Volume One: Fresh Rain Chapter Thirty-seven: A Million Shattered Jades

This ferry, which had wandered between the Six Realms for six years, finally docked—though its arrival was nothing short of catastrophic. As the vessel glided gently through the waters, those inside, cut off from the outside world, hardly sensed its motion. Yet when it finally reached its destination, the violent shaking often left the passengers struggling to keep their footing.

This small-world ferry's arrival could not truly be called docking; it was more akin to running aground. The entire small world, like a gigantic whale, surged onto the shore, crashing thunderously into a grand and vast greater world.

For that majestic and robust greater world, the collision meant merely a rupture in a localized space and its barriers. But for the small world that crashed, at the instant of impact, it began to shatter and dissolve.

The world fractured; countless spatial fissures instantly crawled across the entire small world.

At the moment the world began to break apart, the Sovereign Emperor, cold-eyed, thrust forth a luminous giant hand toward a small courtyard amidst the demon army.

Suddenly, a brilliant sword-light, as vast as a spatial rift, burst forth before the giant hand, and hundreds upon thousands of demon soldiers surged out from the dense demon fog, charging suicidally to block and delay the terrifying hand of light.

The countdown of three quarters began.

The destruction of the small world was catastrophic for both celestial soldiers and demon armies alike. Yet as the world fractured, the once opposing forces of light and darkness—celestial soldiers and demon troops—lunged at each other in a frenzy, slaughtering with reckless abandon.

Demon fog clashed with immortal essence, giants collided with celestial palaces, flying swords struck battered armor, while the ever-spreading spatial cracks opened terrifying maws, devouring everything locked in combat, transforming it all into a blood-red storm—an arena of carnage unparalleled.

The sky shattered, the earth shattered, light and darkness shattered; everything dissolved, perished into fragments, and then broke down further into indistinguishable particles.

As the world collapsed, everyone felt new constraints and restrictions in the space around them—these were the laws of the mortal world seeping in through the broken barriers of the small world.

These laws seemed to sense something, and suddenly quivered, causing the entire shattered world to shake violently.

Before the Sovereign Emperor, countless intricate golden characters appeared, forming ancient laws. All those present whose cultivation surpassed the heavenly deity realm heard a voice echoing from the distant past:

"To protect the beings of the mortal world."

"Decree: Those of the heavenly realm shall not exist in the mortal realm!"

The Sovereign Emperor, whose cultivation was the highest, was the first to have his light dimmed, affected by the decree instilled as the law of heaven and earth by the Human Emperor.

Long Yinling lowered her head and fastened the sword case onto Ye Mingke’s back with gentle care, as though bidding farewell to a young man setting out from home.

"There now, every person must have their own journey. No need for sadness. Come, give Auntie a smile."

After fastening the case, Aunt Long patted Ye Mingke’s head as always, urging him to smile, though as she reached out, she was so moved she nearly wept—for, without realizing it, the boy had almost grown taller than her.

The child from years ago had finally grown up.

"In the future, when you’re alone out there, remember—not to let anyone bully you. The child raised by your Aunt Long won’t take things lying down!"

"Though... I must admit, you’re the only one I ever raised."

She fought back tears, smiling, trying to speak with the same boldness as before, yet her words ended with a catch in her throat.

"Uncle, Auntie, let’s go together," Ye Mingke turned, grasped Aunt Long’s hand, and looked toward Uncle Sword, his eyes red.

"Silly child, but we belong here," Aunt Long said softly, gazing at him.

"Why?" Ye Mingke turned, staring at her blankly.

Long Yinling looked at him, her gaze tender and sorrowful.

"Because, your uncle and I died long ago."

The light in the courtyard faded completely. Perhaps there was still light in this world, but none belonged to him anymore.

In the darkness, Aunt Long continued softly.

"All these years, it was only our souls, after death, that took form in this special world to accompany you. Don’t blame us, and don’t blame your uncle for deceiving you."

(1/3)

"If… you had known all this from the start, what kind of person would you have become? We didn’t want you to turn into that sort of person."

Her voice carried warmth and longing.

"We wanted our Mingke to have a bright heart, to be a happy, radiant person—even if your uncle and I could only dwell in darkness."

"We won’t leave with you, but we’ll go ahead, opening a path for you."

A golden giant hand descended from above to strike them, but a slender sword-light rose from the earth, holding back the giant hand.

A quarter hour had already passed since this world had collided with the mortal realm.

The sword-light illuminated Uncle Sword’s face, steadfast and calm amid the darkness. He turned for one last look at Ye Mingke. He never answered questions directly, but as he had always done for many years, he posed a question in return.

"Mingke, which one is you?"

That was the question he asked by the hearth on the night Ye Mingke wanted to give up chopping firewood.

"Mingke, what is real?"

That was the counter-question he used to answer Ye Mingke’s doubts about whether the town truly existed, on that stormy day.

Over the years, faced with many of Ye Mingke’s questions, he always remained silent or threw the question back.

He always seemed so aloof toward Ye Mingke.

He never treated him as a child. He didn’t inform him, didn’t deceive him, didn’t force him, didn’t encourage him.

He only, when fate knocked on Ye Mingke’s door and there was no other path to take, calmly—almost coldly—told him where his only road lay.

Yet all the concealment, all the indifference, all the probing questions, contained the greatest tenderness in the world.

He wished, from the deepest darkness, to give him a bright and resilient heart.

The slender sword-light bent under the pressure of the giant hand, step by step, about to snap.

He turned his gaze toward the golden hand in the sky.

"Mingke, take care of yourself."

These were his final words.

So plain, so ordinary—he truly was a man who didn’t know how to express emotion.

When a single sword-light could not suffice, he turned himself into a decisive sword-light, soaring skyward to join in resisting the Sovereign Emperor’s golden hand.

"Mingke, soon your friends will come to fetch you away. Your uncle’s legs aren’t so good—he’s easily bullied. I need to help him, and teach that golden old man a lesson."

"Mingke, farewell."

Long Yinling embraced Ye Mingke deeply. He instinctively held her tightly, unwilling to let her go, afraid this would be the final parting.

But suddenly, a tremendous force pushed him away, and a vast silver figure soared skyward—a dragon beautiful beyond imagining.

The silver dragon turned for one last look at him, its immense, beautiful eyes shedding icy tears before spiraling upward to join the battle of sword-light and Sovereign Emperor in the sky.

The fracturing of space continued, with sudden fissures devouring everything they touched—gods and demons alike, locked in battle, perishing together as they were engulfed.

The entire world resembled a porcelain vessel crawling with cracks, on the verge of shattering.

Ye Mingke stood alone on this nearly broken world, upon this vast and tragic battlefield. He was neither god nor demon, merely a mortal swept into the war of gods and demons, holding a wooden sword.

A few celestial ships noticed him, sending countless flying swords from their decks, slicing through the void toward him.

(2/3)

Several demon soldiers soared into the air to intercept most of them, but one sword slipped through the blockade, blazing with fierce light as it thrust toward him.

A gigantic figure suddenly interposed itself between Ye Mingke and the sword. The speeding blade plunged deep into the figure’s back.

The figure staggered but did not retreat, only bowed its head to gaze at Ye Mingke standing at its feet.

Ye Mingke looked up and saw the figure’s form.

It was a monstrous creature, half flesh and blood, half wood—a hybrid of tree and man, with powerful, enormous legs.

Yet strangely, Ye Mingke felt no fear at the sight of this monster, only a sense of familiarity and warmth, as if facing his dearest friend.

The figure’s huge eyes reflected Ye Mingke’s upward gaze, and a fissure split its featureless face—a semblance of a smile.

It reached out and gently grasped Ye Mingke’s hand. Then, with its sturdy legs, it skirted spatial fissures and gods and celestial soldiers alike, running at a speed Ye Mingke could scarcely imagine.

To Ye Mingke, everything around them blurred into streaks, save for the giant.

He looked at the monster’s fearsome face and tentatively asked,

"Are you… my friend?"

The monster bowed its featureless face, and once more, a smile-like crack appeared.

...

The silver dragon soared skyward.

In the heavens, two sword-lights intertwined and crashed against the golden hand, forcing it to retreat, while the sword-lights were also knocked backward.

The silver dragon spiraled back, catching one sword-light, while the other, nearly falling to earth, halted in midair with a resonant clang, then flew back to the dragon’s head.

Above, seated atop the silver dragon’s head, Jian Nantian caught the returning broken sword and lifted his gaze to face the figure crowned as Emperor.

"Both of us are at the Sovereign realm; Sword Sovereign once boasted the greatest killing power. Alas, a swordsman with a broken blade, and broken hands—the difference is still too great."

"Moreover, you are merely a remnant soul, relying on this special world to forge a body."

The Sovereign Emperor regarded Jian Nantian solemnly.

"I wield the sword not with my hands but with my heart. If the heart is whole, the sword remains sharp."

Jian Nantian looked at the Sovereign Emperor, his sword intent rising step by step, like a divine blade unsheathed after years of slumber, threatening to cleave the heavens and earth. Yet in the end, it wavered, unable to reach its peak.

Regret tinged Jian Nantian’s voice.

"But without legs, my sword’s speed is still affected."

"I’ll be your legs—haven’t we always done it this way?" came Long Yinling’s familiar voice from the silver dragon below.

"Indeed. All these years, you have always been here."

Jian Nantian stroked the dragon’s crystalline scales, his gaze gentle.

He raised his head again, sword intent transforming into a tangible storm, shaking the heavens as it soared upward, like a divine sword finally unsheathed.

Facing the strongest adversary of the Six Realms, his calm eyes hid a fervor like molten lava beneath the earth.

Does a true swordsman not long to cross blades with the greatest and strongest?

"Jian Nantian—this sword is to question the Master of Heaven’s Court!"

At that moment, the second quarter hour ended, and the final quarter began.

(3/3)