Chapter 298 — The Blade of Forgetfulness

Shen Mu let out a turbid breath, gripped the hilt of the Sword of No Sorrow with both hands, and suddenly twisted. With a ringing note the seven thousand nine hundred ninety-nine swords in the pellet burst outward, each flying sword hovering in the air with its point aimed at the center of the circle.

He urged the Sword of No Sorrow on again, and the flying swords shot in one after another, humming as they struck the Sword of No Sorrow and vanished into the mother sword.

The collisions came faster and faster, and more and more swords vanished from the air.

The onlookers each gave a cry of surprise. Shen Mu was now using a different method of forging a sword pellet.

There were two kinds of sword pellet. One was made by merging the swords into a ball, points turned to the center; this method demanded great mastery of numbers, and the sword sects of the Daoist schools most often used it.

The second was the mother sword swallowing the child swords, taking them all into itself—the method most favored by the southern sword sects.

That second method required the mother sword to be forged exceedingly pliant, so that once the child swords were gathered in, one might roll the blade between two hands and shape it into a pellet. It demanded little of numbers.

Each method had its strengths. The pellet made by the first could be wielded with ease, its strikes swifter, able to form a sword array at any moment.

The second, the devouring method, could pour the power of all the child swords into the mother sword, unleashing a monstrous might.

These two arts of forging were not compatible; only one could be used.

Yet now Shen Mu had used both at once—and succeeded. A most bizarre thing!

"Second in the world at forging—the name is well earned."

Si Yunxiang sighed. "I'd dearly like to see what the finest forger under heaven can do..."

Shen Mu had gathered in only some two thousand swords when he felt he could bear no more; his arms could not lift, and driving so many flying swords again and again had drained his vital qi to nothing.

He hastily stopped and shook the Taotie Pouch, and countless flying swords filed into it.

The sword pellet was forged, yes, but it was too large and too heavy; his only recourse now was to use the Taotie Pouch as a sword satchel to store the flying swords. Otherwise, a pellet three feet across would astonish the world—and he could not lift it besides.

"I used to envy the Cowherd his sword pellet. Now I don't envy him a bit."

Ling Yuxiu suppressed a laugh and said softly, "His primeval weapon is fine, but unusable."

Si Yunxiang nodded. "Even if he could lift it, a few uses would leave him with no vital qi at all."

Shen Mu tied the Taotie Pouch to his waistband. The pouch could repel geomagnetic force, but the cord was not forged of true taotie hide, and some geomagnetic force still worked on the flying swords within; the pouch weighed a hundred catties or more, and his trousers kept slipping down.

Grand Hierarch Shen, his face black as thunder, untied the pouch, took golden silk cord, made two straps, threaded them through the Taotie Pouch, and slung it on his back like a small pack.

"Smack!"

A crisp sound rang out. Si Yunxiang, cheeks red, rubbed her backside. A moment before, while no one was looking, Shen Mu had bestowed a slap on her rump—no doubt the Grand Hierarch had realized it was she who had tampered with the forging materials, making the flying swords so heavy and solid.

Ling Yuxiu looked over in surprise but did not ask. "My brother has been gone several months. He must have reached the Southern Wastes on his inspection tour by now. Are we going to catch up with him?"

Shen Mu shook his head. "I won't go to see the Crown Prince. Qingmen Pass lies north of the Great Tingming Temple, not far from here. I want to pay a visit to the Nether Valley."