Volume One: The Emperor's Sword Chapter 117: The Sword Qi Cloak

From the outside, the Ten Thousand Fathoms Tower does not appear particularly large, yet its interior is vast, easily accommodating thousands of people. The disciples gathered according to the orientation of their respective branches; those from the East Court stood on the east side, and those from the West Court on the west. No one strayed from their designated area. Yun Que surveyed his surroundings and took a steady position in a corner on the north side.

The structure of the Ten Thousand Fathoms Tower is similar to the Sword Trial Tower—simple and ancient—though it is dozens of times larger. While the latter consists of five levels, the former is only a single, cavernous floor. A spiral staircase within leads up to a second level, yet looking up from the ground floor, the second level is obscured by a hazy, swirling mist, rendering its true nature indistinguishable.

In the center of the first floor stands a large, square wooden table, also shrouded in mist. Through the gaps in the haze, one can catch glimpses of contours resembling mountains, rivers, and streams. Yun Que noticed the four corners of the table were marked by four distinct colors: cyan, green, red, and blue.

The Deduction Sand-Table!

Yun Que had heard of this legendary table. It mirrors the terrain of the Burial Sword Grounds. As disciples enter the transformation realm, small flags corresponding to each individual appear on the table in one of four colors, representing the four Sword Palaces:

Cyan for the Yan Kingdom Sword Palace,
Green for the Shaowu Kingdom Sword Palace,
Red for the Barbarian Sword Palace,
Blue for the Chixia Kingdom Sword Palace.

The colors of the flags clearly show the state of the struggle between the four palaces within the realm, though they do not reveal the identities of the individual disciples. If a flag falls, it indicates that the corresponding disciple has been killed or incapacitated, effectively being eliminated. Every Sword Palace has its own version of this deduction table, allowing the elders to observe the true combat strength of their respective disciples. It is, in essence, another front in the battle for the title of Sword Heir—not just a contest between disciples, but between the elders themselves.

The palace with the most flags remaining at the end receives lavish extra rewards from the superior sect, enough to tempt even the Golden Core elders. Thus, each year, the elders invariably urge their disciples to fight with all their might.

"The sword qi is coming!"

Someone whispered, and many disciples tensed. The newcomers who had joined the Sword Palaces this year were particularly nervous; some already had beads of sweat on their foreheads. A sound of sword humming resonated from above—not the usual ring of steel, but a strange, whimpering sound, like wind howling or wolves crying.

Yun Que noticed countless vortices appearing in the clouds overhead, descending slowly like funnels. He was very familiar with this sight; it was remarkably similar to the sword qi baptism in the Sword Trial Tower in Yanmen Town. There, too, rings of sword qi descended. The difference was that while one had to resist it in the Sword Trial Tower, here in the Ten Thousand Fathoms Tower, one had to refine it. With the existence of a gateway to the Burial Sword Grounds and the need to refine sword qi into protective cloaks, Yun Que began to understand.

The Ten Thousand Fathoms Tower acts much like a grand formation. It not only connects to the transformation realm but also refines the sword qi within it. It serves as a filter—purifying toxic water into clear water, and tempering raw sword qi into protective cloaks.

Wu Dachuan had already raised his right hand, adorned with a Spirit-Overflow Ring, bracing himself to refine the sword qi. The other Sword Servants followed suit, carefully manipulating their rings to align with the descending qi. Having no cultivation, Sword Servants must rely on these rings to refine the sword qi cloaks.

Yun Que also raised one hand, intending to casually forge a cloak just to keep up appearances. Once he returned from the Burial Sword Grounds, he would no longer need to hide his cultivation and could reveal himself as a Sword Apprentice. Compared to the nervous Sword Servants, the Sword Apprentices appeared relaxed and composed.

Soon, rings of sword qi took shape—each the size of a washbasin—drifting down like exotic, beautiful clouds. The hall was transformed into a surreal landscape, as if everyone were standing amidst the heavens. Each person selected a ring and used their dharma tools and Spirit-Overflow Rings to reshape it into a cloak. The process was simple, requiring only two steps: catching the qi with a tool and then using spiritual energy to mold its form.

Although the sword qi had already been filtered by the tower, it remained sharp. Direct contact would injure the body, so it had to be weakened to a tolerable level using tools or rings. The speed at which one refined their cloak was a clear indicator of their cultivation level. The Sword Heirs were the first to finish. Mu Qingyao, Yan Xu, Chu Hu, and other top-tier heirs completed their refining in just two or three breaths. They each wore a hat crafted from dim, swirling energy, with a faint, undulating aura of sword qi circling the brim. Since the threat of sword qi in the Burial Sword Grounds descends like rain, the most basic defense must protect the head. One ring of sword qi was only enough for a hat; more were required to refine a full cloak.

Soon, most of the Sword Apprentices had also finished their hats. The Sword Servants were the slowest; it took them ages to succeed, and many of their hats were crooked or tattered, looking comical.

The other three directions had finished long ago, leaving only the north side. Because the North Court had the most Sword Servants participating, their clumsy fumbling was quite a spectacle. Luo Xiaoyu struggled for a long time with her small dagger, finally producing a tiny, brimless cap. The North Court became a laughingstock, drawing raucous laughter from the disciples of the other three courts.

"They can't even refine a proper hat and they plan to head to the Burial Sword Grounds? Truly, newborn calves are not afraid of tigers."

"What do you know? This is just wishful thinking! They don't even have cultivation, but I suppose they're allowed to dream—even if it's a nightmare."

"Asking for trouble. I really don't understand what they're thinking."

The sneers and disdain became increasingly audible. Put simply: they looked down on the North Court. They looked down on the group of dreamers from the North.

For years, the North Court had almost no presence in the Sword Palace. If not for the Eldest Senior Sister’s notorious reputation for recklessness, the disciples might have forgotten the North Court existed entirely. To many, being in the Ten Thousand Fathoms Tower alongside them was a source of shame. They refused to be associated with them.

Amidst the jeers, the North Court disciples lowered their heads in shame. Wu Dachuan finally succeeded in crafting his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead, busying himself with helping the newcomers to hide his embarrassment.

"A bunch of good-for-nothings who can't even make a hat, yet they dream of fighting for the heirship! Their brains must have been kicked by a donkey!"

A sharper, more insulting voice cut through the air. This was a direct attack. Yun Que, who had been indifferent until now, glanced in the direction of the voice. He recognized the man: Ning Ji, a West Court disciple who had just delivered a paper to Chu Hu on behalf of his master.

"What? Not convinced?" Ning Ji pointed to the sword qi hat on his head, gloating. "If you're not convinced, why don't you try making a full cloak and show us what you've got? You bunch of short, pathetic runts—it’s hilarious!"

As the laughter continued, the second round of sword qi rings emerged from the air. Again, the Sword Heirs were the fastest; Mu Qingyao had already refined a half-cloak reaching her waist. The average Sword Servants were much slower than before. A hat was simple, being flat, but a cloak was far more complex, needing to cover the entire body.

The sword qi would only appear for a quarter of an hour, totaling three rounds. Very few could refine a complete full-body cloak; it required at least the cultivation of a Sword Heir to withstand three consecutive rounds of qi. Most ordinary Sword Apprentices could only manage a half-cloak, and for a Sword Servant, a complete hat was almost their limit.

Soon, the third round of sword qi materialized. The North Court was in even greater chaos, struggling not only to refine hats but also to dodge the excess rings of sword qi. The second round had already left them jumping around like a bunch of monkeys; whether anyone from the North Court would even be standing by the end of the third round was doubtful. If they ran to the other three sides to hide, it would be even more humiliating.

The laughter grew louder. Everyone wanted to see the North Court make a fool of themselves. Yet, as the third round of sword qi rings drifted slowly downward, the laughter gradually faded away.

The formation of the North Court had not changed. The sword qi falling from above had not diminished. Yet, not a single person had made a mistake, and no one had fled to another side.

Because every single ring of sword qi descending over the north side of the Ten Thousand Fathoms Tower had been caught by Yun Que.