World's No. 1 Swordsman-Chapter 122: A Man of Only a Few Seconds

So this is the Seventy-Two Swords?

Standing before a bare stone wall, Wang Sheng stared blankly at the entrance that was barely wide enough for one person to pass through.

The sword of an immortal seemed to have sliced the mountain apart. The rock face was as smooth as a mirror, and even after thousands of years of wind and rain, time had barely worn it down.

Looking up, Wang Sheng couldn't help but feel as though the sky above was farther than usual. He also thought that the cliff face looked like the flat of a massive sword.

Wang Sheng could hear the hushed conversations of the younger disciples behind him and feel the watchful eyes of the Daoist masters. With so many hopes and expectations weighing down on his shoulders, even he couldn't help but feel a bit tense now.

He double-checked his gear. The Crane-Spirit Treasure Pouch in the inner pocket of his Daoist robe contained pills, clean water, ointment for wounds, bandages, gauze, and alcohol for disinfection. According to those who had attempted the trial before, these items were essential. Many perilous stages were inside, and it was easy to get injured.

In addition, he had two longswords on his back—a broad-bladed sword and a standard sword that the disciples of the Shu Sword Sect used. They were strapped side by side, their hilts protruding just above his left shoulder.

In his left hand, he held a high-powered flashlight, and in his right, he gripped the unnamed treasured sword that Yan Zhengnan had gifted him. He had also worn the Primal-Qi Gatherer, Multipurpose Primal-Qi Gloves, and even his freshly washed artifact-grade underpants. None of his special equipment was left behind.

Wang Sheng could feel that he was in his best condition.

"I will do my best," he told himself.

Finally, he stepped forward. As soon as he put his left foot past the entrance, a fierce wind surged from within. It cut against his skin like invisible blades, stinging him sharply.

Clang!

A sword cry echoed from inside him, and the treasured sword in his hand slid half an inch out of its sheath. The pain disappeared instantly.

Wang Sheng pressed his lips together, held his breath, and advanced into the passage. After a few steps, he vanished into the dark mouth of the cave and proceeded at a steady pace. His true essence circulated smoothly throughout his body, and the longswords on his back hummed faintly in resonance.

Switching on the flashlight, Wang Sheng saw the wind sweeping swirling dust toward him. He stowed the flashlight back into his Crane-Spirit Treasure Pouch and focused instead on sensing the changes in his sword intent.

Within his incompletely manifested spiritual platform, the divine sword that radiated starlight hovered silently. As its glow gradually emerged from within him, the wind weakened, and his steps became unhindered.

The corridor was roughly fifty or sixty meters long. He had difficulty moving forward during the first half, but once the Seven-Star Sword Intent was unleashed, he crossed the second half effortlessly.

At the far end of the passage, Wang Sheng saw a wooden door embedded in the left wall. His spiritual consciousness picked up a multicolored vortex the size of a round disc up ahead.

Pulling out the flashlight again, he shone it toward the end of the corridor and saw the character for "Sword" written elegantly in calligraphy. Even from a distance, it radiated a fierce sword intent.

Just one character, and it's already enough to keep any cultivator without a fully formed sword intent from approaching? What sort of divine technique is that?

Wang Sheng let out a soft exclamation of admiration and took out his phone to snap a picture. He wanted to send it immediately to Fei Lianzi, but he quickly realized that there was no signal.

"Guess I'll tell him after I'm done."

***

Outside the cave, a group of Daoist priests watched anxiously.

They had seen scenes like this countless times before. Almost everyone present had faced the first stage of selection themselves. However, the sheer force of the wind had blown the majority back out.

A minute or two passed, and Wang Sheng still hadn't reappeared.

"Did he make it?"

"Seems like he's in... I mean, he did perfect his sword intent, didn't he?"

"Even though we all expected him to pass, I still feel nervous somehow."

Several younger disciples chuckled softly. Whether or not they could realize their dream of mastering the Sword-Controlling Art now hinged entirely on Wang Sheng.

One by one, the Daoist masters seated themselves cross-legged on the ground. Whether it took three days or seven, they would wait here until Wang Sheng emerged.

Among them stood five younger disciples with somewhat complex expressions. Two of them weren't even from the sword sect. They were among those who had entered the Seventy-Two Swords previously but failed to retrieve the Sword-Controlling Art.

"He should be fine for the first forty-two stages, right?" Fei Lianzi muttered.

A female Daoist beside him laughed. "Senior Brother, have you ever perfected a sword intent?"

Fei Lianzi shook his head awkwardly. Comprehending one or two types of sword intent wasn't difficult for someone who had practiced for decades, but reaching perfection required not just comprehension. It needed a certain insight—and a bit of luck.

For sword cultivators like Fei Lianzi, who had dabbled in a dozen different sword styles, being unable to perfect an intent was quite normal.

He mumbled, "Who knows what's going on in there... He could be—"

He abruptly fell silent. Several Daoist masters also stood up at the same time, all turning their attention toward the cave. They had sensed the distinct fluctuation of sword intents clashing and bursting from within, though the disturbance lasted only a few seconds before fading entirely.

A Daoist master's expression darkened. "Has he... failed already?"

However, a couple of seconds later, they heard faint sword cries from the cave entrance. Sword intents burst and collided for a few seconds again before quickly disappearing.

A Daoist master laughed heartily. "He's going through the stages fast!"

The young sword cultivators who had attempted the Seventy-Two Swords looked at each other, their expressions skeptical as they recalled their own experiences. They found it hard to believe.

Had the Wudang Mountains sword cultivator gone through the wrong doorway? Was he even in the same place? How could anyone pass the test of sword intent in just a few seconds?

A little over ten seconds later, a third wave of sword intents clashed. Like the first two, the fluctuation lasted only a few seconds.

Fei Lianzi swiftly took a step forward and pressed his ear directly against the stone wall. The other Daoist masters and disciples in the area could no longer hold back either. They rushed to the stone wall near the entrance, some pressing their faces against it, others placing their palms flat upon it. Those who had attempted to clear the trial in the past also approached the wall with complicated expressions.

Meanwhile, the people who had not yet cultivated sword intent failed to sense anything at all.

In a corner, several Daoist elders shook their heads and sighed. "These young ones are too impatient. They still need more tempering."

Sword intents briefly fluctuated inside the cave once more. Twenty seconds later, they felt the fifth fluctuation, which was just as brief as the others, then the sixth, the seventh...

The Daoist elders exchanged glances. It was unclear who moved first, but they all took to the air one after another, flying over to the stone wall and closing their eyes to focus.

How is he so quick?!

The first floor did contain the weakest and gentlest of the nine sword intents. Still, how could it be cleared in such a short time?

Had the forefathers finally shown mercy and made the trial easier?

The ninth burst of sword intent lasted two seconds longer than the others, but it faded just as quickly as the last. Then came a long silence that stretched for several minutes.

"He's reached the second floor," one of the Daoist elders said, unable to hold back a delighted chuckle as he looked up. "I never thought that in my over ninety years of life, I'd get to witness the complete version of the Sword-Controlling Art."

***

A few minutes earlier, at the entrance of the Seventy-Two Swords.

Wang Sheng pushed open the wooden door. Before he could even shine his flashlight, he heard a few gusts of wind, and braziers ignited by themselves, casting a bright light across a cylindrical hall. It was about thirty meters in diameter, which was roughly ten zhang.

The braziers circled the perimeter, and simple murals were drawn across the smooth stone walls. They depicted sword techniques that corresponded to the nine sword intents of the floor.

According to previous challengers, the first floor only contained basic sword techniques. The sword intents weren't that strong either, and they were focused at the entrance to the next floor.

Wang Sheng walked straight to the only stone door in the room. Nine longswords were carved into its surface.

When he was about nine steps away, a sword cry rang out. A green light appeared on the stone door, and a phantasm wielding a sword flew out from the door, lunging at Wang Sheng.

Before he could even react, a sword cry rang out from within him, and his treasured sword flew out of its scabbard. With a simple upward flick of his blade, he met the phantasm head-on. Left with no time to change tactics, the phantasm was forced to engage directly. It was immediately shattered.

So this is the first floor?

Wang Sheng took another step forward, and another phantasm emerged from the stone door and launched a sharp attack. Wang Sheng merely pointed his longsword forward.

This was not just a contest of moves. It was a clash of sword intents.

The phantasm was shattered once more. It was not that Wang Sheng's cultivation was especially deep. Rather, the Seven-Star Sword Intent within him was just too dominant. With Ziwei as its main star, it was naturally very powerful.

Nine steps; nine phantasms. Wang Sheng was now standing before the stone door. He only had to raise his hand and push it open. Instead, he turned around and walked over to the sword techniques carved into the surrounding stone walls, studying them intently.

The true purpose of the Seventy-Two Swords was to temper disciples. That was why it was one of the sect's most important sacred grounds and had been the foundation of the sect's glory for the past thousand years.

One by one, Wang Sheng examined the nine basic sword techniques carved on the surrounding walls, which were considered the entry-level techniques of the Shu Mountains sword arts. Though he gained some insight, nothing struck him too deeply.

After over ten minutes, he finally pushed the stone door open, revealing a stone staircase that spiraled upward. A breeze drifted down from above, making him feel instantly refreshed.

Such pure primal qi. This would be a good place to cultivate.

The Seventy-Two Swords could only be entered once. The secret lay in the character for "Sword" that Wang Sheng had previously photographed—it served as the core of the formation.

As long as he did not exit through the wooden door, he could freely move between the trial floors that he had already cleared. Of course, no one would have the time or interest to wander back and forth inside.

There were still seven floors and dozens of sword techniques waiting for him. Beyond them was the immortal art that Wang Sheng longed for—the Shu Sword Sect's Sword-Controlling Art!

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