14: Chapter 14 "Slash!" The word was uttered, but the man didn't move, the sword didn't swing. A line of sword light tore through the sky.

Wind poured in from the eastern cliff opening, like a knife scraping against stone.

Just as Chen Wuwang stepped off the last underground step of the Artifact Refining Workshop, his mechanical prosthetic right eye captured an abnormal spiritual current—thin, sharp, and unstable, yet carrying a familiar stubbornness, as if someone were pulling a fraying string with their life.

He didn't stop his pace; with a flicker of his figure, he had already covered a hundred zhang, leaping across the rocky ridges and heading straight for the high platform on the eastern cliff.

Before he even landed, he heard a crisp "crack," like wood splitting apart.

Chen Xiaodao stood at the edge of the cliff with his back to him, his body ramrod straight. The old wooden sword he had used for seven years had split into two; half lay at his feet, while he still gripped the other half tightly, his knuckles white and blood seeping from the web of his thumb.

The wind whipped his robes, and the mechanical prosthetic on his left arm emitted a faint overload hum. Clearly, he had just forcibly suppressed the back-surging Sword Qi, causing the internal circuits to overload.

"Here it comes again," Chen Wuwang said in a low voice.

He didn't approach, standing instead by a black rock three paces away, watching the youth with one knee slightly bent, veins throbbing on his forehead and his breathing ragged. That was the precursor to Sword Intent losing control—spiritual power was crashing through his Meridians, and any slight mishap would damage his Sea of Consciousness.

Chen Xiaodao didn't turn around. His teeth were clenched as a sentence rumbled from his throat: "Don't... don't come over."

Before his words could finish, his whole body jolted violently as if an invisible hand were choking his neck, and his knees slammed heavily into the ground.

Yet, at the moment he was about to collapse, his consciousness sank into a field of ruins.

The flames, the scorched earth, and the cries were all gone.

There was only that rainy night when he was five years old, curled up under a broken wall, clutching half a charred wooden sword, with the sound of Zerg claws scraping against stone slabs in his ears.

He couldn't die.

He still wanted to swing his sword.

He wanted to slay everything that dared to insult the Chen Family.

As soon as this thought arose, his chest felt as if it were split open by lightning, and a surge of heat rushed to the top of his head.

"Hold on for me!" Chen Wuwang's eyes turned sharp, and he flicked his right hand.

A streak of silver light tore through the air.

Chen Xiaodao instinctively raised his hand to catch it.

The moment the Titanium Alloy Sword touched his hand, cold metal collided with burning flesh, and a humming sound surged through the blade straight into his mind.

In that instant, the spiritual power rampaging within him seemed to find an outlet, surging thunderously into the sword.

"Hoo—!"

He took a deep breath and suddenly stood straight.

With the sword tip pointing to the sky, spiritual power surged up from his Dantian, passing through Jianjing, Quchi, and Laogong, finally converging at the blade.

The wind grew stronger, whipping sand and stone against his cheeks.

He opened his eyes, and deep within his pupils, the phantom of a meteor flashed and vanished.

"Slay!"

The word was uttered, yet the person didn't move and the sword didn't swing.

But the Titanium Alloy Sword, which had been stuck in a rock crevice, suddenly pulled itself out and levitated in mid-air. The blade trembled violently, and dense micro-runes appeared on its surface—a sign of the Sword Intent activating spontaneously.

Immediately following, sword light like a thread tore through the vast sky.

There was no grand explosion, nor were there shadows of swords filling the sky.

There was only a silver glow so thin it was almost invisible, slicing through dozens of li of the Void Realm to strike a temporary Zerg command tent in a distant mountain valley.

Inside the tent, an armored Zerg General was looking down at a topographical map when a thin line of blood suddenly seeped from between its brows.

It didn't even have a chance to look up before it knelt on the spot, its head drooping like an overripe fruit.

At the moment of death, the map in its hand had not yet been released.

At the same time, Chen Xiaodao's knees buckled. He stumbled back two steps, leaning against the rock wall and panting, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. The casing of his left arm's prosthetic was hot and smoking; clearly, that strike just now had exhausted most of his spiritual power.

But a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

It worked.

It really worked.

It wasn't a dream.

He raised his hand, watching the Titanium Alloy Sword that was quietly hovering in the air slowly descend until he gripped it once more.

"Meteor... Sword Intent?" he murmured. "So this is... my Dao?"

" Bang!"

A pebble flew over and struck the sword blade precisely, making a crisp sound.

Chen Xiaodao was startled and looked up.

Chen Wuwang had walked up to him at some point, his right index finger lightly tapping the edge of the stone platform, over and over, with a rhythm as steady as the ticking of code compiling.

"Not bad," he said. "Killing from a distance, with Sword Intent condensed and not dissipating, and taking a general's head from thirty li away—it's starting to look like something."

Chen Xiaodao's breath hitched, and a light ignited in his eyes.

But in the next second, Chen Wuwang's tone shifted: "But the energy dispersion rate is 47%. What truly killed the enemy was only the peak burst of that final moment. This strike of yours wasted most of your strength. If there were two more lieutenants on the other side, you would have been surrounded and killed by now."

He stared into Chen Xiaodao's eyes. "It's worth being happy that your Sword Intent has just formed. But don't forget, on a real battlefield, no one gives you time to brew your emotions, nor will they only let you strike once."

The joy on Chen Xiaodao's face gradually faded. He looked down at the sword in his hand and remained silent.

"That slash just now relied on childhood obsession to forcibly awaken the sword soul; essentially, it was a burst gained by overdrawing your Sea of Consciousness." Chen Wuwang's tone softened slightly. "I can see it, and you can feel it too—your left arm prosthetic is overloaded and your Meridians are burning with pain, right?"

Chen Xiaodao nodded.

"It shows you can't control this power yet." Chen Wuwang reached out and patted his shoulder lightly. "But you were able to steady your mind and catch a new weapon after your sword broke without letting the Sword Intent backfire on you. In this regard, you are stronger than most Geniuses."

He paused, his voice dropping. "I know what you want to prove. You are a member of the Chen Family and a soldier I trained. I won't suppress you, nor will I praise you to death. I will only tell you the truth—this strike was fierce enough, but not stable enough; fast enough, but not lasting enough."

"A true Sword Cultivator doesn't just end the show with one stunning blow."

"It is about slaying ten generals in succession amidst ten thousand troops, with the sword not dulling, the Qi not exhausting, and the heart remaining unmoved."

Chen Xiaodao closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the light in his eyes had changed.

There was no more excitement, no more confusion.

Only a nearly cold sobriety remained.

He slowly inserted the Titanium Alloy Sword into the rock crevice, used it to stand straight, and said in a low voice, "I will train until... I can slay continuously without failing."

Chen Wuwang said no more.

He turned and walked to the edge of the cliff, standing still. His mechanical prosthetic eye turned slightly, and his vision zoomed out.

In the direction of the eastern mineral vein, the sky was still clear.

But in his data interface, wind speed, air pressure, and magnetic field fluctuations were all quietly shifting—signs before a large-scale gathering of spiritual entities.

He knew that although that strike had killed the enemy general, it had also exposed the Chen Family's new combat strength.

The enemy would not just sit by and do nothing.

Especially the Zerg Broodmother.

But for now, he couldn't leave.

Nor could he call for backup.

He had to stay here and guard this Sword Cultivator who had just broken out of his cocoon until he completely stabilized his Sword Intent Foundation.

" Hello." He suddenly spoke, without turning around.

"Yeah?" Chen Xiaodao responded.

"Next time before you strike, remember to calibrate the output power of your prosthetic first," Chen Wuwang said indifferently. "Don't actually burn yourself out. I don't want to pick up an orphan from the ruins a second time."

Chen Xiaodao was stunned for a moment, then let out a low laugh.

The laughter was very light, mixing into the wind, yet it carried a warmth of having survived a disaster.

He pulled out his sword, held it with both hands, faced the morning sun, and slowly raised it.

Where the sword tip pointed was precisely that eastern horizon where the storm was about to arrive.

Chen Wuwang stood three paces to his front right, his right hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. His mechanical prosthetic eye continuously scanned the distant movements. His body appeared slightly tired, but his stance was as firm as iron.

The two stood side by side on the cliff, their shadows stretched long by the morning light.

The wind was still blowing.

In the distance, a Messenger Crow flew over the mountain ridge, its wings breaking the silence.