A Single Meeting Surpasses Countless Encounters in the Human World

The pale-faced middle-aged man atop the city wall was clearly still wounded, not yet recovered—he was none other than the Imperial Preceptor of Everpeace. His battle with a god had left him gravely injured; though Quinn Shepherd and the Poison Prince Warren Foyne had joined forces to treat him, the wounds inflicted by a deity were not so easily healed, and he had yet to fully recover.

The Wild Di Kingdom seized this opportunity to invade Everpeace. Qingmen Pass was of utmost importance, and the Imperial Preceptor knew that after two great calamities, the empire’s vitality was badly depleted. He and Emperor Evan had yet to regain their peak strength—the emperor’s injuries were even worse than his own.

Fearing a Wild Di breakthrough, he marshaled his forces and resolved to hold Qingmen Pass at all costs.

He even went so far as to personally come to the battlefield and take command of the defense.

Village Chief drew his sword—one stroke quelled the chaos of the battlefield, an awe-inspiring sight witnessed by the Preceptor himself.

In truth, it was beyond awe-inspiring; it was the power to turn the battlefield into an ocean of blood, subduing every soldier and beast on both sides.

The lives of everyone on the battlefield were held in his hands.

Such swordsmanship transcended mere technique; it was a profound closeness to dao, revealing to the Preceptor a higher realm—the realm of sword-dao.

Village Chief’s move unleashed countless sword rays, each following a unique trajectory, restraining every martial artist and cultivator—an almost impossible feat.

On the battlefield, hundreds of thousands clashed, each with different cultivation and techniques, every formation shifting in an instant. To restrain them all required neutralizing every divine art, martial skill, spirit weapon, and array—a calculation of unimaginable scale.

To achieve such mastery was to be called a god—the god of swords.

"One Sword Opens the Pioneer Era, Blood Like an Ocean—I’ve seen this sword technique before, in the Painting Sage’s scroll."

The Imperial Preceptor narrowed his eyes, glancing at the Dragon-Qilin. Quinn and his companions stood on its back; though formidable, they did not yet warrant his attention.

"From this painting, I glimpsed the pinnacle of swordsmanship. For two centuries, I studied the sword techniques of the figure within, gaining new insights each time—until one day, I could find nothing new. I thought I had reached the level of the figure in the painting."

Recalling that painting, the Imperial Preceptor searched for the figure within, but found none. His gaze then settled on Quinn’s back.

Quinn carried a medicine basket, and inside it sat an old man with snow-white hair—limbless.

This elder looked nothing like the sword god from the painting: that figure was youthful, brimming with sharpness, like a freshly blooded blade.

But the old man in the basket was a cripple, his life’s candle flickering, about to be extinguished by the wind—hardly the vibrant sword god depicted in the painting.

Yet the Imperial Preceptor was certain: this crippled elder was the sword god of old!

After all, it was from the sword god in the painting that he first learned swordsmanship.

The Imperial Preceptor’s body trembled slightly; he let out a long, heavy breath and ordered, "Welcome them in!"

The city gates opened. Generals lined both sides as the Dragon-Qilin strode in, belly high. Suddenly, all the sword light on the battlefield surged like a tide, whistling toward Quinn and pouring into the medicine basket on his back.

Village Chief poked his head out of the basket, just in time to see the middle-aged man approaching—the one hailed as a saint once in five centuries, the strongest under the gods, the man revered as the sword god of this age!

Their eyes met, and both felt a ripple in their hearts.

The sword god of the previous era and the sword god of this era—at last, they met face to face!

From the rear of the battlefield, the sound of bronze gongs rang out atop the two great fortress towers—the signal to withdraw, calling the troops back.

Tens of thousands of soldiers breathed a sigh of relief, hastily retreating. Everyone suddenly realized their clothes were drenched in sweat.

Inside Qingmen Pass, Village Chief floated out of the basket, as if he had grown arms and legs, and walked straight toward the Imperial Preceptor—the strongest men of two eras, meeting at last!

"You studied sword?" Village Chief asked.

The Imperial Preceptor bowed respectfully as a disciple, "I studied sword in my youth. At age one hundred sixty, I stopped learning sword."

Village Chief asked, "Did you understand sword at one hundred sixty?"

The Imperial Preceptor replied solemnly, "At one hundred sixty, I had studied all the world’s arts and comprehended the Grand Myriad Divine Arts. Thus, I understood sword and began creating my own techniques."

Village Chief smiled, "Show me your swordsmanship."

The Imperial Preceptor drew his sword; its light filled the sky, dazzling the world. His swordsmanship was ever-changing—countless as the stars, simple as counting rods, with lines straight and curved, seemingly able to transform into all the arts of the world. It gave an indescribable feeling.

His sword carried an unstoppable momentum, the fiery grandeur of reform—like oil boiling and flowers blooming—determined to ignite the world’s flames, overturn the stagnant heavens and dao, expose the ugliness of the old era, and reveal its rotten truth!

He wanted to use his sword to change the world’s decayed dao, blaze new paths, and usher in a new era!

His swordsmanship had transcended mere technique and become law, infused with his own ideology—just one step away from reaching the realm of dao.

Li—the principle of ideology, also the logic of dao. Swordsmanship with ideology gains life; his sword art now possessed life. But dao stands before li—only by surpassing li can one see dao.

His swordsmanship was just one step away from glimpsing dao.

Breathless, the Imperial Preceptor sheathed his sword. His wounds were still unhealed, his cultivation not what it once was. Yet before the sword god of the previous era, he was like a student, willingly displaying his most perfect swordsmanship and awaiting judgment.

"Excellent swordsmanship."

Village Chief praised him, saying, "Worthy of being called the first under the gods, a saint once in five centuries. At the end of my life, I have finally met someone I can truly converse with. I came here for you—I want you to see dao."

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The Imperial Preceptor replied solemnly, "Today, at Qingmen Pass, a million troops are gathered—many are my students, but I am your student. Many Imperial Academy scholars are here to serve their country in this time of crisis. Teacher, may I ask you to preach dao and resolve our doubts?"

Village Chief smiled, "I wouldn’t dare—let’s just call it an exchange."

The two walked together, with Quinn following behind. Raina Bear looked up at the two men—one aged, one in his prime—and whispered, "In True Heaven Palace of the West, there are no men like these. In the West, women rule; men are timid and obedient. If our men were as bold and capable as these two, why would we women need to rule?"

They entered the city. Quinn saw many Imperial Academy scholars sitting cross-legged, waiting quietly, their excitement barely contained.

With the nation in crisis and the Wild Di Kingdom invading, Everpeace had just endured a great rebellion and a devastating snow disaster. The people were destitute, the population had plummeted, and refugees were everywhere. The country was not yet stable, and even the army was short on provisions. Many Imperial Academy scholars here were also tightening their belts, afraid to eat their fill.

Quinn also spotted Wes Young and Quinn Yu—Wes, once a chubby man, had grown thin from hunger.

Perhaps things would only improve after the autumn harvest.

Village Chief and the Imperial Preceptor sat down. Village Chief began, "This time, I will not speak of sword techniques, only of dao—specifically, sword-dao. How much you gain depends on your own comprehension. There is no such thing as sword-dao in this world, but ever since the sword was invented, sword-dao has existed."

Many frontline soldiers also came over—some took off their armor and sat on the ground, others simply stood and listened.

Many listeners were puzzled by the old man’s words. Someone whispered, "Can the great dao of heaven and earth really be created? Aren’t we cultivators supposed to follow the natural dao of heaven and earth?"

Quinn was stirred, recalling a conversation with King Jade in which they discussed reform and the changing of the natural dao.

Human creativity has brought forth many heavenly daos that did not previously exist, and that same creativity has changed the old daos of the world.

When the great dao changes, so too do the arts and divine abilities built upon it—this is called reform.

King Jade believed that reform might touch the interests of gods and demons.

But what Village Chief spoke of was far deeper than what King Jade had said.

The reason so many were confused was that they were all cultivators, accustomed to learning inherited arts and divine abilities, which are dependent on dao. To challenge this worldview would shake them to their core!

The Imperial Preceptor asked, "How can a great dao be created?"

Village Chief said, "When something is pushed to its utmost extreme, it can be created. Preceptor, has your swordsmanship reached its extreme?"

The Imperial Preceptor was taken aback. "Just a little short," he replied.

Village Chief smiled, "Let me help you."

He thrust his sword at the Preceptor—instantly, the scenery changed. Mountains and rivers surged around them; in a flash, they were no longer at Qingmen Pass, nor on a battlefield drenched in blood, but in a new world: lush mountains, vibrant plants, rushing rivers, waves so clear and real, every leaf’s veins so intricate and unique.

Everyone stood up—some climbed mountains, some leapt into rivers, others picked flowers made of sword light. Quinn reached out and caught a dewdrop falling from a leaf.

Sword Treading the Rivers and Mountains.

This was Village Chief’s Sword Treading the Rivers and Mountains. Though it was a supreme killing move, in his hands it held no harm—instead, it brought them into a strange new world.

It felt like a real world—a world made entirely of sword-dao.

The scene was overwhelming for all, but for the Imperial Preceptor, it was shattering. His body trembled, soul quivered; he knelt to touch the earth, gazed up at the stars. Village Chief had shown him the true face of dao—had let him touch sword-dao itself.

Suddenly, he felt a great door slam open inside him and stood there, stunned, unmoving.

Seeing this, Village Chief sighed inwardly: "A saint once in five centuries—his talent truly surpasses Quinn’s. He’s comprehended dao so quickly."