Chapter 7: A ray of sword intent

Demonic Beast Mountain Range, ancient trees soared into the sky, miasma spreading everywhere.

Ye Chen walked alone through this vast, untouched sea of primeval forest.

His steps were neither hurried nor slow.

Each time his foot fell, it landed on the firmest ground, avoiding slippery moss and hidden vines with ease.

He did not seem like an outsider at all, but rather a part of the mountain range itself, sharing the ancient rhythm of wind, trees, and light.

He ignored the Spirit Herbs and Exotic Fruits that ordinary cultivators would scramble for.

His gaze could pierce straight through the surface of things, seeing into their very essence.

With a single glance, he could tell which stalk of grass had lost its medicinal power, which flower was still unripe, and which ore, though lustrous outside, was hollow within.

This insight into the essence of things was the deepest instinct remaining in his fragmented memory.

His purpose here was clear—to seek out several main ingredients listed on a pill formula.

Yet, as he passed through a shadowy gorge, approaching a place known as “Blackwind Cliff”, for the first time, his steps halted.

It wasn’t because he had found some rare treasure.

It was a resonance.

Not a sound—nothing the ear could catch.

Not a fluctuation of spiritual power—nothing the senses could perceive.

It was a higher-level resonance, echoing directly within his soul.

A faint, pure, and yet nearly extinguished Sword Intent, like a candle flickering in the wind, was being transmitted from deep within the Blackwind Mountain Range.

It was weak, yet incomparably sharp, slicing effortlessly through Ye Chen’s eternal calm.

For the first time, a single, insignificant stone was cast into his tranquil heart, creating faint yet undeniable ripples.

“Oh?”

A barely audible sound of doubt escaped Ye Chen’s lips.

He turned, gazing toward the source of the Sword Intent, and at last, true interest appeared in his clear, unfathomable eyes.

It was not for pills, not for survival, but simply the instinct of a Sword Dao Sovereign.

He decided to “go see what was happening”.

—

Following that faint Sword cry, Ye Chen’s figure flickered through the forest, moving several miles in an instant.

The scent of blood mixed with the damp rot of fallen leaves grew heavier.

At last, in a clearing ravaged by violent force, he stopped.

Moonlight filtered through layers of leaves, casting broken silver patterns on the ground.

In that silver glow, a girl lay in a pool of blood.

She wore white clothes, now dyed crimson, as if a tragic flower had bloomed in the snow.

Her features were beautiful and proud.

Even in unconsciousness, there was a stubbornness between her brows.

But the most shocking thing was her eyes.

Tightly closed, with two dried streaks of blood trailing from the corners, like scars burned into her pale face.

She was blind.

Deadly wounds covered her body, her life hanging by a thread.

Yet even so, she clung tightly to a Broken Sword in her arms.

The sword’s light had faded, its blade cracked and only half remained, but she held it as if it were her very life.

Ye Chen’s gaze did not linger on her wounds or appearance.

His vision “looked” directly into her body.

Within, a mass of condensed, pure, and unimaginably sharp Sword light rampaged through her shattered meridians.

It was an unrefined Innate Sword Heart, the purest and rarest treasure of Sword Dao.

But now, this power had lost its master’s control and was about to destroy her from within—a storm that would soon tear her apart.

When Ye Chen saw that flawless “Sword Heart”, for the first time, true emotion stirred in his heart.

It was not pity.

It was not sympathy.

It was…joy.

Like a peerless swordsmith discovering a natural sword embryo among the debris of a ruined mine—one worthy of forging a divine weapon.

“Interesting.”

He murmured softly.

“A true Genius Seedling. If she dies, it would be a shame.”

He stepped forward and knelt beside the girl.

Without hesitation, without excess movement, he extended two fingers, pressed together like a sword.

At their tips shimmered a thread of Spiritual Power, so faint a mortal’s eye could not see it.

He used his fingers as a needle, precisely tapping between the girl’s brows.

The Spiritual Power that was gentle as a lamb within him, upon entering the girl’s meridians, became a lone boat on a sea of raging Sword Qi.

Ye Chen’s expression did not change.

His will became an invisible hand guiding the boat.

He did not resist the rampaging Sword Heart power but instead flowed along its current, subtly guiding it with mysterious skill.

Beneath his fingers, the storm of Sword Light within the girl was slowly calmed, smoothed, and gathered back into her Dantian, turning danger into dormant treasure.

The girl’s tightly furrowed brows gradually relaxed.

Her ragged breathing became calm.

Ye Chen withdrew his hand.

He had not healed her wounds, only temporarily sustained her life and stabilized her Sword Heart.

The shadowy forest returned to silence.

In the moonlight, the blood-soaked white clothes, the two streaks of blood tears, and the Broken Sword formed a scene of shattered, tragic beauty.

Ye Chen gazed quietly at her, as if admiring a masterpiece he would soon forge with his own hands.

This blind Sword Prodigy—her origins and enemies—he did not know, nor did he care.

All that mattered was that one in a million Innate Sword Heart.

That was enough.