Maximum Comprehension: Taking Care of Swords In A Sword Pavilion

Chapter 1845: The Arrival of the Sword God Lu Yue, a Presence that Subdued All Realms.

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

The sword was connected to the body and bloodline; at that moment, the sword became a true sword.

When that sword was swung, the light of the sword and the bloodline fused, unleashing infinite potential.

Within a thousand miles, the clouds gathered and dispersed.

“What a good sword!”

“What a good sword cultivator!”

“Satisfying!”

Regardless of any demon cultivator or strong enemy.

One sword strike made everything calm and peaceful.

Before this sword, thousands of demon cultivators either spat blood and retreated or had their bones shattered.

“Xu Wu thanks Mr. Han for the favor of sharpening the sword.” Xu Wu bowed deeply to Han Muye with his sword held horizontally in the air.

On the other side, Yu Sheng also returned with his sword. Though he said nothing, his expression spoke volumes.

At that moment, the seventy sword cultivators remaining on the stone cliff all had their eyes gleaming.

Neither Yu Sheng nor Xu Wu were considered the strongest among the 72 of them.

Yet, the techniques they demonstrated today were already exceedingly powerful.

It wasn’t because Yu Sheng and Xu Wu’s skills had significantly improved, but because their swords matched their combat strength and cultivation so well that they seemed completely transformed.

“Good move…”

On a distant mountain, an elder in a green robe watched Han Muye sitting cross-legged on the cliff and whispered softly.

Behind the elder stood at least 30 upright cultivators with an aura as deep as an abyss.

“Martial Granduncle, what benefit does Han Muye gain from enhancing others’ combat power by sharpening swords?”

A middle-aged man with a long sword on his back looked at the green-robed old man and said in a low voice.

There were no benefits without a price in this world.

Han Muye couldn’t possibly sharpen swords for others without seeking something in return.

“Sharpening swords naturally has its benefits,” the elder in green robes said, squinting at the regrouping demon cultivators below the cliff.

“For us sword cultivators, observing this kind of swordsmanship improvement is also beneficial.”

“Anyway, I would never hand my sword over to someone else.”

The elder’s words made those behind him nod.

Even if Han Muye’s sword sharpening could improve the quality of sword artifacts, so what?

A sword is the lifeblood of a sword cultivator.

How could they entrust their lifeblood to someone else?

“Boom”

Below the cliff, demonic energy gathered to form a thousand-foot demon god.

The demon god, holding a long spear, charged towards the cliff.

Han Muye raised his hand, and from the black sword box, long swords flew out one after another.

The light of the swords merged with the surrounding sword cultivators.

These swords, nurtured in his sword box for at least three years, seemed to possess their own spirituality.

This spirituality came from the sword artifacts themselves and from the tempering within the sword box.

In fact, these swords carried the imprints of their owners.

The sense of connection between soul, spirit, and blood was of immense benefit to the cultivation of swordsmanship.

This was cultivation.

This was the cultivation of the heart.

This was sword cultivation!

Having not touched their swords for at least three years, everyone felt a tremor in their hearts as they held their swords again.

At this moment, they grasped their swords and would never let go again.

“Boom”

A giant sword appeared in the sky above the cliff.

The 100,000-foot-long sword slashed down with indomitable strength.

This sword strike shattered the clouds, mountains, and rivers.

The demon god ahead was cut in half by one sword strike.

“What a good sword!”

In the main hall of the Liantian Sect, the old men in front of the light screen had smiles on their faces.

When Han Muye left years ago, others saw only his talent.

Then throughout this journey of sword sharpening, others saw his understanding of cultivation and his insight into life.

Having good talent is merely a foundation.

Only by having high comprehension and insight can one walk the path of cultivation for a long time.

“Boom”

As the demon god’s body collapsed, the demonic cultivators spat blood and retreated.

Han Muye did not leave the Sword Sharpening Cliff but sat still, holding the black sword box.

The 72 Sword Dao Protectors stood to the left and right. The swords in their hands were compatible with their Dao.

Han Muye was surrounded by an endless glow of sword light.

To the sword cultivators around him, this sword light was both unfamiliar and familiar.

Somehow, one of these sword lights seemed to be the one they had wielded before.

But on closer inspection, this sword light seemed not to be the one they had practiced and mastered.

They did not know that the sword light around Han Muye was understood through the sword box, derived from the sword paths they had practiced.

The black sword box read all the memories within the sword artifacts and transformed them into Han Muye’s own visual memories.

As he slowly comprehended these memories, it was as if he watched others cultivate for a lifetime.

Unconsciously, it felt like he had cultivated for countless years and countless lifetimes through the sword box.

This feeling was not unfamiliar to him at all.

This was his way of comprehending the sword.

“Swoosh”

In the distant sky, a sword light streaked across the heavens.

“Mulan Mountain’s Xu Zhiyu pays respects to Mr. Han Muye.

“By order of my ancestor, I wish to study under Mr. Han at the Sword Sharpening Cliff for a thousand years.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a tall, slender young sword cultivator stood at the foot of the cliff with a long sword in his hand.

On the cliff, Han Muye opened his eyes and waved his hand.

The sword in the young man’s hand flew into Han Muye’s grasp, then the sword box opened, and the long sword was placed inside.

“A thousand years is too long. Let’s make it a hundred years.

Han Muye’s voice rang out.

A hundred years.

After a hundred years, he would return the sword.

Xu Zhiyu smiled and clasped his fists towards the cliff.

On the other mountains, many people looked at each other.

They thought that taking in 72 Dao Protectors was Han Muye’s limit.

Now it seemed he intended to take in more Dao Protectors.