Chapter 39

Sun Dazhu nodded in satisfaction and said, "Keep this token. It will allow you to enter and exit the medicinal garden freely, but remember, without my permission, you must not touch any of the herbs in my courtyard, understand?"

Wang Lin nodded. He knew that Sun Dazhu did not like him, and at this moment, he was likely recognizing him as a disciple only because he had reached the third layer of the Condensing Qi stage. Thus, he respectfully took his leave.

Not long after, he arrived at the Sword Spirit Pavilion in the main courtyard. He had been here once a long time ago, and now, revisiting the place, the scenes of the past flooded his mind.

Outside the Sword Spirit Pavilion, a disciple in white sat cross-legged. He was in his thirties, plump, and unfamiliar, clearly not one of the trainees.

He glanced at Wang Lin and was surprised, saying, "Junior Brother, you're only at the third layer of the Condensing Qi stage. What are you doing here? This place is only for those at the fourth layer and above."

Wang Lin did not speak. He took out the token given by Sun Dazhu and threw it over.

The fat man caught it and his expression immediately became strange, as if he was trying to suppress a laugh. After a long while, he could no longer hold it in and burst out laughing, saying, "It turns out it's a tradition of Uncle Sun's lineage. I had forgotten. Every time they interact with other sects, they use flying swords to show off."

Wang Lin felt extremely embarrassed, especially when he recalled Sun Dazhu's serious expression, and he could only smile bitterly.

The fat man laughed for a long time, then waved his hand, suppressing his laughter, and said, "Junior Brother, you can go in. I suggest you choose the third sword from the right. That flying sword is incredible. When I first came here, I thought it was the most powerful flying sword in the Zhao Kingdom's cultivation world."

Wang Lin thanked him and walked forward. At five paces away, his brows suddenly furrowed as he sensed a turbulent wave of energy spreading out from the room, seemingly trying to block his path.

The fat man, seeing this, realized he had forgotten to turn off the Sword Spirit Pavilion's restriction. He was about to call out to Wang Lin to wait, but before he could speak, it felt like a fish bone was stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a word. His eyes widened in disbelief.

Wang Lin felt the resistance but remembered a humiliating moment from the past. He let out a light hum and strode forward, five paces, four paces, three paces, two paces, one pace.

No matter how the resistance intensified, it could not stop Wang Lin's steps. He walked in effortlessly. Once inside the room, he scanned it with his divine sense, and his heart stirred. The room was very peculiar; his divine sense seemed to lose its effect, restricted to within three paces!

The fat man immediately jumped up, his face filled with shock. He was the disciple in charge of the Sword Spirit Pavilion and knew the power of the array restrictions here. Even a few senior masters could not force their way in, let alone inner disciples.

Only during the recruitment of disciples would the array's power be reduced by countless times, allowing the sword qi to spread out to select suitable candidates.

"Could the array be broken?" The fat man could not believe what he saw. After thinking for a long time, he concluded that the array must be broken. He then walked forward to test it.

But as soon as he stepped within five paces, a massive pressure like a collapsing sky rushed at him. His body, like a small boat in a raging sea, was thrown far away, drawing a curved arc in the sky. Accompanied by several spits of blood, he fell heavily to the ground. After a long while, he regained his senses, his face filled with fear, and he exclaimed, "It's... not broken!"

Wang Lin entered the room effortlessly and looked around. He saw various ancient swords of different lengths, emitting strong sword intent.

His gaze swept over the flying swords but did not linger until he saw the one the fat man had mentioned as the most powerful in the Zhao Kingdom's cultivation world.

Upon seeing it, Wang Lin was speechless. Indeed, it could be called the most powerful flying sword. It wasn't even a flying sword; it was a rectangular door panel.

Two palms wide, three feet long, it glowed with a golden light. Don't think this golden light is some divine spell; it was purely because the sword was coated with a layer of gold!

Don't think the gold was just a smokescreen to hide a world-class treasure. Under the gold was ordinary wrought iron, with nothing extraordinary about it.

The handle was adorned with two large diamonds, and even the tassel was woven from gold thread.

In short, this flying sword, if taken out, would definitely be impressive and give people a sense of overwhelming power.

Wang Lin stroked his chin. He was actually quite fond of this flying sword. Not for any other reason, but because if he ever needed money, he could sell it for a good price.

On the flying sword, there was a plaque that read: "This sword is named Jufu. It was crafted with great expense 500 years ago by a founding ancestor of the sect. It is said to have a power that even ghosts and gods cannot fathom. However, this sword has broken several times. The ancestor made great contributions to the sect and, on his deathbed, left a final wish that this sword be stored in the Sword Spirit Pavilion for a suitable person to inherit.

"Whoever chooses this sword must treat it well. If it breaks, it must be repaired. It must not be sold, or the person will be expelled from the sect!"

Wang Lin couldn't help but laugh. He grabbed the Jufu flying sword and said to it, "I choose you. I, Wang Lin, am a poor man. If you break, don't expect me to repair you!"

He stored the flying sword in his storage bag and walked out of the Sword Spirit Pavilion. The fat man looked at him nervously, his mocking expression from earlier replaced with fear, and he timidly saw him off.

Wang Lin, whose divine sense had been blocked in the room and had not noticed the fat man's abnormal behavior, felt quite puzzled by his sudden change in attitude.

Back at Sun Dazhu's medicinal garden, he took out the flying sword. Sun Dazhu immediately stared in shock, muttering to himself for a long time before looking at Wang Lin with deep meaning and saying, "When I saw this Jufu, I didn't have the courage to carry it out. You have the guts, good. In three days, carry it to show the Xuan Dao Sect and your senior masters."

Three days later, the bell of the Hengyue Sect rang nine times, echoing through the mountains. The sect leader, along with all the senior masters and their disciples, stood outside the main hall.

A black dot appeared in the sky, growing closer and closer. Finally, what appeared before everyone's eyes was a hundred-foot-long, thousand-legged centipede. It was pitch black, treading on black clouds, and as it flew, thunder rumbled, quickly approaching.

All the inner disciples of the Hengyue Sect drew in a sharp breath, their eyes filled with shock. Some female disciples were so frightened that their faces turned pale, and their legs trembled.

"What's the big deal? This thousand-legged centipede may look scary, but if each of you stabs it with a sword, it will surely die!" The red-faced elder beside the sect leader shouted in dissatisfaction, his voice loud, clearly wanting the people on the centipede to hear.