Chapter 60: The Sword of Slaughter

This was a sword about five feet in length, its blade a blood-red hue, exuding a strange and demonic aura. Qiuhan could not discern what material the sword was forged from, nor did he know its origin, for he had discovered it embedded within the stone wall of a mountain cave. He stared intently at the blade for a long time, and gradually, he felt as if his gaze were being drawn into it.

Slowly, Qiuhan’s consciousness became blurred; his eyes could no longer look away from the sword, as if he were trying to see through its mysteries. Suddenly, his spirit and his thoughts felt irresistibly pulled by a tremendous force into a world unlike any he had ever seen.

It was a world unfamiliar to Qiuhan. The sky was red, the earth was red, even the rain falling from above was red—a vast, blood-red realm.

An ancient battlefield sprawled before him, populated by enormous beasts of a thousand feet, legendary creatures from the distant past, flying through the skies or crawling across the land. There were monsters with human faces and demonic bodies, beasts with three heads and six arms, giants towering a thousand feet tall.

Among them were other exotic races Qiuhan had never heard of: some wielded wooden staffs, wore robes of magic, and chanted incantations, unleashing dazzling spells. Qiuhan could not count how many cultivators and beasts were locked in battle, but he estimated their numbers to be no fewer than a million.

At the center of this battlefield stood a human cultivator, appearing as a youth, clad in a purple robe, wielding a massive sword in his right hand. Qiuhan recognized the sword—it was the very mysterious blade he now held, though in the cultivator's grasp it was greatly enlarged.

The cultivator raised the sword abruptly and, with a fierce motion, slashed toward the earth. Heavenly force and spiritual energy surged from all directions, pouring into the sword, which radiated a brilliant purple light. In that brief instant, the purple glow eclipsed the blood-red world, and the sword descended upon the ground.

A thunderous crash resounded.

Every cultivator and beast touched by the giant sword, regardless of their cultivation, was instantly reduced to ashes. The sword cleaved toward the horizon, splitting the earth with a vast chasm, so deep its bottom was unseen, as if the continent itself were sundered in two.

“Purple Spirit Sword, if you can wield my cultivation and slaughter all the exotic races here, I shall bestow upon you a new sword spirit in my name, and name you the Sword of Slaughter!”

The cultivator spoke thus to the sword, which seemed alive; upon hearing his words, the blade trembled lightly and soared into the sky, as if preparing to deliver a second strike.

High above, the Purple Spirit Sword now separated from its master’s hand, unleashing another surge of purple light. This time, however, it drew in all the blood and corpses of the fallen cultivators and beasts, absorbing them into its blade. For the span of half an hour, the sword continued its grisly work, then emitted a sinister black radiance.

Qiuhan’s eyes beheld the Purple Spirit Sword, its blade now shrouded in black mist rather than the former purple; within the darkness, faint, agonized screams of tormented souls could be heard. The blade emanated a killing intent so intense that any mortal witnessing it would surely be driven mad with terror.

A cry escaped Qiuhan’s lips. He felt his consciousness dragged into the blackened sword, his spirit wracked with pain. He returned abruptly to the space within the Immortal Compass, and stared at the sword in his hand. After a long while, he blurted out, “Sword of Slaughter!”

The horror of the sword weighed heavily upon Qiuhan’s heart, filling him with dread. He quickly stowed the Sword of Slaughter back into his storage pouch. Casting a final glance at the slumbering remnant soul of Nangong Li, Qiuhan turned and left the Immortal Compass’s space.

Days passed, and Qiuhan had flown hundreds of miles from the hillside, finding a quiet place to rest for a day. He now walked along a broad mountain path, entering a small forest. Ahead was a plain, and at its far end, his spiritual sense detected a dense mist obscuring the landscape.

“Judging by the time, crossing this plain should bring me to the Misty Marsh. Nearly seven months have passed out of the year allotted for the trial, and most of the required tasks are already completed. Only a few remain, and with five months left, I’ll soon return to the sect.”

Qiuhan mused as he walked across the plain. Along the way, he released the unicorn from the spirit beast pouch to accompany him. The unicorn was gentle and adorable, sometimes mischievous, and occasionally played games of hide-and-seek with Qiuhan.

From morning to noon, Qiuhan did not pause, covering nearly fifty miles. He watched the unicorn bounding ahead, seemingly tireless and full of excitement.

At midday, the sun shone brightly, with occasional cool breezes that set Qiuhan’s hair and sleeves drifting gently. Man and beast, alone upon the silent plain, formed a picturesque scene, like a graceful ink painting.

Their shadows stretched long as evening approached. Qiuhan finally reached the edge of the plain. Looking ahead, he saw a vast grassland dotted with pools of water, thick with wild grass. Beyond, mist shrouded everything, rendering the terrain invisible.

His master had once said, “The Misty Marsh is perpetually veiled in fog, home to various beasts, including second-tier and even third-tier monsters. Even foundation-stage cultivators face grave dangers within, and carelessness may lead to death. Flying in the Misty Marsh is the most foolish action—unless your cultivation is high enough, you become an easy target for its beasts.”

“Though the Misty Marsh is perilous, avoiding flight and using the terrain wisely can help evade danger. The grassland is rich in rare spiritual herbs—gathering a few will suffice!”

Qiuhan recalled his master Gu Sui Feng’s words, and gradually his resolve sharpened.

“The day is late. Best to find a safe place to rest tonight, regain my strength, and enter the Misty Marsh tomorrow morning.”

So he decided to rest for the night, for the events of recent days had left him deeply shaken and exhausted.

The unicorn refused to return to the spirit beast pouch, stubbornly insisting on staying by Qiuhan’s side no matter how he coaxed or pleaded. Qiuhan, helpless, allowed it to remain outside, but instructed it not to stray far.

Night passed. At dawn, Qiuhan rose, found a clear pool to wash, tidied his clothes, and glanced around—the unicorn was frolicking happily in a patch of grass.

Qiuhan pondered briefly, took several items from his storage pouch, and together with the unicorn, slowly ventured toward the Misty Marsh ahead.