Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Sword Immortal Descends into the Mortal World

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Zhou Qian held the Broken Courage Sword. A gentle breeze stirred fallen leaves, and a red sun shone brightly over the land, the heat rising in the sultry summer air. Yet, the moment he drew his sword, the temperature in the small courtyard before the study plummeted sharply. A chill crept into his heart—this was the profound realm of the Three Talents Sword Technique known as the “Sword of Heaven,” where the sword’s momentum moved the spirit. Though the warm wind brushed by, a killing intent subtly pervaded the entire scene.

“Not bad,” Zhou Xun nodded.

Twisting and stepping lightly, his figure flickered like a ghost, instantly multiplying into countless shadows that encircled Zhou Xun completely. A flick of the wrist sent a hundred icy stars darting toward Zhou Xun’s vital points. This single maneuver employed three kinds of lightness skills: the Swallow’s Cloud Piercing Step for footwork, the Divine Walk of Ever-changing Steps for body movement, and the Flash Sword Style for hand technique.

Split, bind, slash, gather, scatter—the sword light flashed from all directions, unstoppable by any move. This was Zhou Xun’s proud expertise: the Sword Immortal with a hundred arms, yet even more spirited, like a trickling stream penetrating every crevice.

Zhou Xun combined his sword fingers, forming continuous circles—large circles enclosing smaller ones, small ones expanding into large ones. A strange suction force emerged. Countless sword moves scattered and combined, sword fingers crossing, sparks flying. With a single maneuver, he broke through Zhou Qian’s deadly sword momentum. Truly, the most skilled warriors have no ostentatious feats, and the best swordsmen no overwhelming power—the sword moves change deftly, defeating all methods through transformation.

A stir in Zhou Qian’s heart, a twist of the sword body—hundreds of moves merged into one sword, unleashing the Breaking Sword Style. Instantly, a white line appeared in the void, but its end was blocked by a finger. The air exploded with force, pressing the surrounding grass and flowers to bow.

Zhou Qian slashed, Zhou Xun turned; Zhou Xun poked, Zhou Qian bowed. Zhou Qian’s attack was necessarily defensive; Zhou Xun’s no-move was better than a move. Within a foot’s distance, they twisted and turned, maneuvering with hundred moves without touching the other’s clothes—a dance of sword light.

The Four Styles of the Broken Sword, the Three Talents Ten Thousand Sword Diagram, the Kunwu Ten Swords, the Thirty-six Swords of Qingping—the sword moves were countless. Master and disciple clashed: one gifted by nature, the other with a clear sword heart. Like dragon fighting tiger, or flood dragon battling serpent, golden pearls scattered, sword light flying. Zhou Xun only used mortal techniques; Zhou Qian did not rely on treasure weapons. This fight raged from sunrise to dusk, from the hour of Chen to Hai, until the jade rabbit rose in the east. The sword moves numbered in the tens of thousands, including famous sword arts and original creations—both offensive and defensive. On mortal swordsmanship alone, the two were evenly matched.

Zhou Xun rarely sighed, feeling moved: “In swordsmanship, I have nothing more to teach you.”

Zhou Qian shook his head: “Mortal swordsmanship, even at its peak, is nothing special. It is your ability to connect the human body to the immortal path that I most admire.”

“Come drink with your master. You know how to cook—go prepare some side dishes to accompany the wine.” Zhou Xun patted Zhou Qian’s head and laughed heartily.

“As you command!”

They sat on the ground, using the moon as their canopy, drinking and chatting, speaking of heaven and earth. Zhou Qian never imagined his master’s knowledge so vast—about the nine provinces, famous mountains and rivers, seas and lakes, ancient sites and legends—nothing unknown. Time passed swiftly without notice.

A hundred miles from Luodu stood a mountain called Hongfu, named for the countless red cotton trees atop it. One day prior, a black light darted through the treetops on the summit, two voices heard within—

“Second Senior Brother! The Wine Taoist has harmed my flesh—avenge me!” The voice was familiar, that of the Flying Guest Zhao Lei, harsh and venomous.

“Of course. But last night I predicted a comet heading north, meaning sword immortals from the righteous sect are arriving to assist. One alone cannot fight. How will you instruct me, junior brother?” A soft, feminine voice replied.

“I have two newly made friends who likely escaped too; I will summon them to discuss this.”

“Very well, but to deal with the Wine Taoist, I need to borrow something from you, junior brother. Please do not refuse.”

“What is it?” Zhao Lei wondered. His senior brother was well-liked in the sect and lacked no treasures. What could he lend?

“Your Red Yin Monster-gathering Sail lacks a main soul. Please lend your primordial spirit to assist!”

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“How dare you! My primordial spirit’s mark is held by Grandmother. If I die, she will know. Aren’t you afraid she’ll come to clean house?” The voice trembled with fear.

“Hmph! Once my Divine Sail is complete, even if Grandmother comes herself, it will be of no consequence. Besides, when I offer the rank of the Golden Crow’s child to Master Moluo and serve under him, even Grandmother will have no way to deal with me!”

The black light suddenly expanded, accompanied by shrieks and screams—

After a long moment, the soft voice muttered to itself, “Perhaps this is an opportunity. I heard Emei’s three generations are best at slaying demons and monsters, though I do not know if true. But I shall try, using the child-mother soul refining formation gifted by Old Ghost Moluo to trick them!”

Master and disciple cherished their rare time together until seven beams of light descended from the sky, landing directly in the Hu’er Mansion.

They exchanged glances and hurried toward the front courtyard. Before crossing the small bridge, the Wine Taoist’s loud shouting was heard: “Tianpingzi, old bull nose, you’re talking nonsense again! When did the old drunk insult Emei?”

“There are mortals approaching. Don’t disgrace us Daoists,” Tianpingzi frowned.

Beside him stood an elder in a black robe, white eyebrows and no beard, with a willow branch tucked at an angle. He said nothing, only observing around. Four young sword immortals followed suit.

“Yellow Talisman, you old fellow, usually talkative—why silent today?” the Wine Taoist teased the willow branch elder.

“Not comparable to your drunken swordsmanship,” Yellow Talisman shot back.

Seeing Zhou Qian and his master arrive, the elder chuckled: “You two have arrived. Let me introduce.”

This was the group heading to Tianmen, escorting Tianpingzi, the Emei high expert. The elder named Yellow Talisman was a sword immortal of the Heavenly Dao sect. The rest were disciples. Emei’s two were a handsome young man with an ancient sword named Zhao Zhuo, and an ethereal woman named Xie Yudie, both third-generation disciples. The chubby smiling fellow was a Heavenly Dao disciple named Zhu Fei. The strange-looking man with slitted eyes and a long neck came from the mysterious Fire Island, called Huomuzi.

After his master’s speculation on the essence of sword immortals, Zhou Qian lost some reverence but still bowed politely. However, the sword immortals looked down on them—only Yellow Talisman and Zhu Fei greeted them; the others did not even nod. Zhou Xun raised an eyebrow. Not fearing sword immortals or true immortals, yet this group of immortals looked down on mortals so disdainfully. Could it be that before cultivation, they were merely beasts?

“You are the one tainted by the Golden Crow’s aura? Prepare rooms; we depart tomorrow,” Zhao Zhuo said flatly, as if ordering servants.

Zhou Xun and Zhou Qian stood still, coldly staring. The Zhou clan inherited pride and arrogance, with no tolerance for flattery or bending the knee—even toward sword immortals. They feared death, but not them.

Zhao Zhuo, seeing no reaction, grew annoyed: “We are righteous sword immortals, slaying demons and protecting mortals. And you treat us like this? Mortals should revere us, be submissive. But I see contempt in your eyes.” Rage flared.

The ancient sword on his back hummed ominously, ready to fly out and kill at the slightest provocation. Is this the way of immortals? Worse than demons, perhaps.

“Looks like we need to teach you a lesson!”

Unknown changes surged within Zhou Xun; Zhou Qian’s right hand neared the sword hilt, the fiery pearl slowly glowing—

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“Enough!” The Wine Taoist shouted sharply, turning to Tianpingzi: “Is this Emei’s style? Truly capable of eradicating demon paths, their arrogance surpasses even the demonic sect!”

“Alright, alright,” Tianpingzi began, but Yellow Talisman interrupted: “No need to quarrel. We are still mortals; where is your Dao heart? Brother Zhou, if you don’t mind, let us stay here tonight. If it’s inconvenient, we will lodge outside. But we must take these disciples with us. If they fall into the demonic sect’s hands, their lives won’t be safe.”

Zhou Xun’s eyes flickered uncertainly, then said: “Old Sun, arrange lodging for these people.” Without a hint of respect, he turned and left, as if tending a pet.

Zhou Qian smiled and nodded to the group, “Rest well. If you need anything, tell the servants. Tomorrow we depart with you.” He then grinned at the Wine Taoist, a clear message.

Is this the pinnacle of sword immortals? If so, cultivation holds little appeal!

Zhao Zhuo and the Emei female disciple’s faces flushed purple with anger; the others showed no expression, as if indifferent. The chubby sword immortal Zhu Fei smirked at their plight.

The Wine Taoist glanced sideways, sighed: “Don’t think becoming immortal makes you special. Immortal or not, you are still human.”

He took a swig from a yellow gourd, staggered toward the interior.

Having stayed long enough to know the way, it wasn’t long before he reached the study where the Zhou duo conversed quietly. Seeing the Wine Taoist approach, they were somewhat surprised.

“I thought you brave, but you dared provoke sword immortals—Emei juniors no less. Aren’t you afraid they’ll slay you from the sky?” the Wine Taoist mocked.

“Afraid, yes, but when victory is impossible, the backbone softens. Living then holds no meaning,” Zhou Qian answered honestly.

“Won’t you take a step back?” the Taoist asked. “A gentleman waits ten years for revenge, but you fight for every moment. Is this what your master taught?”

“Seems my disciple learned well!” Zhou Xun smiled rarely.

“What about you? You’ve changed since we last met. I appeared then to see your progress. Have you succeeded? Or are you close?” the Taoist inquired.

“In two days, all will be revealed,” Zhou Xun nodded.

“Wait!” The Wine Taoist extended his left hand, “Show me your hand.”

Zhou Xun frowned but complied. Comparing the two—

Both uttered a surprised “Eh” simultaneously—