After advancing to a high-tier human, Feng Qi gained the ability to convert his blood energy into mental power.
As a result, the duration of his Divine Form was extended.
However, since he was in the sacrifice timeline, the total amount of blood energy in his body was far inferior to that of his primary timeline counterpart. Even with the enhancement, his Divine Form only lasted about ten seconds longer than the initial thirty-second limit.
Just as his Divine Form was on the verge of collapse, Feng Qi was pleasantly surprised to see a blue light seeping out from Mist Lord's body.
It was evident that Mist Lord was resisting the control of the Demon Blade, activating the Miracle Will within him.
With the power of a Miracle joining the battle, Feng Qi immediately felt reassured.
All he needed to do now was give Mist Lord time. His resistance would continuously strengthen the Miracle Will, gradually forcing the Demon Blade into submission.
The Demon Blade was indeed powerful, but in the end, it was still a mortal weapon. How could it possibly compare to a Miracle artifact?
Thinking of this, a smile appeared on Feng Qi's face.
Maybe Old Mistt could turn this disaster into a blessing and gain a powerful weapon in the process.
Looking at Mist Lord, who was still struggling, the black mist around him was slowly shrinking under the suppression of the blue light, and the black fog emanating from the Demon Blade was also visibly decreasing.
It was clear that the Demon Blade strongly resisted the blue light, letting out constant humming noises.
This weapon reminded Feng Qi of Lü Yue's Jian Lan. Weapons of this type seemed to develop a consciousness of their own.
However, compared to Jian Lan, this Demon Blade was far more outrageous.
Jian Lan still needed Lü Yue to control it and couldn't act on its own, but the Demon Blade could not only move independently but also devour the consciousness of living beings, turning them into its blood-thralls.
The battle between the Miracle Will and the Demon Blade continued.
As Mist Lord's willpower strengthened, the Demon Blade's disadvantage became increasingly obvious.
At this moment, Mist Lord's appearance also underwent a transformation.
The black mist covering his body solidified into a set of black armor, imprinted with blood-red patterns. Only his glowing violet eyes were visible, making him look incredibly imposing.
The tip of the katana in his hand emitted black mist with each breath he took, its sharp aura piercing through the sky.
A deep growl escaped from Mist Lord's throat as he slowly raised the pitch-black katana.
The Demon Blade trembled violently, seemingly unwilling to submit to Mist Lord's control.
Then, Mist Lord suddenly slashed into the distance.
In an instant, a massive phantom of the Demon Blade, inscribed with blood-red patterns, appeared in the sky.
The phantom flickered for a brief moment before vanishing. The ground shook violently.
Feng Qi turned his head and saw that in the direction of the slash, a deep trench over a hundred meters long and several meters deep had been carved into the earth.
Seeing the power of the Demon Blade, Feng Qi's eyes flashed with anticipation.
He wasn't sure if this Demon Blade was the same one that would battle the peak-form Mist Lord in the future. But if it was, then its true potential had yet to be fully unearthed.
The peak-form Mist Lord was capable of slaying a god that wielded a Miracle artifact, yet the Demon Blade had been able to fight him to a near standstill.
If the two blades were indeed the same, then there was a real possibility that this Demon Blade was also a Miracle artifact.
At this moment, Feng Qi voluntarily deactivated his Divine Form, and an intense wave of weakness surged over him.
Even though his mental power hadn't been fully drained, he still felt the strong backlash of dizziness.
But he wasn't surprised by this outcome.
After all, he was in the sacrifice timeline. There was no way he could possess the same robust physique as his primary timeline self to withstand the backlash.
Activating his Divine Form had even inflicted severe damage on his spiritual sea.
However, Feng Qi didn't care.
For someone in the sacrifice timeline, injuries were simply part of daily life.
Using any abilities from the primary timeline would always come with consequences.
But he had never lived long enough in any timeline to experience those aftereffects—he always left this beautiful world before they could manifest.
After briefly assessing the condition of his spiritual sea, Feng Qi withdrew his consciousness and turned his gaze toward Mist Lord.
The Demon Blade was still resisting.
Yet under the suppression of the Miracle Will, its trembling grew weaker and weaker.
At that moment, Feng Qi suddenly noticed the black mist leaking from the Demon Blade congealing into a vague face.
It resembled a dying person, desperately gasping for its final breaths of air.
Realizing that the consciousness within the Demon Blade was on the brink of annihilation, Feng Qi felt a surge of curiosity.
His consciousness immediately sank into his spiritual sea.
Using his spiritual medium, Gleam, he connected to the spiritual sea of his primary timeline self and attempted to activate his Nightmare ability.
In an instant, the Nightmare talent orb radiated a brilliant glow.
Returning to his senses, Feng Qi once again looked at the indistinct face forming on the Demon Blade.
The Nightmare ability allowed him to extract the final memory fragments from a dying lifeform.
He wanted to see if he could retrieve the memory fragments of the Demon Blade.
He waited.
Nothing happened.
Feng Qi boldly stepped two paces closer to Mist Lord.
Still, nothing happened.
Perhaps his sacrifice timeline physique was incapable of using the Nightmare ability, or maybe the Demon Blade was fundamentally different from Mu Qing, Le Ping'an, and other flesh-and-blood beings, making it impossible to extract its memories.
Just as Feng Qi was about to give up, an overwhelming flood of information surged into his mind.
A vast collection of fragmented memories rapidly pieced themselves together, instantly transporting him into an entirely different world.
"Jiejie, how do you train with a blade?"
"Jiejie, is my talent really that bad?"
"Jiejie, I want to practice with you too. I want to be recognized by our people."
At the beginning of the vision, a young boy around six or seven years old sat on the steps, resting his chin on his hands. His eyes were filled with admiration as he watched a figure not far away.
Standing in the distance was a slender, stunning young woman.
She wielded a black katana, dressed in a white training uniform, her long hair neatly tied back with a silver ribbon. With each rhythmic breath, her katana sliced through the air, striking a wooden practice post in front of her.
After a long time, she finally stopped her training and turned toward the boy.
"Jiejie." The boy immediately stood up, his face full of anticipation.
"No training." The young woman rejected him without hesitation and walked up the stairs toward the mountain.
"Bleh, bleh, bleh."
The boy seemed to have expected this answer. He immediately made a funny face behind her back.
But the moment his sister turned around, he quickly put on a well-behaved expression.
"Chao Tian, punishment. You'll recite ten lessons tonight."
"You old hag, when I grow up, I'm going to beat you up until you cry!"
"If you dare not recite them, I'll beat you up right now."
Laughing and bickering, the two siblings walked up the mountain steps until they reached a grand hall halfway up.
In front of the hall was a large plaza, where many warriors were sparring with blades. As soon as they saw the young woman, they immediately stopped and respectfully bowed.
She nodded gracefully in return and led her younger brother into the hall.
Inside, shelves lined both sides, neatly stacked with scrolls made from the hides of unknown beasts. At the center of the hall stood three statues, each with a different styled katana placed before them.
The young woman walked to the shelves, picked up a scroll, and began reading intently.
The boy beside her immediately pouted.
His sister glanced at him and spoke seriously, "A blade is a weapon meant for killing. Your body hasn't fully developed yet. If blade energy enters your body, you won't be able to withstand it. You need to grow up first."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, old hag." The boy muttered impatiently.
Watching his sister ignore him and continue reading, the boy clenched his fists in silent determination—one day, he would become a blade master admired by their people, just like her.
Time passed quickly.
The boy finally reached the age of sixteen and was ready for his coming-of-age ceremony.
That day, the mountains of their clan's territory were decorated with lanterns and banners as they held the Blade Bestowal Ceremony for the new generation.
Chao Tian, along with hundreds of other boys of the same age, gathered in the plaza at the mountainside, where they were each given a Blade Insignia, signifying that they had come of age and could now begin training in their clan's sacred Blade Codex to become future blade warriors.
After the ceremony, Chao Tian followed the clan leader up to the peak, where the Blade Graveyard stood.
The graveyard was filled with countless katanas, each embedded into the earth. Even from afar, one could feel the sharp, oppressive aura emanating from them.
Many of these katanas had been left behind by their ancestors.
Each blade carried a remnant of its previous master's will.
The second phase of the ceremony required the youths to choose their Life-bound Blade from the graveyard.
Or rather, it was the blades that did the choosing.
Most of the katanas here had already developed a form of sentience. They could sense whether a person was worthy of wielding them.
If a young warrior was acknowledged by an ancestral blade, they would be able to skip the forging process and immediately gain their Life-bound Blade.
Compared to crafting a new weapon, obtaining an ancestral blade was clearly the easier and more prestigious path.
After all, these swords had been nurtured by past generations, passed down through multiple wielders, and had long transcended the level of ordinary weapons.
Chao Tian, like the others, entered the graveyard with high hopes.
His sister had obtained one of the Three Great Blades of the Blade Graveyard, Tian Tu. He dreamed of being chosen in the same way, of proving himself as a true talent of their clan.
The moment the selection began, the ground trembled.
More than a dozen blades shook violently before pulling themselves free from the earth, flying into the hands of different youths.
The once silent swords shone brightly, shedding layers of rust as they awakened to their new masters.
Those chosen looked ecstatic.
Chao Tian's heart burned with envy.
Time passed, and he wandered through the graveyard, searching for his Life-bound Blade.
But reality was cruel.
Even after the second round of the selection, no blade had chosen him.
After returning home, Chao Tian tried to smile in front of his parents, pretending that he didn't care about being rejected.
He claimed that it didn't matter if the ancestral swords didn't recognize him—he would forge his own Life-bound Blade through sheer effort.
But that night, he went to the Blade Graveyard alone.
Standing on the mountain peak, gazing at the sea of clouds rolling under the moonlight, he felt nothing but frustration and sorrow.
At that moment, a familiar figure appeared beside him.
"Stupid brat, it's just a sword. Do you really need to be so depressed?"
Chao Tian didn't turn his head. Still staring at the vast sky, he sighed, "Old hag, you got one of the Three Great Blades, Tian Tu. But your own little brother didn't get chosen by anything."
"So, you feel the gap is too big, and you can't accept it?"
"You have to accept it whether you like it or not. Tomorrow, I'll go to the Forging Pavilion and ask Uncle Lie to craft a blade just for me. From now on, I'll personally nurture it into my Life-bound Blade—no, I'll make it into a divine weapon on par with the Three Great Blades."
Hearing this, the young woman's cold face softened into a smile.
"That's the spirit. As expected of my little brother, you didn't disappoint me. I thought you were going to let this setback crush you. I have high hopes for your future."
"I don't need your approval. The day I become strong enough, I'll make you cry for bullying me all these years."
As he spoke, Chao Tian took a stance, drawing his imaginary blade toward the rolling clouds ahead.
"Then you'd better work hard. My growth rate is faster than you think."
"That day won't be far away…"
In the following days, Chao Tian went to the Forging Pavilion and had a blade crafted just for him.
He named it Zhui Shen—God Chaser.
To Chao Tian, his sister had always been a god.
Since childhood, she had possessed extraordinary talent. During her coming-of-age ceremony, one of the ancestral blades had actively chosen her as its master, recognizing her worth.
But Chao Tian refused to accept defeat.
He wanted to be like his sister—someone admired by their people, a true genius.
To catch up to her, he trained relentlessly, day after day.
His hands cracked and bled from gripping the blade, his sword techniques grew sharper, and his willpower became unshakable. Through sheer effort, he surpassed his peers, one after another.
But no matter how much he trained, the gap between him and his sister never seemed to close.
He had watched her rise—from the strongest among her age group to defeating one clan elder after another—until she became the prodigy their entire clan placed their hopes on.
Chao Tian witnessed her achievements with pride.
She was his goal, but more importantly, she was his sister—his eternal pride.
Chasing after her was his own choice, but he wanted her to soar even higher, to reach even greater heights.
That day, the Blade Clan and the Sword Clan held a martial exchange tournament.
Chao Tian followed his sister into battle.
The tournament took place in the Sword Clan's training grounds.
It was Chao Tian's first time visiting the Sword Clan's territory.
But he had long known about them.
The Sword Clan occupied the mountains neighboring the Blade Clan. According to ancient records, both clans had once been part of the same lineage.
Back then, they weren't called the Sword Clan or the Blade Clan—they were known as the Artifact Clan.
The Artifact Clan had once been an undisputed powerhouse, ruling over three minor worlds. Within their lineage, there were twelve branches, each specializing in a different weapon and martial style. Among them, the Sword Sect and the Blade Sect were the strongest. For generations, the clan leader had always been chosen from one of these two branches.
History books recorded the golden age of the Artifact Clan.
But that era of prosperity lasted less than a millennium before it was brought to an abrupt end.
According to ancient scrolls, the downfall began in the mining grounds of the clan's resource fields, where enslaved outsiders suddenly rebelled.
At first, the Artifact Clan didn't take it seriously. They dispatched a small team to suppress the revolt, believing it was nothing more than a minor disturbance.
But they were wrong.
The slaves, whom they thought could be crushed effortlessly, had somehow gained immense strength. The dispatched squad was completely wiped out, their bodies drained of blood.
The Axe Sect, responsible for overseeing that mining area, never reported the incident, convinced they could handle it. Instead, an elder from the Axe Sect personally led a force to suppress the rebellion.
Initially, they succeeded. The uprising was quelled, and peace was restored.
But no one realized that the rebellion had only been the beginning of a greater disaster.
The leader of the revolt was never truly killed—he had only been wounded and escaped. Over time, he returned again and again, hunting the warriors of the Axe Sect.
Each time he struck, his victims were found completely drained of blood.
His power grew at an alarming rate.
Within a year, the very elder who had once defeated him easily was killed by his hand.
By the time the Axe Sect realized the situation was beyond their control, it was already too late.
What was once an insignificant slave had now become a force to be reckoned with.
Over the next few decades, the Artifact Clan waged war against this rebel, but one by one, their twelve branches crumbled. Only the Sword Sect and the Blade Sect remained, but even they suffered devastating losses.
In the end, faced with an irreversible decline, the Sword Sect and Blade Sect abandoned their ancestral homeland and fled to other worlds.
Thus, the once-mighty Artifact Clan came to an end.
The tides of history swept away the former rulers, while the enslaved miner—once seen as nothing but a lowly outsider—rose to establish his own empire, ushering in a new era.
This was why the Sword Clan and the Blade Clan could coexist peacefully.
After all, they shared the same ancestry, the same language, and the same cultural heritage.
For this tournament, Chao Tian knew he wasn't the main character.
But he was eager to see how his sister would perform.
The memory fragments flickered, growing unstable.
Feng Qi snapped back to reality, his gaze locking onto Mist Lord, who was still struggling.
The perspective of these memories had been chaotic—he had no idea why the Demon Blade carried such recollections.
With doubt in his heart, he took another step closer to the Demon Blade.
At this moment, the consciousness within the blade was on the verge of collapse under the pressure of the Miracle Will.
As Feng Qi approached, more fragmented memories surged into his mind, piecing together a new vision…