Chapter 63: Sword Saint of the Moon
A deep silence settled over the mysterious courtyard—the kind that made time itself feel suspended. Drifting petals danced through the night air, carried by a gentle breeze, while the moon poured its luminous glow over the two figures standing beneath its watchful gaze.
Those two figures were none other than Su Tianhao and the spiritual will of his mother—Yuexin.
Yuexin allowed the silence to stretch, as if she had long anticipated Su Tianhao's shock and deliberately gave him space to let her declaration settle.
And that silence was exactly what he needed.
'Ninefold Nirvanic Tribulation Sword Dao,' the thought echoed in his mind like a thunderclap. 'That must be the sword dao my mother pursued... and it must be an incredibly domineering and profound path—one hidden within the Nine Heavens Sword Scripture.'
Before he could dig deeper or lose himself trying to piece together its origins, Yuexin's voice drifted across the night like moonlight—soft, yet filled with meaning.
"Although I do not dare claim to have reached the pinnacle of the Sword Dao, I did attain the Sword Saint Realm and was honored with the title 'Sword Saint of the Moon' during my peak in the mortal realm. Today, I will grant you the foundation you need—to carve your own path."
'Sword Saint of the Moon,' Su Tianhao repeated inwardly, his eyes lighting with awe. 'What a profound title. It must be tied to her heavenly constitution... and her deep connection with the moon.'
From what his father's soul remnant Chenyuan had told him, his mother had possessed an extraordinary heavenly constitution—one that enabled her to reach the Martial Saint Realm at a remarkably young age.
But after unlocking the second layer of his inherited memories, Su Tianhao came to an even greater realization.
Her constitution wasn't just powerful. It was celestial. It resonated with the moon itself. Her entire being was steeped in the energy of lunar essence and domineering sword intent.
Before Su Tianhao could continue unraveling the whirlwind of thoughts forming in his mind, Yuexin's voice cut through the air—steady and clear, pulling him back into the moment.
"The Sword Dao is a vast and profound path," she began, her tone slow and rhythmic—like waves gently lapping against the shore of his consciousness.
"It is not singular. There are countless paths within the Sword Dao... The Slaughter Sword Dao. The Harmonious Sword Dao. The Ethereal Sword Dao..." Her voice blended seamlessly into the atmosphere, each word resonating with profound weight.
"And above them all... stands the Ninefold Nirvanic Tribulation Sword Dao. A Sword Dao forged from tribulation, chaos, and eternal laws. To walk this path, one must first cultivate the heart... and master the sword."
Su Tianhao's eyes widened in awe.
'That line... it's exactly the same as what I heard when the technique first appeared in my mind. I was right. The Ninefold Nirvanic Tribulation Sword Dao really does lie within the Nine Heavens Sword Scripture.'
Yuexin offered a gentle smile as she continued, her words carrying quiet strength—both maternal and resolute.
"The Ninefold Nirvanic Tribulation Sword Dao is the very essence hidden within the Nine Heavens Sword Scripture. To cultivate the heart means to forge an indomitable will. And to master the sword... one must begin at the foundation. With the basics."
Su Tianhao raised an eyebrow, visibly puzzled. "It's that simple?" he muttered.
From what he knew, there were only five basic sword moves—Slash, Thrust, Cleave, Parry, and Draw.
Slash was a sweeping horizontal strike. Thrust was a direct stab aimed at vital points. Cleave was a powerful vertical chop relying on brute force. Parry was a simple defensive maneuver to block or redirect an incoming blow. And Draw... was just drawing your sword.
He furrowed his brows, unconvinced. "How could mastering just these basic moves be the key to mastering the sword itself?"
But then Yuexin's next words shattered his assumptions entirely.
"There are nine basic sword moves," she said firmly. "To reach the pinnacle of the Sword Dao, one must first perfect these nine. Without truly grasping them—body, mind, and soul—you cannot ascend beyond mediocrity. All great sword daos are built upon these nine pillars."
"Nine?" Su Tianhao muttered with quiet frustration. "And someone really needs to master all of them just to lay the foundation?"
Yuexin was only a spiritual will and naturally couldn't hear or respond to Su Tianhao's question. Instead, she moved forward with her teachings—voice calm and resolute.
"I shall now demonstrate the Nine Basic Sword Moves of the Sword Dao. Watch closely."
As the words left her lips, Yuexin gracefully shifted into a masterful sword stance. The moonlight danced upon her silver robes, and the slender lunar sword in her hand gleamed with cold, ethereal light—like moonlight distilled into steel.
"The Slash is the first of the Nine Basic Sword Moves. But Slash is not just a horizontal cut involving the swing of the arm... It is a dance of the waist."
"A dance of the waist," Su Tianhao repeated softly, eyes brimming with fascination. He absorbed the words like a sponge cast into still water, ripples of understanding spreading through his heart.
"Let me show you."
Yuexin's robe fluttered gently as she stepped forward. Her movement was subtle—barely a shift of her foot—but the entire air around her seemed to realign. She stood like the full moon before a rising tide: silent, serene, and absolute.
Then her sword moved.
No flourish. No aggression.
Just a single, fluid motion.
There was no sound. No wind. No pressure. Only silence.
Then—something surreal.
The courtyard shimmered faintly. Drifting petals in the air split perfectly in half—not from strength or speed, but as if they had no other choice. Even the very air parted before the arc of her blade, forming a soft crescent trail of silver light lingering in the sky like a mark etched into the heavens.
It was not a display of force.
It was something purer.
It was clarity.
"This... is Slash," Yuexin said gently, returning the sword to her side with no wasted motion. "To cut without forcing. To strike without disturbance. When sword, body, and will become one... even the world itself must part before your blade."
Su Tianhao stared in stunned silence, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.
So simple.
And yet so far beyond.
In that moment, he understood—truly and deeply—that Yuexin had been right. To walk the path of the sword, he would first have to perfect the so-called basics.
Yuexin gave him a beautiful, knowing smile—one filled with quiet understanding and a peculiar gleam that caught him completely off guard.
'As expected... this isn't any ordinary spiritual will,' he cried inwardly, astonishment flashing through his golden eyes.
Without pause, Yuexin shifted her sword stance. Her movements were fluid, measured, graceful—not just elegant, but precise.
"The second of the Nine Basic Sword Moves is Thrust," her voice rang out, serene yet commanding.
Su Tianhao's attention sharpened immediately.
"Thrust is not just about stabbing or penetrating—but about careful precision. Precision begins with stillness. Feel the breath before the strike. The shortest path between two points is not force... but intent."
"I see," Su Tianhao murmured, his brows knitting as the words settled into his mind. There was a deep truth there—one that transcended physical movement.
"Watch carefully."
Yuexin's expression turned solemn. She took a poised stance—one foot forward, her lunar sword leveled in front of her. No power radiated from her limbs. No momentum gathered. She was still. Perfectly still.
Then—
Pierce.
It was not a strike. It was a moment of revelation.
The sword didn't cut through space—it pierced through it.
For a split second, there was no motion, no sound. Then a silver flash, faint as moonlight, shimmered in the air. The tip of her blade now hovered several meters ahead—where a falling leaf hung, perfectly impaled mid-air. No shockwave. No wind. No tremble.
Just absolute, unerring precision.
Su Tianhao's eyes went wide. He hadn't even seen her sword move.
"This—" he whispered in disbelief.
"The Thrust is the embodiment of precision, not aggression," Yuexin spoke softly, her voice echoing with timeless clarity. "To stab with intent so focused... the world bends to it. It is not strength that creates the perfect thrust—only clarity of will."
The impaled leaf drifted silently to the ground as her blade returned to rest—unmoved, untouched, and yet devastating in its simplicity.
Su Tianhao's heart beat faster and faster like a war drum.
This wasn't a mere stab.
It was the truth of the sword. Pure. Unfiltered.
And he was only on the second move.
"Next, the third move is Cleave," Yuexin said patiently, her voice calm and soothing—the kind that could ease both heart and spirit.
"The Cleave is a vertical chop, but it doesn't rely solely on brute force. To cleave... is to commit. Half-hearted strikes are dull. Strike with will—as though cutting through a mountain."
Su Tianhao absorbed the words silently, his understanding deepening with every sentence.
"Son... watch and learn," Yuexin added with a soft, motherly smile.
Su Tianhao blinked.
The word 'son' struck him like a warm breeze on a frozen night—brief, yet lingering. Before he could dwell on it, his gaze returned to her.
And his breath caught.
Yuexin raised her sword high above her head, slender arms holding it with perfect control—not a ripple of wasted motion, not a flicker of doubt. In that instant, she looked less like a human figure and more like a divine sculpture carved from moonlight and eternal sword intent. Her presence was ethereal—the wind stilled, the drifting petals paused mid-air, and even the glow of the moon seemed to quieten, as if nature itself awaited the descent of her blade.
Then, she moved.
The sword came down in a single, unbroken arc—clean, resolute, unstoppable.
No explosive power. No brilliant light. Just one serene motion, absolute in its conviction.
And yet—
Slice.
The very air split with a soft whisper. A thin invisible line of void shimmered in the sword's wake, as if space itself had been cleaved apart and quietly stitched back together.
Su Tianhao's heart thudded.
That strike didn't feel like a technique. It felt like a judgment. A truth.
"It's absolute," he breathed, eyes wide with awe. "No hesitation. No wasted energy. It just... was."
His gaze lingered on the fading trace of the sword's arc in the night sky.
"Strike with will... as though cutting through a mountain," he whispered, the words now etched deep in his heart.
"Hahaha, don't look so surprised," Yuexin chuckled softly, her laughter light and musical like wind chimes stirred under a moonlit breeze. "I'm sure you too can achieve it one day."
Su Tianhao paused—then smiled, warmth blooming within him.
'It's like she already knew I'd react this way,' he thought, heart lightened by quiet joy.
Though he had never truly met his mother, in this moment her image became rooted in his soul—not just as a powerful sword cultivator, but as his mother.
And that, somehow, meant everything.
"Next, the fourth move is Parry," Yuexin said, her expression sharpening as she shifted into a calm yet firm defensive stance.
"The sword is not only about offense, but defense as well. But don't be mistaken—Parry is not just about stopping the blade. It's about reading it. Your sword should arrive before theirs truly begins."
Su Tianhao furrowed his brows slightly. "That's easier said than done," he muttered, doubt flashing in his eyes.
"Come at me," Yuexin suddenly said.
Su Tianhao blinked, caught off guard.
He opened his mouth, just about to protest that he didn't have a sword—only to pause mid-sentence.
There, in his hand, was a dark slender blade with faint wave-like patterns running along its edge.
Shadowfang.
His eyes widened in disbelief. 'How did the Shadowfang manifest in this realm?'
But before he could begin to unravel the mystery, Yuexin's calm voice flowed into the air once more.
"Come at me, Tianhao. With everything you have."
Su Tianhao drew a deep breath, steadying his heart. The sword in his grip felt exactly as it did in the real world—its weight, its balance, the cool texture of its hilt. As if it wasn't just his sword, but a part of him.
'This is Mother's will. If the sword is here, there's a reason.'
He took a step forward, his stance forming instinctively. Countless inherited memories stirred within him. Although he hadn't wielded a sword before, he carried years of sword experience in his inherited mind—which he could naturally draw upon.
With a sharp exhale, he lunged—fast and direct. A clean thrust aimed at her shoulder, simple and precise.
But—
Clang!
Her sword was already there.
She didn't block. She didn't push back. She redirected—her blade barely touching his, yet the force of his attack slid harmlessly past her, veering off to the side as though the strike had never held weight to begin with.
Su Tianhao stumbled half a step, stunned.
"You see now?" Yuexin asked softly, already lowering her sword with that same graceful calm.
"Parry is not reaction. It's anticipation. You must not only see the attack... but the intention behind it."
Her words echoed like a bell in his mind.
Su Tianhao tightened his grip on Shadowfang, his lashes trembling with dawning clarity.
'So that's what it means to arrive before the attack begins...'
Yuexin nodded once, her tranquil expression unchanged. "Next, the fifth move is Draw Slash. And personally, I believe it is the most important to master when cultivating the sword."
"Draw Slash? Shouldn't it just be Draw?" Su Tianhao's brows furrowed again. "I really am like a frog at the bottom of a well," he muttered with a self-mocking smile.
"The Draw is not merely about unsheathing the sword. It's the transition from stillness to action. From readiness... to death." Yuexin's voice was calm, yet carried a chilling weight. "A drawn blade must taste blood. The moment it leaves its sheath—there must be no hesitation."
"Looks like I really am a sword novice," Su Tianhao chuckled dryly—but his expression quickly sobered.
"Watch closely, Tianhao," Yuexin said solemnly. "This move is crucial... and the most difficult to master."
Recognizing the gravity in her tone, Su Tianhao's expression turned serious. His golden eyes gleamed with anticipation as he focused entirely on her.
Yuexin exhaled softly and returned the lunar blade to its sheath in a single elegant motion. The atmosphere grew still—as if the entire world had paused to witness what would come next.
She didn't move.
Her hand rested gently on the hilt. Her posture was calm—relaxed, yet unshakably firm. The moonlight above seemed to pool around her. Even the drifting petals in the air came to a halt.
Su Tianhao's breath caught.
Then—
Shing!
A flash of silver moonlight tore through the air—so fast, he didn't even see her move.
There was no swing. No visible draw.
Just the hum of steel—followed by a thin line slicing through the wind.
And before he could even react, the blade was already back in its sheath.
Crack—
A distant boulder, dozens of meters away, split silently down the middle—cleaved in two with no fanfare.
The sound came after the technique.
Su Tianhao stood frozen, speechless.
"That... that wasn't just a Draw Slash," he whispered.
"It was a killing art," Yuexin said softly, as if she had somehow predicted his words, her eyes still resting on the distant stone.
"A perfected Draw Slash is an executioner's strike. No hesitation. No retreat. Only purpose."
She turned to him then, a faint smile gracing her lips.
"One day, your sword will leave its sheath... and it will never miss its mark."
Su Tianhao's face broke into a bright, exhilarated smile. "These so-called basic sword moves... they're no joke at all!"
His eyes lit up as a thought struck him. "That's five—the universally acknowledged five basic sword moves. I wonder what the other four are?"
As he turned his gaze back to Yuexin, his expression filled with respect and anticipation.
He couldn't wait to uncover more of the sword's truths.