The Dustleave Ancient Sword glimmered faintly, while that vertical coffin still stood quietly in place, as if it had been there for countless ages, weathered by endless years and grown old.
Evan Lin's gaze lingered there, but his mind drifted to the Glazed Glass Palace—a snow-robed beauty, always with lightly furrowed brows and a hint of sorrow.
Evan still remembered that day—when he first crossed into the Immortal Martial Continent and happened to meet Lily Zhao wandering the mortal world. She brought him up to Glazed Glass Palace, and beneath the white jade halls, her serene, cold profile shone brighter than the star-filled sky.
To outsiders, she was the cold and aloof Palace Lord of Glazed Glass Palace.
She was the moon and stars chased by countless talented youths across the Immortal Martial Continent.
She was a peerless beauty who could topple a city—more captivating than any woman from the Chiyao Pavilion.
The world only knew her talent was unmatched, her name crowned above all in the Immortal Martial Continent. Yet only Evan Lin understood the heavy mission she bore behind that cold, proud figure.
It was precisely because of this that, ever since Evan climbed the mountain, Glazed Glass Palace gained a quiet youth buried in medical texts and alchemy scrolls—a boy who cultivated relentlessly, who became the Nine Mysteries Immortal Lord feared by all clans and revered across the ages.
In this moment, no one spoke a word.
Everyone was staring at the backpack-carrying teenager standing over there.
Dominic Ding was as pale as a sheet, and within the Southriver Sword Sect, not a single person dared to make a sound.
To shatter the Sudden-Clarity Sword, once wielded by the sect's founding patriarch, with one hand—across all of Jinnan, only this young man could possibly do it.
And how old is he, anyway?
Seventeen? Eighteen? Nineteen?
To be this terrifyingly strong at such a young age—give him a few more years, and who knows how powerful he’ll become.
Harvey He and the other rich heirs completely lost their bravado, huddling in a corner, shaking with fear.
Selina Zhu stood there in a daze. In that moment, she suddenly sensed a strange, faint sadness from the boy, making her eyes redden and her heart restless.
"Impossible! I have to be stronger than you! She’s mine—she’s mine!"
The black-robed man clutched the sword hilt, frozen for a long moment, then suddenly shrieked in rage. His voice was shrill and twisted with madness. He was just about to hurl the hilt aside and lunge at Evan Lin again, determined to settle things once and for all—when, in the blink of an eye, three ferocious, beautiful female spirits appeared before him.
The three maiden spirits were all stunning, but their eyes now locked on the black-robed man, filled with excitement and delight, as if they’d just discovered an irresistible feast. In an instant, they devoured him completely.
The old patriarch of the Southriver Sword Sect was already hanging by a thread, his body saturated with centuries of corpse-qi—exactly the nourishing essence the maiden spirits from the Soul-Sacrifice Beauty Scroll craved most.
In just a few moments, the black-robed man let out a series of ghastly, miserable screams.
But to the onlookers, it simply appeared as if the sect’s patriarch stood there, contorting and twitching in a bizarre way. In the next instant, he vanished completely, leaving only his empty black robe crumpled on the ground.
Meanwhile, Evan turned and walked back into the Thousand-Sword Burial Ground.
All around him, countless streaks of sword qi and a rain of swords seemed to watch the lone youth in the Burial Ground.
Step by step, he approached Dustleave, stopping before the vertical coffin.
The coffin was embedded in the ancient tree’s trunk, its surface plain and unadorned, almost ordinary to behold.
Evan stood before the vertical coffin for a long time. Then, raising Dustleave, he flicked the ancient sword upward—a surge of sword qi slammed into the coffin with explosive force.
Bang!
A crisp sound rang out.
The vertical coffin shattered instantly.
Splinters of rotting wood flew through the air, and the ancient tree behind the coffin burst into flames, burning rapidly.
Inside the coffin, there remained only a half-broken sword blade. It glowed with an ancient, muted light, and there was no sign of a hilt.
It lay there all alone, as if it had been waiting for countless years.
Evan stood before the broken blade for a long while.
No one around dared to breathe loudly. Though they had no idea what Lin Jiuxuan was thinking, the tension was palpable.
"Where is the stone statue carved by your sect's founding patriarch?"
After a long silence, Evan spoke in a faint voice.
"It’s... it’s in the chamber beneath the summit hall."
Dominic Ding didn’t dare to lie. Now that even the patriarch had been devoured by this teenager, they were no match for him at all.
"Lead the way."
With a single wave of Evan’s hand, the half-broken blade seemed to respond to some invisible summons and flew straight into his palm.
The moment it touched his hand, the blade felt slightly cold, like steel that had decayed for ages. Its edge was ragged and worn, clearly broken in some brutal ancient battle.
"Did they really go to all this trouble, setting up the entire Prison-Sword Formation just to preserve half a broken blade?"
Evan frowned slightly, murmuring to himself.
With that, he turned away.
Dominic Ding endured the pain of his missing arm and walked ahead, leading the way.
They left the Thousand-Sword Burial Ground and headed out.
When they reached the Sword-Practice Field, dozens of Southriver Sword Sect disciples had already gathered.
"Sect Master!"
The moment they saw Dominic Ding missing his right arm, everyone’s expression changed.
As soon as word of the commotion from the Burial Ground spread, they knew something big had happened and had been waiting here, ready for battle at any moment.
None of them expected to see Dominic Ding and the others arrive looking so battered.
And behind Dominic Ding was a remarkably young stranger!
The teenager’s face was calm and quiet, and though he said nothing, a mysterious authority radiated from him, leaving everyone present stunned.
Seeing Dominic Ding in such a miserable state, the crowd’s anger flared, and some had already drawn their Southriver Swords.
"Stand down! Guard this place. Without my orders, no one is to leave or go up the mountain!"
Dominic Ding barked the order.
Only then did the crowd reluctantly put away their swords, but as they looked at the teenager, their gazes grew even more uneasy.
"Please don’t take offense. Please, follow me."
Dominic Ding turned, bowed his head slightly to Evan, and coughed weakly. The blood loss had left him extremely frail.
After he finished speaking, he saw the teenager behind him remain silent and impassive. Dominic could only sigh inwardly and pray that Lin Jiuxuan would show mercy, sparing the Southriver Sword Sect from total destruction.
Dominic Ding walked through the crowd, with Evan Lin at his side.
The proud heirs of the Southriver Sword Sect lined up in two silent rows. Some sharp-eyed onlookers noticed that with every step, the once-glorious Sect Master deliberately fell half a body-length behind the teenager at his side.
On this day, the glory of the Southriver Sword Sect’s master was dimmed on Western Mountain.
On this day, Lin Jiuxuan ascended Heavenly Sword Mountain.
On this day, Evan Lin lowered his brows slightly, gazing at the half-broken blade in his hand, as a fleeting, inexplicable loneliness flashed through his heart.
Countless eyes focused on him. More than one person realized that after today, the name ‘Lin Jiuxuan’ might shake the whole Jinnan region.