Chaotic Sword God Chapter 2: Changyang Xiang Tian

Chapter 2: Changyang Xiang Tian

All of a sudden, the blade held by Jian Chen began to move of its own volition, behaving as if the steel possessed its own consciousness. With startling speed, the longsword lunged toward Dugu Qiubai, resembling a sudden bolt of lightning.

The velocity of the blade was nearly beyond comprehension. Dugu Qiubai was unable to react until the edge had already reached his throat. Imbued with a terrifyingly sharp sword qi, the weapon struck true. Dugu Qiubai’s eyes stretched wide with terror as the sword drove through his neck. Once the strike was delivered, a strange mist emerged from the hilt, swirling briefly in the air before the weapon flew back into Jian Chen’s grasp.

A hole the size of a fist gradually became visible in the center of Dugu Qiubai’s throat. As the sword tip passed through his neck, it had expanded, tearing a much larger wound than its thin blade would suggest. Without that expansion, such a slender weapon could never have left such a massive opening.

With eyes wide in disbelief, Dugu Qiubai stared at the sword, unable to process the impossible feat he had just witnessed. He struggled to part his lips to speak, but his mangled throat robbed him of his voice. With a final expression of horror and shock, his body slumped to the ground, never to rise again.

Jian Chen gripped his sword in silence, looking down at the fallen Dugu Qiubai while nearly gasping for air himself. It had never occurred to him that he would finally achieve a breakthrough into the realm of the Sword God during his final moments of life. Unfortunately, it was a hollow victory, as he was also standing at death's door.

Sighing internally, the light in Jian Chen’s eyes began to fade. Although his breakthrough had flooded his body with power, escaping his fate was impossible when his internal organs had been shredded.

Before long, Jian Chen followed Dugu Qiubai into the darkness of the afterlife, his physical form collapsing as he descended into the abyss.

Following Jian Chen’s fall, the ground where the two combatants lay began to tremble violently. The vibration grew so intense that the two mountain peaks, shaped like upright swords, let out a thunderous roar that split them down the middle. Massive boulders cascaded down the slopes, triggering avalanches in every direction. The sky was suddenly painted in hues of purple and green, illuminating the world below. These colors swirled together into a magnificent display, though it was a tragedy that neither Jian Chen nor Dugu Qiubai survived to witness the beauty or the events that would follow...

......

Inside a sprawling and opulent estate, there was a chamber decorated with immense wealth. A crowd had assembled outside its doors, where a young man paced back and forth, his face etched with deep worry and stress. He appeared to be roughly thirty years old and carried a natural air of majesty. Despite the passing years, his handsome features remained evident. Clad in a silver chang pao accented with gold, he looked every bit the master of the house. His expression was grim, his brow furrowed so tightly it seemed frozen in place.

A few meters away, a group of thirty individuals of various ages stood in a nervous line. The group’s Elders appeared to be sixty or seventy years old, their faces lined with wrinkles and topped with snowy hair. Yet, despite their advanced age, the divine light flickering in their eyes was enough to make anyone tremble. Their sharp gazes suggested they were far from frail; instead, they possessed the vitality of middle-aged men with the combined power of a tiger and a dragon. The younger men in the group, aged thirty to forty, possessed domineering auras and unreadable expressions. It was clear at a glance that these were no ordinary people.

From within the room, the agonized cries of a woman could be heard.

“Madam, you must keep pushing, the infant is almost here. I say again, the baby is nearly out...” An impatient, elderly voice drifted through the echoes of pain. The tone clearly belonged to an old woman.

Outside, the pacing man stopped abruptly, his voice tight with desperation. “Ai... a full day and night have passed. Why hasn't Yun’er delivered yet? If this continues, I fear for Yun’er’s safety.” His words were heavy with an unending sense of dread.

“My lord, please remain calm. Madam Yun’er will surely pull through. Do not forget that she is a brilliant Saint Master,” a white-haired elder replied confidently, though he could not entirely mask the concern on his own face.

“Ai...” The lord in the white chang pao sighed once more, his anxiety showing no signs of fading.

After two more hours of waiting, a jubilant voice finally rang out from the room. “My lord, my lord! Madam Yun’er has given birth! Both the mother and the young master are safe!” The sheer emotion in the announcement sparked a wave of excitement throughout the mansion.

Hearing the news, the middle-aged man stood frozen, his jaw dropping as his worry vanished, replaced by overwhelming joy. Moved beyond words, he threw open the doors with such force it was as if they weren't even there. He moved with incredible speed; no normal person could have displayed such physical power.

He instantly reached the bedside and sat down, looking at the reclining woman with a face full of devotion. “Yun’er, how do you feel? You must be well!” Even in his excitement, he spoke with a gentle, caring tone.

On the bed lay a woman in her twenties, possessing a beauty so profound it could cause nations to go to war. Though her pale face was slick with sweat and showed signs of exhaustion, she still looked divine.

She looked up at her husband with a weary smile. “My dear husband, I am alright. Please, let me see our child.”

“Oh! Yes! Immediately! As long as you are safe, Yun’er.” The man beamed with happiness, turning toward the midwife who held the bundled child. Just as he was about to speak, he saw the midwife staring intently at the infant, her brow furrowed. She rocked the bundle while whispering, “Cry, little one, go on. What kind of child are you that stays silent? How strange. I have delivered over nine hundred babies in my time, yet I have never seen a newborn that does not cry.”

As she spoke, the men from outside crowded into the room, smiles brightening their faces. One by one, they began to offer their congratulations to the woman on the bed.

The middle-aged man, still grinning, said to his wife, “Yun’er, rest for now. I will bring the boy to you in a moment.” He stood up and approached the midwife. “Is something the matter? Is there a problem with the child?” His voice lowered; he knew that children were sometimes born with ailments. It was a common fear, and he worried his son might be afflicted.

The midwife looked up with a sour expression and replied respectfully, “My lord, I see no physical defects, but in my ten years of experience, every child cries at birth. This young master is different; he hasn't made a single sound since he arrived. It is a very peculiar situation.”

The man’s brow creased as he inspected the infant. The baby’s eyes were clear and bright, devoid of any impurities as he looked around the room. He glanced from one side to the other, appearing quite adorable, and seemed perfectly healthy at first glance.

However, the father failed to notice that the child’s eyes were unnaturally deep. In those tiny pupils lay a profoundness that seemed to shake the man’s soul, though he dismissed the feeling as an impossibility.

He placed his hand over the infant, and a faint layer of yellow light began to glow around his palm.

The midwife watched nervously. As someone from the lower class, she feared being blamed for any potential issues with the child. Even if it wasn't her fault, she would have no way to defend herself against the lord's wrath.

The man withdrew his hand, his heart finally finding peace. He laughed out loud, his smile returning. “The child is perfectly fine; I can find no issues at all.” He took the bundle from the midwife, laughing again.

Relieved, the midwife let out a long breath. As her heart rate settled, she joined in the excitement. “The lord is right. Perhaps this is a sign of the young master’s future. He will surely grow into a unique and powerful man.”

Though he knew she was just being polite, the man couldn't help but chuckle. “Yes, yes, I hope so. Someone, come! Reward Mother Hong with a hundred gold coins!”

The midwife’s face lit up with joy. “I thank the lord! Many, many thanks!”

The father brought the baby to the mother and smiled. “Yun’er, look! Here is our child. See how cute he is!”

Yun’er held the infant tenderly, kissing his forehead. “Dear husband, since it is a boy, let us use the name we agreed upon: Changyang Xiang Tian.”

Laughing, the husband replied, “Excellent. I officially name him Changyang Xiang Tian! Everyone, listen! I invite all our guests to a grand feast tomorrow in my son's honor! We shall celebrate this occasion...”

A year passed in the blink of an eye. Beside a small lake, a child not even a meter tall stood staring blankly. His eyes were fixed on a rock garden in the center of the water. Though the boy wore expensive, elegant clothes, his expression was far too complex for a one-year-old.

This child was indeed Changyang Xiang Tian. At this moment, a bone-chilling scene was replaying in his mind. Like a flickering film, he saw images of mountain peaks shaped like giant swords. He remembered a handsome twenty-year-old youth with a blade, and the battle-hardened form of the century-old Dugu Qiubai. He recalled the exact moment of his death and the breakthrough that had led him to the realm of the ”Sword God”. Finally, he remembered the image of his sword piercing Dugu Qiubai’s neck, leading to their mutual end...