The spiritual energy was restored, and he became a mortal immortal in two days.

Noon, 3:45.

A pure, silvery-white sword light, seemingly capable of freezing heaven and earth, came from the far north. Initially, it was still on the horizon, but in the blink of an eye, it had already traversed tens of thousands of miles and hovered outside the golden line of Tianmen Mountain, a thousand feet above the ground.

The sword light dissipated, revealing the figure.

He wore a simple, faded blue robe, his posture was as upright as a lone snow-covered pine tree, his face was stern, and his sword-like eyebrows slanted upwards into his temples.

His eyes were sharp as ice, and he exuded a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay, along with a peerless sharpness that seemed to pierce the heavens, unique to sword cultivators at the Nascent Soul stage.

It was Pei Hanchuan.

He carried an ancient, sheathed longsword on his back; the sheath was jet black and without any decoration.

He stood there quietly in the air, and the temperature of the entire world seemed to drop a few degrees, even the sound of the wind seemed to be frozen.

He didn't look at the ant-like onlookers below, nor at the empress on the distant city wall.

From the very beginning, his gaze pierced through space and locked firmly on the summit of Tianmen Mountain.

The figure in the blue robe, who had appeared out of nowhere, was now casually sitting on a blue stone, seemingly admiring the scenery.

Eyes facing each other.

On one side lies the extreme sharpness and fighting spirit of a frozen wasteland.

On one side is the deep, calm, and serene stillness of an ancient well.

"Jade Purity Sword Ruins, Pei Hanchuan."

Pei Hanchuan spoke, his voice like ice spring striking jade, clear and cold with a metallic quality, each word seemingly containing sword intent, clearly spreading in all directions.

"I have come here specifically to ask you, fellow Daoist, for guidance on swordsmanship."

His words were concise, without unnecessary formalities or the background of a celestial sect; they were simply the purest form of "sword questioning" between sword cultivators.

This was the last bit of pride he retained for himself.

This journey is for the sake of the sword, not entirely for the sake of the immortal sect.

At the summit of Tianmen Mountain, Chen Xiang slowly stood up and patted off non-existent dust from his robes.

He was still wearing that ordinary blue shirt, his long hair was casually tied up, and his face was expressionless, as if he were just a neighbor who had come to visit.

He raised his eyes to look at the cold, icy figure in the air, his gaze calmly sweeping over the sword behind him, and nodded.

"Can."

It also consists of only one character.

They didn't ask why, nor did they care about the other party's position, as if the other party's reason for coming was unimportant.

Pei Hanchuan's eyes narrowed. The other party's attitude was so indifferent that it was almost like ignoring him.

This added a touch of coldness to his already burning fighting spirit and arrogance.

"This sword is named 'Moon Frost'."

Pei Hanchuan turned his hand and grasped the hilt of the black scabbard behind him, slowly drawing his longsword.

The moment the sword was drawn from its sheath, the surrounding air made a faint "crackling" sound as it froze.

Sunlight shone on the sword, reflecting a chilling gleam. The sword itself had a strange, translucent silver-white color, as if it were formed from millennia-old ice and the purest starlight.

Where the sword's edge strikes, even space itself seems to distort.

"This sword is named 'Frozen Thousand Miles'."

The moment the words left his mouth, Pei Hanchuan moved.

There were no fancy opening moves, no earth-shattering bursts of energy.

He simply swung his sword.

It slashed diagonally down toward the summit of Tianmen Mountain, toward the direction where Chen Xiang was.

The movements were fluid and natural, as if they had been rehearsed a million times.

However, at the very moment this sword was unleashed—

"boom!!!"

The world changed color!

Centered on Pei Hanchuan, the temperature within a radius of a thousand miles plummeted to below absolute zero!

Moisture in the air instantly condensed into countless tiny ice crystals, which fell down in a flurry! The mountains and forests below were instantly covered with a thick layer of shimmering, metallic-looking ice!

Even space itself seemed to freeze, becoming viscous and stagnant!

A silver-white sword river, hundreds of feet wide and seemingly formed from countless frozen galaxies, surged forth from the tip of his sword!

Wherever the River of Sword flows, everything freezes, shatters, and returns to eternal silence and death!

That wasn't just cold, low temperatures; it was a terrifying sword intent containing the Dao of "annihilation," "end," and "freezing"!

This sword strike, though seemingly slow, was actually incredibly fast!

Locking down all the space around Chen Xiang, it descended with the full force of a Nascent Soul Realm swordsman, the Han Chuan sword intent that Pei Han Chuan had painstakingly cultivated for a thousand years and honed to its limit, and his supreme pride as the "Number One Swordsman of the Immortal Sect"!

The immortal cultivators watching from afar were all horrified. Even though they were thousands of miles away, they felt as if their souls were being frozen! Empress Wu Minghuang clenched her fists, and cold sweat seeped from her palms.

The power of this sword strike far surpassed any Nascent Soul or even Divine Transformation attack she had ever seen before!

Faced with this sword that froze the heavens and earth and annihilated all things, Chen Xiang remained standing in place, not even the hem of his clothes was lifted by the terrifying cold.

He gazed at the surging, silvery-white river of swords, his eyes showing neither admiration nor solemnity.

Just a little bored?

He gently raised his right hand.

There was no hand seal, no summoning of magical artifacts, and not even any obvious fluctuation of magical power.

He simply extended one index finger.

Facing the terrifying river of swords roaring towards them, a river that seemed capable of freezing an entire world...

Just a gentle touch.

It struck the very tip of the Sword River, at the point where the sword intent was most concentrated, sharpest, and most extinguished.

Ding!

A sound so clear and crisp, like shattered glass or the first clear sound of the creation of the world, suddenly rang out!

The sound wasn't loud, but it instantly drowned out Jianhe's roar, reaching the ears of every spectator and shaking them to their core!

Then, to everyone's disbelief and utter astonishment—

That awe-inspiring, thousand-mile-long river of silver-white sword energy, the instant it touched Chen Xiang's fingertips...

It solidified.

It wasn't blocked by a stronger force, but rather by the "freezing" and "annihilation" inherent in its own nature, as if it had encountered an absolute "nemesis" or "source".

In an instant, it lost all its vitality, transforming from a rushing river into a still, powerless ice sculpture.

Immediately afterwards, a tiny crack appeared in the ice-sculpted river of swords, starting from the point where Chen Xiang's fingertips touched it.

The cracks spread rapidly, crawling across the entire Sword River like a spider web.

Then........

"Splash!"

Like a shattered piece of glass art, the entire terrifying river of swords crumbled inch by inch, transforming into countless crystalline fragments.

Ice crystals, devoid of any sword intent or killing intent, fluttered down, refracting a dazzling yet harmless brilliance in the sunlight.

Pei Hanchuan's all-out strike, "Frozen Thousand Miles," embodied his lifelong understanding of swordsmanship...

The other person touched it lightly with a single finger...

broken.

It was a light touch, like brushing a snowflake off your shoulder.

Pei Hanchuan's hand holding the sword trembled almost imperceptibly.

For the first time, a clear look of astonishment and a hint of confusion appeared on his usually stern face.

Although he didn't use his full strength in that sword strike, he still used seventy percent of his power!

A strike from 70% of the power of a sword cultivator in the early stage of the Nascent Soul realm is enough to severely injure someone of the same level and flatten a mountain range!

How could someone so easily expose it with just one finger?!

He didn't even sense how much power the other party had used!

That's more like an absolute understanding and control over the "sword intent" itself, the "freezing" rule, and the "annihilation" principle.

"The First Sword".

Chen Xiang withdrew his finger and spoke in a calm voice, as if he were merely commenting, "The tea is a bit weak."

He looked at Pei Hanchuan in the air, his gaze still calm:

"Your sword is too 'deliberate'."

"Cold is cold, desolation is desolation, and a sword is a sword."

"The three elements are not integrated, and form and meaning are not combined."

"All show and no substance."

The calm comments were like swords, piercing Pei Hanchuan's heart!