Chapter 63: The Formless Sword of the Poison Valley

The first page of the beast-hide notebook detailed the origins and taboos of the Dao Heart Seed Demon Art.

It turned out the art was not the old fiend’s own creation, but that of a powerful and heterodox master from a bygone era. Although it was a demonic technique, its cultivation required not only an exceptionally firm Dao Heart but also the planting of a demonic seed within the body to form an Immortal-Demon Seed. Most crucially, it had to be supplemented by an orthodox Daoist art. If one were to practice it alongside another demonic art, the conflicting demonic energies would clash, leading to a violent death with no hope of a proper burial.

Without the aid of an orthodox Daoist art, the Dao Heart Seed Demon Art would stagnate completely. Reading this, Qin Haoxuan realized that his idea of leaving the Taichu Sect to cultivate alone was unrealistic. If he left the sect, he would have no way to learn the orthodox spiritual laws of the Dao.

Even remaining in the Taichu Sect, access to such arts wasn’t guaranteed. The sect’s techniques were restricted, only available to disciples who reached a certain realm. The more advanced the art, the stricter the requirements to learn it.

Further in the notebook, he found a secret art that, when cultivated, would allow the user’s body to grow in size, greatly enhancing their physical strength.

The benefit of his powerful Spiritual Sense was now clear. He flipped through the notebook rapidly, reading ten lines at a glance, yet every word was etched into his memory as if carved there. Just as he finished, the seemingly durable beast-hide notebook, corroded by the toxic air, crumbled into a pile of fine ash.

“Good thing I finished reading,” he breathed a sigh of relief, grateful he’d managed to absorb its contents just in time.

His gaze then shifted to the other item he had recovered from the Undying Witch Fiend: a map. It was made of a strange material, like paper but not paper, like leather but not leather, with a smooth and comfortable texture. The map was drawn with exquisite detail, the terrain and mountains rendered with meticulous strokes that felt anything but careless. Looking at it gave him a sense of being there.

“That beast-hide notebook looked so tough, yet it turned to dust in less than fifteen minutes. But this map, made of who knows what, is completely untouched.”

Though he didn’t know its purpose, the mere fact that it could remain unharmed by the corrosive atmosphere of the Immortal-Slaying Poison Valley proved it was an extraordinary item. He decided to take it with him.

From the map, Qin Haoxuan’s eyes moved to the few pills. After untold years in the valley’s toxic air, they had lost all their spiritual energy. However, because the old fiend had kept them close, they had not physically disintegrated. He thought that perhaps he could analyze their composition later. After the great war between immortals and demons thousands of years ago, many high-level pill formulas had been lost. Modern alchemists often had to reverse-engineer recipes from ancient remnant pills like these.

After gathering his new possessions, he glanced one last time at the Undying Witch Fiend’s corpse. “Old fiend,” he thought, “though you schemed against me, in a way, you’ve also helped me a great deal. If the day comes when my true body is strong enough to enter this valley, I will give you a proper burial as a form of repayment.”

He didn’t hesitate any longer. Bracing himself against the immense pressure of the valley, he ventured deeper.

Having devoured the fiend’s demonic intent, Qin Haoxuan’s Spiritual Sense had grown immensely. He finally had the strength to return to the place he had sensed before, to see what treasure could emit such a palpable pulse of spiritual energy even in this toxic wasteland.

Along the way, he saw skeletal remains from the ancient war scattered everywhere. The bones, which should have been white, were stained ink-black by the poison. He also saw countless magical artifacts shattered into scrap metal, tattered spiritual talismans, and ruined pills that had turned into deadly poisons after millennia of corrosion. A cultivator of a lower realm would likely die just from touching them, let alone analyzing their formulas.

He had hoped to find some orthodox Daoist manuals, but after a thorough search, he gave up in despair. Did these people not carry their manuals with them? he wondered. Or have they all just turned to dust after thousands of years?

Arriving at the source of the spiritual pulse, he saw a mushroom-like spirit herb. Elder Chu had described this plant before; it was called a Seven Star Mushroom. On its greyish-black cap was a pattern resembling the Big Dipper, so he recognized it at once. While not as precious as a One-Leaf Golden Lotus, it was still a rare spiritual medicine.

He was now about two hundred paces from the valley’s entrance, which was the limit of what he could endure. Sensing no other spiritual fluctuations nearby, he knew a further search would be fruitless. He unceremoniously plucked the Seven Star Mushroom and prepared to leave with the map and the old fiend’s pills.

Just as he turned to go, a glint of light from beneath a nearby skeleton caught the corner of his eye. A tiny, reflective crystal.

Could it be a fragment of some powerful magic artifact? Thinking there was no harm in looking, he cleared away the blackened bones to retrieve it.

The crystal was only the size of his pinky finger and as transparent as air. If not for a chance angle of the light, he would never have noticed it. As he examined it closely, his heart pounded. It was a miniature flying sword.

Could this be one of the legendary flying swords? he thought in shock. According to the legends, flying swords could change their size. A newly forged sword was the size of an ordinary three-foot blade, but as its master’s cultivation deepened and they continuously refined it, the sword would gradually shrink. Some could become as small as a thumb, hidden within the mouth, ready to fly out and take an enemy’s head from a thousand miles away. They could also be used to fly, and with a simple hand seal and spiritual energy, could instantly expand to a size capable of cleaving mountains and parting rivers.

This sword was barely the size of his pinky nail, a sign that it was a supreme-grade weapon, refined to perfection. Qin Haoxuan was overjoyed. If his snake body could speak, he would have sung at the top of his lungs to vent his excitement.

Because the Dao Heart Seed Demon Art required a supplementary Daoist art, he couldn’t leave the Taichu Sect. But staying meant endless trouble. Zhang Kuang, Li Jing, and Zhang Yang had all reached the Sprouting Stage. Once their strength grew, they would surely come for him. And then there was Chu Xiangzi, whom he had thoroughly offended. With his petty nature, he would definitely seek revenge.

If he had this flying sword as a hidden card, it would be another lifesaving measure.

Moreover, within the Taichu Sect, even senior brothers at the Thirtieth-Leaf Spirit Sprout Realm rarely possessed even a basic flying sword. It was said one had to reach the Forty-Fifth-Leaf Realm to even attempt to forge one, and the materials were rare and the success rate low. As a result, very few disciples owned one, and a good one was as rare as a phoenix feather. Qin Haoxuan had seen sect elders flying on their swords, and from what he could tell, none of their blades compared to this one.

But his joy quickly turned to worry. He recalled from Elder Chu’s lectures that every flying sword had its own unique control art. A low-grade art might work on various low-grade swords, but the more advanced the sword, the more unique its art. Without the corresponding technique, a sword was no better than a decoration, unless one possessed the immense power to re-forge it—a power greater than that of its original owner.

Judging by the sword’s refinement, its original master must have been incredibly powerful. Finding the control art was his only realistic option.

And so, Qin Haoxuan dove back into the pile of bones, searching for another treasure. Soon, his fingers brushed against a tattered, ancient manual.

He immediately knew it was special. Elder Chu had spoken of a mystical tree called the Kunlun Tree, whose sap could be harvested once every thousand years to make a type of paper that was impervious to fire and water, and would never decay. Its most distinct feature was a faint, mint-like fragrance. Sniffing that very scent, Qin Haoxuan marveled at the terrifying power of the valley’s poison, which could even corrode Kunlun paper. He wondered again what the map was made of to have survived intact.

He opened the tattered manual and, by the perpetual dim light of the valley, began to read with ravenous intensity.

Fortunately, the manual contained the control art for the very sword he had just found. The opening pages described the sword’s origin: its name was the Formless Sword. Unfortunately, the control art was incomplete, but Qin Haoxuan still painstakingly committed the fragmented text to memory.

“A Formless Sword? What kind of sword is that? The elder never mentioned it… Can it really become invisible when used?” The more he thought, the more questions he had. “Whatever! At least it’s a flying sword! A flying sword that not even the Thirtieth-Leaf senior brothers have! And now I have one! And its matching art! This is a massive haul!”

He had reaped such a great harvest that it took him two trips to move all the treasures out of the valley. He was ecstatic to have found a priceless treasure like the Formless Sword. Even if the art was incomplete, with practice, he could surely learn to wield it. At worst, its power would be diminished. As he learned more orthodox Daoist arts in the future, he might be able to use that knowledge to gradually complete the technique himself.

After reaching the Sprouting Stage, his need for spiritual energy had increased dramatically. So, without hesitation, he swallowed the Seven Star Mushroom. If the ancient patriarchs of the Taichu Sect had witnessed this, they would have jumped up and down in anguish at such a wasteful act.

“Ai! A bit extravagant, I know… but what can I do? I don’t know alchemy!” Qin Haoxuan sighed, savoring the aftertaste of the mushroom. “If I knew how to refine pills, my cultivation could be even faster…”

(End of Chapter)