The woman bore no ill will.
She simply looked at Lu Mo with a smile, her words filled with sincerity.
The raindrops falling to the ground grew more frequent.
Lu Mo stared quietly at the woman and eventually nodded slowly, replying, “I can.”
The rain began to pitter-patter.
Before the downpour intensified, Lu Mo was led by the woman into a quiet house. She sat in the living room and waited.
Not long after, the woman returned, slowly pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair toward her.
The old man’s frame was somewhat thin. Lu Mo could see numerous scars on his face, hands, and beneath his sleeves.
It seemed he had been injured many times long ago — some wounds deep enough to have nearly torn his body apart.
“I have kept Miss Mo waiting.” The woman stood to the side, bowing slightly in apology.
“Miss Mo,” the old man spoke slowly.
His words, a second later, left Lu Mo stunned on the spot.
“In your previous battle, you utilized Attribute Fusion and Sublimation. Am I correct?”
The old man opened his eyes to look at Lu Mo. His pupils were slightly clouded and held no hostility. Yet, Lu Mo felt a sharp edge from his gaze, like that of a keen sword.
‘That book… wasn’t it only circulated within the Holy Sanctuary?’
‘The old man isn’t from the Holy Sanctuary, so how does he know about Fusion and Sublimation?’
Lu Mo did not answer immediately. Instead, she remained silent, looking directly back at the old man.
Seeing Lu Mo’s wariness, the old man gave a helpless smile and explained, “Please do not misunderstand, Miss Mo. I have no ulterior motives. I only want to know… how that Madman is doing these days. Is he… alright?”
At the end, the old man’s voice trembled slightly.
His eyes held memories, regret, and a complex weave of emotions.
He was not lying. At this moment, his feelings were genuine, and Lu Mo could see it.
“Yes and no.” Lu Mo finally spoke, choosing not to deceive him. “My Fusion and Sublimation were learned from his posthumous works.”
“Posthumous works?”
“He died 100 years ago. He chose to end his own life.”
“Miss Mo, are you the disciple of that Madman?”
“…”
Lu Mo could clearly feel the old man’s spirit wither significantly.
“Dead… dead…” the old man repeated. There was sorrow and a refusal to believe it.
The entire living room fell silent, with only his raspy voice repeating those two words over and over.
It took a long time for the old man to regain his composure.
He let out a sigh and gave a wry smile. “Still, ending his own life… that does suit his personality. After all, he was like that when he was young — stubbornly believing his path was the correct one and stubbornly believing he would eventually find the answer. He never believed in things like being born a certain way or being destined for something. If the day came when he truly couldn’t continue his path, he would destroy himself without hesitation.”
‘It seems the old man is quite familiar with the Madman.’
Lu Mo soon asked, “Senior, you are…?”
“He and I were once old friends, though we severed ties a long time ago,” the old man answered. “As for me… my name is Odnar, Odnar Ambern.”
He straightened his back. Though he released no power from his cultivation realm, an aura as if he were supporting the heavens emanated from his body.
Odnar Ambern.
Lu Mo remembered the name. She had seen it in a biography once.
Odnar was once known by the world as the “Everlasting Sword.”
Born into an ordinary family without ancient bloodlines, Sacred Physiques, or innate talents, he relied on his own efforts to climb the ladder of strength one step at a time. Eventually, he stood as an equal among the powerhouses of his era.
Though his strength ranked last among those masters, his fame as the Everlasting Sword was legendary.
Odnar was always at the absolute front of the battle lines between humans and demons.
Defending a city alone, facing a demon duke solo, and venturing deep into demon territory…
He suffered many fatal wounds, but he tenaciously survived every time, growing stronger with each brush with death, as if he were indestructible.
His reputation was truly carved out through slaughter.
The legend of the Everlasting Sword ended sixty years ago.
While alone, he encountered a demon Archduke and engaged in a desperate fight to the death. In the end, he burned his life and soul to slay the creature.
“Is Senior the Everlasting Sword?” Lu Mo asked.
“A title from the past is not worth mentioning,” the old man replied with a bitter smile.
“I have read Senior’s story in a biography,” Lu Mo added.
“A biography…” the old man murmured. “In the end, my biography is nothing more than a fabricated story. It is just the tale of a manufactured hero. In reality, I am not as great as the stories say. I never had such grand ambitions as saving the common people. The reason I fought the demons, the reason I constantly hovered between life and death, was actually very simple. I was just like that Madman. We both wanted to prove that the power of a mortal could rival those in the heavens.”
“Some are born in the heavens, possessing God-blood, Sacred Physiques, and holy power. They stand in the sky, radiating a brilliant light, much like the moon above. They are born transcending this earth, and mortals can only look up at them. But some also want to step into that sky — to approach, or even surpass, those people in the heavens. So, they began to climb.”
The old man spoke.
Among those climbers were himself and the Madman he spoke of.
“I once met that Madman at a lecture. At the time, he was at the lowest point of his life. His realm and power had been surpassed by peers with holy talents. Every day, the gap between them grew wider. To many, this was only natural, but he questioned that ‘natural order’ and hated… that natural order. I saw a fire burning in his eyes, as if he wanted to set the whole world ablaze.”
“I held the same thoughts, so we came together.”
“A mortal raising a sword to challenge those in the heavens… isn’t that ideal quite cool?”
The old man smiled. His withered face actually showed a trace of the high-spirited arrogance of his youth.
“For a time, I thought we would be lifelong friends.”
“He and I researched many types of power structures. We tried to analyze combat techniques that required holy power or bloodline strength to use. But one day, he suddenly told me that researching combat techniques was actually meaningless. He said only by finding a transcendent power could one step into the sky and eventually surpass those in the heavens.”
“However, I held the opposite view. I always felt that the existence of ‘Arts’—techniques and secret methods—was the greatest invention of human civilization, lighting up that dark era. Bloodlines and talents have limits. But ‘Arts’ have no end.”
“From that day on, our paths diverged for the first time. Then, the rift grew wider. He began to study more and more types of power, eventually locking himself in a research room at the Holy Sanctuary. he never came out and missed many of our exchanges. The things he wrote became increasingly obscure and difficult to understand, until I could no longer read them at all. In his writings, he repeatedly mentioned that transcendent power existed in the fusion and sublimation of attributes. And he paid a price for that transcendent power. Several times, I heard news that the laboratory in the Holy Sanctuary had suffered a violent explosion and many people were injured. When we finally met as agreed some time later, he arrived heavily wounded.”
“I suddenly felt that he might have taken a wrong turn — that this path would ultimately lead to his death. So, I tried to dissuade him. But after hearing my words, he flew into a rage and began to destroy everything around him like a lunatic. He told me that I was the one who was wrong, that I understood nothing, and that I was merely an ignorant mortal. I got angry too and tried to reason with him, but then I saw his eyes again — they were crazed and extreme. I was suddenly terrified. The fire in his eyes was madly consuming everything in sight. And that fire, in the end… would consume him as well.”
“After that day, we never met again.”
“Finally, he sent me a letter. In it, he wrote that he was severing our ties and would never see me again for the rest of his life.”
“He continued to search for transcendent power. I continued to pursue the pinnacle of Arts.”
“Until he chose self-destruction. Until I killed an Archduke at a terrible price, lost the possibility of pursuing the pinnacle, and ended up in this wheelchair.”
The old man finished the story of his past with the Madman.
Lu Mo had been listening seriously at first, but gradually, she had a sudden sense of déjà vu.
‘This disagreement… why does it sound so much like the debate between raw power and martial arts?’
Most importantly, the old man was now in a wheelchair.
‘If I were to strike him, would he demonstrate a high level of force nullification?’
“Only through tempering oneself between life and death can one’s Arts truly undergo a transformation. So, Miss Mo should understand why I have always been on the front lines, constantly fighting powerful demons, right?”
“Hmm… by constantly honing your martial path, it will surely be useful for the next time.” Lu Mo almost blurted it out.
“Correct…” The old man’s expression became a bit strange. Although Lu Mo’s reply was a bit odd, it seemed to perfectly summarize his meaning.
As expected, the girl understood him!
On the path of Arts, she was indeed a genius!
“So this time, I not only wanted to know the fate of my old friend, but I also wanted to invite you, Miss Mo.” The old man looked at Lu Mo and spoke sincerely once more.
“Invite me?”
“Though I am no longer a powerhouse and do not belong to any great faction, I will use my greatest efforts to cultivate you. The cultivation resources you receive will not be inferior to those of the personal disciples of great masters.”
“Why?”
“Because I see a possibility in you. A possibility to finish that uncompleted path… for both me and that Madman.”
The old man spoke softly.
He looked at Lu Mo, and in his eyes… a flame of hope and madness began to rise.
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