81: The sword-untying platform cannot untie my sword!

April 13th, Wudang Mountain. The sky was clear and cloudless.

The warm spring sun shone on the majestic mountain path, making it exceptionally beautiful.

Lu Jiuyuan ascended the steps, his azure cloud-brocade robe spotless.

The Guhong Sword was not hanging from his waist but casually held in his hand, without a scabbard. A flash of silver light, it was strange and eye-catching.

Before Jiejian Rock, the atmosphere was Stern. Eight Wudang Disciples, clad in grey Daoist robes, stood with their hands on their swords, their expressions grave as if facing a formidable enemy.

Leading them was a young Daoist, with a square face and sharp eyes. He was Xun Quan'an, one of the outstanding third-generation Disciples of Wudang, and the seventh Disciple under Sect Head Shi Yan.

They had good reason to be solemn. A sword sheathed signified peace; a bared blade meant Killing Intent soaring to the heavens.

Today was the Sect Head's succession ceremony. Jianghu dignitaries and leading figures were all honored guests. If anything went wrong, it would bring shame to the entire Wudang.

Xun Quan'an stepped forward, blocking the path, his voice deep and firm, carrying an undeniable tone:

"This is sacred Wudang ground, before Jiejian Rock. Sword Saint Lu, please unbind your sword as per regulations!"

Lu Jiuyuan did not stop, his gaze not even lingering on Xun Quan'an, but still looking towards the misty Upper Purity Palace. He said indifferently:

"Wudang's rules are for common iron tools. Guhong is no common iron, and I, Lu, am no common guest. This sword, will not be unbound."

"Presumptuous!" A young Disciple couldn't hold back and shouted sharply: "Jiejian Rock was established by the Ancestral Master, a Holy Land of Wudang, respected by the entire Jianghu. How dare you..."

"Silence!" Xun Quan'an raised a hand to stop his Junior Brother, but his eyes grew even more solemn as he stared at Lu Jiuyuan's hand holding the sword.

That hand was terrifyingly steady, as if it had merged with the renowned Guhong Sword.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the tremor in his heart, and spoke again, his tone even graver: "Sword Saint Lu, rules are rules.

Today is our Sect Head's succession ceremony. Guests from all directions gather, all abiding by this rule.

I implore Sword Saint Lu not to make things difficult for us, nor to tarnish the reputation of Wudang and the Sword Saint."

Lu Jiuyuan finally stopped, his gaze slowly falling on Xun Quan'an's face. His eyes were calm and unmoving, yet as deep as a cold pool, piercing straight to the heart.

"This sword is a divine weapon from beyond the heavens, personally bestowed by His Majesty. It bows to no official, does not hasten in court, and for those below the fourth rank, it strikes first and reports later.

I, Lu, carry it into the Imperial Palace, to see the Emperor, and no one can stop me. Can it be that if I can enter the Imperial Palace, I cannot enter the Upper Purity Palace?"

"This..." Xun Quan'an dared not speak. If he prevented it, wouldn't it imply that the rules of the Upper Purity Palace were greater than those of the Imperial Palace?

"Move aside!"

Xun Quan'an could only clear the path, watching helplessly as Lu Jiuyuan ascended the mountain with his sword.

"Sword Devil, he's gone too far!" A Disciple said angrily.

"Those who come with ill intentions are not good, and those who are good do not come. Go up and inform the Sect Head Revered Master, Sword Saint Lu has ascended the mountain!"

"Yes, Senior Brother!" The Disciple cupped his fists and hurried up the mountain.

"Senior Brother, another one is coming!" A Wudang Disciple pointed downwards.

A man in white, holding his renowned black-scabbard longsword, was steadily ascending the steps.

His pace was not fast, yet it carried a peculiar rhythm, as if he had merged with the mountain's contours.

His white robes were like snow, his face as stern as an ice sculpture. It was the Sword God, Ximen Chuixue.

Xun Quan'an's heart sank, and he felt his scalp tingle.

One Lu Jiuyuan storming the mountain with his sword was already a huge problem; now another ominous figure, Ximen Chuixue, had arrived!

He took a deep breath, stepped forward again, and blocked the center of the stone steps, his voice carrying an unprecedented gravity:

"Manor Lord Ximen, halt! Before Wudang's Jiejian Rock, please unbind your sword as per regulations!"

He deliberately emphasized the word "regulations," his gaze fixed on the black-scabbard longsword Ximen Chuixue held.

Ximen Chuixue did not stop, nor did his gaze shift. He continued to look straight ahead at the eaves of the Upper Purity Palace in the mist, as if Xun Quan'an and the Wudang Disciples blocking his way were merely roadside grass and stones.

It wasn't until Xun Quan'an was almost about to speak again that Ximen Chuixue spoke faintly, his voice so clear it was devoid of any worldly emotion:

"He, Lu Lao Jiu," Ximen Chuixue's chin subtly indicated the direction where Lu Jiuyuan had disappeared up the mountain path, "can bring his sword up."

His gaze finally lowered, falling upon Xun Quan'an's face. Those eyes were calm and unmoving, yet they sent a deeper chill through the heart.

It was a pure, transparent, indifferent gaze that pierced through all appearances to reach the essence.

"Why can't I?"

This rhetorical question was light, but the action of his hand gripping the sword hilt made everyone's heart tighten:

"Could it be that his sword is sharp, and mine is not?"

This rhetorical question, still spoken in a flat tone, carried a bone-chilling coldness that instantly froze the air on the mountain path.

His slender fingers, resting on the hilt of the black-scabbard longsword, were as steady as an unmoving boulder, knuckles slightly protruding, the precious sword seemingly ready to be drawn at any moment.

Xun Quan'an felt an invisible, suffocating Sword Intent wash over him, more intense than when he faced his enraged Revered Master Shi Yan!

The seven Junior Brothers behind him turned pale, their palms, gripping their swords, were instantly drenched in cold sweat, almost wringing water from the hilts.

They had never so clearly felt the icy touch of death, as if Ximen Chuixue's gaze had already left an invisible sword mark on their throats.

Cold sweat trickled down Xun Quan'an's temples. His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, his throat so dry he could not utter a sound.

Lu Jiuyuan's sword had imperial backing, a granted privilege. Though overbearing, it was still within "reason."

But what Ximen Chuixue emanated at this moment was pure, raw Killing Intent! It was his own power! It was formidable swordsmanship!

He needed no reason; his sword itself was the reason, and his will was the rule!

Xun Quan'an had no doubt that if he uttered another "no" or made any move to block, the next moment, the black-scabbard longsword in Ximen Chuixue's arms would transform into a chilling light of death.

Perhaps he could block one sword? Two swords? But the outcome would not change.

He would die, his Junior Brothers behind him would also die, and Ximen Chuixue would still ascend the mountain with his sword, unstoppable.

In the face of absolute power, rules seemed so pale, weak, and even ridiculous.

Time seemed to stand still for several breaths, each breath as long as a year.

Xun Quan'an's body trembled slightly, and finally, he raised his palm and stepped back to the side.

He turned his body, clearing the path.

He said nothing, but this single action had drained all his strength, carrying an unspeakable humiliation and powerlessness.

Ximen Chuixue's gaze swept over Xun Quan'an's pale face and slightly trembling hand, without sparing another glance at the Wudang Disciples, who, though facing a formidable enemy, were almost suffocated by the invisible Sword Intent.

His steps lifted and fell, still steady.

He ascended the steps one by one, his figure quickly disappearing around the corner of the stone steps leading towards the Upper Purity Hall.

It wasn't until that glaring white completely vanished from sight that Xun Quan'an stumbled slightly. The cold sweat on his back had already soaked through his Daoist robe, clinging to his skin, icy cold.

"Senior... Senior Brother..." A young Disciple's voice trembled.

"Quick!" Xun Quan'an suddenly snapped back to his senses, his voice hoarse and urgent: "Quick! Another one go up! Tell Sect Head Revered Master!

Ximen Chuixue has also ascended the mountain with his sword! He couldn't be stopped! Absolutely couldn't be stopped!"

Inside the Sanqing Hall, before the viewing platform.

The spring day was fine, and the scenery at the summit of Wudang Mountain was magnificent.

Sect Heads from various factions and Jianghu dignitaries took their seats in order, conversing cheerfully, the atmosphere solemn yet lively.

They only awaited the auspicious moment, when Daoist Shi Yan would formally transfer the position of Sect Head.

Tie Jian, Shi Yan, Wang Shidai, Flying on Water, Gao Xingkong, Bashan Xiaogu, Eagle Eye Lao Qi, and a host of others took their seats, with people standing behind them as well.