Pure Yang Heaven, as the direct inheritance of a Dao Ancestor, had already existed in the Yingfutu Realm for over one hundred thousand years.
During that vast span of time, it had produced dozens of upper third-rank cultivators.
And almost without exception, every Pure Yang Son who reached the upper third rank became a walking calamity; if gods blocked them, they slew gods; if buddhas blocked them, they slew buddhas.
Whatever their ultimate fate, each one stirred up immense waves wherever they went.
Such carnage naturally brought spoils in its wake.
After all, even the most industrious sects like the famed Chongxuan Palace, known for its resource production, couldn't earn wealth as quickly as a Pure Yang sword could rob it.
Thus, most Pure Yang cultivators were anything but poor; many were veritable tycoons of slaughter.
Because of this, any treasure stored by their predecessors in the sect treasury was bound to be an artifact of priceless power and rarity.
When Jing Qian stepped into the treasury, the first thing that met his eyes was the colossal corpse of a powerful demon beast.
With a sweep of his Three-Lives Eye, he instantly saw its true nature:
Spirit Construct: Thousand-Eyed Golden Centipede
Type: Outer Path Moon
Grade: Third Rank
Nurtured under the Pure Yang Golden Eye; even the Eyeless One avoids it.
The creature's body was over ten meters long and about a meter thick, coiled in a heap near the entrance.
Its back was covered in countless closed eyes, and as Jing Qian approached, they flickered open one by one, secretly peeking at him.
Yet most of those eyes weren't its own.
His divine sight quickly revealed the truth:
each eyeball came from a different being, from third rank down to fifth,
a dazzling collection of otherworldly specimens gathered as materials
for forging the Pure Yang Golden Eye.
Still, not a single part of the centipede's body contained a second-rank material.
The Eyes of Wuzhiqi and Eyes of the Nightshade Yasha that Jing Qian himself had refined far surpassed anything on this carcass.
He walked past the centipede and ventured deeper into the treasury.
Soon, he came before a massive stone bookshelf, stacked from top to bottom with white-jade scales the size of a palm.
Taking one up and probing it with his divine sense,
he found within it a complete cultivation manual titled:
"Chronicles of the Hidden Dragon of the Abyss."
This Life Register began with the burning of one's life essence to fix destiny, and it included full instructions for refining Life Patterns and Spirit Constructs, guiding a cultivator all the way to the third-rank Heaven-Mending Realm, a rare and precious manual indeed.
And this was but one among hundreds of similar Life Registers lined across the shelves.
There were even seven full Dao Books, each infinitely more precious.
Jing Qian reached out and took down Shang Xi's own manual
"Treatise of the Grand Void: The Inner Observation of the Celestial Cycle."
After studying a few pages, he already felt his understanding deepen.
He then picked up another text:
"The World-Refining Cookfire Codex of the Stove King Hall."
The cultivation methods within were intriguing enough,
but what truly caught his attention were the divine recipes inscribed between the lines, each one extraordinary, capable of effects bordering on the miraculous.
Scanning the overflowing bookshelf, Jing Qian couldn't help but admire his predecessors.
"What kind of intimidation," he mused,
"Does it take so long to make so many sects hand over their core inheritances?"
His forebears clearly had no fear of karmic retribution whatsoever.
Standing before the shelves, he carefully selected seven Dao Books and thirty-six Life Registers of unique value, adding them all to his private collection.
He thought back to his earlier days, when obtaining even a single Dao Book required endless struggle, yet here in this treasury, it was like choosing fruits at the market.
Later, when he had time, he planned to study each text in detail, to fortify his cultivation foundation and expand his inner database of techniques and laws so that, whether in study or battle, his efficiency would reach new heights.
The trip was already well worth it.
Moving past the shelves, he ventured further into the depths of the treasury and soon arrived before a strange sight.
There stood a small shrine built of green stone, its door adorned with a plaque bearing two solemn characters:
"Sword Tomb."
He ducked inside and entered a sealed chamber.
Within were seventeen memorial tablets, each belonging to a deceased Pure Yang Son.
By touching one with his divine sense, he could glimpse that elder's entire life.
Every cultivator enshrined in the Sword Tomb had perished utterly, their souls scattered, beyond reincarnation.
Yet each of them had once blazed gloriously across the heavens.
Jing Qian brushed one of the tablets with his spirit, and a stream of information poured into his mind:
"Pure Yang disciple Dao Yuan.
Cultivated for 4,672 years.
Wielded the Yuanming Sword.
Achieved nine strands of Heavenly Mandate.
Reached the third rank, Heaven-Mending Realm.
In pursuit of second-rank attainment, I ventured into the Nine-Crow Flame Sky, slaying nine Golden Crow blood princes, three Red Luan tails, and two Azure Birds.
Fell in battle.
Vengeance accomplished."
Before the memorial tablet of Dao Yuan, his weapon, the legendary Yuanming Sword, lay horizontally across a wooden sword rest.
Once a second-rank divine sword that had followed Dao Yuan through countless battles across the void, it had long since collapsed into ruin.
Now, no trace of fate or spiritual power remained upon it, only an empty shell, its surface cold, dense, and saturated with killing intent.
Jing Qian swept his gaze around the entire Sword Tomb.
Before each of the other sixteen tablets lay a similar relic, the fractured husk of a sword that had once cut down gods and demons alike.
Moving clockwise, he approached each tablet in turn, silently paying his respects while studying the life histories preserved upon them.
He soon noticed a pattern:
Every fallen Pure Yang Son had perished in a world-shaking battle.
Whenever one of his sect's high cultivators fell, it was never alone; their deaths always dragged other great powers into the grave with them.
And in most cases, the debts of blood had already been repaid.
The remnant swords before each tablet were unique: some shattered completely, some only cracked.
Pure Yang Heaven had built this Sword Tomb not only to commemorate its forebears,
but also to preserve these battle-worn blades as treasures.
For later disciples, they served as invaluable materials for tempering their own Sword-Dao Life Patterns or refining new Spirit Constructs.
Among the seventeen, only one had fallen from the second rank, and his record was unusually brief:
"Pure Yang disciple Jian Yang.
Cultivated for 7,635 years.
Forged the Saintly Manifestation.
Wielded the Thirty-Six Yang Swords of Heavenly Gang.
On the Mountain of Immortal Qi, a Stele of four characters.
The Stele was later broken.
Fell in battle. Vengeance unfulfilled."
The account of Jian Yang's life and death was so sparse it bordered on deliberate omission, but Jing Qian could tell that the truth must have been deeply buried.
To shatter even a second-rank Pure Yang Son's Fate Stele, an immortal tablet meant to anchor one's undying essence atop the Mountain of Immortal Qi, the enemy must have been terrifyingly strong.
It was clear that whoever erected Jian Yang's tablet had deliberately erased every other detail, leaving only three words: "Vengeance unfulfilled."
Before the tablet rested Jian Yang's famed weapon, the Thirty-Six Heavenly Gang Yang Swords, now badly damaged.
The set was incomplete; only thirty-five blades had been recovered, and each was riddled with pits and cracks.
Yet even in ruin, the residual aura of these swords was far stronger than the remnants of the other sixteen Pure Yang elders.
Jing Qian stepped forward and picked up one of the Yang Swords.
As he examined it, his eyes widened. It wasn't completely dead.
He set the sword down, then examined the others one by one, until he confirmed that although broken, the swords still retained a trace of living sword-intent.
The Thirty-Six Heavenly Gang Yang Swords had not been fully destroyed; their inner rhythm of Dao still lingered, and that meant they could still be used.
Bowing respectfully before Jian Yang's tablet,
Jing Qian sat cross-legged, drew one of the Yang Swords to him, and began channeling his own spiritual power to refine it.
If the full set had remained intact, these swords would have ranked among the top first-grade spirit weapons, peerless in might and status.
Now, most of their power had faded, eight- or nine-tenths lost,
But that very decay gave him a chance to re-forge them.
He had already studied the Pure Yang Sword-Refining Codex and the Script of Inscribed Sword Formations, and his mastery of sword-refinement had advanced greatly.
For some time, he had been planning to reforge his Spirit Construct weapon, the Locking Needle of Fate.
Though potent, the Locking Needle was inferior in heritage compared to his other spirit tools.
He had long intended to rebuild it and strengthen its foundation.
Now, the discovery of Jian Yang's surviving sword remnants was the perfect opportunity.
Using the techniques from the Sword-Refining Codex, he drew out from one Yang Sword a single thread of condensed sword-intent, then wound that luminous filament around the Locking Needle.
The moment it touched, the sword-intent merged seamlessly with the Spirit Construct, the two becoming one.
The Locking Needle's aura grew heavier, more resolute, though its rank and fate-value remained unchanged.
Jing Qian picked up a second Yang Sword, extracted another filament, and wound it around the Locking Needle as well.
With each extraction, he felt the remaining sword-intent within that blade fade completely, as if he were taking its final breath.
One by one, he stripped all thirty-five Yang Swords of their lingering essence until the Locking Needle was wrapped in thirty-five strands of luminous sword silk, the raw material for its rebirth.
When the materials were ready, Jing Qian stopped refining and instead turned his consciousness inward,
entering the space of his Fate Stele.
To complement the reforging of the Locking Needle,
he also needed to upgrade one of his Sword-Dao Life Patterns.
Before forming his Saintly Manifestation, he had rushed against time and lifespan,
pushing all his Life Patterns and fate-lines to their limits.
Now that he had advanced into the Longevity Realm, his life span had expanded, freeing new space for further growth.
He placed the Sword Formation Life Pattern upon the Stele and inscribed fate into it nine consecutive times, elevating it to Perfection at the Violet-Eye Level.
Then, invoking the divine might of Knowledge of Heavenly Mandate, he shattered the old pattern.
His ascension into Longevity, the refinement of his Immortal Sword Embryo, and the empowerment of his title seal had all reshaped his combat system. Now, his strongest means of attack was to trap foes within a sword-formation, then teleport close with the Immortal Sword Embryo and finish them in melee.
The Embryo's devastating killing power was the cornerstone of his ability to slay foes above his rank.
Yet the aging Sword Formation pattern had become a bottleneck.
Now, with a new lifespan and greater fate-capacity, his priority was to mend that weakness.
This was also the first time since forming his Saintly Manifestation that he had attempted to evolve a Heavenly Mandate.
When the divine light of the Sumeru Dao Stele awakened, his Saintly Manifestation appeared beside it. The image of the Sumeru Saint seemed almost alive, raising one finger and tapping it upon the shattered Sword Formation pattern.
In that instant, realization dawned in Jing Qian's heart.
Once he had condensed the Saintly Manifestation,
the boundless truths of the Great Dao had become vividly visible to his eyes.
With the Saint's power, he could now guide the evolution of Heavenly Mandate itself, steering it toward the direction his own will desired.
A true qualitative leap.
Instinctively, he willed the evolving Sword Formation toward the concepts of "space" and "entrapment."
And miraculously, the pattern obeyed, and it began to transform exactly as he intended.
As the might of the Saintly Manifestation intertwined with the Sumeru Stele, a new Heavenly Mandate took shape before him:
The Great Sumeru Celestial Cycle Sword Formation
Rank: Heavenly Mandate
*"Sword Qi circulates through the Celestial Cycle, its rise and fall without error, attaining the Four Dhyanas.
As deep and far-reaching as Sumeru, touching all points in equal measure, perfect in its completion."*
A surge of vast, majestic sword-formation intent poured into his mind, and his understanding of the sword soared exponentially.
Grasping the Locking Needle in his hand,
Jing Qian turned toward the Qingping Sword Casket and began to carve.
He wielded the needle like a brush, carving with a precision so sharp it could slice through air.
His movements were swift and fluid within moments; a complete Heavenly Gang Sword Formation had been engraved upon the Qingping Sword Casket.
The Great Sumeru Celestial Cycle Sword Formation was an immensely complex array.
In its perfected form, it could be broken down into lesser formations: the Heavenly Gang and Earth Fiend Array, the Seventy-Two Earth Fiend Array, and the Thirty-Six Heavenly Gang Array.
Yet Jing Qian's current cultivation base lacked the depth to inscribe the entire Great Celestial Cycle.
For now, he could only carve out the simplified, thirty-six-sword Heavenly Gang formation.
Even so, once the array's patterns settled upon the sword casket, its aura surged in strength, its spiritual resonance became deeper, more alive.
With the Sword Casket as its anchor, the Great Sumeru Array now had a physical foundation to evolve upon,
making future deployments of sword formations far easier.
More importantly, during this process, the Locking Needle of Fate began to resonate with the sword casket's aura,
and underwent its own transformation
Spirit Construct: Array Nail
Type: Root of Self-Realization
Grade: Fifth Rank
At the same time, the Wave Tide Life Pattern, which had shared its fate with the old Locking Needle, detached and was replaced by the new Great Sumeru Sword Formation.
Now, the Heavenly Fate of the sword formation and the Spirit Construct of the Array Nail formed a perfectly integrated whole, just like Qingpingmo was bound to the Qingping Sword Casket, or Yanfu Heaven to the Yanfu Seal.
Having completed this critical advancement, Jing Qian rose to his feet.
He flicked his wrist, and the Array Nail dissolved into thirty-six miniature swords, whirling in his palm to form a palm-sized Heavenly Gang Sword Formation.
His control over sword arrays had reached an entirely new level.
With this, his exploration of the Pure Yang treasury was complete; every usable resource had been claimed.
Dozens of secret manuals and Dao texts, combined with his newly forged Sword Formation and Array Nail,
had greatly enriched his foundation.
Leaping out of Pure Yang Heaven's Cave, Jing Qian returned to the boundary membrane of the realm.
He stood there, gazing down upon the Yingfutu Realm, lost in thought.
Since leaving Hun Continent, his cultivation journey had been nothing short of a lightning storm, every step explosive, decisive, without a single pause.
Each stage of training had brought visible, solid progress.
Now, with his growing strength and elevated status, the path ahead lay wide open.
He possessed the finest sect, the strongest inheritance, the deepest roots, and abundant resources.
So long as he followed the proper path, his progress toward the summit of cultivation was guaranteed.
Yet both Pure Yang Heaven and Yanfu Dao came with deep karmic entanglements and endless peril.
Unless he abandoned everything and found some safe corner of the world to cultivate in seclusion,
he doubted he'd ever enjoy a peaceful, step-by-step ascent.
Moments ago, within his Fate Stele Space,
He had used the incarnations of Blood Garment, Blood Cang, and Blood Ming
to probe the situation within the Blood River Sect.
Its current master, Blood River, had already ascended to the second rank, a Blood God Child, a true powerhouse.
He also bore a mid-grade title: Lord of Blood River,
his Immortal Spirit Qi refined into Golden Immortal Qi,
making his combat power far beyond that of ordinary second-rank beings.
If Shang Xi were still within this realm,
Blood River's return would have been his master's concern.
But alas, Shang Xi, soft-hearted where women were concerned, had flown off
to arrange a better "school district" for Zhenmiao's reincarnation,
leaving Jing Qian, the newly minted Yanfu Son and Pure Yang Son,
to face Blood River's blade himself.
For anyone else, the pressure would have been unbearable.
But Jing Qian felt no fear.
On the contrary, something within him burned brighter the more impossible the challenge appeared.
He could feel it: as his swordsmanship advanced, the ferocity and bloodlust within his heart grew stronger as well.
He gripped his sword tightly.
He made no effort to suppress that rising edge; instead, he allowed his thoughts to gallop freely, diving straight into the furious planning of his next cultivation phase.
With his power expanding, so too did the scale of his resources and ambitions.
His plans were becoming increasingly audacious, borderline outrageous.
Just then, Old White Ox came flapping toward him through the air.
"Sect Master," it said,
"If you're done using the Sword-Grinding Cliff, I'll be heading out."
"Since Master Shang Xi left, this realm's all yours now.
The aftermath of that great battle's only just beginning,
and the Yingfutu Realm won't stay peaceful for long."
"My cultivation's not high enough to meddle in the fights of you Dao heirs."
"Whatever you plan to do, just go for it.
Yingfutu's here for you, Pure Yang heirs to sharpen your blades upon.
Our sect doesn't need to hold back."
The old ox had served many generations of Pure Yang Sons
and knew exactly what kind of murderous lunatics they were.
Seeing Jing Qian's silent expression,
he knew at once he was already plotting something dangerous.
For the ox, self-preservation came first.
Guarding the Sword-Grinding Cliff was its duty;
Babysitting an ambitious Dao heir was not.
"The little ghost in my hoof still keeps contact," the ox continued.
"If you need me, just send word.
Otherwise, I'll hole up in Beishang Pass for a while.
When you're ready to reestablish Pure Yang Heaven's main gate,
call me back."
It was preparing to leave when Jing Qian stopped it.
"Hold on, Old Ox," he said.
"I've only just joined the sect, I still don't know all the rules."
With a gesture, he conjured a vast map in midair before them.
It was a complete map of the Yingfutu Realm, showing the twelve imperial continents, twenty-four military provinces, the vast oceans, and the mountainous, mist-shrouded Ju Continent.
Across the map, countless tiny glowing sigils dotted the landscape, each one a marker left by cultivators or sects, spread like constellations across the entire world.
Jing Qian spoke first:
"Old Bull, I've just advanced to the Longevity Realm, and I'm preparing to begin a new round of Spirit-Subduing cultivation."
"At my current stage, it's not that I lack mana foundation if anything, what I'm missing is tempering."
"I plan to take some time to personally visit the higher powers of the Yingfutu Realm, those of fourth rank and above, and exchange some cultivation insights with them."
"But my information is limited. I don't know if the locations of the great cultivators I've roughly sensed through the Three-Lives Eye are complete enough."
"And… I'm not sure whether this sort of thing violates any taboos within our realm."
The old white ox rolled his eyes and snorted.
"Master Chixiao, there's no need to pretend. Just admit you want to challenge or rather, upend every major cultivator in the Yingfutu Realm yourself."
"There's nothing strange about that. That's exactly how a Pure Yang Son is supposed to cultivate."
"In the past three thousand years, since Master Shang Xi was bound not to leave the mountain, the realm's been unusually peaceful."
"But if you look further back, of every three Pure Yang Sons, at least two and a half did exactly what you're planning to do."
"Great minds think alike!"
"Otherwise, what do you think all those secret manuals in our treasury came from?"
The ox flicked its tail, continuing:
"Still, most of those old masters only started their rampages after reaching the middle third rank.
You're still at the Longevity stage. This would be the first time anyone's started this early."
"But I know this routine well. Back when I still had decent cultivation, I carried plenty of those old masters on my back while they went on killing sprees across the realm."
"I know where all the old monsters like to hide."
As he spoke, the ox waved a hoof and released a stream of spiritual light.
Instantly, Jing Qian's map shimmered, and new details appeared not only the locations of Star-Plucking-rank and higher experts, but also notes on their cultivation traits and temperaments.
Jing Qian scanned the map and asked, half seriously:
"Old Bull, my cultivation path is rather… unique. There's a bit too much killing intent in it.
Among these people you've marked as 'friends,' which ones can I safely kill outright?"
"I'd rather not accidentally slaughter anyone our Pure Yang Heaven is on good terms with."
The old ox gave him a long look.
"Master, you're not planning to wipe out every high-level cultivator in the realm, are you? That might be a little excessive."
Jing Qian silently calculated the gap in his lifespan reserves and the number of kills needed to complete his Pure Yang Calamity Lord advancement.
Then he replied matter-of-factly:
"To complete my cultivation perfectly, I'll need to slay at least seventeen high-ranked cultivators."
The ox shook his great head with a sigh.
"In that case, the Dragon Palace in the vast sea is fair game."
"The Dragon Palace may count as one of the ten most dangerous places in the realm, but its former second-rank Dragon King was split in two by Master Ren Chong's sword, even his Fate Stele was shattered, beyond any chance of resurrection."
"Now, a dozen or so third-rank true dragons each occupy their own islands in the sea, drawing in earth veins and kindling their fate-fires, all trying to advance to the second rank and fight over the title of Dragon King."
"The dragon clans have always had a middling relationship with us. Plenty of our elders have butchered them before; if you kill a few more, no one will care."
"They breed quickly anyway, no need to worry about extinction."
"As for the other sea beasts, slay them as you wish; no karmic backlash there."
"But if you run into the Merfolk, maybe spare them a little. One of our previous Pure Yang Sons had… particular tastes; he actually married into the merfolk royal line. There's still a bit of incense karma there."
"And about the Kunpeng lineage, best not to go too far. There's still an old second-rank Kun living deep in the sea, quite formidable. Several Pure Yang Sons have challenged it before but failed to kill it."
Jing Qian scribbled furiously into a small notebook; every word the ox said was pure, priceless intelligence.
"As for the ghosts in the Sea of Resentful Souls, you can slaughter those freely.
Just don't cross paths with the Ghost Emperor of Wuchang and his rather unlucky younger sister."
"Within the Divine Dynasty's territories, most major sects are off-limits. The three lower sects that could be fought have already been annihilated by you two.
The rest shouldn't be pushed too hard."
"Go spar with them, exchange a few blows, but try not to actually kill anyone."
Jing Qian nodded repeatedly. He wasn't a mindless butcher, after all.
Among fellow human cultivators, a few sparring duels should suffice; no need for bloodshed.
"If you cross the northern gates of the dynasty and head to Ju Continent, that's where the top ten demon clans dwell."
"I've got a lot of old acquaintances there, friends, former drinking buddies, you name it.
Please, be gentle if you can. I'd rather not see you kill off my social circle."
"When you're ready to go 'exchange pointers' in Ju Continent, let me carry you there.
I'll drop you right at the doorstep of whichever great demon's lair is worth hitting, saves you the trouble of finding them."
Jing Qian nodded thoughtfully, mentally summarizing the situation.
Within the Divine Dynasty's sphere, most foes were untouchable, sparring only.
In the Mountain Ghost regions, where the old ox's enemies dwelled, he could kill freely, with a native guide to boot; the efficiency would be high.
And out on the Vast Sea, almost everything was fair game, with few restrictions, endless prey.
He looked down at the map, now glowing with more than one hundred and thirty markers, each representing a cultivator of fourth rank or higher, carefully annotated by the old ox.
After a brief calculation, Jing Qian had already mapped out an entirely new and unorthodox path of Spirit-Subduing cultivation, a road paved with duels, slaughter, and enlightenment.
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