Chapter 258

Chapter 258: Inner Tempered Sword-Thread

The masked figure rubbed their forehead, sounding annoyed. “I’ll teach you, but you must swear not to pass it on to anyone else. Not a second person. Swear.”

Wang Jie agreed—and made an oath vicious enough to satisfy even a paranoid killer.

Only then did the masked figure begin.

It was a sword art unlike anything Wang Jie had ever heard of.

Most sword arts pursued stronger, fiercer sword qi.

This one did the opposite.

It tore one’s own sword qi apart—ripping it into thinner and thinner strands, finer and finer fragments, until it became sword threads. Then those threads were guided into the body.

With sword threads within, any foreign force that entered the body could be unraveled and dissolved.

In theory, sword threads could be refined infinitely. If they were thin enough, no tangible force could harm the cultivator from within.

They could even be used to heal.

Wang Jie listened, stunned. “There’s… a sword art like this?”

He hesitated, then asked, “Senior—did you create it?”

“Enough nonsense,” the masked figure snapped. “Cultivate it. When you master it, you can agree to become a mole and then leave.

Remember—I helped you. Sincerely.”

For several days, the masked figure came without fail, teaching carefully and correcting every misstep.

Wang Jie learned the method.

Mastery, however, would take time.

At last, the masked figure said, “You’ve learned it. I won’t appear again. Little kid, cultivate hard. Don’t disgrace this sword art.”

Wang Jie leaned forward. “Senior, what is it called?”

“I don’t want to say.”

Wang Jie didn’t look away. “If one day I can fear no enemy in this universe, I will spread this sword art’s name across the stars. Please tell me its name.”

The masked figure hesitated.

Then, as if surrendering to some private decision, they said, “Inner Tempered Sword-Thread.”

Before leaving, the masked figure turned back. “Do you feel the sincerity now?”

Wang Jie rose and bowed deeply. “Junior Wang Jie thanks you, Senior.”

The masked figure left.

And Wang Jie was left with only questions.

Inner Tempered Sword-Thread. Zhong Yi.

Was this sword art Zhong Yi’s creation?

The masked figure’s repeated insistence on “sincerity” didn’t feel like it was meant for Wang Jie at all. It felt… like an offering.

For Zhong Yi.

What had Zhong Yi done in the Ancient Sword Bridge-Pillar?

What had she done that made the Edge Sect unwilling to kill Wang Jie—and made someone like that masked figure rush to show loyalty?

Wang Jie no longer had the luxury of guessing.

He had work to do.

He cultivated Inner Tempered Sword-Thread.

—

A few days later, Luo Kui returned with what the Edge Sect called a final ultimatum—die, or become a mole.

Wang Jie lifted his eyes. His tone had changed. “If you kill me, my master will avenge me.”

For an instant, something cold crawled up Luo Kui’s spine.

Master.

Zhong Yi.

He kept his expression calm. “Do you think this is a place where threats matter? The Edge Sect doesn’t fear Zhong Yi.”

Wang Jie nodded. “Then wait.”

He chose to trust the masked figure’s words: the Edge Sect wouldn’t dare kill him.

Luo Kui left—and carried Wang Jie’s message to the higher-ups.

There was anger. There was unease.

But no one spoke the words “kill him.”

Hou Xiao came again, bright-eyed and persistent as ever, still demanding sword arts.

Wang Jie had considered the possibility of manipulation—that Hou Xiao or the Edge Sect had invented the masked figure to give him hope and force him to teach Yi Sword Art.

But Inner Tempered Sword-Thread erased that suspicion.

It was too strong, too strange, too valuable.

Yi Sword Art wasn’t worth such an elaborate trap.

Hou Xiao clicked her tongue. “Think it over. You’re not losing anything. Yi Sword Art is nothing special. There are plenty of Sword Dao Chen Arts. If it weren’t Zhong Yi’s, with that legend attached, I wouldn’t even bother.”

Wang Jie looked at her. “Fine. I’ll teach you.”

He was already in their hands. If the Edge Sect wanted something from him, they would get it one way or another.

He might as well gamble on the masked figure’s promise and carve out a future.

Hou Xiao’s delight was immediate. “Really? Great! Don’t worry, you’ll never regret trading with me. I’ll keep you alive.”

“I want your understanding of Sword Dao,” Wang Jie said.

“No problem.”

For all her dismissive talk, the moment Wang Jie agreed, Hou Xiao was happier than anyone.

And Zhong Yi had never forbidden sharing Yi Sword Art. In fact, Zhong Yi had left it within the Lockforce path despite her terrible relationship with the Zhi family. That kind of pride and breadth didn’t fit petty restrictions.

From then on, Wang Jie taught Hou Xiao Yi Sword Art.

Hou Xiao, in return, shared her own Sword Dao understanding—along with insights she’d learned from Sword Pool.

Wang Jie’s growth on the sword path accelerated.

—

Meanwhile, back at Black-White Heaven’s Command Hub, Wang Jie’s “death” sent shockwaves through the camp.

First came Zhi Xingxue—contacting others the way she had after Ying Yang Battlefield, only this time far worse. So many people had watched Wang Jie fall into the Cloudstream. He should have been dead beyond doubt.

Zhi Xingxue’s contact was desperation more than hope.

Then Realm Lord Bai reached out.

The words were calm, almost empty, but the intent was clear: confirm whether Wang Jie was truly dead.

Realm Lord Hei came in person. He had been stationed within the no-chen domain of first main battlefield, so the trip wasn’t overly difficult. After confirming Wang Jie’s death, he left.

Then Zhi Ye arrived.

No one expected the death of one Wang Jie to draw so many lords—each at the Star-Refining Realm, each among Black-White Heaven’s highest figures.

Why?

Rumors surged to fill the gap, dragging up the aftermath of the skyport battle on Ying Yang Battlefield.

“Back then, even more people came looking for Wang Jie—Celestial Master Bai Ye, Chen refiners within the sect, and even people from first nebula.”

“That’s impossible. Why would Wang Jie matter so much?”

“Because he was never normal. A Lockforce cultivator that strong? He even earned the title Rain-Slaying God. Anyone with a battlefield title isn’t simple.”

“Even so, he’s dead.”

“I heard Senior Brother Fang He got called in again by the Chief Huntsman.”

“Hmph. Ridiculous. So Fang He can die but no one else can? People die on the battlefield. We can die. Wang Jie can die. No one is special…”

—

Elsewhere, Fang He stood before the Chief Huntsman, posture respectful and voice heavy. “Disciple saw Wang Jie struck down into the Cloudstream by Luo Kui. At the time, disciple had already pulled away and couldn’t rescue him.”

The Chief Huntsman’s gaze was sharp. “Luo Kui’s opponent was you. Why didn’t you fight him?”

“When the Sword Dao Grand Array dispersed and Luo Kui returned, disciple was prepared to fight him to the death. I rushed out without hesitation, but Luo Kui’s target was Junior Brother Wang.

He charged past disciple and went straight for Junior Brother Wang. Disciple didn’t make it back in time. Junior Brother Wang was struck down into the Cloudstream in an instant.

This was disciple’s carelessness. I should have anticipated that breaking the array would draw the Edge Sect’s attention to him.

Please punish me, Chief Huntsman.”

Fang He bowed his head, guilt heavy on his face.

The Chief Huntsman watched him in silence.

On a battlefield like this, truth dissolved in chaos. Most of the people trapped on that planet fragment with Wang Jie were dead. The few survivors claimed they hadn’t seen clearly.

Death was normal here. Even a Hundred-Star Realm elder’s death would not be “investigated” in the way Fang He feared.

That had been the Chief Huntsman’s original stance. It was a pity, but they were all used to loss.

Then Wang Jie “died,” and one lord after another arrived.

The Chief Huntsman wasn’t afraid, but it sharpened her suspicions. She contacted the sect again, refusing vague answers.

This time she demanded certainty.

And the reply was simple: Wang Jie truly had that Star Dao master behind him.

That was why she’d pushed so hard.

Fang He’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t expected Wang Jie’s death to cause such attention.

When he had run, he’d done it to avoid Luo Kui’s gaze—and he’d let Wang Jie be sacrificed as the price.

That truth could never surface. If it did, even the Zhi family would come looking.

Pressure squeezed down on him.

A Six-Path Roamer, weighed down by the death of a Lockforce cultivator.

His eyes flickered. He bowed deeply. “It was disciple’s fault. On the battlefield, the one who should have died should have been disciple. If Junior Brother Wang hadn’t rushed to reinforce me, he wouldn’t have died. I beg the Chief Huntsman to punish me.”

The Chief Huntsman waved a hand. “No one ‘should’ die on the battlefield. Enough. Go.”

Fang He bowed again and withdrew.

That matter ended—on the surface.

—

Beneath the Edge Sect Command Hub, Wang Jie sat in the dim prison and stared through the hole the masked figure had pierced.

The wall was thick enough to withstand Roaming-Star Realm attacks. Without the masked figure, Wang Jie could never have opened it.

Through the gap, he watched people being dragged out—prisoners, taken one by one. Some were executed. Some were released.

Those released had made the same choice.

They became moles.

Wang Jie memorized their qi signatures, storing them away.

Every few days, Hou Xiao came, and the two exchanged sword arts.

Yi Sword Art was not difficult. Hou Xiao could even use Chen art, which meant she could enter Yi Sword Art quickly.

And Hou Xiao’s Sword Dao insights pushed Wang Jie’s progress with Inner Tempered Sword-Thread forward.

Time passed.

Three months later, Wang Jie finally peeled a strand of sword qi thin enough to be called a sword thread.

Before this, no matter how he tore and refined it, it never reached that standard.

Now it had.

Next came the cruel part—guiding the sword thread into his body.

It was painful. Exquisite and relentless.

But Wang Jie had tempered muscles and bones before. He knew how to endure.

And once the thread entered him, he discovered something else: it could temper his body even faster.

Hou Xiao appeared again, grinning, and performed Rain Sword Art in front of him as if showing off.

Wang Jie nodded, impressed despite himself. “You’ve already learned the first sword of Yi Sword Art.”

“And the rest?” Hou Xiao demanded.

“I don’t know the rest,” Wang Jie said.

Hou Xiao huffed. “Then you can teach me anyway. Once I learn it, I’ll teach you back.”

Wang Jie refused. If he let her run ahead of him in Yi Sword Art, it would be unbearable.

They bickered. Hou Xiao left. Then she returned again and again, trying to pry the later parts from him.

In the meantime, Wang Jie succeeded in fully guiding the sword thread into his body.

It moved within him—clearly under his control, yet somehow alive, like a living filament swimming through his meridians.

Strange. Unsettling.

Effective.

When he used it to temper his muscles and bones, the speed increased dramatically—at least fivefold.

That meant he could finally keep his body tempering in step with his rising strength.

By the time he reached his second limit, his body should be tempered to match.

Unless he broke through yet another limit.