Chapter 489: Memory

Chapter 489: Chapter 489: Memory

Just a moment ago it was still a statue, utterly motionless and devoid of vitality, yet in the next instant it turned its neck, looking at Shen Hao with a half-smile, half-grimace.

"Clang!"

Without warning, the statue drew the long sword at its waist—seemingly slow yet actually swift—and thrust it toward Shen Hao.

Dodge!

His mind screamed to evade, but he didn’t even consider whether he could block the strike. Even though this sword looked plain and unremarkable, without the slightest force, this was the Sword Emperor’s Tomb—things that appeared ordinary here were the most dangerous.

But even the idea of dodging was a fantasy. From the very start, this sword carried a tangible aura of suppression—freezing not just the air but the very space itself. Though Shen Hao’s mind was shouting "dodge," his body couldn’t move at all. He was pinned solidly in place, forced to watch the long sword coming for him, powerless to resist.

He used the Soul Power he had just learned. It had some effect, but not much—in an instant, it was completely crushed by the other’s matching Soul Power...

"Is this it? Am I dying?"

Shen Hao was surprised to find that, facing death, he was actually quite calm—not panicked, without regret or attachment; just a flash of slight regret passed through his heart.

As he stared at the approaching sword tip, Shen Hao suddenly felt the world spinning, as if his very soul had departed from his body, yanked out and shifted elsewhere, and after a wild bout of chaos, everything brightened—and he found himself standing amidst beautiful mountains and rivers.

He looked down at himself—nothing seemed different. But when he tried to move or speak, he found he couldn’t. It was as if someone had drawn a warded circle around him—he could only see, unable to move or speak.

In front of Shen Hao were a few thatched cottages. It was early morning, birds chattering everywhere, full of vitality. Soon enough, a young boy stepped out of one of the cottages, followed by a middle-aged man.

"Sleep, sleep, sleep—all you do is sleep! You’re already fifteen, how are you still so clueless?"

"Master, it’s not my fault! Your snoring last night was so loud I only fell asleep in the middle of the night. Otherwise I’d have been up ages ago!"

The two came out, big and small, but seemed not to notice Shen Hao, even though he was standing less than ten zhang in front of them.

"No excuses! Come on, show me a round of your stances. Let’s see if you’ve improved these past few days."

"Just watch me!"

The young man picked up a seemingly unsharpened long sword, and began performing a series of sword stances. Each move and posture was solid and practiced, showing clear evidence of hard training—already quite proficient, flowing effortlessly.

After he finished a round of stances, the middle-aged man nodded in approval, "Not bad. You’ve finally reached the threshold of Holy Spirit Swordsmanship."

"Really?! Hahaha! Really?"

"Yes."

"Hahaha! Awesome! I finally made it!"

The boy began to jump with excitement after receiving acknowledgment. His joy was plain to see.

His master was pleased as well, folding his arms and laughing, "Ten years of sword training, and only today do you enter the true path—that’s not easy. Today you’re eligible to learn combat techniques. Do you have the confidence?"

Swordsmanship, just like saber techniques or unarmed martial arts, is divided for Cultivators into "stances" and "combat techniques" or "fighting styles." The first is the foundation, the latter is practical application. If you only learn the stances without the fighting style, it’s all for show; only learning the fighting style without practicing the foundation means you’re full of flaws.

Shen Hao, too, practiced saber this way. His Light Splitting Slash also had both stances and fighting methods.

After watching for a while, Shen Hao noticed something. The middle-aged man was unfamiliar to him, but the young man seemed faintly familiar.

Wasn’t he... very much like the statue outside?

What followed was a very private inheritance—a master teaching, a disciple learning—their exchange embodying the purest "Dao" of the Cultivation Realm. It’s just that neither realized Shen Hao was watching from the side.

Of course, techniques requiring a decade of foundation couldn’t be simple. But everything the middle-aged man said next became blurred. Shen Hao’s vision fuzzed; he couldn’t hear, nor even lip-read—it seemed he was not meant to learn what was being taught.

Time passed—unclear how long. The youth seemed to grasp the key ideas and began integrating what he’d understood into the familiar sword stances.

Soon, his body moved with his sword—he became a swirl of sword light, finally perfected into one move.

"Sword One!"

At the very moment the boy completed his final strike, he was right in front of Shen Hao—the sword tip pointed straight at Shen Hao’s forehead.

He couldn’t dodge; he could only watch the sword tip thrust toward him. Shen Hao had just experienced this feeling not long ago. He barely had time to swear inwardly before his vision turned blurry again; as before, it was like his soul was ripped away. After who knows how long, Shen Hao finally opened his eyes and found himself back in the same place, torch in hand.

No thatched huts, no sword tip, no statue coming to attack—all seemed returned to the beginning.

"What the hell... is all this?!"

Shen Hao cautiously glanced at the motionless statue ahead—it was exactly as before, with no sign it had ever come alive.

He checked the torch in his hand, and by its burn rate, estimated that his bizarre ordeal had lasted less than a stick of incense’s worth of time.

No way this was just an illusion. It had to be some method of soul projection—directly implanting a memory into his mind so he could experience it firsthand.

But to what end?

All this could be explained as one of the Sword Emperor’s Tomb’s traps, but why? Just for a glimpse of someone’s memory? Was Sword Emperor Feng Bubai so eager to share his happiness with others? That’d be nonsense!

So what was the point of this?

Shen Hao automatically lapsed into thought. After a while, he jerked his head toward the tightly closed stone gate behind him, muttering, "Could this be another trial?"

Considering all the bizarre mechanisms of the Sword Emperor’s Tomb, Shen Hao felt there was a high chance this, too, was a test.

You want to come in? Then pass this trial first!

Was that it?

But what exactly was being tested here?

Shen Hao really wanted to just leave—he didn’t want to waste any more time here. But as soon as he tried, a sharp pain stabbed his chest as the hunger surged back with ferocity, forcing him to resist with all his strength.

"Alright, alright! I get it! Now will you calm down?!"

No choice but to continue speculating about the content of the trial. Thinking back to the previous stages of the Sword Emperor’s Tomb, Shen Hao came to a conclusion—this place was undoubtedly the Sword Emperor’s ground for seeking an inheritor, not just a simple tomb.

For example, the Cloud Sword Domain tested soul strength; the Tomb Beast tested strength and Cultivation; the corridor in the tomb tested comprehension. So what do these stone houses test?