The Artifact Forging Path is the most ubiquitous of the Six Paths, the one every cultivator must engage with. Even a rogue cultivator too poor for talismans will scrape together enough for a decent weapon. A powerful weapon amplifies combat prowess exponentially. Thus, grandmaster smiths are revered by Sacred Lands and Divine Dynasties alike.

Every smith dreams of forging a Divine Artifact, or even the mythical… Immortal Artifact!

Legend says Immortal Artifacts fell from the upper realms. Most are broken, yet even fragments possess Mahayana-level power. One sword can sever stars; one seal can suppress eternity!

But even the greatest mortal smiths peak at the Heavenly Tribulation Divine Grade. As for forging an Immortal Artifact from scratch? Only ancient legends speak of one person achieving it—after obtaining the Divine Record of Artifact Forging.

“When the Divine Record appears, Immortal Weapons submit!”

“Obtain this Record, and you can forge Immortal Artifacts!”

This legend drove countless smiths mad with desire. But it remained just a legend… until now.

Gu Xiu held the Divine Record of Artifact Forging in his hands, fished straight from the void by his Green Bamboo Rod. Even he, with his five hundred years of experience, was stunned.

He knew artifact forging. He had guided Yuchi Chunlei, the Peak Master of Artifact Resonance Peak, onto her path. Without him, that muscle-brained woman would have died of stupidity long before forging anything. He considered himself a decent smith.

But as he transcribed the Divine Record, he realized he knew nothing.

The mainstream path has three stages: Melting, Fusion, Awakening.

Melting: Smelting raw materials using various fires—Human Pill Fire, Earth Fiend Fire, Heavenly Gang Fire. Fusion: Combining materials, balancing their conflicting properties. Awakening: Etching formations, birthing the artifact spirit. This is the soul of the craft.

This path requires immense cultivation base and material knowledge. It is difficult, complex, and rigid.

But the Divine Record revealed a completely different path.

And it showed Gu Xiu how to repair his broken Immortal Artifact, Shadow Chasing!

In his “Ten Thousand Years in a Glance” dream, he had watched Jiang Xun spend centuries repairing Shadow Chasing. Gu Xiu knew his current strength made that impossible. But with this Divine Record, and the newly acquired “Sword Heart” of the Unfailing Sword, he saw a shortcut.

“The Falling Rain Valley has opened!”

A voice interrupted his transcription. Gu Xiu looked up. The mist shrouding the valley entrance was churning. Experts from the sects and the Wanbao Tower soared into the sky, forming the Wood Cicada Stabilization Array to pin down the spatial fluctuations, allowing entry.

“Listen well!” a Wanbao Tower Elder barked at the hundred-strong team. “The valley is full of restrictions. The rain erodes spiritual power—wear your raincoats and keep your talismans dry! Watch out for the Black Wind; it carries chaotic spatial power. Get caught, and you might be teleported into a death trap forever!”

“You have maps. If you get separated, rendezvous at the White Water Lotus Pond—that’s the exit. You have fifteen days. After that, the valley closes for thirty years. Don’t be late!”

The disciples nodded solemnly.

Gu Xiu raised a hand. “I heard there are Rain Ghosts inside?”

“Rain Ghosts?” The Elder looked confused. “Where did you hear that?”

“I overheard Azure Mystic disciples mentioning them. Beasts that hide in the rain, aggressive, pack hunters. Weak to fire.”

“Ah…” Wan Xiaobei grimaced. “The Five Sects never share intel with us. We’ve only ever explored the outskirts. We’ve never seen these… Rain Ghosts.”

Gu Xiu nodded. It made sense. The sects treated Wanbao Tower like cash cows, not allies. They wouldn’t share critical survival data.

“Enter!” The array masters shouted. The mist thinned, revealing a passage.

“Let’s go!” Wan Xiaobei commanded.

But their path was blocked.

Bian Yifei and his Azure Mystic disciples stood like a wall before the entrance.

“Bian Yifei, what is this?” Fan Yangtai of the Golden Saber Sect shouted. “Is the mighty Azure Mystic going back on its word?”

Bian Yifei sneered, his gaze bypassing everyone to lock onto Gu Xiu. “Azure Mystic keeps its word. We lost the slots, we accept it.”

“But I have a reminder for the Wanbao Tower.”

His voice dripped with malice. “The valley is dangerous. Having more people can be a burden. If you give up ninety slots now, I, Bian Yifei, guarantee your safety. Otherwise…”

“If a hundred of you enter, perhaps not a single one will walk out.”

A naked death threat.

The other sects watched with amusement. This was the show they were waiting for.

Wan Xiaobei didn’t flinch. She smiled coldly. “Whether the slots are wasted isn’t for you to decide, Fellow Daoist Bian. I just hope you don’t put on another flashy sword display—all thunder and no rain—only to be killed by a single strike again.”

Bian Yifei’s face twisted in rage. He glared at Wan Xiaobei, then at the impassive Gu Xiu. “Hmph! Let’s go!”

He led his team into the mist. The other sects followed, laughing.

Once they were gone, Wan Xiaobei’s smile vanished. She looked at Gu Xiu nervously. “Elder Feng, if they use Sacred Land methods to attack us inside…”

“Sacred Land methods?” Gu Xiu walked past her, heading straight for the swirling portal.

“Don’t worry.”

Outside, he had to be careful not to kill indiscriminately. But inside the Falling Rain Valley? There were no laws. No witnesses. No need for restraint.

In the blink of an eye, two hundred and fifty cultivators vanished into the mist.

Outside, the Elders began to dismantle the stabilization array, preparing to wait for fifteen days.

Suddenly, an Elder gasped, pointing at the valley. “What is… that?”

Everyone looked. Their eyes widened in horror.

Inside the mist-shrouded valley, a pitch-black whirlwind had risen, connecting heaven and earth. It split into nine massive tornadoes, sweeping across the entire valley. And wherever the black wind raged, the eternal rain… stopped.

“The Black Wind is usually just a wisp! Why are there nine tornadoes? And why has the rain stopped?!”

An old Elder trembled, his face draining of blood. “Rain stops, Black Wind rises… It’s the omen! The ancient prophecy from the valley’s history!”

“What prophecy?”

The old Elder’s voice shook with terror.

“Rain stops, Black Wind rises… Falling Rain destroyed…”

“The Immortal… Perishes!”