Chapter Fifty-Eight: A Bloody Struggle for Fortune

After half a month of careful observation, Li Ruoyu discovered a flaw in one corner of the Crimson Immortal Burial Ground. Though he wasn’t entirely certain, it was, without question, a favorable sign amid uncertainty.

Drawing closer to the flawed corner, he saw a faint and indistinct path trailing into the depths of the burial ground, winding toward the heart of the Crimson Immortal Burial. At the center of this path lay the Mingdao Pool.

Li Ruoyu was perplexed by this flaw. By all logic, immortal burial grounds should be whole and unblemished, complete in their form, without such obvious imperfections.

Staring at the hazy path, Li Ruoyu sank deep into thought. Its shape was not that of something shaped by nature, but rather appeared to be the result of deliberate effort. Was it possible that this flaw was man-made? Struck by the thought, Li Ruoyu examined the path for a third time, gazing as far as his eyes could reach. At the end of the path, there seemed to be a cave.

“An Immortal Burial Chamber?”

Could it be that an unknown creature was undergoing corporeal dissolution within this terrain? Looking more intently at the path, Li Ruoyu realized it was not a road at all, but rather the scar left by a colossal sword—one that seemed to pierce the heavens.

He speculated: had someone attacked this burial ground, seeking to destroy the terrifying entity undergoing dissolution within the chamber? Though he could not confirm his guess, the possibility lingered.

“To enter, or not to enter?” Li Ruoyu hesitated.

“One step forward, and life and death become uncertain. One step back, and safety is assured. But is that truly what I desire?” he asked himself.

There is no such thing as a free meal, nor will fortune simply fall into one's lap. To gain, one must lose. Li Ruoyu was not lacking in courage, but courage was not recklessness. Drawing forth the Grand Soul Banner, he held it tightly. The blurred character for “Soul” on its face caught his eye.

He looked ahead, resolve emerging in his gaze, and began to follow the path toward the place where the terrifying creature might be undergoing dissolution.

Around him, crimson sand and earth exuded a dampness, the chill in the air unmistakable, carrying a palpable sense of gloom.

Step by step, Li Ruoyu advanced. On his third step, invisible sword energy assailed him, sharp pain carving his face like a blade. Drops of blood fell to the crimson ground, only to be sliced by nameless sword energy into ever smaller droplets, splattering across the space, raining down like a fine drizzle.

“Sword Domain.”

The narrow path had transformed into a domain saturated with sword energy, subjecting all who entered to fierce assault.

Li Ruoyu now resembled a figure made of blood, his garments soaked through, the blood staining the face of the Grand Soul Banner he clutched, turning it a deeper shade of red.

Though the situation was far more perilous than he had anticipated, Li Ruoyu showed no sign of retreat. He drew his bone sword and unleashed the “Persistence” strike, infusing the sword with the essence of the Fist of Transcendence to counter the sword energy within the domain.

He could sense, as he fought against this overwhelming sword energy, that it was left behind by someone who had reached the pinnacle of sword mastery. The intent contained within it had not faded with the passing of years—a testament to the extraordinary power of its creator. If not for the bone sword’s automatic shielding, Li Ruoyu would surely have perished, unable to survive the more than five hundred steps through the domain.

Even with the bone sword’s protection, Li Ruoyu was close to collapse.

He understood this outcome was inevitable, as life itself is inherently difficult. Fortune is not easily won—within the burial ground, the Sword Domain was the only path forward. The ground formed a single whole; entering from any other direction would be certain death.

With great effort, Li Ruoyu pressed onward, catching sight of a peculiar fragment of black wood carved with intricate markings. Stepping closer, he picked it up and gazed deeply toward the suspected burial chamber.

From the moment he entered the Sword Domain, Li Ruoyu had suspected it was the scar left by an assault upon the burial ground. As he passed through, his confidence in this theory grew. When he picked up the black wood, he was certain.

It was wood from a coffin, the kind used to lay the dead to rest in the underworld—a coffin within a shell.

No wonder Mount Huang was a place of peril and calamity. The awakening of a terrifying creature undergoing immortal dissolution in the burial ground could spell disaster for the world.

Coughing blood, Li Ruoyu struggled toward the Mingdao Pool. Within the Sword Domain, he was like a frail boat in a tempest, battered by unending storms.

Enduring with all his strength, Li Ruoyu’s complexion was pale as wax, like one who had never seen sunlight. At last, he reached the Mingdao Pool.

Now was the moment—he stepped into the pool. Milky-white Dao Essence flowed into his body, not only repairing his wounds but also drawing his consciousness into a mysterious realm. The entire world became swords—mountains were sword mountains, seas were sword seas, all things were composed of swords.

“Dominant Sword Dao.”

Three characters formed of swords appeared before Li Ruoyu, arranged vertically, with a fissure running from top to bottom through the middle.

Entering this inexplicable world, Li Ruoyu was instantly struck by its strangeness. Only now did he understand.

The Mingdao Pool was the manifestation of the broken "Dao" left behind by the master of the Sword Domain, whose path had been severed by the terrifying entity practicing immortal dissolution.

This peerless swordsman had not walked the ordinary sword path, but rather the most difficult “Dominant Sword Dao”—a way of the sword defined by extreme dominance. Those who practiced it were not to be trifled with; every action determined life or death. It was a sword path of pure offense and no defense, an extreme and dangerous route. Those who walked it were either madmen or obsessives. Yet, if one could reach the summit, their power would be unrivaled, as with the Path of Ruthlessness or the Path of Supreme Sentiment.

The crack through the “Dominant Sword Dao” characters in his consciousness was proof of Li Ruoyu’s theory. The Mingdao Pool was formed from the shattered Dao of a supreme sword master.

Gazing at the “Dominant Sword Dao,” Li Ruoyu’s eyes were filled with resolve. He guarded his mind, refusing to let the Dao within influence him.

The Dominant Sword Dao was indeed powerful, but it did not belong to him. Li Ruoyu understood deeply: another’s sword will always remain another’s.

He had his own path to walk. He could learn from others, borrow their strengths, but never wholly imitate. The Dominant Sword Dao was too fierce, its philosophy of “I alone am emperor, heaven is my subject; I alone am king, earth is my servant,” deeply ingrained. It was not the road Li Ruoyu sought; thus, he fortified his mind, resisting the strange inheritance offered by the Dominant Sword Dao.