I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

Li Bai gritted his teeth, forcibly dispelling the renewed illusions of swords and the plaintive cry of "Li Lang" that tried to invade his mind. The stinging pain in his palms and the trembling of his arm muscles had become numb; only the instinct to climb higher and higher drove his body. He no longer calculated how high he had climbed, nor thought about how far he still had to go; he simply focused all his attention on the next groove, on the next burst of strength. Above, the misty spiritual energy seemed to have thinned a bit, and through the gaps in the branches, he could vaguely see the outline of a relatively flat, shadowy area higher up. Was it a platform formed by branches? Or another test? He had no time to ponder these questions; he simply channeled that faint hope into his last strength, continuing to move his already exhausted body toward that shadow.

Gravity, like a tangible shackle, tightly bound his limbs and bones. Every inch he moved upward felt like carrying a massive boulder. His lungs felt like worn-out bellows, each breath a searing pain. The air he inhaled carried not only a rich spiritual energy, a mixture of metallic rust and decaying vegetation, but also an ancient, lingering weight emanating from the bronze tree itself. This weight acted not only on his body but also pressed heavily upon his soul, sluggishing his thoughts.

Sweat had already soaked through his thin clothes, only to be quickly evaporated by the strange energy field emanating from the divine tree, leaving a fine layer of salt frost that clung to his skin, causing an itchy sensation. The wounds on his hands were repeatedly rubbed by the rough bronze tree bark; the bloodstains had long since dried and scabbed over, only to burst open again with each new exertion, the dark red bloodstains mingling with the dark blue of the bronze, forming a cruel yet resilient mark.

"kill--!"

A deafening roar exploded in his ears without warning, and his vision was instantly engulfed in blood. He felt as if he were on a brutal battlefield, surrounded by fallen corpses and broken weapons, the scalding hot blood mist hitting him, and sticky mud beneath his feet. A soldier, his face blurred and clad in tattered armor, brandished a spear and roared as he thrust it towards his chest! The cold glint of the spear tip stung his eyes.

Li Bai's climbing motion did not stop for the slightest.

He didn't even blink.

The mental cultivation method of the "Red Dust Sword Manual" flowed quietly in his sea of ​​consciousness, like a clear stream, silently washing away and diluting the blood-red illusion. He "watched" the spear pierce through his chest, but it brought no pain, only a faint ripple on the spiritual level. The illusion shattered like a bubble, and before him remained the rough bronze tree trunk covered with spiral grooves.

"This boy... cannot be allowed to live..." A low, sinister whisper seemed to come from the back of his neck, carrying the cloying, stale scent of court incense and conspiracy. Was that Li Linfu? Or Yang Guozhong? The voice was indistinct, yet filled with vicious calculation and chilling killing intent.

Immediately following were the heart-wrenching cries of women and children, the desperate groans of starving people, and countless faces filled with pain and pleading, flashing rapidly before his eyes. These were scenes he had witnessed during the "Cataclysm of All Living Beings," now rekindled and amplified by the pressure of the divine tree, attempting to crush his Dao heart with a heavy sense of guilt and powerlessness.

Li Bai took a deep breath, the air carrying the chill of bronze and the subtle sweetness of spiritual energy. He absorbed all these sounds and faces into the lake of his heart. No more resistance, no more rejection. In the center of his heart, the illusory "Heart Sword," formed from a steadfast Dao heart, trembled slightly, radiating a clear and pure light. All the noise and illusions, upon touching this light, melted away like ice and snow meeting the sun, transforming instead into nourishment for the Heart Sword. He felt his spirit, in this continuous impact and purification, become more refined and more resilient.

Climb, keep climbing.

The muscle soreness had penetrated to his very bones; every exertion was accompanied by the faint groans of his joints strained under the weight. The flow of spiritual energy in his meridians had become unusually sluggish, as if it were not flowing with light spiritual energy, but with heavy mercury. He knew this was a sign that both his physical body and spiritual energy were approaching their limits. The divine tree was subjecting him to a comprehensive, relentless tempering.

Just as he felt his arms almost go numb, hanging from the edge of the groove only by sheer willpower—

"Taibai..."

That call came again.

This time, it was incredibly clear and incredibly real.

It was no longer a fleeting hallucination, but as if someone were whispering in his ear, using all their tenderness and sorrow to call his name softly. In that voice, there was the helplessness and resentment hidden in Yang Xiaohuan's eyes when she was held hostage by a burly man on the streets of Chengdu; and the loneliness and melancholy of Yang Yuhuan drinking alone under the moon within the high walls of the palace, with no one to confide in. Two voices, two figures, miraculously overlapped at that moment, transforming into an invisible yet sharpest needle, piercing the softest, most untouchable corner of his heart.

For the first time, there was an extremely slight pause in the climbing motion.

It wasn't fear, nor wavering, but rather the overwhelming surge of longing and pain that transcended life and death, time and space, that nearly breached the dam of his reason. He wanted to turn back, to find the source of that voice, to disregard everything…

"call……"

He exhaled a long, hot breath.

He closed his eyes.

It's not about escaping, but about completely withdrawing all your senses and all your attention inward.

Deep within his consciousness, the general outline of the "Crimson Dust Sword Manual" shone like stars: "Refining the heart in the mortal world, impervious to countless tribulations. Where the heart leads, the sword follows. The will to protect can traverse mountains and seas, reverse the passage of time, and... bear its weight."

Bear its weight.

Yes, this longing, this love, this unwavering commitment to protect across three lifetimes, has never been a burden, nor a weakness. It is the source of all his strength, the cornerstone of his swordsmanship, the fundamental reason why he is Li Bai, why he can stand here, and endure this inhuman trials!

Why resist? Why view it as interference?

He should... hug it.

Li Bai opened his eyes again. The weariness and struggle he had felt before had completely faded away, replaced by a deep, calm as an ancient well, and beneath that calm, an inextinguishable, burning flame called "protection".

He no longer merely used his Daoist heart to "resist" those calls and illusions, but actively incorporated them into his "mortal world." Battlefield slaughter is the cruelty of a corner of the mortal world; court intrigue is the shadow deep within the mortal world; the cries of the common people are the lamentations of the lowest levels of the mortal world; and the call of a lover is the warmest and most painful longing in the mortal world.

All of this is "the mortal world".

His sword, born of the mortal world, nurtured by the mortal world, will ultimately be wielded to protect everything worth protecting in this mortal world.

"Come." He murmured to himself, not to the illusion, but to his own tempered and refined sword heart.

A miraculous change occurred.

Those auditory and visual hallucinations that initially tried to distract and weaken him subtly changed nature when they touched his now clear and inclusive sword heart. The killing intent of the battlefield was refined into an unstoppable, sharp will; the cold calculations of the court were transformed into insightful awareness and vigilance towards the treacherous nature of the human heart; the suffering of the people was settled into a deeper and more profound understanding of the word "protection"; and that call of his lover became the gentlest yet most powerful force supporting him beyond his limits!

Pressure remains pressure.

Pain remains pain.

But these were no longer merely hardships to endure; they had become the "furnace" for tempering his body and spirit. He felt that the spiritual energy in his parched meridians, though circulating slowly, was being purified and compressed repeatedly under immense pressure, becoming more solid. His muscle fibers, stretched and contracted to their limits, seemed to be repeatedly pounded by an invisible force, removing the dross and retaining the essence, revealing a stronger resilience. Even his soul, under the overwhelming pressure and complex emotional information, was like a rough jade being repeatedly washed, gradually revealing a more transparent and solid essence.

Climbing has become a form of spiritual practice.

Every exertion of force is a tempering of the physical body; every resistance to illusions is a refinement of the mind; every transformation of negative emotions into positive motivation is a practice and comprehension of the "Way of the Sword in the Mortal World".

He climbed even faster than before. It wasn't due to physical recovery, but rather a more efficient and focused state. The movements were still difficult, but each one was precise and steady, carrying a peculiar sense of rhythm.

In this area shrouded in the power of the divine tree, time has long lost its precise meaning. It might be the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, or it might be a whole day.

Li Bai's consciousness began to blur. Not from illusions, but from a pure, physical and mental exhaustion. The patterns of the bronze tree bark before his eyes began to swirl and overlap, and the sacrificial music around him became distant and intermittent. Sweat stung his eyes, and his vision blurred with stars. His throat was parched, as if it were on fire, and each swallow tasted of blood.

My hands were so raw that their original skin color was unrecognizable. The skin at the tips of my fingers was almost raw, revealing the pink tissue underneath. Each time I clenched my fingers, it brought excruciating pain. The muscles in my arms trembled violently and uncontrollably, as if they would give up at any moment.

limit.

The true limits, both physiological and psychological, have arrived.

The shadowy outline above seemed closer, yet remained impossibly distant. The glimmer of hope appeared so faint in the face of boundless exhaustion and pain.

Should we... give up?

This thought, like a venomous snake, quietly slipped into my mind.

All you need to do is let go and let this heavy body fall... and all the pain will end. Perhaps, this is also a kind of liberation?

No.

no way.

Deep within his consciousness, the "Heart Sword" suddenly erupted with unprecedented brilliance! Within the sword light, Yang Xiaohuan's tearful eyes were reflected, as were Yang Yuhuan's smiling glance back, the sea of ​​clouds over Mount Shu, the streets and alleys of Chengdu, and the appearance of all the beautiful things he wanted to protect.

"I...want to...go back!"

A low, hoarse, almost incoherent roar escaped from his chapped lips. It was neither the romantic chant of a poet nor the dashing cry of a sword immortal, but the most primal cry of life uttered by a man in dire straits, using his last ounce of strength.

The moment that shout was uttered, a sudden change occurred!

The shadowy outline above, which had been shrouded in spiritual mist, suddenly burst forth with a soft and pure cyan light without warning!

The light was not dazzling, but it carried an indescribable warmth and vitality, like the first ray of sunshine in early spring, piercing through the heavy clouds and shining directly on Li Bai.

The light enveloped his body, and the seemingly endless gravitational pressure that had been binding him suddenly lessened by at least 30%! Although it was still heavy, it went from being "unbearable" to "being able to struggle".

At the same time, a faint but clear pulling force came from the source of the light, gently tugging at his body, as if pointing him in the right direction and injecting him with the last bit of upward momentum.

That's it!

Suddenly, a startling brilliance burst forth in Li Bai's cloudy eyes. It wasn't a final flicker of life before death, but the flame of life ignited by hope!

"ah--!"

He let out a long howl, channeling all his remaining physical strength, spiritual power, and willpower into his arms and legs. His long-numbed muscles unleashed their final power. He no longer followed the spiral groove path, but instead targeted several protruding bronze tree burls and horizontal twigs above, using both hands and feet to leap upwards in an almost savage and frenzied manner!

The rough bark and the edges of the branches tore open more wounds on his arms and calves, drawing blood. But he was oblivious, his eyes fixed only on the ever-approaching, clearer blue light.

Five zhang... three zhang... one zhang...

at last!

His right hand suddenly gripped a flat, hard edge!

That's the edge of the platform!

It felt cool to the touch, yet was incredibly solid.

With his last bit of strength surging from his dantian, he let out a low roar, exerted force in his waist and abdomen, and struggled upwards like a fish out of water!

His upper body leaned onto the platform, followed by his waist, then his legs...

He rolled onto the platform, face up, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, each breath pulling at his aching muscles. Sweat mixed with blood, leaving a small, dark stain on the cold bronze floor beneath him.

It was a success...

He climbed up.

After a good dozen breaths, Li Bai finally mustered up some strength and struggled to sit up, looking around.

This was an exceptionally spacious platform, seemingly formed naturally by the interweaving and smoothing of several extremely thick main branches of the divine tree, its area roughly the size of half a basketball court. The platform's surface was still made of bronze, but it was exceptionally smooth, like a mirror, reflecting the swirling spiritual mist above and the scene at the center of the platform.

And at the center of the platform—

There stands a small, ancient bronze altar.

The altar was only half a person's height, with a simple design and no superfluous decorations. Only ancient and mysterious runes, similar to those on the trunk of the sacred tree, flowed across its surface. At the top of the altar, instead of a statue or tablet, something floated.

It was a lotus flower.

A lotus phantom formed entirely from soft, pure blue light.

The lotus bud was about to bloom, its petals layered upon each other, crystal clear, as if carved from the finest jade, yet possessing an infinite vitality and life force beyond jade. It hovered quietly about a foot above the altar, slowly rotating, emanating a warm and vast aura. That aura shared the same ancient pressure as the bronze divine tree, yet it was purer, more… intimate.

Just as Li Bai's gaze fell upon the illusory image of the blue lotus flower—

"Buzz!"

The Azure Lotus Sword, which had been quietly carried on his back, suddenly emitted a clear and joyful hum!

The scabbard trembled slightly, and the blue lotus pattern on the hilt seemed to come alive, emitting a blue halo that resonated with the illusory lotus image on the altar. A strong, blood-connected resonance and call emanated from the sword, reaching deep into Li Bai's soul.

He could almost "hear" the elation and longing emanating from the sleeping consciousness of the Azure Lotus Sword Spirit.

right here.

This is the end, and also the beginning.

Li Bai braced himself against the ground and slowly stood up. His body was still exhausted and covered in wounds, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light. He walked step by step toward the bronze altar, toward the floating, ethereal blue lotus flower.

With each step closer, the hum of the Azure Lotus Sword grew clearer, and the light from the lotus phantom on the altar intensified.

When he finally stood before the altar, within arm's reach, the entire platform was enveloped in that pure and warm cyan light.