Sword Tomb 2

The Sword Tomb sat at the highest peak of the main mountain, usually unremarkable, surrounded by no buildings or facilities—a desolate place. But now, it was impossible to miss.

Swords clashed there, their light piercing the sky like white rainbows, the earth trembling.

The horizon blazed with vibrant spiritual and sword qi, painting the heavens in fantastical hues.

Su Qing, lacking artifacts or a nimble physique, took ages to reach it.

The Sword Tomb wasn’t a graveyard with tombstones.

Instead, it was a vast cliff rising at a 30-degree angle, soaring into the clouds. Jagged peaks stood stark, wreathed in mist, with craggy stones and no flat footing.

Su Qing had only seen such landscapes in documentaries about mountain goats scaling near-vertical cliffs.

She’d marveled at those creatures surviving harsh environments. Now, facing it herself, she felt inferior even to a goat.

The cliff, though treacherous, wasn’t lifeless. From the gray rock crevices sprouted gnarled plum trees, their branches reaching skyward.

Despite summer, the peak’s chill kept the plums blooming—petals sharp and resilient, red as blood, climbing the cliff in an unstoppable tide, dyeing the rock and sky crimson.

At the highest point stood an ancient sword-plum tree, weathered and leafless, its roots vigorous, as if chasing the sun.

Though bare of lush blooms, its stance was wild and free, like a calligrapher’s bold stroke after drunken contemplation, brimming with audacity.

Now, it bloomed too, its gaunt branches bursting with clusters of plums that dimmed the heavens.

The Sword Tomb lay on this romantic yet perilous cliff. Su Qing couldn’t pinpoint its exact spot, but she knew the swords came from the plum forest.

She had to climb.

The cliff was daunting, but unlike a goat, she had vegetation to grip for leverage.

The sword qi clashes drew a crowd, many hovering on artifacts to watch. Each extra person meant more competition.

Su Qing grabbed a sturdy branch as a makeshift climbing stick and scrambled upward.

After exhausting effort, she reached the cliff’s top, near the old sword-plum.

The peak was a wide, flat platform, as if a sword had sheared off the mountaintop long ago.

Clouds swirled around, the sun seemingly close, yet the air was frigid. Harsh winds made Su Qing shiver, her sweat chilling instantly. Normally, only the defiant plum blossoms endured here.

But now, two figures—one black, one white—battled fiercely, their swords clashing with escalating *clangs*.

The black-clad figure was her roommate, Tianning. The white-clad one, shockingly, was the Qi Clan’s Daozi.

Su Qing retreated, ducking into the plum thicket, descending a few steps to watch with just her head exposed.

The steep cliff felt secure with the plum branches for support.

Most importantly, she couldn’t let the Qi Clan spot her.

Seeing Tianning and the Daozi together, their resemblance struck her—seven or eight parts alike, nearly twins if judged by face alone.

Why would twins fight? The answer hung in the sky: a radiant sword.

Its brilliance seized Su Qing’s attention, igniting a fierce heat in her eyes. No one could doubt its claim as the world’s greatest sword.

The Free Sword was austere, jet-black, absorbing all light, yet it outshone the sun, its presence commanding. The surrounding clouds and mist fled its aura, leaving a hundred-meter radius of clear blue sky.

Its mere existence was overwhelming.

Others coveted it too—some, like Su Qing, hid in the plum thicket; others hovered on artifacts, waiting for their chance.

She glimpsed Tang Yueling’s fiery figure among them.

No one else joined the fray yet—the duo fought too ferociously, less like siblings, more like mortal enemies, targeting weaknesses with soaring sword qi, carving a vacuum around them.

Su Qing didn’t dare approach. Swords were merciless—who knew where they’d strike next?

Soon, the white-clad Daozi lunged. Tianning blocked, but her ordinary sword couldn’t withstand the blow. With a *clang*, it snapped in two.

Forced back, she threw the broken blade at the Daozi, buying a moment to retreat two steps.

Without looking, she reached out. “Sword, come!”

Her Sword Body called.

The swords around her hummed. But proud divine swords wouldn’t serve another’s tool.

Yet one surged forward, landing in her grip.

Tianning seized the hilt and charged the Daozi.

But the Daozi, already casting a spell, conjured three sword qi blasts. “Go!”

The blasts roared toward Tianning’s face, their wind blades slicing her hair and robe.

Her sword and spiritual shield blocked injury, but the plum tree behind her wasn’t so lucky—its branches were severed, red petals dancing wildly.

The sword qi’s force nearly toppled Su Qing. Clinging to her branch-staff, she steadied herself.

But the Daozi’s fourth attack came, its sword qi unprecedented, splitting rock with devastating force. The struck cliff cracked, the fissure spreading relentlessly.

A spectator gasped, “Sword Intent! Not yet an adult, and he’s grasped Sword Intent!”

Tianning stayed calm. In martial arts, speed trumps all. Even the strongest intent was useless if it missed.

She braced her sword on the ground, leaping like a hawk, dodging the strike. In midair, she adjusted, redirecting her weight, and swung her sword at the Daozi.

“Such swordsmanship at her age,” a watcher marveled. “Worthy of a top clan’s heir!”

Tianning turned danger to safety.

But Su Qing faced peril again. The Daozi’s missed strike split the rock beneath her, sending her sliding down the cliff with crumbling stones.

In panic, her throat seized, voiceless. Falling, she grasped for plum branches to stop her descent.

None held her weight, snapping and dragging her down.

*Help!*

Wind roared in her ears, her heart pounding.

Falling hundreds of meters—wouldn’t she die?

How could it end so easily?

Regret and despair surged.

Then, a golden phoenix caught her, dipping under her weight before soaring skyward.

Struggling upright in its soft feathers, Su Qing saw a fiery figure ahead, black hair whipped back by the wind, jade hairpins clinking.

Tang Yueling!

“Thank…” Su Qing’s gratitude was choked by the gale. She realized, horrified, that the phoenix, under Tang Yueling’s control, was climbing higher, faster.

Their target: Tianning and the Daozi.

Sensing trouble, Su Qing shouted, “Where are we going?”

“To seize the Xuejin Sword!”

“But Tianning’s already using it!”

“Does that make it hers?” Tang Yueling didn’t look back, scoffing. “What I, Tang Yueling, want, I’ve never failed to get!”