Chapter 68

Chapter 68: Awakening the Sword Dao True Realm

She began to crave that strike—to yearn for it.

And beneath the yearning, something else ignited.

Defiance.

Song Wan Ning tightened her grip, turned her wrist, raised her sword, and slashed forward.

The first strike was empty.

The second was ordinary.

The third carried the faintest hint of improvement.

The fourth—

She stopped counting.

After countless swings, only that one strike remained in her eyes. Everything else fell away.

Her mind sank into it so deeply she couldn’t climb back out. Even her movements stopped feeling fully her own, as if the sword itself was dragging her forward.

The Spirit Bead, once arrogant, suddenly felt something shift.

Her sword grew sharper. Her aura grew stranger—frightening in a way it couldn’t explain.

[No. This isn’t right!]

[Her sword intent wasn’t like this before. What is she doing?]

Real dread rose.

The Spirit Bead tried to rush her, to disrupt her state, to provoke her into losing control—but it couldn’t get close. The nearer it came, the more its spirit screamed.

The aura radiating from her made it want to submit.

[No. Absolutely not!]

[This human isn’t the master I want! I can’t submit like this!]

It retreated, trembling, slamming itself into the farthest corner like a frightened animal.

In her sea of consciousness, the Little Golden Sword began to change.

Lines appeared along its body, deepening with each swing. Then scales began to grow—one after another.

[What’s happening?]

The Little Golden Sword stared at itself, bewildered.

Each time Master swung, another scale appeared, another line etched deeper.

Something incredible—something monstrous—was waking.

Boom!

Immortal Lord Mo Yang swung his sword in her mind.

Song Wan Ning followed with her own strike—capturing only the shape, not the spirit.

Where was she falling short?

Her brows drew together. Her hand stilled.

She stared at that figure, and it felt as if the Heavenly God Realm itself had descended: vast, cold, absolute.

Looking down on all living beings with disdain… and yet, somehow, with meaning.

Complex. Impossible to grasp.

Song Wan Ning’s heart thudded, once, twice.

That was it.

Immortal Lord Mo Yang truly belonged to the Heavenly God Realm. He stood above the world. From the depths of his heart, he disdained everything under the heavens—yet he also carried compassion, a quiet cherishing of all things.

He cultivated the Unfeeling Dao, yet at critical moments he still helped her.

He claimed to be emotionless, yet he was more sincere than any hypocrite.

He stood between heaven and earth like a blade and a shield—containing, protecting.

Rumble—

A deafening roar shook Song Wan Ning’s sea of consciousness. Chaos erupted, sweeping the Little Golden Sword into the storm.

Inside the Sword Dao Domain, the domineering killing intent transformed in an instant—turning into countless blooming flowers, bright and alive.

Wild grass surged up thick. Trees sprang from the ground. Small animals ran and played, joyful and unafraid.

A peaceful world.

It was beautiful.

And the Spirit Bead screamed inside itself.

[I’m doomed!]

This human had awakened the Sword Dao True Realm.

Above sword intent was the Sword Dao Domain—an illusion built from intent, able to kill without a trace.

Above the Sword Dao Domain was the Sword Dao True Realm.

Why “true”?

Because everything within it was real.

A new world—built by its master.

A real world controlled by her alone.

Song Wan Ning was only at the Nascent Soul stage. How in the world had she done it?

The Spirit Bead trembled, fear flooding up from the bottom of its spirit.

Her talent in the Sword Dao was terrifying.

And even stranger… her Sword Dao True Realm wasn’t made of killing intent.

Too strange.

[She clearly cultivates the Killing Dao…]

Confusion churned with terror. The Spirit Bead knew it had nowhere to run. It could only cower, waiting for Song Wan Ning to come to her senses and drag it into that true realm, where resistance would be meaningless.

…

Rumble…

The chaos in Song Wan Ning’s sea of consciousness kept roaring, battering her.

In the next instant, she stood above a starry sky, coldly gazing down on the Lower Realm.

Past events. Past people.

They shrank until they looked like grains of sand in an endless ocean—insignificant in the vastness.

Before her, chaos covered everything.

She lifted her hand and casually slashed.

The chaos dispersed.

Warm sunlight tore through the sky and poured down over her. In that instant, she felt like a god, looking down on all beings.

Under her gaze, everything submitted. Everything knelt.

At the same time, a halo of light surged out from the confinement chamber. It broke through the restrictions and swept outward.

Centered on the chamber, it rolled across the entire Song Family—then expanded at terrifying speed, covering the whole city in just a few breaths.

And it didn’t stop.

It pressed onward toward the endless mountains.

The moment the halo enveloped them, every person and creature felt soul-deep terror. Bodies moved without permission.

Thud.

Knees hit the ground.

Below the Nascent Soul stage, no one was spared.

Those above Nascent Soul struggled desperately, faces twisting, cold sweat pouring. Only after forcing themselves nearly to collapse did they barely remain standing—eyes wide, spirits shaken.

The entire city was alarmed. Even spirit beasts in the high mountains fell prostrate, trembling.

Everyone stared toward the Song Family, terrified, with no idea what had happened.

And the one who caused it all had no idea.

In Song Wan Ning’s sea of consciousness, golden light flooded everything.

The Little Golden Sword vanished.

In its place, a golden dragon rose into the sky, roaring as it surged upward—like an earth-shaking emperor looking down on all beings.

Crack.

A soft sound came from her dantian.

Her cultivation rose naturally, seamlessly, and she broke through to the peak of the Nascent Soul stage.

The Spirit Bead’s vision went dark.

[Now I’m really finished.]

It wanted nothing more than to bury itself in a crack in the ground.

After a few breaths, the chaos finally settled. Song Wan Ning drew her aura back in, and the halo faded as if it had never existed.

Across the city, bodies regained control. People rose trembling, clothing soaked through with cold sweat.

In that instant, each of them had felt the urge to submit—had felt, horrifyingly, the willingness to be enslaved.

It was terrifying.

What kind of “demon art” was that?

They looked at each other, fear still lodged behind their eyes. Out of dread and lingering shock, no one even dared to speak.

They only knew one thing:

Something extraordinary had happened in the Song Family.

.

Inside the confinement chamber, Song Wan Ning wore a warm, bright smile.

She curled a finger at the Spirit Bead.