Swordsmanship Coach: Kill with One Slash

Chapter 173: Chapter 134: Sword God and Spirit Lord

The snow. No one knew when it began to fall, nor when it would end.

The Spirit Realm had always been like this since its creation. Blanketed in white snow, with fallen petals fluttering about. The snow fell so heavily, it was as if a silent swarm of white butterflies was descending from the cold, grey clouds, passing through forest after forest to land upon the vast, desolate earth.

In the blink of an eye, the layer of snow on the ground thickened, threatening to bury everything completely.

At the edge of the Spirit Realm stood a valley. Inside, it was as warm as spring all year round, a stark contrast to the world of ice and snow outside.

A thousand years ago, this place was known as Spirit Birth Cliff. It was home to a second-rate Qi Cultivation Sect named the Spirit Sect. Its disciples were upstanding and righteous, always happy to perform good deeds, and their reputation was excellent. They were widely known for their three masteries: Spirit Arrays, spirit creation, and bestowing blessings.

A thousand years ago, the Spirit Sect had many disciples and could be considered prosperous.

But the tides of history rolled on. The cataclysm of dwindling Spiritual Qi wiped out countless top-tier sects. Logically, a second-rate sect like this one shouldn’t have been able to escape the disaster. It should have struggled desperately like the others, only to ultimately dissipate into the currents of history, utterly annihilated.

But... something unexpected happened.

He was not only the lord of the Spiritual Sect but also the final Sect Leader of the original Spirit Sect.

He possessed an extremely high talent for Arrays. Just as the sect was on the brink of collapse, he suddenly obtained a miraculous Array that used Soul Power as its core to "soul-ify" a location.

He was utterly convinced...

...that only this Array could preserve the Spirit Sect.

However, the Array required an enormous amount of Soul Power, far more than he alone could provide. So, he thought of certain Demon Cultivator Cultivation Techniques that had soul-siphoning effects.

He was someone who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. To survive, he unhesitatingly converted all the Spiritual Power he had cultivated with the Spirit Sect’s techniques into the Spiritual Power of a Demon Cultivator’s technique.

Then, he sacrificed all the remaining disciples of the Spirit Sect, forging their souls into this great Soul Array. Only then did the Spirit Sect manage to survive, escaping the great calamity of Spiritual Qi depletion.

Even if...

this Spirit Sect...

...now consisted of only him.

He had escaped, but building and running an Array powerful enough to evade the great Spiritual Qi calamity had placed an immense, immense strain on him and left him severely depleted.

From then on, he fell into a state of sleeping for ten-odd days and waking for only one. Otherwise, there was no way for his drained Soul Power to even begin to recover on its own.

Even to this day, his body was still injured, not yet fully healed.

During this time, the Spiritual Qi he cultivated using the Demon Cultivator’s technique continuously altered his temperament and body, causing him to grow increasingly evil.

Five hundred years later...

*HUFF.*

He abruptly snapped his eyes open. ’This time... how long was I asleep?’ he wondered.

He didn’t know how long he had slept. His mind was muddled, and faint, stabbing pains pulsed through his head, as if he’d been secretly beaten up in his sleep. This had never happened before.

"I think I had a dream."

He gazed at the ceiling and murmured to himself, "I dreamed... of things from a long, long time ago."

On the ceiling hung eight Spiritual Tablets, each carved with the image of a different soul.

Those eight souls represented one Archbishop, one Bishop, two Vice Bishops, and four High Priests.

Five of the Spiritual Tablets had turned completely black, with a massive crack down the middle splitting them in two, clearly indicating that their owners were dead.

Outside the window...

...dusk had already fallen.

He climbed out of bed, but his whole body ached as if it had been crushed flat, making him hiss in pain.

Fragmented memories suddenly flashed through his mind: a man wreathed in black and red flames, wielding a huge, green, broken iron rod and smashing it down at him.

’What is this?’

’And this man... who is he?’

The memory fragments were hazy. The moment he recalled them, it was as if he’d forgotten them completely. They couldn’t linger in his mind for even a second, as if sucked away by something, leaving only scattered remnants for him to stumble upon by chance.

’It seems... something happened, but I can’t remember what.’

He sat on the bed, stroking his chin with his right hand. After thinking for a long time without recalling anything, he murmured, "Forget it," and immediately used his Soul Power to completely block his sense of pain. Only then did he slowly walk out of the room.

"We welcome you, My Lord!"

He had just pushed open the main doors and entered the grand hall when he immediately heard a man’s voice.

He turned his head, his expression impassive. The man was kneeling on the floor, gazing up at him with a look of reverence and joy.

’The Archbishop... no, the Archbishop should still be in seclusion. This is the Bishop.’

He always felt a bit groggy after waking from his slumber. It took him a moment to recognize the person before him. He then asked faintly:

"No need for formalities. How long was I asleep?"

"It has only been five days since you last entered slumber... You’ve woken much earlier than usual this time."

Hearing his question, the Bishop processed the information for a moment before responding immediately.

After listening, He nodded and thought with some confusion, ’Strange. This hasn’t been an issue for the past hundred years or so. Why did I only sleep for a few days this time?’

’Could it have something to do with the man from my dream?’

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