Power washed over the northern plains area, rushing forward like a wave. To the west, various beasts called out in fear as they ran towards the sword peaks to seek refuge. As the power traveled further north the waters of the Flowing Grass River trembled like a small stream as the shockwave sent ripples into ancient waters.

Eastward the fringes of the dense forests that served as a buffer between the Shores of the Sea of Myriad Swords shores shook. Countless stout trees that had stood for generations vibrated to their core as entire flocks of birds fled from their high branches. Southward the lesser nobles that called the outer region of the twisting bowl mountain range felt the very mountains tremble at the might that was unleashed.

At the center of all this destruction was a battlefield that stretched for a 3,000,000 square km area. For almost 1,500 km in any direction from the center of the plains, one would only find ruin and devastation. Where once stood flat earth now stretched cavernous ravines that gave way to seemingly endless abysses that were over a thousand km deep.

Areas of lesser destruction stretched out like shadows behind edifices of hard natural treasure stone that stuck out of those depths like the fingers of long-dead titans buried deep within the earth. Sparse plateaus were formed from various areas where great sword scars had swept through the ground at shallow angles, spreading their destruction for hundreds of thousands of square km.

While all of this was happening a great lull of silence pervaded the center of this great battlefield. Only the sounds of tumbling rock and wind could be heard as clouds of dust settled. On a peak that stood some hundred km from the ground level of the plain, Xing Zheng knelt with his sword pierced into the ground.

This particular peak only had a small circular area measuring around 100 meters in radius for him to stand. At the moment this was all he could manage as the sword strike to clear the mountain peak caused him to cough up a mouthful of blood. Through all of this, he simply gritted his teeth and slowly worked to cycle his divine sense in his body while gathering a pitiful amount of Qi.

The fingers of his free hand were pressed into the semblance of a sword and now and then they would blur to jab into a point on his body. Each of these movements caused him immense pain and was followed by him spitting out bile and black liquid. These were the remaining Blood Qi that was still wreaking havoc in his body and the impurities the low-quality spirit stones had imparted into him.

This was one of the reasons spirit stones were usually only used slowly when gathering and refining Qi as like most natural materials they contained a diverse set of energy. Consume it all too quickly and one simply couldn’t refine these extras out, causing them to either take extra mental energy to control or allow them to seep into the body.

Heartache welled in his chest alongside the physical pain that was wracking his body. In the last few exchanges, he had to detonate those silver sword treasures with a self-destruction technique. He had been refining and strengthening those blades for over 100 years and was quite fond of them.

To date, they were his most prized accomplishments as a refiner and the basis for his advancement in the craft. What added to this was that the blades hadn’t even been enough to kill the enemy! After that, he’d only been able to use all of the spirit stones he had on hand to activate his meridian inscription formation.

Honestly, he was regretting not doing that from the start as the demonic cultivators had done a number on him. At least half of his meridians were damaged with four of them completely cracked. This meant even if he had energy in his body it would be used at only half his current cultivation strength.

Lastly, although he could feel that the attack had killed two of the opponents, at least one was still alive. This was apparent simply since blood was constantly seeping out of his wounds and drawing small streams of vital energy away into the dispersing dust cloud. Only an alive Blood Cultivator could do such a thing and it was one of the reasons they were so deadly on massive battlefields.

Living targets had great control over their life force and as such it couldn’t be stolen until the target died, preferably right after they died as it began to quickly disperse after death. However, these blood art practitioners could sap away small amounts from those that had been wounded. The weaker and more wounded their prey the more the demonic cultivator could take.

From this it was easy to see how one of them could draw life force from hundreds on a large battlefield, resulting in obscene amounts of power. Previously this had been to Xing Zheng’s advantage as the opponents outnumbered him making their meager energy stealing negligible. Now that he was so injured though he was losing a decent amount of life force.

Not enough to be life-threatening but definitely enough to hinder him in battle. After all, he barely had enough energy in his body to form a few thousand sword phantoms with normal strength. Although his physical body was powerful and quick, that was relative when dealing with other cultivators.

Even if one moved at high speed if your opponent could move at equal speeds it was the same as two mortals fighting in a relative sense. Suddenly from the dust, a red gleam flashed and Xing Zheng rose to meet it with a thrust from his sword, sending two phantoms out in the process to attack his opponent's hands and the other to act as a support to his blade.

He guessed that Sha Mu was the enemy that was left alive and when comparing physical strength both the other man’s weapon and cultivation style put him above Xing Zheng in this aspect. This guess was quickly confirmed as a miserable-looking Sha Mu appeared above him, slamming a saber down. The force multiplied and Xing Zheng was pushed into the ground a few centimeters before he took a step back.

Quickly the other man flew back a few meters as well and the two stood facing each other with grim expressions.

**Do you have any more tricks up your sleeve? What's next? An immortal-grade treasure? A hidden army of sect disciples hiding just over the horizon? You're like a cockroach, just refusing to die!** Sha Mu’s divine sense carried a hint of madness and a force like his saber as it rippled through the air at Xing Zheng.

**Hmph, an interesting accusation coming from someone who attempted to ambush me with four others. I thought strength reigned supreme in the demonic path? Your brother would be disappointed.** Xing Zheng answered back, keeping his tone calm as a like while seeming to contain a deep and dangerous beast.

**Hahaha! My brother?!??! Good, Good, Good! You really know how to talk. Let's see if your sword is just as good or if you simply like bullying juniors!** Sha Mu’s response contained an even greater sense of madness and unwillingness as if Xing Zheng had caused something within him to break.

For his part, Xing Zheng was slightly taken aback, bullying juniors? Was he simply supposed to hold out his neck for the opponent's saber? This didn’t last long though as the demonic cultivator charged as soon as he was done sending out the message.

Taking a slow breath Xing Zheng instantly used his waning Qi to draw three paths for his movement technique. Following the first he swept out to his left, rushing off the mountain peak and landing on the wall of a higher peak. Behind him a red blur approached as a vortex of saber slashes moved in front of it, charging at high speeds.

Gritting his teeth Xing Zheng triggered the two sword phantoms he had thrown to the sides as he moved, pushing them along the two remaining trails of his movement technique. The sword phantoms turned into beams of azure light as he kicked off the wall, charging forward to meet the vortex. With a flick of his wrist, a circular fan of five more phantoms shot out, hitting the vortex in places where the force was weakest.

Slashing force billowed out in all directions as the vortex exploded. Not missing a beat the dispersed slashing force quickly converged and formed crimson wing-shaped arcs that drew lazy curves to come at Xing from all directions. Sha Mu meanwhile bore down on him with a slash that seemed to bely his brutish style as the cut elegantly curved into a spiral hooking under his high guard.

In the air, they collided as Sha Mu took two deep wounds to his back while Xing Zheng was cut in the chest all the way to his sternum. Blood soaked the front of his robes and drifted in a hazy mist toward the demonic cultivator. Neither missed a beat and the moment they touched another surface each man blurred as an arc to meet the other.

Dozens of exchanges happened in only six seconds as wounds continued to accumulate on each of them. As the attacks continued a manic feeling rose in Xing Zheng’s chest, like a call that had been dormant for hundreds of years. It was the call of battle, the will to fight an opponent and defeat them through sweat and blood!

Slowly a small smile started to appear on his face as his Qi seemed to dwindle while his fighting spirit rose! Less and less phantoms appeared as his pure swordsmanship revealed itself like a dragon. Wrist cuts flowed, seeming to wind around Sha Mu’s saber slashes like he was a clumsy oaf.

Meanwhile every time their blades clashed it was almost as if Xing Zheng were clairvoyant as his weapon appeared at just the correct angle to press his center of gravity. The other man was helpless as a twist of his wrist pushed the saber off center and a new wound would appear on Sha Mu’s body. All around the world seemed to speak to him, he could hear the echoes of the techniques.

Each echo whispered its secrets and desires allowing him to understand the force, angle, and intent of the strike. Slowly even more became revealed to him as the techniques that had been used earlier in the battle seemed to echo all around them, speaking of everything from how they were performed to how the Qi that powered them was used. Suddenly even the Qi itself seemed to contain the faintest echo, a memory of how the laws of the world itself allowed the energy to take that form.

Memories came unbidden to him at that moment, moments of sitting in the rain on a cliff that overlooked the Azure Rain Sword Sect’s basin. At that moment he realized, that too was an echo. An echo so profound that it had imprinted on his very soul, something that was imprinted on the soul of its user!

That was it, the reason he felt something missing from his swordsmanship. He had never been fated with the Azure Rain Sword Style, it had been imparted into his soul due to him being sensitive to the echoes of the world. In a place where the old nascent soul monster practiced his techniques, it was as if the world was screaming at him compared to the techniques on display here.

As the realization slipped into his mind, a great sadness welled up in Xing Zheng’s heart. It was a sadness that he was not his master’s fated disciple, the one who would carry on his legacy. He would never let these techniques go, they were the essence of his martial arts and would remain at the core of his power. However, Xing Zheng wasn’t and had never been the eternal storm, he had simply been witness to its glorious echo.

Suddenly as the two were set to clash for their next engagement he used his movement technique to veer back to that flat mountaintop. Blood fell all around him as a veritable mist of vital energy poured toward Sha Mu. For his part, the demonic cultivator was now missing an arm and was sporting even more deep wounds across his body.

They were closing slowly; however, it was obvious that he couldn’t last much longer.

**I have to thank you, this encounter was… enlightening.** Xing Zheng smiled sadly as he looked at the other man.

**Hmph, enlightening indeed. Who would’ve thought this backwater would hold a monster like you? I’ve met plenty of powerful Qi condensation realm cultivators however, you are something else** Sha Mu shook his head just ever so slightly as his voice echoed in Xing Zheng’s mind, bewilderment alongside a now tempered madness.

**Powerful? It seems that you’ve indeed been sheltered, Fellow Daoist. Among those monsters that live in the spirit regions, we are but grains of sand. My master once meant a Qi Condensation cultivator from a heaven-shaking faction, with a single spell he was defeated while at the beginning of the Core Formation realm.** Xing Zheng shook his head in response.

That information seemed to genuinely affect Sha Mu as he looked back with disbelief in his eyes.

**Impossible! You're lying!** Sha Mu’s divine sense seemed to contain fury and a profound unwillingness to accept that information.

**As they say, the Dao is endless and there are infinite possibilities. Let me show you but a small part of it so that you may better understand the difference between heaven and earth. May your next reincarnation be as a kinder soul** Xing Zheng’s divine sense was as calm as water as it seemed to reflect a pond. **’ Sword of the eternal echo: First style, Mirror pool’.**

The name had just come to him as if the technique had always existed and was simply waiting to be discovered. Although many words were exchanged the actual time elapsed was less than a second and in a blur Xing Zheng raised his sword to the sky. As he did this his left had formed countless seals that formed six formation cores in the air in front of him.

In tandem, these six cores hummed in tune with his remaining meridians as his sword drew a strange pattern in the air while it was raised. In the blink of an eye, the sky seemed to turn calm like the smoothest pool of water before swords started to appear underneath the surface one by one. Each of these swords seemed to condense from the laws of the world as barely perceptible whisps seemed to converge onto them from uncountable numbers of places on the battlefield.

If a high-level cultivator had observed the battle from the start until now they would realize that each of those locations was a place where the demonic cultivators had used one of their techniques. Reflecting this, each sword seemed to carry a shadow of every technique that they had used. The result was swords that swirled with black blood and multi-colored crimson arcs while the blades looked like dark crimson swords with ethereal energy dragons that had glowing yellow eyes at their tips.

Overall there weren’t many of them compared to his normal meridian inscription formation, around 10,000, and the techniques contained within were only around the level of a mortal grandmaster. Combined, however, they contained a terrifying might as each blade seemed to form a vortex as the air twisted around them. Each sword lay just below the surface and as one looked up at the surface it was as if a shadow of each demonic cultivator was standing behind every sword, holding it.

With a final swing of his sword, Xing Zheng sent the blades downward as beams of black light. From the outside it was like 10,000 black beams that contained the void descended upon Sha Mu and pierced him as he simply looked on with dumbfounded confusion. Before he could even make a sound his body simply corroded away as a small crater was left atop the mountain peak, sizzling with an energy that seemed to contain the will of all the demonic cultivators.

Exhaling a breath of turbid air Xing Zheng fell to his knees and slowly pulled himself into lotus position to begin circulating his energy. Suddenly a terrifying aura erupted in front of him and he opened his eyes to see a single drop of blood rise from the ground where Sha Mu had been standing. That drop instantly expanded, forming an old man who was made entirely of blood.

He had long hair that reached to the small of his back as well as narrow eyes that spoke of a shrewd disposition. Long martial robes in a classic style covered his thin body as the old blood man walked on the air as if it were the ground. All the surroundings seemed to tremble with each of his steps and Xing Zheng barely maintained his consciousness under the man’s gaze.

**Hmph, incompetent as always. It's your misfortune young man, you seem to be plenty competent and have a bright future. Normally I’d steer clear of killing someone of your talent however, you killed my only good son and it seems you're out of life-saving treasures. Blame it on the will of the heavens that whatever powerful master you serve didn’t give you an escape treasure.** The old man’s divine sense shook Xing Zheng’s mind to the core and it contained a cold and calculative will.

Instantly Xing Zheng willed his master talisman into his hand and crushed it before the old man could even finish speaking. A globe of sword phantoms that seemed to contain an endless amount of more such constructs appeared around him. It was just like every time he saw his master’s techniques as if each of his sword phantoms contained as many attacks as the ‘An Instant Births 10,000 Epochs of Rain’ that he had just used.

The old man seemed dumbfounded as several bloody wing-shaped arcs simply dissipated upon hitting the globe of swords. At the same time, the sky seemed to tear as a deafening boom rang out across the Twisted Territories. A blue arc seemed to instantly cover the sky and the ground of the peak Xing Zheng sat on trembled as that terrifying energy arrived next to him in a moment.

There, standing on a wide 10-meter-long sword stabbed into the ground at an angle, was his master!

**Senior… it seems there was a misunderstanding. I hope that you can sho-** Before the old man’s divine sense message even finished he turned into an arc that rushed into the distance.

With a cold harumph, Lin Qiu simply raised an open hand and closed it. Instantly a huge globe of sword phantoms appeared in the sky with its center being the fleeing crimson arc. That globe spanned over a third of the lesser region and stretched so far into the sky Xing Zheng could only barely sense the top of it. In this single attack, he could sense there was enough power to crush the entire twisted territories and most likely deal substantial damage to the adjacent lesser regions as well.

As soon as his master closed his hand the globe collapsed onto a single point, completely obliterating the fleeing arc. The cataclysmic shockwave that Xing Zheng expected never happened, however, as the force seemed to smooth out like a calm drizzle. Within the technique the destructive wave seemed to span outward far past Xing Zheng’s senses, depositing small bits of the attack everywhere high in the air.

Before he could even process what had happened it was over and Lin Qui was looking at him with a mix of worry and warmth. Another boom seemed to rip the air and a man in brown and golden robes appeared in the sky above them atop a cloud of shining golden bees.

“Senior Lin Qui, it seems that I’ve arrived late. On behalf of the sect, I apologize for this lapse!” The man bowed to the waste towards his master as sweat seemed to bead on his brow.

Xing Zheng could sense a powerful presence from the other man. It didn’t surprise him that he decided to speak rather than use divine sense as doing so when it wasn't needed within non-spirit regions was considered rather rude. Perhaps it was just tradition or something he had yet to learn; however, it seemed the man was doing everything he could to not irritate his master.

“It's fine, I should be apologizing for the mess that my disciple has made. Please, junior Duan Zan, send my sincerest apologies to Sect Master Dai Yin.” Lin Qiu said calmly, his words carrying a sense of something ancient along with great power.

“This is nothing, senior. However, I'll convey your words to the Sect Master. If there's nothing else I’ve personal matters to attend to.” The man replied with another bow while his tone remained respectful.

With a simple nod of Lin Qui’s head, the man disappeared in a golden arc and the two were left alone on the mountain.

“You’ve been busy, disciple. Although I recall that little girl requesting you to be a bit more conspicuous last time we exchanged words, the current circumstances hardly seem to qualify.” Lin Qui slowly walked over and took a seat opposite him, just a few meters away.

“Indeed, it was a mistake on my part that led to all of this.” Xing Zheng shook his head while sighing. “It has been so long since an enemy has pushed me to this extent, arrogance was my folly today.”

“Oh? And what makes you think that it was a mistake?” Lin Qui quirked up an eyebrow in question as he seemed to pull out a small sitting table and tea set from thin air.

“How could it not be? Hundreds of plains nomads died simply to the scheming of these demonic cultivators and the battle shook the entire area. I can’t even begin to imagine how much damage I’ve caused to those living here, how many died simply in the after-effects of my battle.” He looked down at the floor as he spoke, clearly attempting to come to terms with the battle.

Xing Zheng had of course participated in battles that caused massive amounts of destruction. However, that was always in predetermined areas such as desolate lesser regions that weren’t inhabited. This had been different, destroying an area that was lived in by so many people.

It was so spread that even the empire may never be able to determine the entire scope of the damages, tens of thousands had probably died with entire nomad tribes now lost to the annals of time. A solemn feeling spread throughout his mind as he worked to come to terms with that, to understand the words that Li Cheng had said to him just five years ago. To only administer the justice that was within reach of his sword, within sight of his eyes.

This also put into context just how impressive the foreign disciple's feat of skill had been. According to him, the demonic cultivator was about to destroy a large part of the lesser region, to prevent such destruction and contain it to such a degree was beyond impressive. Xing Zheng felt lost and… alone.

Loneliness was something that had been ingrained into his bones for centuries now; however, it never felt so tiring. It was buffered away by his sect, his master, and his senior apprentice brothers. Although his master didn’t have many other disciples he had a few and speaking with them had always allowed him to ward away the worst of his loneliness.

At this moment that all felt like it was slowly slipping away, or perhaps it always had been and he was only now realizing it. With his enlightenment during the battle, he now knew that one day he would leave the Azure Rain Sword Sect. Perhaps not today, perhaps not even in a thousand years… but eventually he would leave.

Looking up at his master he saw the smiling warm face of his teacher, ever unchanging as the visage of a handsome and youthful middle-aged man. Understanding was present in his eyes as he looked at Xing Zheng with the calmness of a deep ocean, one that had existed since ancient times.

“Teacher, this disciple has been unruly and unfilial; however, I ask that you indulge me one last time. There are matters I must attend to, things that must be done with my own hands. If teacher has no need of me then I shall take my leave.” Xing Zheng struggled to sit up and kowtow three times before rising to his feet.

“And where shall you go my disciple? Where is it that the path takes you?” Lin Qui closed his eyes as he sipped on his tea, speaking so quietly that his voice was barely a whisper.

“Where the world speaks and the heavens have answers. I go towards the peak as all cultivators do, although I know not the way.” Xing Zheng’s voice was also low as he stopped with his back facing his master to speak, deep sadness ladening his words.

“Go then, go where the world speaks, and may the heavens guide your path. Just try to stop giving this old man so many heart attacks, these are expensive after all.” Lin Qui chuckled slightly with his last words as a blur shot out towards Xing Zheng.

He caught it by reflex and it was revealed to be a talisman, the same as the one that had saved his life. With a brief turn back and a nod, Xing Zheng started a slow, limping journey, down the mountain. As he left a shadow seemed to detach from the underside of the stone sword that Lin Qui had used to arrive.

That shadow revealed a middle-aged man with eyes that were slanted slightly. He had short auburn hair that came to his shoulders, braided into many small braids. Along his back was a large sword that was held within a sheath that seemed to be made entirely of shifting ink-black runes.

A sleek pair of vibrant green wings were tucked behind his back and he seemed to have concern on his face as he approached Lin Qui, looking in the direction that Xing Zheng had just left.

“Teacher, are you sure that youngest junior apprentice brother should be traveling with such injuries? Let's at least carry him to his destination, he’s been reduced to walking after all! The man’s voice was rough and he had concern laced into his words.

“It’s fine, this is the path he chose. Who are we to deny him whatever way he wishes to walk? Come now, sit and have some tea, your youngest junior apprentice brother left his unfinished!” Lin Qui chuckled once again and shook his head before motioning with his hand for the man.

Fan Zhong grunted with irritation as he practiced his morning forms. Normally this would help calm his mind however, today it was bringing none of that. No, what was troubling him was that his teacher had been gone for over four months and still hadn’t returned!

Not only this, but after his disappearance, a great calamity in the outside world happened, killing many while causing great trouble. The few city-states that traded with the Valley had become silent as reports that the Wei clan was hurriedly fighting off a beast wave were resounding throughout the gossip mill. It was said that a great immortal battle had scared the spirit beasts of the plains and caused them to stampede into a rarely-seen huge beast wave!

With these rumors, it was impossible for Fan Zhong to not worry and he had been struggling to focus on his studies within the sect. Perhaps he should make a journey to Butont to-

His thoughts were cut short as a hand landed on his shoulder. Whirling with staff in hand he turned to see the smiling face of Xing Zheng, standing within the nearly empty early morning training arena. The old swordsman was leaning on a cane and had a few new scars on his face; however, he was back.