Return Of The Sword God

007

The pain was far beyond anything Qing Zilong had ever endured. The moment his entire body submerged into the purple pool, it felt as if millions of invisible needles were piercing every inch of his skin simultaneously.

"UAAARGHHH!"

A roar of agony echoed throughout the hall. The once-still pool water suddenly surged violently. Waves of spiritual energy exploded from the bottom, transforming into a vortex that mercilessly swirled around Zilong’s body.

BZZZZTTT!

The energy was not merely being absorbed; it was forcing its way in. The dense purple Qi hammered against his Dantian repeatedly like a giant hammer forging metal. Every impact made Zilong’s body shudder violently. It felt as though thousands of sword blades were slicing through his insides, while a fire incinerated his internal organs.

"Damn it..." Zilong hissed, gritting his teeth.

Before he could even catch his breath, the next burst of energy slammed into him.

BOOOM!

"Ughh!"

A mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips. His body was thrown backward until it slammed into the edge of the pool with a resounding thud. However, before he could rise, the vortex of Qi pulled his body back into the center of the pool.

Craaak...

Fine cracks appeared along his arms. Fresh blood seeped from his pores. Moments later, the bleeding intensified, turning the once clear purple pool into a deep, dark red. The sound of bones grinding against each other was clearly audible.

Krak... Krak... Krak...

The meridians that had been forged only moments ago were tearing again. Each tear brought a wave of pain that nearly knocked the breath out of Zilong.

"If an ordinary person were here," he muttered with a bitter smile, "they would have died countless times over by now."

His body continued to tremble. His eyelids began to grow heavy, and his consciousness was slowly being pulled into the darkness.

"No..."

Zilong bit his own tongue. The sharp pain forced him to stay awake. "I cannot pass out. If I cannot even endure pain like this, how can I ever hope to return to being the Sword God?"

His gaze sharpened once more. He focused all his consciousness into his Dantian. Instead of fighting, he began to guide the rampaging energy to follow his new meridian pathways. However, every time one stream of Qi was successfully controlled, three others would flare up in revolt.

"Still not enough. If my Dantian shatters now, all my efforts will have been in vain."

Zilong forced his body to sit cross-legged at the bottom of the pool. His hands formed a cultivation seal. The purple Qi spun faster and more wildly. The pain intensified tenfold, bringing his body to the brink of collapse. Yet, his expression grew increasingly calm.

This place was truly not meant for low-level cultivators. Su Qian had built this place for himself back when he had reached the King Realm—when his body had already been tempered thousands of times. Now, he was using these facilities with a fragile mortal frame. This was no longer just practice; it was a gamble of life and death.

Time seemed to stand still. One hour, two hours passed. The only thing remaining in his mind was a single resolution: endure.

Little by little, the wild vortex of energy began to slow. The purple Qi now flowed obediently along the new meridian pathways. His Dantian began to expand and harden. Every crack was slowly mended by a layer of far purer energy. The pain gave way to a warm, restorative sensation.

Zilong’s breathing gradually stabilized. He opened his eyes. A deep purple flash emanated from his pupils. He clenched his fist, feeling the much more powerful flow of Qi. His Dantian now possessed a capacity ten times larger than before.

However, Zilong showed no joy. He only shook his head slowly. "That is just the foundation. The journey is still very long."

He stood up. The water in the pool, once purple, was now clear, as if all its essence had been completely absorbed. His body was covered in wounds and dried blood, but his eyes were now far calmer and sharper. His gaze shifted to the other side of the hall, where a hidden stone room lay.

Once he passed through the pulsing formation layer, a simple room was revealed. There was no gold or divine weaponry, only a stone shelf, an old altar, and a dragon-carved storage ring.

"It’s still here..."

He reached out. But as his fingertip nearly touched the surface of the ring, a small bolt of purple flame struck his palm. Zilong did not pull his hand away. He smiled thinly. "It still recognizes intruders, I see."

Without hesitation, Qing Zilong bit his fingertip, letting a drop of fresh blood fall onto the ring’s surface.

Sret.

The moment the blood touched the cold metal, the dull dragon carving suddenly emitted a blinding golden light. The entire ring vibrated softly, releasing ripples of spiritual energy that swept through every corner of the room.

Bzzzz...

The light grew brighter. The ancient formations that had sealed access to the ring for millions of years slowly unraveled one by one, as if recognizing the aura of its true master once again.

Qing Zilong narrowed his eyes, observing every strand of fading energy. "The seal is finally broken..."

He immediately channeled a thread of spiritual consciousness into the ring. Instantly, the mental bond that had been severed for millions of years was perfectly re-established. The corner of Qing Zilong’s mouth slowly curled into a faint smile.

"Still intact," he muttered.

Through his spiritual consciousness, he pierced into the vast dimensional space before him. Piles of Spirit Stones, rows of jade bottles containing elixirs, scrolls of ancient techniques, and various precious artifacts he had stored millions of years ago were still arranged neatly, as if time had never touched them at all.

Qing Zilong let out a long breath, releasing the tension that had been gripping his shoulders. "It seems... all my preparations from back then were not in vain."