Daqin Zhentiansi

It was not dazzling brilliance, but a chilling white light that pierced through the illusion of fate and tore apart the predetermined trajectory!

This strike carries the immense power of the Dragon Elephant Suppressing Prison, blends the destructive force of the Chaos Sword Intent, and embodies the supreme belief of a War Marquis of Qin, who forges a path forward with an iron will!

"Click——!!!"

The sword light, which seemed to contain endless future possibilities and lock everything in its destiny, shattered like fragile glass when it touched the cold white blade that represented the will of "man will conquer nature"!
The blade continued its relentless advance, carrying the determination to sever cause and effect and shatter destiny, as it ruthlessly cleaved through the middle-aged swordsman's body!

Silently.

The middle-aged swordsman's body split in two, turning into two scattered starlight phantoms.

However, the starlight did not dissipate; instead, it quickly reconverged several feet away, once again solidifying into the figure of the middle-aged swordsman.

He looked down at his now-illusory body, then looked up at the Autumn Cold Blade in Zhang Yuan's hand. A subtle ripple finally appeared in his usually calm eyes, a mixture of surprise and understanding.

"You have defeated my manifestation at this moment..."

He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a strange echo, as if it came from eternity ago.

"But what's the point?"

"The river of fate flows on and on; you cut off a tributary, but it will eventually flow into a larger torrent."

"In the end, you are destined to lose."

His words carried a heavy sense of fatalism.

“My life is in the Great Qin,” Zhang Yuan said, sheathing his sword. His black python robe fluttered slightly in the invisible air currents, and his eyes were sharp as blades, resolute and decisive.

"You can't possibly see the trajectory of the Qin Dynasty."

"The will of the Qin Dynasty and the resistance of the human race are the most unpredictable variables in this long river of history! Therefore, you cannot determine my fate!"

His words contained an absolute belief in the destiny of the vast dynasty behind him.

And their own unwavering will as pioneers and guardians.

This will has long transcended the realm of individual destiny, merging into the torrent of human survival, becoming the most turbulent and unpredictable current in the river of fate.

The illusory figure of the middle-aged swordsman seemed to tremble slightly. He gave Zhang Yuan a deep look, his lips moving slightly as if he wanted to say something.

But in the end, he couldn't say anything.

Under Zhang Yuan's calm yet sharp gaze, the middle-aged swordsman's figure disintegrated completely, like a sand painting blown away by the wind, transforming into a pure and incomparably beautiful stream of blue light.

The stream of light did not dissipate; instead, it seemed to have a life of its own, swirling and condensing in the air in front of Zhang Yuan, eventually transforming into an ancient cyan sword talisman.

At the core of the sword talisman, a subtle yet incredibly clear sword shadow flickered.

It is not a physical entity, but rather a projection of fate.

A mark that captures the trajectory of all things.

As the light and shadow shifted, the life-derivation ultimate technique once used by the middle-aged swordsman was clearly reflected.

Sometimes it transforms into an ancient, straight trajectory, the end of which locks onto a certain point in the void.

Sword techniques, star trails, fixed order.

Anticipate future key moments and preemptively block the opponent's actions.

Sometimes it blurs and disappears like a reflection in water, and then it draws an arc of light like an antelope's horns from an incredible angle.

Sword techniques, Heavenly Evolution, Reverse Flow.

Reverse the trajectory of time and space to strike the gap between moves.

Occasionally, the tip of the sword would tremble slightly, focusing on a single point.

Fate's lock, returning to nothingness.

That sense of vulnerability, the heavy feeling of "inevitability," the ability to see through defensive weaknesses, and the gathering of the destined power to end.

Finally, all the light and shadow converged, coalescing into a dazzling, unavoidable brilliance that intertwined endless future possibilities.

Destiny, judgment.

Locking in the trajectory of fate, launching the inevitable final judgment!
It is agile and ethereal, containing the supreme mystery of peering into, predicting, and even guiding the trajectory of destiny.

Zhang Yuan stared at the sword shadow within the cyan light, sensing the strange Daoist charm flowing within it.

That was a power that transcended time and space and foresaw the future; every trajectory seemed to predict his possible reactions a million times over.

He slowly extended his finger and gently touched the cyan sword talisman.

The instant his fingertips touched it, an ancient name appeared in his mind like a brand:
"The Thirteen Arts of Destiny, Shadow Sword Technique."

This technique is called "Shadow Sword Technique".

It is a supreme sword technique that uses the power to peer into the trajectory of fate and capture the traces of the flow of energy in all things, thereby predicting, locking onto, and even guiding the actions of one's opponent.

With a slight thought, the cyan Dao pattern representing "Shadow Sword Technique" in his sea of ​​consciousness suddenly lit up.

In the surrounding void, the threads of fate instantly became clear.

A "node" appeared in the distance.

He was a sword cultivator dressed in a black robe, with a face that appeared to be around forty years old, and an aura as deep and calm as an ancient well.

He was sitting cross-legged in the void, seemingly trying to comprehend some kind of obscure sword intent.

The Shadow Sword Technique clearly predicted that, three breaths later, this person would subconsciously thrust out a sword due to emotional fluctuations.

The sword's path points directly to a dim point of light where the star trails intersect in the northeast.

This sword strike contained the condensation and confusion of his life's cultivation. Its trajectory was fixed, and the "gap" in the flow of energy was just seven and three-tenths inches in front of the sword tip.

Zhang Yuan's figure swayed slightly, his chaotic true essence flowing silently. He took a step and appeared precisely in front of the black-robed swordsman.

Just as his emotions reached their peak and his wrist was about to exert force.

The black-robed swordsman was suddenly startled, like a tiger whose tail had been stepped on. Almost without thinking, he followed his instincts and the muscle memory he had cultivated for thousands of years. The ancient longsword in his hand, bearing the marks of time, was like a poisonous dragon emerging from its cave, with a sharp shriek that tore through the void, and he thrust it straight at Zhang Yuan's face!

This sword strike was swift and ruthless, embodying his peak cultivation level and the profound essence of swordsmanship he had cultivated over time.

If it were an ordinary being of the same level, there would be no way to avoid it, and if one tried to block it, one would inevitably be trapped by its endless subsequent changes.

However, in Zhang Yuan's eyes, the moment the sword was thrust out, all the possible subsequent changes—upward slash, downward sweep, horizontal cut, swirling strangulation—were already clear.

Even the spatial ripples caused by the sword intent are like predetermined patterns engraved on the trajectory of fate, showing every detail.

The seemingly sharp sword blade reveals the flow of power, the critical point of true essence gathering and exploding, as clearly as the lines on the palm of your hand.

Faced with a sword strike that would require even a semi-saint to concentrate, Zhang Yuan simply raised his right hand calmly.

He did not draw his sword, nor did he unleash any earth-shattering chaotic true energy.

Simply put, the fingers are held together like a sword, with the index and middle fingers joined together, and a faint, almost imperceptible, yet precisely locked onto the "gap" of light swirling around the fingertips.

He gently touched the sword tip that was tearing through space and thrusting fiercely towards him.

"Ding--"

A very faint sound, like a jade bead falling onto a plate. There was no violent clash of energy, no dazzling explosion of light.

The anticipated clang of metal or earth-shattering impact did not occur.

Zhang Yuan's seemingly casual finger strike was like hitting a venomous snake's vital spot, or like pressing down the sluice gate of a rushing river.

The sword strike, imbued with ferocious power and exquisite variations, seemed to have all its tendons and bones removed the moment it touched the fingertips, instantly freezing and disintegrating.

The black-robed swordsman felt an irresistible yet profound and gentle power flowing through the sword.

This force is not a destructive impact, but rather carries a strange rhythm that sees through everything and guides all things.

He trembled violently, as if the sword intent and true essence he had gathered had crashed into a wall of sighs containing the highest truths.

Instead of being harmed by the force, it was pulled backward involuntarily by that power.

With one step, the weathered wrinkles that had shrouded his face melted away like ice and snow, revealing a sharply defined jawline.

In two steps, the frost at her temples faded, turning into jet-black hair.

With three steps, his tightly pursed lips relaxed, and the shock, anger, and confusion in his eyes were replaced by clear surprise.

……

Ten steps later, the black-robed swordsman who was originally around forty years old and weathered by life had transformed into a handsome young man with refined features and an otherworldly air.

He still gripped the ancient sword tightly in his hand, its tip slightly lowered, the blade trembling gently and emitting a soft, clear sound, as if it too had undergone a baptism.

The young man looked down, staring blankly at his sword, then incredulously raised his now smooth and strong hand to stroke his cheek.

His eyes shone with an unprecedented light of enlightenment, as if the fog that had troubled him for a hundred years in the way of swordsmanship had been completely cleared away with a single finger.

He murmured, his voice trembling with excitement and a sudden, clear understanding:

"So that's how it is... The flow of Qi is not meant to be restrained, the burst of sword intent can be guided through gaps, rigidity cannot last, and change is not without order... I understand! I understand!"

He was completely absorbed in this sudden epiphany.

His mind was in turmoil, and he completely forgot about the lightning-fast exchange just now, and even seemed not to see Zhang Yuan, who was right next to him and had given him this great opportunity.

Zhang Yuan's figure vanished silently in the instant he realized the truth, like ink merging into the void, leaving no trace or ripple.

It was as if he had never appeared; that astonishing finger guidance was merely a ripple in the young man's mind during his enlightenment.

……

Half a day later.

Zhang Yuan stood before the thirteenth bronze palace.

This palace was more magnificent and ancient than any of the previous ones. Its doors were tightly closed, and runes intertwined with starlight and mist flowed across them, exuding the mystery and majesty of the final barrier.

Before the palace gate, an elderly man dressed in a simple white robe stood quietly. His hair and beard were all white, his face was thin, and his eyes were deep, as if they contained the reflection of the entire starry sky.

He did not hold a sword in his hand, but simply stood with his hands behind his back. Yet his aura was completely integrated with the entire Life Evolution Sword Stele and even the entire Ten Directions Sword Tomb Secret Realm, as if he were the embodiment of the will of this place.

The old man watched Zhang Yuan arrive, his gaze serene, carrying a hint of world-weariness and understanding that came with the passage of countless years.

He did not stop him or make any defensive stance, but simply watched quietly as the young man who had mastered the first twelve arts approached.

"You've come." The old man's voice was calm and undisturbed, like the flowing river of fate, without the slightest emotion, yet it clearly reached Zhang Yuan's ears. "Shadow Sword Technique, Heavenly Evolution Technique, Return to Nothingness Technique, Star Orbit Technique... Twelve palaces, twelve kinds of life evolution secret techniques, you have mastered them all."

Zhang Yuan stopped in his tracks, his black python robe fluttering slightly in the invisible aura of destiny.

He looked at the old man, his eyes still sharp, but after the baptism of twelve palaces, that sharpness had settled into a deeper understanding of the trajectory.

He nodded slightly in response.

The old man revealed an extremely calm, almost ethereal smile: "The Thirteen Arts of Destiny: to explore the secrets of heaven, deduce the trajectory of all things, and understand the threads of the past and future."

"You have already mastered twelve of them, and your foundation is established. This thirteenth technique is no longer difficult for you."

His gaze seemed to pierce through Zhang Yuan's outward appearance, looking directly into the deepest core of his soul, the mark of his destiny: "Since you can already see the traces of other people's destinies and predict the gaps in the flow of all things, why not... deduce your own destiny?"

The old man's words were like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, stirring up ripples in Zhang Yuan's heart.

"Where did you come from? Were you a ray of light at the beginning of chaos, or a speck of dust drifting through the endless universe?"

"Where will you go? Will you ascend to the highest peak and overlook eternity, or will your body turn to ashes and return to oblivion?"

"Let's deduce it." The old man's eyes shone like stars, as if guiding or witnessing, "to see through the beginning and end of your own destiny, and to understand your position and trajectory in this vast river of time."

"When you truly see who 'you' are, where 'you' come from, and where you are going... this thirteenth technique, 'My Fate Technique,' will be perfected at that moment."

“My Fate Technique…” Zhang Yuan repeated the name in a low voice, understanding dawning on his mind.

The first twelve techniques, whether it's the prediction of Shadow Sword, the deduction of Heavenly Evolution, the locking of Return to the Void, or the trajectory tracking of Star Orbit...

All of these are threads that act upon external objects, peeking into the fate of others or the world.

And this thirteenth technique is called "My Fate"!
It does not seek externally, but rather points to the deepest core of its own destiny, and is the ultimate insight and control over the essence of its own existence.

By deducing where we come from and where we are going, we can understand the source and the final destination of our own destiny.

By fully incorporating oneself into the contemplation of the Way of Destiny, one can reach a state where "once one understands one's destiny, all methods become clear."

The old man's words were the key to unlocking this ultimate secret technique.

Use the principles of destiny to reflect upon yourself!

Zhang Yuan slowly closed his eyes.

Within his sea of ​​consciousness, twelve profound Dao patterns, each representing a different secret technique of destiny, shone like stars.

Intertwined and rotating, they form an extremely complex web of deductions that encompasses the trajectories of all heavens.

At the center of this net is himself.

"Deduction, my origin..."

The moment the thought arose, the network of deductions began to operate with a roar!

Countless fragments of information, chaotic light and shadow, and temporal turbulence surged wildly in the sea of ​​consciousness.

He seemed to see an indescribable primordial scene, where chaotic energy surged and faint spiritual light floated within it.

The light was not the origin of this world; it carried a strange fluctuation that did not belong to this dimension of the universe.

As the light and shadow shifted, he saw the outline of a familiar yet unfamiliar azure star.

But the scene was blurry, shrouded in a thick mist of time and space that even the art of destiny could not completely penetrate, leaving only a distant and profound "homesickness" imprinted in the deepest part of the soul.

Immediately afterwards, the scene abruptly shifts to this world, an ordinary beginning, a humble origin, seemingly the "root of this world" bestowed upon us by this heaven and earth.

The images from the two "origins" intertwine and collide intensely during the deduction, yet strangely merge together, forming his unique foundation of existence.

An anomaly, a variable, a soul rooted in this world yet bearing the marks of another realm.

"Deduction, my destination..." (End of this chapter)