A Blind Swordsman's Sword Coffin

Li Guanqi had just grabbed the Emerald Wolf Sword, eager to test it out, when the two puppets emitted a soft mechanical whirring. Within just a few breaths, the towering seven-chi-tall constructs collapsed in on themselves and reformed into palm-sized silver spheres.

Clink! Clink!

Two gentle clattering sounds followed as a pair of hexagonal jade tokens dropped from the soldier orbs.

Li Guanqi sheathed his long sword and conveniently drew the scabbard beneath it. The scabbard was dark green from end to end, inlaid with three turquoise jade rings and a sword emblem engraved with exquisite patterns.

However, Li Guanqi wasn’t focused on the sword. In a flash, he reappeared atop the altar, stowed the puppet orbs with a satisfied smile, and picked up the two jade tokens from the ground.

He frowned slightly at the jade tokens in his hand. He couldn’t understand why the tokens had come out of the puppet orbs. Could they be the power sources of the puppets?

One token had a mountain engraved on its surface, while the other depicted a longsword.

At that moment, Sword Spirit reappeared outside of the sword box. She looked solemnly at the tokens in Li Guanqi’s hand and asked, “Does this Mo Family ruins have a name?”

Li Guanqi replied in a serious tone, “Di Kun City.”

Sword Spirit’s eyes sparkled. She turned to glance at the tightly sealed door, then softly said, “You may need to keep going up. Collect as many of these jade tokens as you can. They’ll prove very useful.”

Li Guanqi wanted to ask more, but the space seemed to suppress her presence. With no choice, she returned to the sword box.

He carefully stored the tokens, then stepped forward and slowly pushed open the stone door. Beyond it, a staircase spiraled both up and down. He chose to ascend.

He believed that Sword Spirit’s words made sense. But when he reached the eleventh floor, he found the altar completely empty.

He looked at the floating altar above and attempted to fly directly into it. To his surprise, he actually succeeded.

The altar on the tenth floor was riddled with traps, with danger looming at every step. Eventually, Li Guanqi had no choice but to activate one of the puppet orbs and don the puppet armor.

The rattling and whirring of machinery filled his ears, a sound that brought him instant relief. Shifting slightly, he found the armor had molded perfectly to his build, feeling weightless and allowing for entirely unhindered movement. Li Guanqi was genuinely impressed—he hadn’t expected such refined craftsmanship.

As expected, after passing the traps on this level, another jade token appeared, this time engraved with flying darts and hidden weapons.

But the next level he ascended to was once again empty.

Li Guanqi stood still and furrowed his brows. It looks like other people have already passed through these levels... probably those people dressed in black. But if they’re clearing the levels, why leave some untouched?

Meanwhile, on the final barrier separating the last level from the rest, a black-robed figure with a purple armband stared gloomily at the two jade tokens in his hand. “You only cleared one floor?

“And the first token got stolen under everyone’s noses? Are you all trying to be useless?!”

The remaining dozen or so black-robed men stood in complete silence, too afraid to speak.

The one with the yellow armband sneered and scoffed. “If we’re so useless, why don’t you take care of the puppets on the twelfth level?”

The leader snorted coldly but said nothing. The traps of Di Kun City were too vicious, well beyond what they could handle.

He muttered, “No matter what, we have to get the Thousand-Mechanism Array.

“That blind guy... If there’s a chance, let him go in.

“With our understanding of the Thousand-Mechanism Array, it’ll kill him for sure. And we’d still get the bounty.”

Back on the second level, Li Guanqi easily bypassed another trap and counted the jade tokens he’d collected.

Five in total.

Some levels had clearly been abandoned for years. He examined the five jade tokens in his hand, each bearing a distinct engraving: a mountain, a cresting wave, a longsword, flying darts, and flames.

He put them away. Despite clearing multiple levels, Li Guanqi had yet to find any trace of other Daxia Sword Sect disciples. Zhong Lin was the only one he’d crossed paths with, and even he remained behind in that pavilion.

The mystery of the black-robed people’s identities lingered in his mind. Could they be descendants of the Mo family, hiding in the ruins?

But this secret realm was provided by the Purple Sun Pavilion. These people couldn’t have been living inside it.

In that case... they must’ve entered ahead of us. But the sect only opened the entrance once. How could they have slipped inside? Could this be tied to the recent intrusions?

One question after another swirled through Li Guanqi’s mind. It was like a tangled mess of threads he couldn’t sort out. Yet somehow, he felt the truth was buried within these very questions.

Li Guanqi looked down at the many altars beneath him, then leaped down.

Boom!

He landed on the twelfth level’s steps and slowly descended to the final level. As he stepped past the doorway, the ground of Di Kun City suddenly erupted with countless staircases similar to the ones above.

Elsewhere, Ye Feng was hiding inside a tower, wrapping a makeshift bandage around a wound in his abdomen. His face was pale, and the injury had turned black. He was growing weaker by the minute.

Hearing sounds outside, he hurried to the window and cautiously peered out. There, he spotted a familiar figure—Zhou Zhi.

Blood stained his white robes, but Zhou Zhi’s eyes remained sharp.

Ye Feng stood up, opened the door, and called out, “Zhou... Senior Brother Zhou...”

Zhou Zhi saw Ye Feng’s pale face and rushed over to support him. “You ran into them too?”

He quickly retrieved an antidote pill. “Quick, I have an antidote pill. Take it now.”

He helped Ye Feng into the room, closed the door, and then tore off the crude bandage on Ye Feng’s waist, ripping his own robes to fashion a new dressing.

Zhou Zhi pulled out a dagger upon seeing the blackened wound. He lit a candle with a fire striker and held the blade to the flame, his movements steady. He was clearly a battle-hardened warrior.

“The poison’s spreading,” he said grimly. “This flesh has to come off.”

Ye Feng’s breath was ragged. He could barely stay conscious but still gave a firm nod, signaling for Zhou Zhi to proceed.

The dagger glowed red-hot. Zhou Zhi took a deep breath—then swiftly sliced down.

The smell of scorched flesh filled the air. Ye Feng’s body tensed in agony, his fingers twitching violently.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but Zhou Zhi quickly pried Ye Feng’s jaw open and shoved his hand in to stop him from biting his tongue. The intense pain caused Zhou Zhi to groan involuntarily.

Zhou Zhi did not stop even as blood dripped from his hand. Within seconds, he’d removed all the blackened flesh. Dark blood pooled on the floor.

Only then did Zhou Zhi pull his hand away from Ye Feng’s mouth to look at his own bitten finger. Ignoring his own wound, he quickly sprinkled medicinal powder on Ye Feng’s injury and bandaged it.

After carrying Ye Feng upstairs and laying him down, Zhou Zhi finally wrapped his own wound. His eyes flashed with icy resolve as he sat beside the bed.

Whoever you are... I’ll make sure you pay the price.