That was a man dressed in simple cloth, bearing a striking resemblance in build, appearance, and attire to Dugu Bachén. Slung across his back was an iron sword, one that looked terribly rusted. He seemed less a swordsman and more a vagrant, a wandering beggar.

This man walked steadily forward, stopping only when he was a hundred paces from Dugu Bachén.

“Dugu Bachén?” the man spoke first, his voice carrying a strange mixture of surprise, excitement, and a faint undertone of relief.

“Indeed. And you are?” Dugu Bachén's eyebrows lifted slightly. For reasons he couldn't fathom, this man felt intensely familiar, yet even after searching the entirety of his memory, he couldn't recall ever having met him.

“Dugu Qiubai…” the man whispered the name softly.

Dugu Bachén’s entire frame jolted. Dugu Qiubai? The legend who once cleaved through tens of thousands of the Western armies with a single sword stroke? The most formidable existence in the history of the Dugu Clan? He… he was still alive?

Suddenly, Dugu Bachén’s mind went blank. Every member of the Dugu Clan revered Dugu Qiubai, viewing him as an idol and the ultimate standard to surpass; Dugu Bachén was no exception. Yet now, this idol and ancestor stood before him. The reality felt absurd, but he had to believe the man, simply because the aura radiating from him was identical to that of the Dugu Clan—an essence that emanated from the very bones, impossible for an outsider to fake.

After a moment of stunned silence, Dugu Bachén regained his composure.

“You have come to kill me?” Dugu Bachén understood that this man’s arrival must have been orchestrated by the figures above. Though confused as to why Dugu Qiubai was not only alive but acting as an enforcer for those same superiors.

“No, I merely came to see what kind of genius our Dugu Clan has produced over these long years…” Dugu Qiubai said mildly, his eyes devoid of killing intent, filled only with deep admiration, clearly appreciating Dugu Bachén’s composure.

To calm his mind so quickly after facing his idol—this level of self-control was not something ordinary people possessed.

“And now you have seen. Are you satisfied?” Dugu Bachén asked calmly. Even if this man was truly his ancestor, the thought that he might be an agent of the powers above caused a flicker of resentment in his heart, making him unwilling to treat him as a mere ancestor.

He had his own destiny, and he would not flee from it. He possessed a disciple capable of defying the heavens; how could he, the master, compromise with the Heavenly Dao? Therefore, even if the opponent sent forth the Dugu Clan’s prime ancestor, he would not yield easily.

“I have seen, and I am very satisfied. Truly satisfied!” A faint smile touched Dugu Qiubai’s usually cold face. “Then why do you still linger here?” Dugu Bachén asked in a level tone.

“Precisely because I am satisfied, I do not wish for you to stray onto the wrong path. Bachén, come with me!” Dugu Qiubai smiled slightly.

“The wrong path? Heh, it is simply that our paths differ. Though you are the rarest genius the Dugu Clan has seen in tens of thousands of years, and my senior, our paths diverge. Just as you still cultivate the sword, I cultivate the saber!” Dugu Bachén showed no surprise at Dugu Qiubai’s words.

At their level, certain matters could not be resolved merely by a sliver of shared bloodline.

“When the Dao differs, we do not conspire. Heh, you speak the truth. But are you truly resolved to wait for me to make the first move?” Dugu Qiubai nodded gently, showing no anger at Dugu Bachén’s declaration.

“If you truly intend to force me to go with you, then a confrontation is inevitable,” Dugu Bachén stated calmly. With a single finger, he shot out a stream of saber qi that carved an iron saber into the earth, which he then grasped in his hand.

“Bachén, why must you force this?” Seeing Dugu Bachén’s determined stance, Dugu Qiubai shook his head with pity.

“It is not hard. To fight you is a lifelong wish I’ve held since childhood. I once thought this dream could never be realized, but now it seems otherwise!” Dugu Bachén shook his head, indicating no distress.

“But the Dugu Clan has no descendants left!” Dugu Qiubai’s voice suddenly turned chillingly cold.

“Correct. The Dugu Clan has no descendants left. Dugu Qian and the others all perished in the last great calamity. That is why I cannot go with you—because the ones who erased them from this world were none other than the people behind you!” Dugu Bachén’s tone remained placid, yet a distinct coldness permeated his words.

The raid thousands of years ago—how many lives were lost? Besides those who remained in the Nine Provinces, the descendants of the Dugu Clan hidden among the barbarians of the Southern Wilderness Forest and those secluded in the Heavenly Stellar Mountain Range were all annihilated. This result was heartbreaking and a massive wound for Dugu Bachén. From that moment, he knew that Heaven and Earth were impartial, treating all things as straw dogs. The only way for them to survive was to overthrow this Heavenly Dao.

Dugu Qiubai fell silent. His power in those days was world-shaking; he once believed himself invincible until he encountered that individual. Before that person, he truly learned what the sword was. And that entity had calculated everything that would unfold over tens of thousands of years, or perhaps, had arranged it personally.

Dugu Qiubai had long since become that person’s most loyal servant—yes, a slave. Now, his master commanded him to take away his own descendant, and the most exceptional one at that. What bitter taste filled Dugu Qiubai’s heart?

Yet, he believed this was the only way to ensure the continuation of the Dugu bloodline; this was what he told himself, and what he promised himself.

Without another word, Dugu Qiubai drew the iron sword from his back—that rusted iron sword.

There was no anticipated dragon’s roar, nor any spectacular sword light. When the iron sword was drawn, it remained nothing more than an ordinary iron sword, lacking even a trace of sword energy.

“Bachén, strike now!” Dugu Qiubai’s sword tip pointed directly at Dugu Bachén, his voice cold.

Seeing Dugu Qiubai draw his long sword so plainly, Dugu Bachén frowned slightly. Although Dugu Qiubai showed no outward change or powerful sword aura, Dugu Bachén felt himself rigidly locked down by Dugu Qiubai’s sword, as if swords surrounded him from every direction. What kind of sword was this?

“The Sword of Heart’s Thought!” As if sensing Dugu Bachén’s confusion, Dugu Qiubai spoke to explain.

“The Sword of Heart’s Thought? Whatever the heart wills becomes a sharp weapon, is that it?” Dugu Bachén inquired.

“Precisely…” Dugu Qiubai nodded.

“If your realm only amounts to this, then you might be disappointed this time!” Dugu Bachén spoke, and his body took a step forward. The newly forged iron saber in his hand swung toward Dugu Qiubai.

Since it was the Sword of Heart’s Thought, all he needed to do was break the heart.

Seeing Dugu Bachén take the initiative immediately, Dugu Qiubai’s eyes gradually lit up. With the shift in his intent, countless streams of sword qi materialized from thin air, stabbing toward Dugu Bachén. Yet Dugu Bachén seemed not to see them, gripping his iron saber tightly, hacking straight toward Dugu Qiubai.

A smear of dark saber light slowly ignited upon the iron saber, truly brightening slowly, much like a pile of coal fire transforming from faint sparks into a raging inferno.

It appeared agonizingly slow, but when the saber reached Dugu Qiubai’s proximity, it had become a blade radiating blinding black light.

Dugu Qiubai’s face contorted in horror as his iron sword instinctively met the attack.

“The Sword of Heart’s Thought focuses on the heart—the firmness of the heart, the stability of the heart, the tenacity of the heart. Though you comprehended the Sword of Heart’s Thought, your heart is not stable, not steady, not firm. Therefore, you have lost…” Dugu Bachén’s voice resonated clearly at that moment. The iron saber in his hand met the iron sword in Dugu Qiubai’s grasp. The two weapons rang with a crisp collision. There was no violent energy explosion; it looked as if two mortals were striking each other with weapons. Yet Dugu Qiubai’s body was thrown backward, blood erupting from all seven orifices.

As for Dugu Bachén, his entire body was crisscrossed with sword marks, deep cuts, and blood sprayed continuously, yet a faint smile played on his lips—a smile of pure joy. He had defeated the imaginary foe he had fantasized about battling since childhood, truly defeated him.

When masters clash, the fight might drag on for half a month without a resolution, or victory and defeat might hinge on a single thought.

He had just narrowly defeated Dugu Qiubai by breaking his heart; his spirit and soul were naturally severely wounded.

Dugu Qiubai fell to the ground and showed no intention of rising. His gaze was hazy. He had lost? He had lost so utterly? Especially considering Dugu Bachén’s words, which sounded like instruction to a junior, he felt no anger stirring within him.

The strong rule. Even though this was his descendant, in terms of comprehension of the Dao of the Sword, or the Saber, this descendant had far surpassed him. He was right: his heart was unstable, his heart was unsettled, his heart was not firm.

But even if he had lost, so what? He still had to take him away—this individual with the greatest potential in the Dugu Clan’s history. Yes, he must take him away; he could not allow him to perish like this.

His body slowly stood up, transforming directly into a sword—a formless, invisible sword—shooting toward Dugu Bachén.

Faced with Dugu Qiubai’s invisible strike, Dugu Bachén’s pupils contracted sharply.

.C