Chapter Twenty-Eight: Wielding the Sword from Afar, the Sword Formation Shatters the Golden Bowl (Main Chapter)

High eaves frame the formation in a labyrinth; the Eight Trigrams are clearly defined within a single breath.

The Eight Trigrams Sword Formation. Originally the foundational sword formation of the Qiuzhen Temple. However, with the opening of the Sword Cliff and the disciples’ insights into the sword, some spent days and nights observing sword marks, some took up brushes to paint the Eight Trigrams, and others buried themselves in scriptures to interpret the hexagrams... The Qiuzhen Temple began to view Eight Trigrams swordsmanship in a new light.

Raindrops are tiny, yet they can wash away dust. Fireflies are faint, yet they can illuminate the dark night. They refreshed their understanding of Eight Trigrams swordsmanship: even foundational techniques contain immense potential. If practiced correctly, explored with diligence, and pursued with unyielding perseverance, it possesses the power to topple mountains and sever peaks, the might to intercept rivers and divide seas.

The Eight Trigrams sword became a mandatory study at Qiuzhen Temple. While Xuanxu, Xuanyin, and others rejoiced at the flourishing atmosphere of cultivation, they also achieved success in contemplating the sword marks, each bringing their own Eight Trigrams swordsmanship to perfection and deriving mysterious phenomena. During a sparring session, they discovered that although each person’s swordsmanship had developed unique traits, their sword energy echoed and even resonated with one another. This discovery filled them with both shock and joy.

In the years that followed, the disciples delved deep into study and ascended the Cangdao Peak to seek guidance from Xuanming. Combining their strength, wisdom, and heart's blood, they built upon the Eight Trigrams swordsmanship, the Eight Trigrams formation, and peach-wood swords to innovate and create a new array: the One-Breath Eight Trigrams Sword Formation!

This formation has infinite potential; its power is determined by those who deploy it. The higher the cultivation and the greater the number of practitioners, the stronger the might. When it was first completed, the disciples tested it. Xuanming occupied the Qian position, Xuanxu the Kun, Xuanyin the Xun, Xuanyu the Zhen, Xuansu the Kan, Xuanyang the Li, Xuankong the Gen, and Xuantong the Dui.

As it operated, heaven, earth, wind, and thunder moved in unison, while water, fire, mountains, and marshes surged forth. The practitioners’ magic power borrowed the strength of the grand formation, merging into one breath. The energy flowed through the Eight Trigrams, piercing heaven and earth, endless and perpetual. Their power multiplied, complementing one another, and their strength surged. As their swords moved, energy flowed in all directions, evolving the Eight Trigrams and drawing upon the power of the Eight Extremes, which in turn nourished them. Unless one could defeat all eight simultaneously, the formation was unbreakable. Even a Realized Being, without powerful countermeasures, would be trapped, unable to escape the cage, and eventually exhausted to death within.

The formation was so magnificent upon its inception that, fearing it would attract unwanted attention, the disciples suppressed their cultivation to the third stage. Even so, the power remained terrifying. Xuanxu admitted on the spot that if he were to enter the formation holding his inherited sword, he would struggle to break free and would inevitably perish in a life-or-death struggle. As for Senior Brother Xuanming, he only smiled without a word, never clarifying how long he could hold out.

Thinking of this, and watching the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation reveal its power for the first time, Xuanyin and the other third-generation disciples felt their hearts surge. Fifty-two disciples were deployed in this formation. Even without the four third-generation disciples of the fourth stage, the presence of the younger disciples ensured it remained formidable—enough to trap the Chen clan. Even if the Old Master Chen were reborn and caught within it, attempting to lead his kin to safety would be as difficult as ascending to heaven.

"It is a pity that Senior Brother Xuanming is absent; without his finishing touch, the formation's power is diminished by seventy percent," Xuanyin lamented. Only the One-Breath Eight Trigrams Sword Formation presided over by Senior Brother Xuanming possessed the power to rival a Qi-Refining Realized Being. The mere thought of that demeanor made his Daoist heart stir.

Upon hearing this, Xuantong and Xuanyu nodded without further reaction, but Xuanyang grunted, "Why use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken? If Senior Brother Xuanming were to act, there would be no need for a formation. A single sword stroke could sweep away the entire Chen clan. The execution order hasn't been issued yet; the Senior Brother is simply using this opportunity to let the disciples gain experience, to nurture the formation through battle, and to let them face the winds and blades so they don't lose their youthful edge from staying too long in the mountains."

Xuanyin rolled his eyes in silence. *Do I need a blockhead like you to tell me that? Do you think I don't know? I was just expressing a feeling! You actually took it seriously!*

***

"How could they arrive so quickly!" In the Chen manor courtyard, Chen Liang was struck with terror. The Third Elder gritted his teeth, his face dark. The other high-ranking members were variously panicked, fearful, resolute, or angry—facing life and death, all human states were laid bare. The clan members were in a state of agitation. Looking up at the sword formation above, feeling its sharp edge and powerful sealing force, the Third Elder said, "It seems the Qiuzhen Temple has an expert guiding them. Even if my uncle is not dead, he has likely been severely wounded and captured, reduced to a prisoner. We are a step too late. Our only recourse is to activate the Clan Protection Formation to shield our people, while we search for the formation’s weak points, attack with combined force, and seek an opportunity to break out and carve a path of blood. Even if all of us in the fourth or third stages perish, we must leave a seed for the Chen clan."

The resolute and sorrowful words hung in the air. A sense of desolation spread among the men, women, and children of the Chen clan. The innocent faces of the children were filled with helplessness. Women covered their faces and wept, and the youths were filled with hateful resentment.

Young men gripped their weapons; the elders sighed in deep sorrow. Xuanyin looked upon the suffering of the Chen clan, his Daoist heart cold and hard, feeling not a shred of compassion. Misfortune and fortune have no gate; only people invite them. The retribution of good and evil follows like a shadow. This is the burden of the Daoist path. If not for the divine might displayed by Senior Brother Xuanming tonight, it would be Qiuzhen Temple suffering this fate. The sins of the ancestors are visited upon the descendants. Since the Chen clan enjoyed the blessings, they must naturally bear the karmic debt of Old Master Chen.

Thinking of this, Xuanyin’s expression turned cold. He raised his hand and formed a seal; a stream of light flew from his fingertip into the sword formation. The array instantly activated, a phantom of the Eight Trigrams emerged, and sword energy rained down like a dense downpour. The execution order had not yet arrived, so while they could not kill, they could certainly wound; the more severely they were wounded now, the easier it would be to finish them off later.

Seeing this, Xuanyang shivered. No wonder Senior Brother Xuanming once remarked that Junior Brother Xuanyin had the hardest Daoist heart among their peers. He only half-understood then, but now he realized—it was this kind of "hard"! Nevertheless, Xuanyang felt no aversion. Those who kill shall be killed in turn. As long as the principle holds and it is not mindless slaughter of the innocent, a hard heart is better for survival than a soft one. Buddhism has the wrathful Vajra, and the Dao has its protective deities. Furthermore, Junior Brother Xuanyin had not yet killed anyone. Old Master Chen had disturbed the peace of the mountains and provoked the disciples' anger, obstructing their clarity of thought—his crimes were unforgivable, and under the law of karmic burden, the Chen clansmen were not innocent either.

***

In the Chen clan grounds, screams rose one after another, incessant and piercing; one clansman after another was wounded. The ordinary clansmen were fine, but the cultivators were specifically targeted. The Third Elder led the family cultivators in desperate defense, raising light shields, hacking at the sword energy with blades, manifesting three-foot shields, or breathing flames—each used their own methods and displayed their unique talents.

Chen Liang quickly summoned the family’s heirloom seal. A golden blade the size of a palm hung three feet in the air, spinning rapidly, emitting a brilliant golden light that flew in all directions. A majestic blade intent surged from every corner of the Chen manor, covering the hundred-acre courtyard in gold as if it were a gilded palace, shining brilliantly, before finally staining the sky gold to form an inverted bowl. In the dark night, it shone like a dazzling sun, illuminating the shadows.

As the sword energy struck the golden bowl, intense clashes of blade energy erupted. Blade and sword collided, the two energies grinding against each other. The two formations contended several times, evenly matched. Xuanyin and the others knew their sword formation was strong, but they had no specific concept of its power. Witnessing this scene, they were finally convinced and filled with admiration for Senior Brother Xuanming. The One-Breath Eight Trigrams Sword Formation’s birth was largely due to his contribution; if they had provided thirty percent of the effort, he had provided seventy. His understanding of Eight Trigrams swordsmanship and formations was unparalleled in the entire Qiuzhen Temple.

They were excited at the thought of Senior Brother Xuanming’s stunning talent. Unfortunately, the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation was a river without a source, lacking the geographical advantage of the Chen manor’s formation, which had been maintained for a century. With many Chen cultivators adding their strength to bolster it, the blade formation’s power surged. After several rounds, the golden bowl remained solid and unbreakable; the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation’s power weakened, and it began to focus primarily on containment.

"Take this opportunity to find the weak point and break the formation!" the Third Elder urged, leading a group of cultivators to take immediate action.

Outside the formation, Xuanyin and the third-generation disciples remained impassive. The Eight Trigrams Sword Formation could not shatter the golden bowl to break the array, but the latter could only defend passively and could not launch a counterattack. They could not get in, and those inside could not get out; their goal had been achieved. This stalemate was fine. Once Junior Brother Xuankong returned, they would bring out Senior Brother Xuanming’s sword and break the formation together.

***

But plans cannot keep up with changes. After a while, a cracking sound echoed. The One-Breath Eight Trigrams Sword Formation showed a fracture. Xuanyin’s expression changed abruptly, and he hurried to investigate. Xuanyang, Xuanyu, and Xuantong did the same.

There are eight positions in the Eight Trigrams; the four of them occupied four, while the other four were occupied by eight third-stage disciples paired in teams of two. Although these were the weak links, with the formation’s reinforcement, these disciples possessed the strength of the fourth stage. Working together, they were not ordinary fourth-stage cultivators; they could fight across levels and overcome the strong with the weak. Theoretically, there shouldn’t have been problems so quickly.

Upon closer inspection, they realized that the Chen Third Elder had led several elders to sacrifice themselves, performing a blood-sacrifice ritual to attack a single weak point of the formation together. With their hearts and efforts united, the Third Elder used his final strength before death to roar, his aged voice echoing through the night sky: "The Golden Blade lives on, the Chen clan shall be at peace forever!"

The several third-stage elders who were sacrificing themselves also roared with all their might: "The Golden Blade lives on, the Chen clan shall be at peace forever." The Chen clansmen, moved by grief, could not help but shout in unison: "The Golden Blade lives on, the Chen clan shall be at peace forever."

The tone was tragic, the shouts shaking the heavens. It resonated through the night, echoing across the wilderness. It was a longing, a hope, a pain, a helplessness, an expectation, a hatred, and a terror... The eight words were interwoven with various emotions. Amidst the generous and sorrowful cries, their bodies exploded, turning into blood mist that merged into a single blood-red blade, surging forward with intense blade intent and murderous aura.

The Eight Trigrams Sword Formation cracked. The disciples holding the formation vomited blood, their pupils shrinking, faces filled with horror, wrists trembling. Seeing they were in imminent danger, Xuanyin grew anxious and was about to summon Senior Brother Xuanming’s sword when the peach-wood sword on his back hummed and unsheathed itself ahead of him.

A magnificent sword light flashed, illuminating the night with such dazzling brilliance that many could not help but close their eyes. When they opened them again, the blood blade had turned to ash, dissipating in the wind. The two disciples had escaped death and were quickly replaced by arriving fellow disciples. The peach-wood sword did not return to its scabbard; it let out a sonorous clang and flew straight into the center of the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation.

A majestic sword intent surged in, and the formation’s power multiplied. The sword energy grew dense, turning from rain to hail, crashing against the golden bowl with the sound of metal striking metal. The sword energy increased, and the sword intent grew more vibrant. Finally, it converged into a long river of sword energy, like a galaxy falling from the nine heavens, crashing violently into the Chen clan’s protective formation. After holding for only a few breaths, cracks appeared on the golden bowl.

***

In the Chen manor courtyard, Chen Liang could not spare a thought for the sacrifice of the Third Elder. Seeing the formation failing, his expression changed drastically. He made a prompt decision and struck his own chest.

A mouthful of blood fell onto the three-inch golden blade suspended in the void. He chanted obscure incantations and changed his hand seals rapidly, attempting to summon the "Non-Living" Golden Blade through the small one in his hand. The two blades, large and small, were a set of artifacts forged from a single piece of Yin-Yang iron, an heirloom of the Chen clan. The three-foot "Non-Living" Golden Blade focused on killing, promising death; the three-inch "Living" Golden Blade focused on protection, promising life. The two blades could sense and summon each other. Only by combining their strength could the full power of the Clan Protection Formation be unleashed to withstand the assault of the Eight Trigrams Sword Formation.

At Cangdao Peak, in the Inquiry Hall, the golden blade on the table shook, showing signs of wanting to break the window and escape, but after three tremors, it stopped abruptly. The artifact had spirit, and a bundle of silver threads wrapped around the golden blade—a horsetail whisk had struck, suppressing the "Non-Living" Golden Blade. Lightning flashed on the handle of the thunder-struck jujube-wood whisk, and blue arcs of electricity danced along the three thousand silver threads, wandering over the golden blade and suppressing the summoning force with a sound like crackling firecrackers.

On the bed, Xuanming’s brows furrowed slightly. Without opening his eyes, a wisp of gray mist emerged from his nostrils, falling onto the golden blade and attacking in reverse along the invisible connection. Once the gray mist disappeared, he relaxed his brows and fell into a deeper, more peaceful sleep, the mist around him thickening as if he were lying on the clouds.

In Fuyun County, at the Chen manor, blood sprayed, splashing onto the ground. Chen Liang was struck by the backlash; his face turned paper-white in an instant, and he collapsed like a pile of mud, suffering heavy injuries and losing his fighting ability. The three-inch golden blade let out a mournful cry and fell to the ground.

The power of the Clan Protection Formation was greatly reduced. As one side waned and the other waxed, the golden bowl shattered into countless fragments. The blade light and intent were swept away entirely, and sword rain fell from the sky, shrouding the hundred acres. The Chen clansmen were all wounded and had no strength to resist. The peach-wood sword returned to its scabbard.

Xuanyin led a group of disciples into the Chen manor, first binding and imprisoning the Chen clansmen, then learning the locations of the library and treasury from a cowardly clansman, and began to transport the goods. If they could obtain an execution order, that would be for the best. If not, they would empty the Chen manor, using its century of accumulation to strengthen the Qiuzhen Temple. Only then would their thoughts be clear, their heart-fires extinguished, and their intentions smooth.

More than an hour later, the red sun rose, casting its brilliant light. Two spirit cranes spread their wings and soared through the sky, necks craned in high calls. In the Chen manor courtyard, everyone looked up to follow the sound. A jovial, chubby Daoist, draped in rosy light, descended on a crane. With red clouds behind and white clouds in front, his sleeves fluttering, he looked like an immortal from the nine heavens descending into the mortal world—ethereal, elegant, and filled with Daoist aura.

Watching Xuankong approach from afar, Xuanyin rolled his eyes, Xuantong restrained his smile, Xuanyu’s eye twitched, and Xuanyang, being the most outspoken, voiced the thoughts of all the disciples: "Immeasurable Heavenly Worthy, this poor Daoist is jealous!"

*They didn't expect this fellow to act so immortal! This dead fatty knows how to put on a show!*

Under the gaze of all, Xuankong felt a bit carried away, immersed in the moment, and failed to notice the spirit crane had landed. Caught off guard, his body surged forward by inertia. Even though he activated his magic to protect his body, he still rolled out like a ball, sprawling face-down in front of the four, his limbs spread out in a "big" shape, nearly dropping the execution order he held.

All pretense of dignity vanished instantly, the immortal aura turned to dust, vividly illustrating what it means for a molting phoenix to be worse than a chicken. Xuanyin, being a bit mischievous, teased: "In just two short hours, why does Junior Brother Xuankong offer such a grand greeting?"

Xuanyang couldn't hold it back and burst into laughter. Seeing Xuankong and Xuanyin look over, he immediately covered his mouth and said, "Apologies, please continue!"