Legend of Swordsman

The young Yan Immortal quickly stood up and drew out a long sword from somewhere, slashing at Jian Wushuang.

This time, Jian Wushuang moved even faster.

Almost at the instant the young man moved, he attacked.

Using his palm as a blade, Jian Wushuang aimed for his head and, with unimaginable speed, snatched away his long sword.

The young man, thrown backward, barely managed to stop himself, his eyes filled with anger and humiliation.

Jian Wushuang, who had taken the long sword, didn't rush to attack but instead examined the sword in his hand. "Did you forge this yourself?"

"None of your business!" The young man suddenly blushed, as if he had been touched in a sore spot, and reached out to reclaim the long sword.

However, Jian Wushuang was one step ahead of him. He shook his arm hard and the long sword in his hand shattered into pieces, leaving only the hilt.

The longsword shattered, and the sword body shattered into pieces, falling like snowflakes.

"You've gone too far!" The young man was furious and drew another long sword, thrusting it at Jian Wushuang.

Jian Wushuang barely dodged and remarked, "The sword is too brittle, lacking in spirit. The only commendable thing is that all impurities have been thoroughly refined out. You put a lot of effort into forging it."

The young man froze for a moment but then continued the fight.

Jian Wushuang seemed to be quite interested in disarming his opponent, and in a matter of moments, he took away another sword.

"This sword is not bad. It is much better than the previous two sword blanks, but it is still a sword blank."

"You dare to be so insolent!"

...

"This sword isn't bad, but it's still just a raw sword blank. Come again!"

And so, what was originally a confrontation turned into a comical brawl.

The young man acted like a sword repository, constantly drawing long swords to thrust at Jian Wushuang.

Jian Wushuang was like an old master. He stood in the clouds and directly grabbed the long swords to comment on them before shattering them one by one.

In the end, the young man simply handed the sword to him and waited for his comment.

Watching this scene, Nan Xuan couldn't help but be dumbfounded. "Can it be done like this?"

In the end, the young man couldn't hold back and asked, "Who are you exactly, and why do you understand the sword so well?"

Jian Wushuang didn't answer him but said, "Alright, all questions are answered. Now it's time for you to answer mine."

"No," the young man flatly refused. "I won't tell you that my master lives here."

"Hmm?"

...

The air froze, his lips twitched slightly, apparently realizing that he had just blurted out his master's location.

Jian Wushuang stifled a laugh; it seemed this guy's brain was not functioning properly.

The next moment, an irritable voice rang out, "Enough, you foolish disciple, even forging swords has turned your brain to mush!"

Jian Wushuang's gaze instantly sharpened as he looked towards the clouds ahead.

The clouds fluctuated, with speckled sparks flying within, like a massive furnace, and the cloud smoke began to turn crimson.

Upon hearing this reprimand, the young man hurriedly kneeled, his face flushed, "Master, forgive me, your disciple is dull and couldn't fulfill your instructions."

The clouds seemed to be boiling, like a toppling furnace, causing the entire sky to begin to boil.

Seeing this scene, Jian Wushuang's breathing became rapid. The closer he was to the truth, the more nervous he became.

As the sky turned crimson and boiled, a slightly stout figure slowly approached from afar, from the edge of the sky.

Sensing the fluctuation in the air above, Nan Xuan's face changed, and he quickly moved to Jian Wushuang's side, whispering, "Be careful, the newcomer is a Grand Yan Immortal whose strength surpasses mine."

He nodded. How could someone as famous and mysterious as Xu Tuo, the Divine Craftsman, not be a Grand Yan Immortal?

Moreover, Jian Wushuang speculated that Xu Tuo was likely one of those who had existed since the Ancient Era.

Approaching on a stream of fiery red clouds was an older man with a somewhat reddish-black complexion and a slightly stout figure.

He stared with a pair of bull-like eyes and stood with his hands behind his back, exuding an imposing aura.

Seeing this, the young man shivered in fear and lowered his head even further.

Jian Wushuang took half a step back and nodded slightly.

The short, stout old man with a dark and ruddy complexion arrived in mid-air, standing before him. He stared directly at Jian Wushuang, assessing him from head to toe.

After a while, he spoke coldly, "You're the one shamelessly claiming to guide my disciple?"

Jian Wushuang replied with a firm tone, "Guidance might be an overstatement; I just didn't want to waste such a promising talent."

"A promising talent?" The stout old man suddenly sneered, "My disciple is renowned for his stupidity, even among all my disciples. Where do you see promise in him?"

The young man kneeling on the ground heard his master's harsh judgment and turned pale. His entire being seemed to tremble, as if he could collapse at any moment. The impact of these words was far more devastating than having his sword taken from him.

The impact of these words was far more terrifying than when his sword was taken away.

Despair grew.

At this moment, Jian Wushuang spoke again, "Forging a sword is the same as forging one's heart. The hardships involved in this process are beyond what ordinary cultivators can endure."

"In the realm of the heavens, there are countless swordsmiths, but who deserves to be called a true master, who can forge the ultimate treasure? In truth, it was already destined from the very beginning."

The stout old man scoffed at this, saying, "Nonsense. Who dares to claim that destiny is set?"

Jian Wushuang smiled and asked, "May I ask, Senior, are you the Divine Craftsman Xu Tuo?"

"Yes," the stout old man admitted, "but what does that have to do with your talk of destiny?"

Once he was sure of this, Jian Wushuang breathed a sigh of relief and continued, "Then may I ask how many disciples does the Divine Craftsman have?"

"You're testing my patience, Junior," the stout old man frowned, clearly displeased.

Jian Wushuang smiled slightly, "I don't dare, but I can assert that no matter how many disciples the Divine Craftsman has, there will be only two who can ultimately reach your level."

The stout old man, who had been frowning, suddenly froze and a trace of unconcealed shock flashed in his eyes. But soon, he regained his composure and dismissed it, saying, "Humph, pure nonsense. You don't even know how many disciples I have, yet you dare to make such a claim?"

"It doesn't matter how many there are. There will only be two," Jian Wushuang said mysteriously, "Senior, are you willing to make a bet? I know who the two are."

"A bet? I'm not afraid to make a bet. I'm only afraid of your wild claims!" The stout old man sneered, "Fine, let's make a bet."

"Senior, if I guess who the two are correctly, please agree to a condition."

"Of course, if you guess correctly, I'll agree to any condition, even if it's ten conditions," the stout old man agreed.

Jian Wushuang nodded, raised his palm, and pointed at the young man who was still kneeling in the clouds. He said with determination, "That's the first one!"

A strong wind suddenly rose, and the young man, whose spirits had been sinking, trembled with renewed hope!