The Sword-Intent Inheritance

The night had grown deep.

On the square before the Black-White College’s forbidden ground—the Black-White Diagram Stone Wall—only two young disciples remained. Ji Ning slowly opened his eyes. Though it was the dead of winter and bitterly cold, his heart blazed with an inner fire. He gazed at one particular line of writing among the many carved into the stone wall: “Holding a three-foot sword, slaying all that is unjust—Beixing's inscription.” For a long moment, his emotions churned.

My sword shall be a sword of unbridled freedom, a sword of pure exhilaration—a blade that cuts down every injustice I encounter!

A single day lived with passion is better than a century lived in stifled resentment.

Ji Ning could still clearly recall that silver-haired elder, his figure as vast and majestic as the heavens themselves.

He remembered the sword-intent that had soared to the heavens.

He remembered that set of sword-arts, burned into his very soul.

This... this is the pinnacle of sword-art. Compared to it, my own swordsmanship is no more than the light of a firefly vying with the sun and moon. His heart surged with boundless admiration.

Suddenly—

Ji Ning’s ears twitched. He turned his head, spotting a figure in white robes approaching from the distance.

“Eh?” Ji Ning was surprised. Tonight, there should only be him and Mu Northson, the two newly accepted disciples. Who else would come to this place in the dead of night?

The white-robed youth drew near.

For an instant, Ji Ning felt as though endless, crashing waves were rolling slowly toward him. The entire world seemed to transform into a tidal surge. Then his vision cleared—it was simply the white-robed youth walking toward him.

“How terrifying.” Ji Ning’s heart instantly grew alert. Though there was no oppressive pressure, the sense of threat this white-robed youth gave him was no less than what he had felt from Beishan Heihu. Moreover, the youth possessed an almost demonic, exquisite handsomeness.

“Junior, Ji Ning,” he said, cupping his hands respectfully. “Greetings, senior.”

Before arriving, Ji Ning had obtained an intelligence booklet from Beishan Baiwei. Based on the descriptions within, he had already guessed who this visitor might be.

“My Daoist title is ‘Bihai,’” the white-robed youth began. “I have the fortune to temporarily hold the position of College Lord.”

“Greetings, College Lord,” Ji Ning said with deference.

The Black-White College’s College Lord, Daoist Bihai, was naturally one of the true powerhouses of the Anchan Commandery.

“College Lord, Junior Apprentice Brother Mu…” Ji Ning glanced at Mu Northson, who was still completely immersed in his contemplation of the Black-White Millstone Diagram, utterly entranced.

“There’s no need to disturb him.” College Lord Bihai shook his head. “I came here to see you.”

As he spoke, a scroll appeared in his hand. He extended his pale, jade-like hand—more delicate than any woman’s—and the scroll drifted over to Ji Ning, who accepted it with respect.

“Read it, and you will understand,” College Lord Bihai said, his gaze upon Ji Ning. “As the cross-generational successor of Senior Beixing, you must not slacken your efforts. Remember—after you finish reading, destroy the scroll.” Having said this, he turned and walked away, vanishing from Ji Ning’s sight in a few short moments.

Ji Ning stood there, stunned.

Cross-generational successor?

Slacken not?

He immediately unrolled the animal-hide scroll. It was made of ordinary beast-hide, but the words inscribed upon it instantly captivated him.

“Immortal Beixing?” A look of joy spread across Ji Ning’s face. He had been eager to learn more about the man known as Immortal Beixing.

The first half of the scroll described Immortal Beixing’s growth and deeds, leaving Ji Ning utterly spellbound.

This was a legend.

The most revered legend within the Black-White College.

“When taking action, one should emulate Senior Beixing.” Ji Ning murmured to himself.

Senior Beixing did things according to two words: decisiveness. He sought only a clean, satisfying resolution. Once, infuriated by the heinous crimes of a youth from an ultra-ancient tribe, he killed the brat on the spot, obliterating his soul. This incited a hunt by that tribe that lasted centuries. During the pursuit, Immortal Beixing fled even beyond this major world. Yet, amidst the chase, his power only grew. In the end, the ultra-ancient tribe suffered heavy casualties and was forced to bow their heads in surrender, offering reparations to settle the grudge.

“I wonder which ultra-ancient tribe it was,” Ji Ning mused. “The scroll didn’t even record its name. Clearly, certain details were meant to remain undisclosed. This was likely part of the settlement terms as well.”

To have fought such a brutal war…

It showed that the ultra-ancient tribe was undoubtedly extraordinary. At the same time, it highlighted how utterly decisive Immortal Beixing was—truly a man who slew all injustice!

The scroll also recorded a conversation.

A junior disciple once asked Immortal Beixing, “The evils of this endless earth are beyond count. If you always go around slaying villains, can you possibly kill them all?”

Immortal Beixing replied, “The sins of the world are too vast for me to mind. I care not for the affairs of the world. But if I encounter them, I kill them, for my own peace of mind.”

The meaning was simple.

If I don’t see it, I don’t care.

If I see it and it displeases me, I kill it.

“What a free-spirited, magnificent life,” Ji Ning thought with admiration.

…

After finishing the account of Immortal Beixing’s life and deeds, the second half of the scroll began introducing the Three-Foot Sword.

The Three-Foot Sword consisted of nine stances. It was the supreme technique that made Immortal Beixing famous throughout the entire Grand Xia Dynasty—the culmination of a million years of his life’s work. Its power was such that even Beixing himself could not fully record and transmit it via books or diagrams. The ‘Dao-Collection Hall’ of the Black-White College only stored the first six stances of the Three-Foot Sword.

As for the final three stances, no one had ever been able to record them in text or image.

Only the line left by Immortal Beixing himself on the ‘Immortal Inscription Wall’ could, through the resonance of sword-intent, be passed down across generations. Only then could it be taught.

“So that’s how it is.”

“Only occasionally does a later disciple receive this cross-generational sword-intent inheritance. Even among those who receive it, few obtain the complete sword-art. The last time a complete inheritance occurred was three thousand centuries ago.” Upon reading this, Ji Ning finally understood the staggering nature of his own gain.

He also understood why College Lord Bihai had given him this scroll. The Three-Foot Sword was too significant. If hostile forces learned that the Black-White College had produced another genius who had received the complete Three-Foot Sword inheritance, they would undoubtedly try everything to destroy him, ensuring this prodigy fell early.

Thus, the news absolutely could not be made public.

Of course, it was permissible to use the Three-Foot Sword in combat. After all, the first six stances were already available in the Dao-Collection Hall. As for the future, if he could execute the seventh stance of the Three-Foot Sword, secrecy would no longer be necessary. The power to wield the seventh stance already placed one at a peak of power. After all, that seventh stance was a technique even Immortal Beixing himself could not record in books or diagrams—its might was self-evident.

…

Another hour passed.

Mu Northson finally snapped fully awake.

“Incredible! Absolutely incredible!” His eyes burned with fervor. Turning his head, he saw Ji Ning beside him and said excitedly, “Senior Apprentice Brother Ji! The Black-White Diagram is tremendously helpful for cultivation. I feel I’ve made massive progress in the art of puppetry.”

But then he paused.

Ji Ning had awakened before him, meaning he had likely gained less from the Diagram. This thought made Northson a little embarrassed.

“It is indeed quite beneficial,” Ji Ning said with a smile. “It’s getting late. Dawn will break soon. Junior Apprentice Brother Mu, we should rest properly. Two days from now, we will need to go to the College Lord’s Hall.”

“Mm.” Northson nodded.

“Also, this Immortal Inscription Wall has quite a history. You should study it carefully as well,” Ji Ning reminded him. Since Northson walked the path of puppetry, he surely had no sword-immortal heart, so he wouldn’t receive Beixing’s inheritance. However, now that Ji Ning himself had obtained a cross-generational legacy, there might well be other seniors whose inscriptions on this wall carried inheritances of their own.

“Right. It’s almost dawn. I’ll come back later to gradually study it,” Northson said with a laugh.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The two of them then mounted their respective vessels—a single-leaf wooden boat and a blue dragon puppet—and flew off to their residences.

Two days passed in the blink of an eye.

Just as they had guessed, on the second and third days, not a single person managed to become an official disciple of the Black-White College. Thus, this year’s new official disciples were only Ji Ning and Mu Northson.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Ji Ning and Mu Northson transformed into streaks of light, flying through the sky above the Black-White College, heading straight for the College Lord’s Hall.

“Senior Apprentice Brother Ji,” Mu Northson said, his eyes full of anticipation. “Today, after we receive our Black-White Pills, we can go to the Dao-Collection Hall and exchange for cultivation methods and immortal-demon secret arts. And today, we will officially take on masters. I wonder who my master will be.”

“Yes, I wonder who mine will be as well,” Ji Ning said softly.

Master.

A master in cultivation was different from the teacher who had taught him archery as a child. Archery was merely a mortal skill. But a master on the path of immortality… would be teaching the techniques that led to the heavens themselves. The grace of such instruction was profound, and the bond between master and disciple could last centuries, even millennia.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

Both of them landed before the College Lord’s Hall. At a glance, they could see over a hundred official disciples already gathered inside, chatting casually. Each one carried an extraordinary bearing.

As Ji Ning and Mu Northson entered the hall, many of the disciples glanced at them, their eyes filled with goodwill, offering slight nods.

“It seems only a portion of the disciples are here,” Ji Ning mused. “That makes sense. Cultivators don’t stay cooped up in the sect forever. Many are probably out traveling.”

Every year, there was a ceremony for new disciples.

But cultivators might go into seclusion for decades at a time. Thus, this ceremony wasn’t considered overly solemn. Those who could come, came; it was fine if they didn’t. Still, most who were in the sect and had nothing pressing to do would come to the College Lord’s Hall to pay their respects.

“The College Lord has arrived,” someone suddenly announced.

Everyone, including Ji Ning, turned their heads. Outside the hall, a white-robed youth descended from mid-air, accompanied by several other figures—the Primal Daoists of the Black-White College. This group of Primal Daoists descended together.

“According to the normal rules of the Black-White College, new disciples are usually apprenticed to a Primal Daoist,” Ji Ning thought to himself. The Primal Daoists of the Black-White College were vastly different from those of ordinary sects. Their power was comparable to that of ordinary immortals. To become a disciple of one was a great fortune.

“I wonder which of them will be my master,” Ji Ning mused, his gaze sweeping over the Primal Daoists, including College Lord ‘Bihai.’ He couldn’t help but speculate.