50: Chapter 50 Sudden Enlightenment of Sword Intent, Chen Xiaodao Breaks Through

The night wind swept across the stone railing of the viewing platform, making the old Zerg scar on Chen Wuwang's shoulder armor tighten slightly.

He did not move, remaining standing, his gaze fixed on the lights of the Artifact Refining Workshop in the distance that had not yet been extinguished.

The footsteps behind him were so light they were almost inaudible, but as soon as that familiar presence drew near, he knew who it was.

Chen Xiaodao stood beside him, in the same position and with the same posture as last night, only the dust on his face had been wiped clean, while his eyes were deeper than before.

"Still not asleep?" Chen Wuwang asked, his voice kept very low.

"I can't sleep." Chen Xiaodao gazed at the starry sky. "Just now, when I lay down and closed my eyes, my mind was filled with swords."

Chen Wuwang turned his head to look at him but didn't respond.

He knew that feeling—it wasn't fatigue; it was something inside the body colliding, calling out, waiting for an exit.

But he could not expose it, nor could he point it out.

Midnight was approaching.

Deep within his consciousness, three whispers sounded right on time.

The first: "Seven days from now, ice crystals will form in the Northern Region's Cold Pool; three Spiritual Cores can be harvested."

The second: "The Artifact Refining Workshop's third furnace will experience a reverse airflow at the hour of the Tiger; the energy conduction valve must be adjusted in advance."

The third—

"Chen Xiaodao will have an Epiphany of Sword Intent tomorrow at noon."

Chen Wuwang's pupils constricted slightly. His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye automatically recorded the timestamp, and a stream of data flashed across the edge of his vision.

He immediately cut off all unnecessary neural interfaces, closed communication channels, and even set the System background operations to silent mode.

Any external signal fluctuation, even the slightest, could interfere with the Epiphany process.

But it was only just nightfall.

Tomorrow at noon? He questioned it in his heart.

The System never made mistakes, but a Cultivator's Epiphany relied on Opportunity; sometimes a single word, a gust of wind, or a ray of light could trigger the mind.

If it truly erupted at noon, it would be manageable; if it happened earlier... he dared not think about it.

He only trusted the situations he could control.

"Go get some rest," he said. "There are debugging tasks tomorrow."

Chen Xiaodao shook his head. "I don't want to move. I'll just sit here for a while."

Having said that, he walked straight to the stone steps in the center of the viewing platform, sat cross-legged, placed his hands on his knees, and laid his sword across his lap, sheathed.

Moonlight spilled onto his face, his expression serene.

Chen Wuwang did not try to persuade him further, retreating to the stone railing on the west side, leaning against the wall.

His right hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the scabbard twice—this was a habitual action when he was thinking, and also a code known to the people in the clan: "Everything is normal, but do not approach."

Time ticked away bit by bit.

The lights of the workshops down the mountain were extinguished one by one, and the noise from the training grounds gradually subsided.

The entire Chen family fell into silence, with only the soft sound of the night wind blowing through the metal supports, like some distant pendulum.

When the first light of day appeared, the morning mist had not yet dispersed.

Chen Xiaodao was still sitting in the same spot, motionless.

He did not close his eyes, merely staring in the direction of last night's starry sky, as if waiting for someone to return, or as if waiting for a sword to fall from the sky.

Suddenly, his breathing slowed down.

It was not deliberate suppression, but a natural descent into an extremely deep rhythm.

The surrounding Spiritual Qi began to fluctuate slightly, as if pulled by an invisible hand, slowly gathering toward him.

Chen Wuwang opened his eyes instantly.

It was here—six whole hours earlier than the System's prophecy.

He immediately cut off the signal output of all remote monitoring arrays to prevent any electronic noise interference.

At the same time, he disabled the scanning function of his own Mechanical Prosthetic Eye to avoid generating a weak electromagnetic field.

He stood there like a stone, even his breathing reduced to the lightest possible level.

On the stone steps, silk-like Sword Qi began to seep from Chen Xiaodao's fingertips, pale cyan and nearly transparent.

They did not dissipate; instead, they wrapped around his knuckles, climbing upward in circles, eventually converging into his palms.

The gravel on the ground, influenced by this, slowly floated up half an inch, forming a rudimentary micro sword formation around him.

His consciousness was no longer in reality.

Before his eyes lay a Void Realm space of the Dao of the sword.

Beneath his feet was a path paved with countless broken sword marks, and overhead hung millions of unsheathed swords.

He saw his five-year-old self curled up in the ruins, holding half a wooden sword in his arms; he saw the first time he flew on a sword, slipping and nearly falling into a mountain ravine; he saw the moment last night when controlling the mecha to cut through the rock layer, when his Sword Intent and the oscillation frequency synchronized perfectly...

Memories surged like a tide, each one carrying a sharp, cutting intent.

Suddenly, all the images froze.

A heaven-reaching sword light slashed down from the Void Realm, piercing straight into his mind.

"Hum—"

Chen Xiaodao in reality gave a sudden jolt, the Sword Qi around his body exploded, and the floating stones on the ground shattered simultaneously, turning into powder.

His body remained sitting quietly, but his aura was surging like a river, and the Sword Intent expanded outward in layers, actually carving a clear arc in the air.

Chen Wuwang's right hand had already gripped his dagger, ready to forcibly interrupt at any moment.

But he quickly let go.

This Sword Intent was too pure—no distracting thoughts, no malevolence, and not a shred of evil spirits.

It grew from his very bones, was exchanged for his life, and was honed through five years of non-stop sword practice day and night, and three years of life-and-death combat.

Such an Epiphany should not be interrupted.

Instead, he crouched down and used his dagger to carve a Soul-Suppressing Rune onto the stone slab, using the power of the Spiritual Vein to stabilize the surrounding Spiritual Qi field.

Immediately after, he cast an obscure Dharma seal, setting up a soundproof barrier to isolate the mountain wind, birdsong, and even the vibrations of the underground Spiritual Veins.

The entire viewing platform was left with only him guarding a Soul that was undergoing a transformation.

Time passed, he knew not how long.

Just at the critical point of the Sword Intent's Major Achievement, a strange fluctuation suddenly swept across the sky.

It was the residual waves of Cthulhu's whispers—formless and intangible, yet capable of eroding the mind.

It should not have appeared here, but the Void Realm of the Eastern Wasteland was permeated by the pollution of the Old Ones year-round, and occasionally fragments would drift down.

This sliver of residual waves happened to collide with Chen Xiaodao's mental barrier.

In an instant, illusions formed.

He saw the Zerg descending upon the village again, flames soaring into the sky, corpses strewn across the field.

His mother's body lay to the side, his father's chest pierced by sharp claws.

He himself was hiding in a pile of hay, holding that same half of a wooden sword in his arms, tears flowing uncontrollably.

"No..." his lips moved slightly.

The Sword Intent vibrated violently, on the verge of collapsing.

Chen Wuwang's eyes snapped open, blood-colored spiritual patterns flashing across his pupils.

He did not rush up, nor did he call out, simply raising his right hand and tapping the stone railing twice with his knuckles.

Tap, tap.

Two extremely light knocks.

It was the action he performed every time he thought, and also the sound Chen Xiaodao had heard since he was a child.

When he failed at sword practice as a child and sat dejectedly in the corner of the courtyard, Chen Wuwang would walk over, lean against the wall, knock twice just like that, and then say: "Again."

The familiar sound pierced through the illusion.

In the Void Realm, the youth looked up abruptly.

He saw himself in the illusion still crying, but he was no longer that child who only knew how to hide.

"I have a sword," he said in a low voice.

And then—

"Slash!"

A low shout, like a clap of thunder.

In the real world, an extremely pure Sword Intent soared into the sky, piercing straight into the clouds.

In an instant, the morning mist was torn apart, the daylight shone bright, and even the residual whispering waves drifting in the high altitude were cleaved and dispersed by the sword, annihilating into nothingness.

The world was clear and bright.

Chen Xiaodao slowly opened his eyes.

His eyes were clear, but his gaze was ten times sharper than before.

He looked down at his hands; the Sword Qi had returned to his palms, no longer leaking out.

The flow of Spiritual Qi within his body was smoother than ever before, as if every inch of his Meridians had been washed and refined anew.

He had succeeded.

Sword Intent, Major Achievement.

He gently exhaled a breath of stale air, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, but he did not speak.

Three steps away, Chen Wuwang sheathed his dagger, his expression relaxing slightly.

He did not step forward to congratulate him, nor did he ask how he felt, simply watching him quietly.

The two exchanged a glance.

No words were needed.

One look was enough to know each other's thoughts.

Chen Xiaodao slowly stood up and flexed his wrists, his sword still on his lap.

He looked down at the sword that had accompanied him for many years and suddenly smiled: "So... the sword is not meant for killing."

"What is it for?" Chen Wuwang asked.

"It is something that lets people live," he said. "What allowed me to survive was the sword; what allows me to dare to move forward is also the sword."

Chen Wuwang nodded: "Then how far do you dare to go now?"

Chen Xiaodao looked up, gazing toward the distant mountains: "To the very end."

The wind blew across the viewing platform once more, and the remaining sword marks on the stone steps shone faintly, as if they had just been washed by rain.