. Clad in a black robe and holding a sheep-headed scepter, he sat on a woven grass mat.

"High Priest! There’s serious trouble afoot!"

Several burly men rushed into the tent, lifting the flaps, their faces anxious and fearful.

The High Priest calmly listened to their reports without much surprise. He merely waved his hand, signaling them to take the children and leave first.

As the curtain swung shut, Lian Xuanyao’s figure silently appeared within the tent.

"Shattering the Zhou Kingdom Palace has cost you two fingers?"

The High Priest noted the missing fingers on Lian Xuanyao’s right hand. Smiling, he raised his sheep-headed scepter and said, "Perhaps I can last a little longer."

"Perhaps," Lian Xuanyao replied, his face expressionless. He held his sword with the thumb, middle, and ring fingers of his right hand, his left index finger lightly flicking the blade, emitting a crisp sword chime.

Chang’an Time, two quarters past 5 p.m. An explosion occurred north of the Turkic Royal Court. Casualties were countless, and flames soared into the sky.