Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword Maniac

My Cultivation Is Gone, But My Sword Isn't

Alexander stood alone in the training courtyard. Rain dripped steadily from the roof. The Blackwood Estate was unusually quiet—too quiet.

He stared at the wooden sword in his hand and sighed. “This is terrible.”

He swung it once. The blade cut through the air with a soft whoosh, sending a few leaves drifting down from the tree in front of him. One landed on his shoulder. He flicked it away.

“Even my sword feels weak.”

A voice came from behind him. “You’re complaining about a wooden sword?”

Alexander turned. Emily stood beneath the roof, holding an umbrella and looking at him as though he had lost his mind.

He nodded seriously. “It’s defective.”

Emily blinked. “It’s a piece of wood.”

“Exactly.”

“How can wood be defective?”

“Poor craftsmanship.”

She stared at him for several seconds, then sighed. “Brother, you’ve become strange.”

Alexander smiled. *If only you knew.*

Three hundred years. He had spent three hundred years holding swords—divine blades capable of splitting mountains, ancient weapons forged from the bones of primordial beasts, swords that could cut through space itself. He had even once borrowed a blade from an ancient Sword Emperor, a weapon the man had spent ten thousand years refining. Alexander had broken it in six days. Not intentionally. At least, that was what he told the Sword Emperor.

Compared to those weapons, this wooden sword was practically a chopstick.

But that wasn’t his real problem.

Alexander closed his eyes and sat cross-legged beneath the tree. “Let’s see.”

He guided his breathing slowly—inhale, exhale—and attempted to circulate spiritual energy through his meridians.

Nothing happened.

He frowned and tried again. Still nothing. He changed his breathing pattern. Nothing. He tried another cultivation method. Nothing. A third. Nothing.

His expression grew increasingly ugly. Finally, he opened his eyes. “…My meridians really are crippled.”

This was something he had forgotten. In his previous life, Alexander had been considered a useless young master. His meridians were damaged from birth. The Blackwood family had spent thousands of spirit stones trying to treat him, but nothing worked. Everyone believed he was destined to remain an ordinary person.

They were wrong.

Much later in his first life, Alexander discovered the truth. His meridians hadn’t been damaged—they had been sealed by something ancient, something he never fully understood. Back then he had been too desperate for strength to investigate properly. Now he knew better.

He placed two fingers against his chest. There was a strange sensation beneath his skin—something sleeping inside him, something incredibly small but terrifyingly powerful.

The Origin Sword Seed. The remnant of his previous cultivation.

Alexander could feel it, barely. It was like a tiny spark buried beneath an ocean. He smiled. “So you came back with me.”

The sword seed gave no response, but he could feel its presence. It was waiting. Unfortunately, his current body couldn’t withstand its power. If he forcibly awakened it, his meridians would rupture. He needed to cultivate normally first. That meant starting from the beginning—Body Tempering, the weakest cultivation realm.

Alexander had once crossed that realm in less than a month. Now he needed to do it again.

He stood. “Fine.” He looked at his hands. “Let’s start from zero.”

---

Three hours later, Alexander was sweating. He had completed three thousand sword swings. His arms trembled. His breathing was heavy. His legs felt filled with lead.

He stared at the wooden sword. “I hate this.”

He swung again. Whoosh. His arm nearly gave out. Alexander frowned. “When I was sixteen the first time, I could only swing a sword five hundred times.”

He paused, looking at his hands. “Wait. That was actually impressive.”

He immediately became annoyed. Three hundred years of experience had made him forget how weak he had once been. A normal sixteen-year-old couldn’t perform three thousand sword swings in one training session.

Alexander sat down, wiped his sweat, and smiled. At least his body was improving. The Sword Maniac wasn’t gone. He was simply… under construction.

---

A servant suddenly ran into the courtyard. “Young Master!”

Alexander looked over. The man was breathing heavily. “What happened?”

“Master has summoned you.”

Alexander’s expression changed. His father. He hadn’t seen him in three hundred years. He stood at once. “Where?”

“The main hall.”

Alexander started walking, then stopped and looked at the wooden sword. He brought it with him.

The servant stared. “Young Master, why are you carrying that?”

Alexander glanced at the blade. “It’s important.”

“But it’s a training sword.”

“Exactly.”

The servant didn’t understand. Alexander continued walking.

---

The Blackwood family’s main hall was enormous. Several elders were gathered inside. At the center sat Alexander’s father, William Blackwood.

Alexander stopped at the entrance. His heart tightened.

William looked exactly as he remembered—tall, broad-shouldered, black hair, sharp eyes, a scar across his left eyebrow. In his previous life, Alexander had watched this man die. His father had stood against dozens of enemies alone, fighting until his spiritual energy was exhausted. Even after losing an arm, he continued. Alexander remembered holding his father’s body and hearing his final words: “Protect Emily.”

Alexander lowered his head. His fists tightened. “Father.”

William looked at him. “You came.”

Alexander nodded. “Yes.”

William studied his son. “You look different today.”

Alexander’s heart skipped. “Different?”

“You seem… more mature.”

Alexander smiled. “I had a strange dream.”

William chuckled. “Dreams can change a person’s mood.”

Alexander looked around the room. Several elders were present. He recognized all of them—some loyal, some cowards. And one…

His eyes briefly landed on an elderly man sitting near the back. Marcus Blackwood. His father’s younger brother.

In Alexander’s previous life, Marcus had died during the family massacre. At least, that was what everyone believed. Alexander knew better now. Marcus had survived and disappeared. He had spent years searching for him, only to discover that Marcus had been secretly investigating the people behind the attack. Unfortunately, he died before Alexander could find him.

This time, Alexander wouldn’t let that happen.

William spoke. “Sit.”

Alexander sat beside Emily. William’s expression became serious. “Something is wrong.”

Alexander already knew. “The southern border?”

William’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

Alexander remained calm. “I guessed.”

One elder laughed. “You guessed?”

Alexander looked at him. The man was called Richard. He had always disliked Alexander. “Young Master, the southern border has nothing to do with you.”

Alexander smiled. “You’re right.”

Richard snorted.

William raised his hand. “Enough.”

The room fell silent. William looked at Alexander. “We received reports of strange movements near the Blackwood territory.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “How many?”

“Unknown.”

“Any signs of a sect?”

“None.”

“Formation traces?”

William’s expression changed. “Yes.”

Alexander’s eyes became cold. “What kind?”

William looked at the elders, then said quietly, “Blood-locking formation.”

Silence.

Alexander’s hand tightened around the wooden sword. Exactly the same. His memories were correct. The attack would happen tonight. In his previous life, his family had been caught completely unprepared.

This time…

Alexander stood. “Father.”

William looked at him. “Yes?”

“Move everyone into the inner courtyard.”

William frowned. “Why?”

“Tonight, we’re going to be attacked.”

The entire hall fell silent.

One elder laughed. “Young Master, you shouldn’t joke about such matters.”

Alexander looked at him. “I’m not joking.”

Richard frowned. “On what basis?”

Alexander didn’t answer.

William stared at his son. “Alexander.”

“Yes?”

“How do you know?”

Alexander looked directly into his father’s eyes. *Because I watched you die. Because I watched Emily die. Because I spent three hundred years hunting the people who did it. Because I know exactly how tonight ends.*

But he couldn’t say that. So he simply replied, “I had a bad feeling.”

Richard laughed. “A bad feeling?”

Alexander turned toward him. “Yes.”

Richard shook his head. “What nonsense.”

Alexander’s expression remained calm. “Then don’t believe me.” He turned toward the door. “But when they come… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He walked out. Emily followed.

---

The moment they left the hall, Emily grabbed his sleeve. “Brother.”

Alexander looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

“You really think we’re going to be attacked?”

“Yes.”

“How sure are you?”

Alexander thought for a moment. “Very.”

Emily swallowed. “How?”

He smiled. “Because I’m your brother.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

Alexander laughed. She really was still the same. He reached over and patted her head. “Don’t worry.”

Emily looked at him. “You’re acting strangely confident.”

Alexander looked toward the darkening sky. “Because this time… I know what is coming.”

---

Night fell. The Blackwood Estate became silent. Everyone had been moved into the inner courtyard. Guards were stationed around the walls. Formation masters prepared defensive barriers. William personally stood at the main gate.

Alexander sat on the roof, his wooden sword resting beside him. Emily sat nearby, looking nervous.

“Brother.”

“Hm?”

“Do you really think they’ll come?”

Alexander looked at the moon. “They will.”

“How can you be so certain?”

He smiled. “Because they came before.”

Emily didn’t understand.

Then—

BOOM!

A terrifying explosion erupted outside the estate. The entire mansion shook. Guards shouted.

“ENEMY ATTACK!”

“THE WESTERN WALL HAS FALLEN!”

“INTRUDERS!”

William’s voice thundered across the estate. “Protect the family!”

Alexander slowly stood, eyes becoming cold.

Emily grabbed his sleeve. “Brother…”

He picked up the wooden sword. “It’s starting.”

Black shadows appeared across the rooftops—dozens, then hundreds. Their bodies were covered in black robes. Exactly as Alexander remembered.

His heart was surprisingly calm. Three hundred years ago, this sight had terrified him. Tonight, it only made him angry.

Alexander looked at the attackers and smiled. “Welcome back.”

Emily stared at him. “Brother?”

He stepped forward, the wooden sword resting against his shoulder. His eyes were no longer those of a sixteen-year-old boy. For a brief moment, they belonged to the man who had once stood above the Nine Heavens.

The Sword Maniac had returned.

Unfortunately, he was currently armed with a piece of wood.

Alexander looked at it, then at the hundreds of enemies. “…This might be embarrassing.”

Emily stared. “What?”

He sighed. “I need a better sword.”

Somewhere in the darkness, a masked assassin whispered, “Kill the Blackwood family.”

Alexander smiled. “Try.”

The first assassin charged.

Alexander moved.

Bang!

His wooden sword struck the assassin’s wrist. The man’s blade flew into the air. Alexander caught it and looked at the steel sword. A faint smile appeared.

“Much better.”

Then he disappeared into the darkness.