Chapter 18 - The Sword in the Sky

A boy sat cross-legged atop a mountain in the heart of Green Cloud Valley. His eyes were shut, his breath shallow, as if in deep meditation. Below him, the once tranquil valley buzzed with activity. Dozens of sects had arrived, pitching tents and forming camps around the base of the mountain. No one knew when the ancient trial would begin, but they had all gathered here in anticipation—disciples, elders, and hidden monsters disguised as mortals.

But none of it mattered to Li Yang.

His spirit sense delved inward, exploring the sealed pathways within his body. A mortal would never possess spiritual sense without cultivation, but Li Yang was no ordinary person. He had walked the path of cultivation before. What he discovered now were eight intricate seals buried deep in his body: two in his arms, two in his legs, one on his forehead, two coiled tightly around his dantian, and one embedded in the center of his chest. They pulsed faintly with divine light.

A wry smile touched his lips. Two years ago, I had already stepped into the Emperor Realm…

If the world knew this, even the so-called prodigies of this continent would tremble. Lu Yan, hailed as a once-in-a-century genius, had only just entered the initial General Realm. Compared to her, he was like a dragon among insects.

But all of it had been stripped from him.

In a single night, his cultivation vanished. Within two days, the eight divine seals appeared, suppressing not only his strength but everything that made him who he was.

Every attempt to force a breakthrough ended in blood and agony. His body would fracture, his soul scream. And every time he probed the seals, he sensed an ancient, divine will lurking within them. Something far greater than he could yet comprehend.

Yet, the seals had not harmed him. On the contrary, they had changed him. Over the last two years, the accumulated killing intent in his body had been quietly absorbed. His physique had transformed. Now, even a king-grade weapon could not pierce his skin.

He had concluded. The seals were preparing him.

Preparing him to withstand the power he once held. To become something even greater.

And though the feeling of weakness gnawed at his pride, over time… it tempered him. He learned to observe the world differently. Detached. Silent. As though he were a stranger drifting through someone else's dream. The seals had distanced him from the world, and in doing so, brought clarity.

Now, the seals were weakening.

A thread of spiritual energy leaked from them day by day—denser, purer, more refined than anything he'd ever cultivated. In just ten days, his cultivation had risen from the first level of the Mortal Realm to the ninth.

Li Yang smiled faintly. He wasn't powerless anymore.

He opened his eyes—only to flinch slightly. A flawless, porcelain face was staring straight at him.

Lu Yan blinked, stunned. The lazy fool who usually mocked her with every breath was... cultivating? And not just that—his aura had changed. Strong. Mysterious. Dangerous.

"Ninth level of the Mortal Realm in ten days?" she muttered, dumbfounded. "What kind of monster are you?"

Li Yang raised his hands in mock defense. "Beautiful lady, don't look at me like that. Though I'm devastatingly handsome, I won't fall prey to your evil charms."

Lu Yan's eyebrow twitched. Had anyone else dared say that, she'd have drawn her sword. But with him, she could only suppress her irritation. This guy is too fast to hit.

She scowled. "You're not fooling me. You're some old monster pretending to be young. How else do you know all this?"

Li Yang, who was just basking in his coolness, instantly deflated. "This young master… is done talking to you."

He closed his eyes again, focusing inward. Though his cultivation surged forward on its own, it felt like treading a fragile path. No one had walked this road before. He had to understand every step, every change, to ensure his survival.

Then, something shifted.

He froze.

The air… trembled.

Spiritual energy surged across the valley, rising like a tide. He opened his eyes and looked up.

Lu Yan felt it too. Her body shivered under the sudden pressure in the air. She turned her gaze skyward and gasped.

Streams of spirit Qi twisted above the valley, merging into one colossal shape. A shimmering silhouette formed, clearer and clearer—until a giant sword of light hung above the world, pointed downward like the blade of heaven.

Throughout the valley, cultivators trembled. Some collapsed. Some knelt. The true geniuses gritted their teeth and sat in quiet meditation, resisting the pressure.

Lu Yan's expression changed. Her body, without permission, began to circulate Qi. It was moving on its own, guided by the sword above. Alarmed, she tried to resist—but a calm voice interrupted.

"Let go," Li Yang said softly. "It will help you. Understand the intent. This is the final form of sword intent. Accept it—and you'll grow."

Lu Yan glanced at him. His eyes were calm, filled with knowing. She clenched her fists, then nodded. Slowly, she closed her eyes and focused.

Li Yang watched her. Good. If she had resisted, she would have lost the opportunity. Now… perhaps she had a chance.

He looked back up. The massive sword pulsed with light and pressure. Below, some sect disciples had already fainted. The weaker ones were vomiting blood. But the elites—those nurtured by ancient sects—endured. Beside them stood their elders, guarding them from the shadows.

He smiled faintly. Even Lu Yan had no one. Yet she had come this far.

But to him, the so-called "sword intent" above was laughable. The ancient blue sword at his waist didn't even stir. It rejected the energy, as though it were beneath notice.

He sighed and looked farther away, into memory.

Long ago…

An old man lay in bed, face pale. A handsome youth sat quietly at his side.

The elder lifted a frail hand and patted the boy's head. His eyes were full of sorrow and pride.

"The prophecy… cannot be changed, my grandson. You don't want this burden. I know. But fate is cruel. The world will change because of your choices."

The boy said nothing, his eyes calm.

The old man smiled bitterly. A child… yet fate chooses him.

"This is your destiny," he whispered. "A prophecy of the God of Divine War."

Far away, in a vast palace...

A middle-aged man stared at the sky from his throne. His eyes narrowed at the sword forming in the clouds.

It has begun.

He tapped the jade armrest twice. A shadowy figure knelt behind him.

"Report," the man said, not turning.

"The Young Master is cultivating. We've kept him safe as ordered."

"Good. If needed, send more people. Just… don't let him know."

He closed his eyes briefly. It's been four years…

"I wasn't able to protect your mother," he whispered. "But I'll protect you, my son."

His eyes fell to an ancient animal-skin scroll. He clenched his fists.

The prophecy… it begins now.

On the scroll, faded but legible, ancient characters glowed softly:

The day the sword is born in the sky, the wheel of fate will begin to turn.

The world will rise. Countless geniuses will awaken.

Chaos will spread. Blood will flow.

Greed and evil will rise unshackled.

Until the child born beneath the passing comet rises.

Heaven and earth will witness a legend.

And the greatest battle of mankind will begin.

The final question shall be—

Will humanity ever see the sunrise again?