Chapter 585: Dearest Friends and Family? You have to pay extra!
"The Yin Corpse Devil Sword, with Supreme Yin Crystal as its main material, ninety-nine of the world's most poisonous substances used to temper the sword body, nurtured the sword embryo for a thousand years, and then consecrated it with the heart's blood of one's closest relatives, dearest loves, and truest friends to achieve completion. On the day of its completion, it can slaughter Land Immortals and defeat Martial Gods, its power is terrifying, specializing in breaking through protective qi, and it is indestructible!"
The opening of the stone wall murals began with lines of blood-red characters, sprawling and sinister, exuding an ominous aura. It seemed as if more than a thousand years had passed, yet one could still feel the surging, terrifying presence through these blood-red characters, which were at least carved by a Land Immortal, containing a deep-seated dread.
Zhang Zhiyun clutched the bleeding stump of his severed arm, his face a mask of shock as he stared at the crimson script. The characters themselves seemed to writhe, twisting like veins filled with corrupted blood. An ancient malice bled from the stone, a pressure that threatened to suffocate him, to crush his will before he even finished reading.
The inscriptions detailed not only the horrifying methods for consecrating and wielding the Yin Corpse Devil Sword but also a sword art of staggering depth and complexity. Each stroke, each stance depicted, was a masterpiece of lethal efficiency, far surpassing the inherited techniques of the Tianshi Sect in every conceivable way. It was a path to power so profound it felt like blasphemy.
His gaze was irresistibly drawn to the Yin Corpse Devil Sword Embryo, impaled deep within the nearby stone wall. The blade was sheathed in a hazy, phantom-like shroud, through which faint, blood-red light pulsed. Dark red patterns, like a network of corrupted veins, snaked across its surface, resembling evil tentacles reaching out from the deepest pits of the Nine Nether Purgatory. Every single one of those dark patterns pulsed with a sinister malevolence, a hunger that promised to shred and consume the very essence of a man's soul.
The air around the sword embryo was a dead zone. All vitality had been leeched away, leaving behind a cold, desolate void thick with a chilling yin energy that seeped into his bones. It was a cold that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with absolute, spiritual death.
Zhang Zhiyun stared, utterly transfixed. Without him even realizing it, his pupils had become stained with a crimson hue, reflecting the demonic light of the blade. The terror of the Yin Corpse Devil Sword wasn't merely in its physical sharpness, its uncanny ability to exist between the real and the ethereal, allowing it to bypass protective qi and magical barriers with contemptuous ease. Its true horror lay in the corrupting malevolence it constantly radiated—a psychic poison that eroded the mind. To face a wielder of this sword in battle meant fighting on two fronts: one against the physical blade and another, far more desperate war to protect one's own sanity from the sword's insidious influence.
As if possessed, Zhang Zhiyun began to walk, his steps leaden and heavy, toward the Yin Corpse Devil Sword Embryo. A chorus of whispers echoed in the hollows of his mind, seductive and damning. Demonic thoughts sprouted like weeds, and a tide of pure malice surged from the blade, threatening to drown him. Even the soft, steady glow of the night pearls embedded in the cave walls seemed to dim and retreat, their light devoured by the oppressive darkness emanating from the sword. He felt as though he were stepping into an endless abyss, on the verge of plunging into an eternal purgatory from which there was no return, no reincarnation, only unending torment.
His sole remaining left hand, trembling, reached out. His fingers brushed against the cold, unholy metal of the hilt—
He snatched his hand back as if burned, stumbling away with a choked gasp.
"Huff, huff, huff…"
Zhang Zhiyun doubled over, dragging in ragged, desperate breaths. His face was slick with a cold sweat, the beads as large as peas. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. Sheer, unadulterated terror and the lingering phantom of damnation washed over him.
"I can't touch it," he wheezed, his voice cracking. "That's a demonic sword… I can't touch it!"
He didn't dare look up, didn't dare meet the gaze of that malevolent weapon again. His heart pounded with a frantic rhythm. The Yin Corpse Devil Sword was still just an embryo, an incomplete weapon, yet the sprawling, soul-devouring evil it radiated was already enough to freeze his very marrow.
What a truly sinister, demonic blade!
The words from the blood-red inscriptions echoed in his mind, a litany of horror: consecrated with the heart's blood of one's closest relatives, dearest loves, and truest friends to be unsheathed. Zhang Zhiyun's resolve hardened into a wall of iron.
He absolutely, under no circumstances, could touch the Yin Corpse Devil Sword Embryo!
Though the Hangzhou Zhang Family had been cruelly wiped out by the Wan Fa Sect, he wasn't alone in the world. He still had his Master and the elders of the Tianshi Sect, who had taken him in and nurtured him. He still had his younger sister, Yaqian, whom he had yet to find. And there was Ji Xiaolin… his fiancée. Though he claimed to have given up on her, a stubborn, foolish affection still lingered in the depths of his heart.
Heart's blood was not just a few drops from a fingertip. Taking it meant death. Absolute and final. Can a person live without their heart?
If he were to consecrate the Yin Corpse Devil Sword Embryo with the hearts of the people he cherished most… would he even be human anymore? He would be a monster, clad in the flesh of a man.
And yet.
His mind, against his will, replayed another part of the inscription: after the Yin Corpse Devil Sword was consecrated and unsheathed, it could slaughter Land Immortals and defeat Martial Gods!
Land Immortals were the stuff of legends in the modern era. In a world where Heavenly Human experts were already considered supreme figures, Land Immortals were true martial arts myths, untouchable beings who stood at the apex of the known world. And Martial Gods… they were a power even beyond that, figures spoken of only in the most ancient and fragmented myths.
To become a Land Immortal meant transcending all mortal concerns. Super families, colossal corporations, even entire sects—none of it would matter. One could roam the world freely, a god among men.
To reach the fabled world of a Martial God… that was to become a force of nature. Even the great world powers, with all their technology and armies, would have to bow their heads in respect.
And this sword, this single demonic blade, promised the power to slaughter them.
'If I had the Yin Corpse Devil Sword…'
Slap!
The sharp, stinging sound echoed in the silent cave. Zhang Zhiyun had struck his own face, the force of the blow leaving a stark red handprint on his cheek.
"No, absolutely not!" he snarled at himself, his voice thick with self-loathing. "Those are my closest kin and dearest companions!"
"Am I going to murder them for a demonic sword? Zhang Zhiyun, are you still a human being?!"
With newfound, desperate resolution, he spun around, refusing to even glance back at the whispering blade, and began to walk away.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
Zhang Zhiyun froze.
His expression twisted into a grotesque mask of conflict. His mind became a raging battlefield, a war raging within his soul. A searing, sharp pain flared from the stump of his right arm, a phantom agony that made his face clench in a grimace.
'If I had the Yin Corpse Devil Sword…' the demonic whispers returned, stronger this time. 'That woman… Shen Anyu… Yanxia's Shen Clan… the Wan Fa Sect… all of them. I could wipe every last one of my enemies from the face of the earth.'
'If I had the Yin Corpse Devil Sword, even if the Master of Myriad Dharma Sect crawled out of his grave, he couldn't touch me. My masters at the Tianshi Sect… they wouldn't look at me with disappointment anymore.'
'If I had the Yin Corpse Devil Sword, Ji Xiaolin never would have been taken by Shen Anyu! My Martial Uncle, Zhang Tianen, would never have dared to annul our engagement! He would have begged me to stay!'
'If I had the Yin Corpse Devil Sword, what would Shen Anyu and his entire clan be to me? Nothing but ants to be crushed under my heel.'
'If I had the Yin Corpse Devil Sword, what could I not do in this vast world? Nothing!'
A crimson tide flooded Zhang Zhiyun's vision. His handsome features contorted, shifting from resentment to struggle, from despair to a burning, feverish longing. He stood rooted to the spot, lost in his internal torment for what felt like an eternity.
He didn't know how much time had passed.
Finally, Zhang Zhiyun spoke, his voice a dry, hoarse rasp.
"I can't take the Yin Corpse Devil Sword Embryo… I can't sacrifice my family and friends," he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. "But… I can cultivate the Yin Corpse Devil Swordplay. That sword art… it's a cultivation technique more profound and unfathomable than anything the Tianshi Sect has ever possessed!"
A sliver of twisted logic, a desperate rationalization, pierced through his turmoil.
"If I can master the Yin Corpse Devil Swordplay, I will definitely be able to kill Shen Anyu and that woman by his side. Even Yanxia's Shen Clan will be no match for me."
"Don't take the demonic sword. Just practice the swordplay. Yes… that's it!"
Having found his excuse, Zhang Zhiyun turned back. He deliberately averted his eyes from the pulsating sword embryo, focusing instead on the murals depicting the swordplay. A greedy, fanatical light ignited in his gaze as he began to burn the techniques into his memory.
[Ding! Detected Child of Destiny Zhang Zhiyun accepting investment in Yin Corpse Devil Swordplay, expected return: Devil Sword Intent!]
[Ding! Child of Destiny Zhang Zhiyun has been severely corrupted by the invasion of the Yin Corpse Devil Sword Intent, plundering +500,000 Destiny Points!]
…
"Dearest friends and family? Gotta add money!"
Shen Anyu watched the entire drama unfold with keen interest through the nanometer monitoring robot. This underwater grotto, this supposed cavern of fortuitous encounter, was, of course, a stage he had meticulously set. The Yin Corpse Devil Sword Embryo and the tempting swordplay on the wall were props he had personally placed.
He wasn't the least bit surprised that Zhang Zhiyun refused to take the sword. The boy hadn't suffered enough yet. His spirit wasn't completely broken. But he would pick it up. Eventually.
Besides, cultivating the accompanying swordplay would only accelerate the process. Once the Devil Sword Intent infected his very soul, resisting the demonic pull of the sword embryo would become a thousand times harder.
Naturally, the information carved on that stone wall was incomplete. Shen Anyu had omitted several crucial details.
For instance, the most important step for the Yin Corpse Devil Sword to achieve its true completion wasn't sacrificing one's loved ones, but sacrificing oneself—offering one's spirit and flesh to become the sword's final, living vessel.
And if the person performing that final step possessed a vast amount of destiny, the completed Yin Corpse Devil Sword would become a karma-free weapon of slaughter, capable of massacring millions without accumulating a single trace of sin or flaw.
That kind of blood-soaked, demonic, ghost-haunted aura simply wasn't Shen Anyu's style. He was a kind person, after all.
Only by being handsome and graceful in immaculate white robes could one attract girls. A chilling, ghoulish aura would just scare them away.
"Shen Anyu, what… what are you trying to do?"
At that moment, Bai Bing, still completely immobilized, widened her beautiful phoenix eyes, her voice trembling with panic.
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