Chapter Twenty-Six: Forging the Celestial Sword

Sitting upright in the secret chamber arranged by Marshal Ye, Master Li was still grumbling inwardly about his ancestors.

The whole family were nothing but misers.

It took quite some time for his mood to settle. He took out the immortal sword from his ring. This sword, named Meteor, was rather delicate in appearance—clearly a weapon once wielded by the beautiful elder aunt of his sect. She must have found a better one by now, which is why she’d gifted this to him.

But Li Chengzhu cared little for such things. As a cultivator, to possess even a single immortal sword was already a blessing. How could he possibly ask for something better?

And besides, he wasn’t even sure he could refine the sword and make it his own. If it couldn’t fuse with his body, it would be of no use anyway.

Respectfully gripping the sword with both hands, Li Chengzhu closed his eyes, directing a portion of his spiritual energy toward the blade, attempting to force it inside. Yet, after a long struggle, his spiritual energy was blocked as if a flood had met an impenetrable dam, unable to enter the sword at all. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and the drain on his energy only grew.

Realizing he couldn’t break through that barrier, Li Chengzhu finally opened his eyes and wiped his brow. As he’d suspected, his spiritual power was far from enough to control an immortal sword—it simply wasn’t on the same level.

He brought out a Celestial Stone and arranged a spirit-gathering formation. Only when his energy was fully restored did Master Li attempt again, this time channeling the celestial energy stored within his nascent soul. This formidable power, not truly his own, did not disappoint: it effortlessly tore through Meteor’s fragile façade and surged into the heart of the blade.

What he saw with his mind’s eye astonished him—the inside of the sword was riddled with formations. To inscribe so many arrays within such a compact immortal sword, and to have them interlocked so seamlessly, was beyond comprehension. His recent crash course in formations at the City Lord’s Mansion had improved his discernment, but he still could not grasp the construction of these arrays. The power of immortals was indeed extraordinary.

Most of these were attack formations, with only a handful designed to enhance the sword’s speed and sharpness. There wasn’t a single defensive formation.

After pondering for a moment, Li understood: a sword was a weapon of killing—what use could defense have here? Better to add more attack arrays for swift and decisive slaughter.

He recalled the “Cold Light” sword he’d once forged, and his face flushed with embarrassment. Back then, ignorant as he was, he’d loaded it with defensive arrays. Looking back now, how childish.

The formations within Meteor were far too profound for him to alter, and even if he dared, he lacked the strength. All he could do was carefully memorize the incantations to activate each one.

An immortal sword need only kill; he was no researcher, after all. Li Chengzhu consoled himself with this thought.

Within the depths of his consciousness, time became meaningless. Only after an unknown interval did Master Li feel confident that he’d memorized all the activation incantations. The next step was to imprint his soul mark within the sword.

Cultivators called this “tagging”—as long as a magic treasure bore your mark, it belonged to you. This was especially important for ownerless treasures; whoever marked it first became its master. Naturally, this unwritten rule led to frequent disputes among cultivators.

Just as Li prepared to split off a wisp of his soul and imprint it onto the sword, he remembered something crucial.

He’d once suffered a great loss in battle with the Qilin Celestial Beast because his flying sword had been destroyed. Normally, the imprint was made with a portion of the owner’s soul, which greatly enhanced the sword’s power and responsiveness. However, if the sword was destroyed before the soul could be withdrawn, that fragment would be injured as well—a costly blow in any battle. In reality, very few cultivators could retract their soul in that fleeting instant.

Master Li wondered if he could find another way to avoid exposing this fatal weakness when controlling his sword. The records in the City Lord’s Mansion spoke of a certain immortal who had ingeniously crafted a puppet and sealed it into his sword, using the puppet as an intermediary.

While this method reduced the risk, controlling the puppet still required a portion of the soul. At best, it gave one a chance to withdraw the puppet before the sword’s destruction, lessening possible harm. It was a stopgap, not a true solution.

Thinking of puppets, inspiration suddenly struck Master Li. Wasn’t he adept at the Elemental Doppelgänger Technique? In the flurry of recent events, he’d completely forgotten it—this was something the Essence of Wood had taught him. He’d never mastered it well, and hadn’t practiced since leaving the Immortal Forbidden Land.

Now, however, it seemed perfect for use as a puppet.

Moreover, the doppelgänger contained none of his soul—only raw power. Even if it was destroyed, he’d remain unharmed. True, the doppelgänger was fragile, shattering at a mere touch, but hidden inside an immortal sword, it might just survive.

Master Li let out a wicked laugh and quickly conjured a doppelgänger.

But then, a problem—how could he get the doppelgänger into the sword?

The question gave him a pounding headache.

Though the doppelgänger was only a mass of energy, it was useless if it couldn’t enter the sword.

After much thought, Li Chengzhu decided to try splitting off a nascent soul. Normally, doppelgängers were just projections of oneself; no one had ever tried to split off a portion of their body before. In a flash of inspiration, Master Li conjured a second nascent soul.

Seeing this perfect replica, Li Chengzhu smiled in satisfaction. He hadn’t expected the transformation to be so successful—this nascent soul even carried celestial energy. Perhaps the increased strength of his nascent soul had improved his odds with the Elemental Doppelgänger Technique.

He directed the nascent soul doppelgänger into Meteor, settling it securely within the sword’s soul-protection array. Only then did Li Chengzhu withdraw his own soul from the sword.

This process exhausted his spiritual power yet again, and he was forced to meditate to recover.

Having succeeded once, fusing with the Glazed Needle became much easier. Unfortunately, his mastery of the Elemental Doppelgänger Technique was so poor he could only conjure one doppelgänger. Otherwise, he would have created another to control the Glazed Needle.

Still, Master Li was content—one must know satisfaction to find happiness.

He also reforged a less remarkable high-grade flying sword, for it would never do to walk around brandishing an immortal blade—who knew how many eyes would follow him if he did?

Moreover, the forging process seemed to nudge the cultivation of his physical body from the middle to the later stages of Out-of-Body Realm, though his nascent soul’s cultivation remained unchanged. After all, it was fueled by celestial energy; any change would make him seem monstrous.

Greater power was always welcome. As he gathered the high-grade spirit stones from the formation in the secret chamber and tucked them into his ring, Master Li sighed with satisfaction.