Chapter Eighty: Daybreak

Scarlet Snow stood before Feng Chuxun, and the monster seemed to hurl itself upon the blade, its body sliced cleanly in two as if it were nothing but tofu.

“What incredible speed!”

A gasp rose among the crowd. Even these monsters, whose bodies were so tough, were split in half as easily as a block of bean curd. The grade of this sword—how high must it be?

Feng Chuxun himself stared in disbelief at Scarlet Snow in his hand. The crimson blade was adorned with frost-blue and white patterns, two distinct streams of spiritual energy emanating from it, intertwining and vying with each other, forming an enigmatic nexus. For a moment, Feng Chuxun even forgot the discomfort the sword had brought him.

With such a sharp blade, who was left to fear?

He looked at the swarming monsters before him. What was there to be afraid of now?

Suppressing the unease the sword brought with his spiritual power, Feng Chuxun wielded the sword and dashed headlong into the horde. The thrill of each effortless kill grew stronger, and as it did, his sword techniques became ever more mysterious and dazzling.

...

“So this is sword intent.”

Feng Chuxun finally seized upon that elusive sensation. At this moment, he became the sword itself. Wherever his senses could reach, his sword would follow.

“Have you noticed something strange? Isn’t Senior Brother Feng… gone?” a disciple watching Feng Chuxun’s rampage remarked.

“Are you daft? He’s right there.”

“No, not to the eye. I mean the feeling,” someone else replied. “If you close your eyes for a moment, do you sense him at all?”

“Of course not, that’s just nonsense. How am I supposed to see him without my eyes?”

“…I can’t talk to you about this.”

“What do you mean by that?”

...

“This sword is most intriguing,” Shen Qingyun murmured, the corner of his mouth curling. When it came to perception, he was the most sensitive among them. He saw through Feng Chuxun’s sword intent at a glance.

At this moment, Feng Chuxun moved through the monsters like a fish through water. Every attack they launched missed its mark. As he wielded this sword intent, he sensed a wondrous power hidden within, something he could almost grasp, yet not quite.

Every swing of the sword brought that feeling anew.

“I understand now!”

Feng Chuxun smiled. He had unintentionally used this once before. The mystery of that moment had surpassed his understanding of the sword—it felt even more profound than sword intent itself!

A streak of sword light slashed out, only for a bizarre scene to unfold: the arc of sword light froze in midair, unmoving. To all who watched, it was as if some force had bound it in place.

After releasing the sword light, Feng Chuxun stopped attacking and slowly closed his eyes. His mind swept out, and in an instant, the sword light moved. Without warning, it shot forth, so fast that no one could react in time!

A monster stood with the sword light floating silently behind it. In its blood-red eyes flashed disbelief, and then its body split in two...

A strange glint flickered in Shen Qingyun’s gaze. He could tell, from this latest display, something more than swordsmanship: Feng Chuxun was nearly spent!

Sword rises, sword falls—each stroke claimed a life.

Yet as Feng Chuxun’s swings grew more frequent, his movements slowed noticeably. Beads of sweat broke out densely across his brow. Even so, he did not cease his relentless attacks.

Even as the monsters were slaughtered single-handedly, their numbers remained vast. They soon surrounded Feng Chuxun, circling, and lunged at him whenever a chance arose.

“Shouldn’t we go help Senior Brother Feng?” Ling Xiao, Su Ye, and Wu Xier gathered beside Shen Qingyun, voicing their concern as they watched the scene unfold. Even they could see that Feng Chuxun was in a dire state.

Shen Qingyun considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No need. If he truly cannot hold on, I will step in.”

Hearing this, the others breathed a sigh of relief. Their faith in Shen Qingyun was absolute, almost blind.

Feng Chuxun clearly felt it too—his body was growing ever more exhausted. Each movement now cost him several times more strength than before.

“Hold on. If I can’t even endure this, how can I speak of vengeance for the Feng clan?”

He reminded himself of this with every swing, and it was this resolve that pushed him to surpass his limits, again and again, even as exhaustion threatened to break him.

“Do you still intend to persist?”

A voice echoed in his mind, ethereal and indistinct, yet it left a deep impression.

Feng Chuxun’s movements faltered slightly. He recognized the voice—it was Shen Qingyun’s. And he had never doubted that Shen Qingyun could do such a thing. There was so much about him that was simply unfathomable.

Feng Chuxun gave no reply. He continued to raise Scarlet Snow, assiduously cutting down the monsters.

After a while, Shen Qingyun’s voice sounded in his mind once more.

“You know your own condition better than anyone. Do you really intend to die in this forsaken place?”

Shen Qingyun sighed, his voice echoing in Feng Chuxun’s mind. “I do not know your past, but you must understand—your past shapes your present, but your future need not be dictated by it.

“Those who live only in the pain of their past are destined to have no future.”

At these words, Feng Chuxun’s hand tightened visibly around Scarlet Snow.

“I... I want to be strong. I want to be so strong that everyone who sees me will tremble in fear,” he murmured, standing rigid and unmoving—even the monsters lunging at him seemed to go unnoticed.

“Your future depends on your attitude. Your past may have been bitter enough, unfortunate enough—why let your future be filled with the same pain?”

“Sometimes, you must allow yourself to lean on others. Don’t wait until you are truly in despair before cherishing what you have.”

Shen Qingyun’s final sigh lingered in Feng Chuxun’s mind, echoing through his heart.

“I...”

Feng Chuxun’s hands and even his entire form trembled—betraying the turmoil within.

“Senior Brother Feng!”

“Don’t—Senior Brother Feng!”

Cries of alarm broke out among the disciples of Green Bamboo Peak as they saw the monsters pressing close to Feng Chuxun, yet he remained unresponsive, just as before.

But Shen Qingyun saw it—the hand gripping the sword fell slack.

“Chief Shen, please, help him!” Wu Xier urged anxiously.

Without further words, Shen Qingyun moved—so swiftly that no one saw how.

Channeling his spiritual power into a blade, he swept away the monsters clinging to Feng Chuxun. Then, standing before the horde, lips curled in a faint smile, he said, “Step back. Today, allow me to demonstrate for you the true use of sword intent.”

Feng Chuxun, gripping Scarlet Snow, staggered back two steps, his face paling even further. Yet his eyes shone with fervor as he watched Shen Qingyun, unwilling to miss a single moment.

“True sword intent makes all things a blade.”

Shen Qingyun advanced on the monsters. “I once witnessed a single leaf take a life a hundred miles away.”

“But even that is not the end.”

He stopped. A dazzling golden light burst from his body, as radiant as the first rays of dawn, so brilliant that none dared look directly at him. In this ghastly valley, he became the sole source of light.

Feng Chuxun felt it—a gentle sword intent pulsing within that golden brilliance.

“Sword God, Dawnbringer.”

Shen Qingyun’s voice was slow and solemn, as if echoing through the ages, heavy with sorrow and antiquity.

The golden radiance around him surged upward, forming a pillar of light that pierced the heavens! The entire valley was swept by its glow. The sudden brilliance forced everyone to squint, heads tilting upward toward the shaft of light.

At the same time, countless beastly howls and screeches echoed throughout the valley.

Deep within the ghostly chasm, a slumbering consciousness stirred, awakened by the blinding light. Violet eyes gazed brazenly at the pillar, arms spread wide as if to embrace the world, reveling in the bath of radiance.

An awkward, unfamiliar voice rasped from its throat: “Light... how I have missed it!”

...

Back with Shen Qingyun, the blinding golden light made it impossible for the others to open their eyes. Even with eyes shut, the afterimage of the golden pillar lingered before them. In that instant, their world seemed to contain only this one dazzling column of light.

In truth, the golden brilliance banished the darkness of the valley, revealing its true face at last.

The monsters, mouths agape on their backs, let out terrified screeches. The two blood-red eyes on their heads began to smoke under the golden rays; their serpentine bodies writhed in agony.

Shen Qingyun seemed to merge with the golden radiance, his form becoming one with the light. The gentle sword intent now turned sharp as steel—the light itself became his blade, following him forward with an unstoppable force, sweeping into the horde.

The light swept across the land in an instant, tearing through space and bending vision itself. It carved a long, white line across the plain, each shockwave flattening everything in its path.

Explosion after explosion resounded—countless monsters burst into clouds of black blood mist, leaving not a trace behind.

Feng Chuxun strained to keep his eyes open, desperate to watch Shen Qingyun in action, but the radiance was so intense that he could only manage a sliver.

As he witnessed countless monsters obliterated in a single instant, a phrase echoed in his mind: “Where Qingyun marches, not a blade of grass remains...”

This technique burned itself into his memory.

As the light faded, Feng Chuxun rushed before Shen Qingyun and looked up at him, eyes blazing.

“I want to learn!”