Volume One: Youthful Encounters in Subtle Times Chapter 114: The Sage Intervenes, Part Two

The Sword Saint turned to the Daoist and asked, “May I ask, what is the name of your divine ability?”

The Daoist did not hesitate to answer; he smiled and said, “The Universe in the Palm.”

The elderly Taoist listened carefully, savoring the name for a moment, then said, “A fine name indeed, truly worthy of ‘Universe in the Palm.’”

The woman then explained, “He has internalized the four-dimensional space into his own domain. Everything that happens within this space operates according to his design. Even the energy generated by our divine techniques and spells is, under his arrangement, transformed back into the purest form to feed his sword formation.”

The elder scholar added, “When we descended from the void, we had already fallen into his domain. Now, no matter how we strike, the energy ultimately becomes part of him. In other words, from the very beginning, we walked right into his scheme.”

No sooner had he spoken than his words manifested into reality. He softly uttered, “Clear the clouds to see the sun,” and the true nature of their surroundings was revealed before their eyes. It turned out that not only them but also those who wished to open the Heavenly Gate had long since been absorbed into the Daoist’s domain.

Within the Daoist’s realm, as long as he wished, all they saw, felt, and knew were under his control. Harvesting their lives was but a matter of a flick of the wrist.

Seeing this, the Sword Saint drew his blue steel sword, gazing at the Daoist, and said, “I admire you greatly, but unfortunately, we stand on different grounds. Forgive me.”

With that, he swung his sword down. The strike bore no flourish or momentum—just an ordinary stroke—but even so, it was the first time the Daoist felt a genuine sense of grave threat.

By the standards of cultivation, this strike had reached the realm of returning to simplicity, the pinnacle that human sword and blade arts could attain.

The Daoist himself did not follow the path of the sword. His self-created sword technique was better understood as a martial path. How far this martial path could extend was beyond his current knowledge; it ultimately depended on how far Li Yu could go.

This strike was not only witnessed by the Daoist; he had not deliberately concealed the others’ perception of the five saintly spirits. Thus, others also saw the five saintly spirits’ attack on the Daoist.

The Sword Immortal, Lu Ming, who cultivated the sword path, was profoundly shocked by the Sword Saint’s strike. He had seen his master, Sword Nine Heavens, and other sword cultivators from the Great Sword Qingshan Sect in action, but their moves seemed subtly different from the Sword Saint’s, especially in the realm of the sword heart.

He recognized this as his opportunity. If he could absorb this chance, it would greatly aid his sword path cultivation.

Xie Tong watched the Sword Saint’s strike midair with deep emotion. He thought, “The sword cultivators from thousands of years ago truly differ from us. They could truly forge ahead without hesitation or attachments. Their sole belief was the sword itself, their only creed. How unlike us, who waver and hesitate!”

Indeed, this was the sole difference between the sword cultivators of today and those from millennia past. It was also why the Daoist felt deep disappointment toward modern sword cultivators.

In the Daoist’s view, a sword cultivator must hold to the singular sword path, steadfastly guarding their inner conviction. Even if their belief ran counter to all worldly paths, they had to wield their sword resolutely, as if a single stroke could topple a thousand armies, never turning back until hitting the final wall.

This, too, was the only way for a sword cultivator to achieve clarity of the sword heart and return to simplicity.

The elder Sword Immortals knew that today’s sword cultivators were fraught with distractions. When the Imperial Supreme Hall oppressed all beings, they chose compromise from the start. This one wrong choice influenced all who followed and the sword path they cultivated.

This was why all sword cultivators now had reached a dead end, unable to advance further.

Though aware their state of mind was flawed, the positions they were born into were fixed from the beginning, impossible to change—unless, like the Blade Saint, they broke free.

Xie Tong glanced at the Blade Saint with newfound respect. Upon learning that the final realm of the blade path required unyielding courage to break and rebuild, the Blade Saint decisively severed his sect’s bonds and began anew.

Thus, he reached his current level of power.

The Blade Saint had yet to be truly called such. Only upon reaching the stage of returning to simplicity could he be rightly titled the Blade Saint.

He was now at the Fourteenth Realm; the Fifteenth required a rare opportunity—not something anyone could readily find. The Daoist was one in ten thousand. Yet the final stage of sword and blade paths was traceable. Returning to simplicity was more about one’s character. Only when one fully understood how their cultivation aligned with their core heart could they see the light of breakthrough.

As the Sword Saint’s strike descended upon the Daoist, the Blade Saint stood nearby, eyes fixed on the brilliant sword light, burning with fierce battle intent. Initially, he focused on the Daoist, hoping to find his own opportunity for breakthrough there.

Unexpectedly, he was rewarded instead with the Sword Saint from thousands of years ago, which intrigued him far more.

However, he could not intercept the strike; he wished to see how the Daoist would respond.

The Daoist knew this strike aimed to sever his Dao heart, to make him lose all fighting strength—even his cultivation.

In high-level battles, moves grow less about external flair and more about internal essence: cutting off cultivation, severing life and death forces, or more powerfully, cutting the Dao heart—the foundation of years of cultivation.

The Daoist had performed such feats before, but never had anyone used a sword strike to sever the Dao heart against him.

Indeed, the Sword Saint’s strike was not only a Dao heart severing sword but also contained elements of cutting life and death, severing cause and effect, and cutting cultivation. To the Daoist, these were all external paths. Only the Dao heart was directly connected to him.

If he refused to receive the Dao heart sword or destroyed it, it would reveal his lack of confidence to face it, and his carefully crafted grand plan would collapse.

Yet, if he accepted it, he must do so without using cultivation or Dao techniques, relying solely on his Dao heart to withstand it. The question was whether he could truly endure it.

The Dao heart sword was no ordinary sword technique, nor something any cultivator could comprehend.

It signified profound mastery of the Dao heart path, transforming it into a weapon. Moreover, before wielding the Dao heart sword, one had to have first endured such a strike themselves to wield it skillfully; otherwise, it risked self-injury.

Having resolved to withstand it, the Daoist refrained from using any cultivation to absorb the sword light, allowing it to slice into his Dao heart.

As the sword light entered the Daoist’s body, the Sword Saint sensed the scene of the Daoist’s heart lake.

In the Sword Saint’s perception, the Daoist’s heart lake was vast—not merely a lake, but an ocean. It was calm, without the slightest ripple or storm, which earned the Sword Saint’s clear admiration.

“Your heart is truly calm. Even in such an environment, you remain undisturbed. It’s clear you have not let these matters weigh on your mind, not even your own life and death,” the Sword Saint spoke directly to the Daoist within the heart lake.

The Daoist replied, “What I pursue now, I have pondered a thousand or eighteen hundred times in my mind. I have drawn many conclusions about my own fate. Since all is within my control, why should I be disturbed by what I can foresee?”

The Sword Saint said no more but watched quietly as the sword light sank into the heart lake, awaiting the outcome of their duel.

The sword light dove towards the Daoist’s profound gate within the lake. At the gate, the sword light transformed into a figure indistinguishable from the Daoist himself, knocking on the door as if to usurp the Daoist’s place.

Contrary to the Sword Saint’s expectation that the Daoist’s heart gate would remain firmly shut, the door opened after the first knock, which surprised him.

The figure entered, and the gate suddenly closed. Everything unfolded abruptly and unexpectedly, even catching the Sword Saint off guard.

He waited a while longer, but the heart gate did not reopen. Just as he considered sending out a fragment of his divine awareness to investigate, he was summoned out by the Daoist.

Thus, he knew he had lost this contest of Dao hearts.

Only when the figure formed from the sword light was utterly defeated would the Daoist expel the Sword Saint’s presence.

The Sword Saint sheathed his sword and cupped his hands, saying, “I admire you. Though you have not cultivated as long as we have, your Dao heart’s purity and firmness are not inferior to ours. I lost. In cultivation, we are not far apart; but in divine abilities and Dao techniques, you clearly surpass me. I have nothing left to fight with in this battle.”

A sword cultivator may lose, but they must not do so unwillingly or begrudgingly. Yet in this duel with the Daoist, the Sword Saint lost willingly. As he said, when it comes to divine abilities and Dao techniques, he could not be sure of defeating the Daoist.

The only thing capable of manifesting the Dao heart sword from sword cultivation, forcing the opponent into a corner with no escape but forward, was easily countered by the Daoist. This showed the Daoist’s strength to be clearly superior.

Even so, why would he seek to make things difficult for him?

No one knew that the Daoist’s victory was far from easy.

After all, this was the Dao heart sword wielded by a saint at the realm of returning to simplicity. It was a battle between two saints’ Dao hearts. The Daoist’s win involved some measure of luck.

Fortunately, he won the bet.