Chapter 24: The Limitless Sword Sect
That ethereal light took shape as a Daoist boy.
“You are his sword spirit. Where has he gone?” the Ghost Mother asked.
“Miss Yun, it has been two thousand years. I have waited for you for two thousand years, and now you have finally come.” The sword spirit’s voice seemed to drift across the millennia, echoing in the ear—empty, illusory, and otherworldly.
“Are you the master’s successor?” The sword spirit glanced at Xu Zhong. “You have inherited the true teachings.”
Then, he summoned the middle-aged man who had previously called forth the myriad swords formation. “Guanchao, show our guest around the sect.”
The sword spirit led the Ghost Mother away.
Guanchao plucked a white cloud from the sky. “Come with me.”
Xu Zhong stepped onto the cloud.
“This is the Heavenly Sword Paradise, one of the thirty-six blessed grottoes of Yu Kingdom. Our Limitless Sword Sect is also one of the thirty-six sects of the Daoist Alliance. Though we rank last, we are still illustrious in name.”
Xu Zhong nodded numbly.
He knew of the Daoist Alliance, but not the Limitless Sword Sect; he knew of blessed grottoes, but not the specifics of Yu Kingdom’s thirty-six.
Guanchao was evidently unaware of Xu Zhong’s thoughts—had he known, he would surely have called him ignorant and unlearned.
The white cloud gradually approached the mountain peak. The mysterious veil was lifted by the wind, allowing Xu Zhong a glimpse of the whole.
The mountain soared beyond the clouds, a waterfall cascading as if descending from the heavens. Amidst the rising mists, immortal swords soared, their sword auras arching like rainbows across the sky. Immortal cranes and auspicious clouds ferried cultivators to and from Sword Inquiry Mountain.
“This mountain was once called Sword Inquiry Mountain, and it is the foundation of the Limitless Sword Sect. It is imbued with the sword rhythm of the Patriarch—our entire sword path originates here. One could say, Sword Inquiry Mountain is the Limitless Sword Sect itself.”
Yet the sect was not limited to Sword Inquiry Mountain; many sword-cultivating adepts lived here.
Where there are people, there will be villages, cities, assemblies.
But none of these were on Sword Inquiry Mountain.
Below was the realm of mortals; Sword Inquiry Mountain was the paradise of cultivators.
Seeing Xu Zhong’s gaze fall upon the mortal realm below, Guanchao spoke up: “Compared to the other thirty-five sects of the Daoist Alliance, our Limitless Sword Sect is relatively young, but we have stood for 4,500 years. In all those years, mortals have been continually chosen and brought here from the outside into the Heavenly Sword Paradise.”
“They cultivate here, build families, and establish livelihoods.”
The children of cultivators are not guaranteed to become cultivators themselves.
Over time, the mortal population grew, becoming an integral part of the paradise.
Unlike the outside world, mortals here live in peace and prosperity. Under the governance of cultivators, there is no war, no famine—everything is beautiful and harmonious.
Cultivators occasionally select promising individuals from these mortals to become new disciples.
Thus, a cycle is formed.
“Our Limitless Sword Sect is unlike other Daoist sects. Here, there are only two types of disciples: Sword Masters—cultivators who have comprehended the sword path—and Sword Servants—those who have not yet done so.”
Sword Servants cultivate on Sword Inquiry Mountain, seeking understanding. In time, they too may comprehend the sword path, though the time it takes varies.
Before joining the Limitless Sword Sect, Xu Zhong had gleaned some knowledge from You Sujue about the ranks and orders of immortal sects—inner and outer sects, menials, retainers.
Much like the tales recounted by storytellers in tea houses and taverns.
In those stories, the protagonist often rises from servitude, overcoming all odds to become immortal or divine.
But the Limitless Sword Sect was different from all other Daoist sects—this novelty intrigued Xu Zhong.
“In our sect, Sword Servants rotate through five main areas: the Swordsmith’s Forge, the Sword-washing Pool, the Sword-nurturing Hall, the Sword Tomb, and the Sword Prison. In each, they seek insights into the sword path.”
He pointed distantly toward Sword Inquiry Mountain, and suddenly the mountain seemed to shrink a thousandfold, its details laid bare.
These five areas were like the five vital organs of the body, facing each other across the mountain, generating a peculiar and ancient aura.
This aura caused the sword-heart within Xu Zhong to unconsciously resonate with sword intent.
The first thing Xu Zhong saw was a waterfall, as grand as a river of stars.
“This is the Sword-washing Pool. Legend says the Patriarch’s sword-heart was once clouded by dust and his sword rusted with neglect. He sat before a stream for three centuries, meditating, and in a moment of enlightenment, the dust vanished and radiance was born. That stream became our sect’s Sword-washing Pool.”
“For countless centuries, Sword Masters have come here to cleanse their sword-hearts and leave their sword intent behind. It is now a sacred ground of the sect.”
The river of stars gleamed, having accumulated untold sword path insights.
Yet beside this sacred ground, black smoke billowed and filth accumulated—the waste from the Swordsmith’s Forge downstream.
Above the Sword-washing Pool was the Forge.
The earth’s fire surged, thunder rumbled from the clouds overhead, and the clangor of iron echoed continuously—this was the Swordsmith’s Forge.
Every Sword Master’s blade in the sect was born here.
“All our disciples will forge swords, and most of the swords circulating in the Daoist Alliance come from this very forge.”
Swordsmithing is a craft, but it also depends on talent, especially for Daoist spirit swords.
It demands the utmost from the smith—judging the temperature by the color of the flame, controlling humidity; only when both are perfect can a spirit sword be forged.
What makes a sword a spirit sword is its sentience.
But that sentience is nurtured by the sword attendants of the Forge, and is closely related to the methods they cultivate.
The Sword-nurturing Hall lies to the lower left of the Forge, between it and the Sword-washing Pool.
The sword attendants move between the Hall and the Forge.
Within the Forge, there are 3,600 swordsmithing platforms.
When Sword Servants forge swords, they use a specialized eye technique that allows them to discern the grain of the metal, analyze its properties, sense temperature and humidity, and combine these with their spiritual reserves. A typical Sword Servant can produce a fine sword a day—producing a thousand daily is no challenge.
Yet even with this constant output, it barely suffices for the needs of the sect’s disciples.
“Our disciples fall into two main schools: those who place their sword in emotion, uniting man and sword—the Heart Sword school; and those who command legions of swords—the Sword Command school.”
“The former devote themselves to one sword for life—the man and the sword are one; if the sword is destroyed, so is the path. The Patriarch himself followed the Heart Sword school.”
Xu Zhong looked down at the Sword-washing Pool.
“That is why there is the tale of the Patriarch’s sword-heart clouded, cleansed in the pool, and enlightenment attained,” he mused inwardly.
“The Sword Command school is different. The sword is a tool, and most swords forged here end up in the sword pouches of their followers,” Guanchao continued. He himself followed the Sword Command path.
Sword Command disciples wield swords like flowing water, excelling in sword formations for combat—each formation consumes dozens or even hundreds of spirit swords. They are the sect’s gold-devouring beasts.
“Spirit swords forged in the Forge are sent to the Sword-nurturing Hall, where cultivators nurture them, hastening the birth of sword spirits.”
The Sword-nurturing Hall was unremarkable in appearance, but it was the heart of the sect. Guanchao did not introduce it in detail, instead glossing over it.
Beyond the Hall was the Sword Tomb.
The Sword Tomb lay to the lower right of the Forge, almost level with the Hall.
Above the Tomb, thick mists gathered, heavy with ominous energy.
As the wind stirred, the evil energy took shape as ghosts, clashing within the mist, unable to escape.
“The Sword Tomb, as the name suggests, is a grave for swords.” Guanchao pointed ahead.
His gesture parted the mists, revealing a strange sight.
Swords of every kind were thrust into the ground: some rusted, some broken, some pristine, all treated equally within the Tomb.
“These were all once the swords of our disciples,” Guanchao said quietly. “When their masters die, the swords do not perish. A sword with a lost master will never be wielded by another, so they are brought here.”
Spirit swords possess sentience, and with it, wisdom—just like people.
When a cultivator chooses a sword, the sword also chooses its master.
When the master dies, the sword spirit seals its sentience until another worthy soul appears.
“After becoming a Sword Master, disciples come to the Tomb. If none of the swords choose them, only then may they select a sword from the Hall.”
Perhaps this is what inheritance truly means, Xu Zhong thought to himself.
Just then, he saw several young disciples approach the Tomb.
They sat cross-legged and released their sword intent.
The sword intent spiraled skyward, manifesting all kinds of visions.
It was like peacocks displaying their plumage in courtship—these young people were doing everything to show their best selves to the objects of their desire.
“Young Xu, would you like to try your luck in the Sword Tomb to see if you find a suitable sword?” Guanchao asked politely.
“Perhaps another time,” Xu Zhong replied with a gentle smile. He was not a disciple of the sect, nor was he thick-skinned enough to treat this place as his own.
Guanchao smiled in return.
The cloud beneath their feet finally began to rise.
The Sword Prison was set on either side of the Sword-nurturing Hall.
There were two Sword Prisons.
“Most within are the most heinous—heretics, demon kings, ghosts, or disciples who have broken the sect’s rules.”
The Sword Prison was unremarkable: two sheer cliffs, like mirrors, with countless cave dwellings carved into their faces.
Each cave was a cell.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
A wild wind howled, carrying a fierce sword aura. A dominant sword intent presided here, subduing all.
Even from afar, Xu Zhong felt his spiritual energy being drawn out by the wind. His sword-heart was suppressed by an unseen force.
Despite the distance, he was still affected.
What of the prisoners deep within the Sword Prison, then? How immense must their torment be?
“The gale disperses magical power; the sword intent suppresses the soul.”
“Within the Prison, there is no magic. The soul is trapped, unable to move. Cultivators are reduced to mere mortals, in need of care. But they are sinners and do not deserve care—only food.”
Mortals hunger, grow dirty, stink.
So do they.
Except for food, they have no change of clothes, nowhere to relieve themselves...
Yet they cannot die.
They are left to languish in filth and stench, imprisoned in the Sword Prison.
Xu Zhong shivered unconsciously.
Placing himself in their position, the feeling was indescribable.
Aside from these five places, there was also a palace complex.
But compared to the Sword-washing Pool, the Forge, and the rest, it was of little interest.
Judging by the placement of the five areas and drawing parallels with the human body, one could deduce their correspondence to the Five Luminaries.
The Forge corresponded to the Fire Luminary’s hidden store—the process of forging and tempering the blade akin to refining the body’s marrow.
The Nurturing Hall matched the Wood Luminary—wood brings forth life, and here swords are granted spirit.
The Tomb aligned with the Earth Luminary—earth contains and harmonizes, thus it can hold so many spirit swords and preserve their essence.
The Sword-washing Pool was like the Water Luminary—washing away dust and storing essence, cleansing the sword-heart and preserving the sword path from being clouded.
The Sword Prison was the Metal Luminary—a millstone that grinds away impurities, enabling one to forgo sustenance. But here, it was used in reverse—to blow away magical power and suppress the soul.
“This isn’t Sword Inquiry Mountain—it ought to be the Five Luminaries Mountain,” Xu Zhong thought.
Suddenly, a hysterical voice rang out. “Impossible, impossible! He can’t be dead—no, you’re lying to me. Yes, you’re lying to me!”
The Ghost Mother’s immense form appeared within the Heavenly Sword Paradise. She had lapsed into madness. Under the might of her cosmic form, she regarded everyone within the paradise as nothing more than watermelons.