Ancient Sword Tomb Chapter Thirty-Six Broken Sword Mountain

Early the next morning, a heavy crash echoed from the door. Luo Chen was jolted awake from his dreams, rising slowly to see Qing Xingyue standing at the entrance, her face brimming with anger and a wine flask in hand. Luo Chen was at a loss, unable to make sense of the situation.

“Old Yue, what’s happened?” he asked.

“You have the nerve to ask me? Tell me! Where did you take Yu’er last night? What did you do to her?”

Luo Chen was bewildered by Qing Xuan Yu’s barrage of questions. He had no idea what had transpired. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he propped his chin in his hand, pondering Qing Xingyue’s words and scrutinizing her expression. Something felt off. He hadn’t done anything last night, had he? Was this old man simply drunk and confused, picking a quarrel at dawn?

“You rascal, let me tell you—men of ambition may have a few confidantes, that’s understandable. But you haven’t formally married my Yu’er, and you behave this way? How could you treat her like that?”

Hearing Qing Xingyue’s stern words, Luo Chen nearly slipped and fell to the floor. Regaining his composure, he forced down his irritation and stared blankly at her.

“Old Yue, explain yourself. What exactly did I do? How am I unfair to Yu’er?”

As Luo Chen demanded an explanation, Qing Xingyue moved slowly to sit by the table. After listening to her account, Luo Chen was left speechless. It turned out that Qing Xingyue had visited Xuan Yu that morning to ask where she’d been last night, learning that Luo Chen had taken her to the royal mansion to rescue Wang Siyu. That was the reason for the furious intrusion.

Luo Chen adjusted his mood, glanced at Qing Xingyue’s angry and indignant face, and said nothing as he walked toward the door.

“Hey! I’m not finished yet! Stop right there!” Qing Xingyue shouted behind him, but Luo Chen shook his head in exasperation and kept walking. Only after stepping outside did he notice Qing Xuan Yu standing quietly by the doorway, her presence unnoticed until now. Seeing Luo Chen emerge, she approached him with a look of grievance.

“Brother Chen, Second Grandfather is just worried about me. Please don’t be angry with him.”

Seeing Qing Xuan Yu’s head bowed, unable to meet his gaze, Luo Chen gently took her hand.

“It’s all right. Let’s go—to the arena.”

“Wait! Didn’t Second Grandfather say the next match was moved to the Sword Hall?” she asked, puzzled.

Luo Chen frowned, glancing back at Qing Xingyue inside. Everything felt chaotic. Not only had he been rudely awakened and scolded for no reason, but now the competition venue had been changed without his knowledge.

From Qing Xuan Yu’s expression, it seemed everyone else knew except him. As Qing Xingyue came out of the house, Luo Chen felt a surge of irritation, but curiosity about the sudden change to the Sword Hall outweighed his anger. Such a grand event, abruptly relocated—had something happened?

“Old Yue, has something occurred?” Luo Chen asked.

Qing Xingyue didn’t answer immediately. She gave the two a heavy look and sighed.

“Follow me. I’ll explain on the way.”

With those words, she led them out. Luo Chen and Qing Xuan Yu exchanged confused glances, then followed her steps to a small plaza within the city.

In the square, Luo Chen saw dozens of disciples from the Sky Engine Academy waiting, some glancing up at the sky. He felt baffled, but before he could ponder further, the distant cry of a spirit beast rang out. Looking up, he saw dozens of dark shapes emerge in the sunlight—griffins sweeping through the air, landing in the plaza. Luo Chen was fascinated; it was his first time seeing griffins up close. The lion-bodied, eagle-headed beasts were three meters long, with massive wings nearly two meters wide.

“Everyone, form pairs and get ready. We must hurry to the Sword Hall. You’ll know the details once we arrive,” Qing Xingyue announced loudly, signaling to Qing Xuan Yu as well. Before Luo Chen could ask, Qing Xuan Yu pulled him toward a griffin. Standing beside the massive creature, nearly a meter tall at the shoulder, Luo Chen felt a surge of awe.

He’d heard that griffins were intelligent. He gently stroked its sleek feathers, and the beast responded with a gentle cry. With a glance at Qing Xuan Yu, Luo Chen leaped onto the griffin’s back, pulling her up with him. At Qing Xingyue’s signal, dozens of griffins rose in unison, soaring skyward.

An hour later, flying westward, Luo Chen gazed down at the vast Fallen Forest. Since leaving Wind City, he’d learned from Qing Xingyue that this forest, at the dawn of the New Divine Era, had been a barren wasteland stretching a thousand miles.

Over the centuries, legend held that a holy white tiger had fallen from the heavens, its lingering breath infusing the land with its flesh and blood. Within a hundred years, the wasteland was transformed, becoming home to myriad spirit beast clans. In honor of the holy beast, the site was named Fallen Forest.

Later, the first Sword Sage of the Mortal Realm, Jian Fenghua, wandered here by chance and resolved to establish the Sword Hall in this fallen land. Centuries later, at the Sword Sage’s passing, an agreement was reached with the Sky Engine Palace and the Holy Pool Sanctuary, two top sanctuaries.

Every five years, the three sanctuaries would hold a trial, their best disciples granted the chance to inherit from the Ancient Sword Tomb. If the champion hailed from one of the three, their sanctuary would gain guardianship over the tomb for centuries.

The Sky Engine Academy participated to reclaim its former glory as a sanctuary. As for who created the Ancient Sword Tomb, why it appeared here, and why the Sword Sage chose to unite the three sanctuaries to protect it—Qing Xingyue had never revealed these secrets to Luo Chen. Perhaps, for someone only a few centuries old, such ancient mysteries remained unknown.

However, this time, Qing Xingyue did disclose why the finals had been moved to the Sword Hall. A week earlier, the Ancient Sword Tomb had experienced strange tremors; its internal aura had grown increasingly unstable. Since entry was restricted to those below the mid-stage Heavenly Spirit Realm, the venue had been changed to ensure a swift competition, so the secret gateway to the tomb could be opened and disciples sent in to investigate.

Listening to this, Luo Chen couldn’t help but feel the sanctuaries were treating their disciples as cannon fodder. If calamity lurked within the tomb, and only those below the mid-stage Heavenly Spirit Realm could enter, wasn’t this sending them to their deaths?

“Look! Broken Sword Mountain!” shouted Qian Dashuang behind them. The exclamation roused Qing Xuan Yu, who had been napping in Luo Chen’s arms. Luo Chen smiled at her, then turned his gaze toward the focus of everyone’s attention.

A few hundred meters ahead, a massive peak was cleaved in half, its summit crowned by a colossal sword, its blade gleaming. Midway up the mountain, a grand silver palace stood—the Sword Hall’s main hall, surrounded by orderly pavilions encircling the waist of the peak, forming a giant silver ring from afar.

Behind the main hall, a stairway led directly to the flattened summit. Seeing this, Luo Chen realized who must have leveled the mountaintop—only the legendary Sword Sage, Jian Fenghua, could wield such power in that era.

As the group landed their griffins in front of the Sword Hall’s main plaza, Luo Chen saw many of the sects and heirs he’d spotted at the arena already waiting.

“Yu’er!” called Luo Xiaoya from nearby. Luo Chen and Qing Xuan Yu had just dismounted when her voice reached them. Turning, Luo Xiaoya was running toward them. Luo Chen nodded to Qing Xuan Yu, who hurried to meet her.

“Uncle, you’re here!” Bai Li Luohua and others approached. Luo Chen sensed a strange tension; many eyes were filled with doubt, glancing at him, then at Qing Xuan Yu.

“Uncle, what about Nameless and Xuan Yu?” Bai Li Qingmei asked curiously. Qing Xingyue only smiled, glanced at Luo Chen, then at Qing Xuan Yu playing with Luo Xiaoya nearby.

“Come, let the youngsters decide for themselves. We old folks have no place interfering,” Qing Xingyue said, casting a sidelong glance at Luo Chen before heading toward a two-story pavilion. After a brief hesitation, Luo Chen followed, understanding the meaning behind Qing Xingyue’s words.

Soon, he and the others reached the pavilion’s second floor. The structure was open, with staircases at each side. Rather than a true pavilion, it resembled an elaborate gazebo. From the front, the plaza was bordered on three sides by spectator pavilions, with only the main hall unencumbered. Luo Chen observed that not all factions from the arena were present—only a dozen or so sects and families had arrived. He recalled Qing Xingyue mentioning earlier that some had no interest in the competition and attended merely to honor the Sword Hall’s name.