Spells Grinding: From Basic Sparks to Divine Arts

Chapter 292: The One Line Sky Scenery

One Line Sky stood as one of the paramount wonders of the Nine Truths Region.

Legend dictated that a cultivator at the Perfection stage of the Nascent Soul realm had unleashed his final, dying strike upon this land. With a single swing of his blade, he had cleanly cleaved a three-thousand-zhang mountain in two, carving out the breathtaking marvel known today as One Line Sky.

Naturally, it was a sacred pilgrimage site for sword cultivators. As a practitioner who relied heavily on the blade, Qin Lu had no intention of missing it.

Time flowed on as the high-grade spirit ship continued its voyage.

……

Two days later, the high-speed vessel suddenly decelerated, a deep, resonant shudder vibrating through its massive hull.

The shift in momentum pulled Qin Lu from his meditative trance. He wasn’t alarmed; this had happened several times already. They were simply approaching a docking station. Generally, the spirit ship would anchor at a regional port for half a day to allow passengers to disembark and new travelers to board.

“Station number six. We should be roughly halfway there,” Qin Lu calculated silently.

Unbothered by the layover, he closed his eyes, preparing to sink back into his cultivation. But just as he settled his breathing, a sharp knock rapped against his door.

“Old Qin, it’s me!” Liu Sangeng’s voice drifted through the wood.

Qin Lu immediately stood up and unsealed the door. “Third Brother, what’s going on?”

Liu Sangeng grinned. “We’ve reached One Line Sky. You want to head out and take a look?”

“Of course,” Qin Lu agreed instantly, stepping out of the cramped cabin.

“Let’s go!”

The two men descended from the second floor and strode toward the main gangway.

“Seniors, are you disembarking at this port?” an attendant asked respectfully as they approached the exit.

Liu Sangeng, well-versed in the unwritten rules of transit, casually flicked a pouch containing a hundred Spirit Stones into the attendant’s hands. “We’re just taking a stroll. Keep the waist tokens active; this covers the room fee.”

“Understood,” the attendant nodded, seamlessly pocketing the currency. “Please be aware, Seniors, the spirit ship will only anchor here for three hours. Do not miss the departure time.”

“Don’t worry.”

Leaving the docks behind, Qin Lu and Liu Sangeng took to the skies, blurring into streaks of light as they flew north. They were far from alone; a massive exodus of cultivators—ranging from lone wanderers to entire families—was migrating in the same direction, all eager to witness the legendary phenomenon.

They chatted idly as they flew. Roughly two incense sticks’ worth of time later, they arrived at the coordinates.

The sight that greeted them left Qin Lu completely breathless.

“Tsk. No matter how many times I come here, it never stops being ridiculous,” Liu Sangeng muttered, staring at the megalithic structure ahead.

“This is the dying strike of a Nascent Soul expert…?” Qin Lu’s mind reeled in absolute cosmic awe.

Towering before them was a colossal mountain that aggressively pierced the heavens. Yet, to call it a single mountain was a fallacy. The entire central mass of the peak had been violently hollowed out by an apocalyptic force. The fissure was razor-thin at the apex and widened drastically near the base, splitting the earth into two distinct peaks.

Even more terrifying than the shattered stone was the fractured sky. As clouds drifted past the summit, they were cleanly and instantly sheared in half by an invisible, residual barrier, unable to bridge the gap the sword had left behind.

“Truly magnificent!”

“Heavens… what kind of monstrous power does it take to bisect a mountain of this size?!”

“So this is the might of a Nascent Soul…”

“The trip was worth it! A sword intent capable of permanently rewriting the landscape!”

Gasps and hushed whispers rippled through the gathered crowds.

Staring at the legendary rift, Qin Lu’s initial shock melted into a surging, heroic reverence. A profound resonance echoed through his meridians, a sudden, blinding clarity piercing his consciousness like a gale.

“Let’s get a closer look,” Liu Sangeng suggested, snapping him out of his daze.

As they flew closer to the base of the mountain, Qin Lu’s reverence only deepened. A wide riverbed ran along the foot of the peaks, but it was entirely bone-dry and choked with overgrown weeds. An invisible, tyrannical force was holding the surrounding waters at bay, artificially diverting the river’s flow away from the canyon.

“I could reverse a river’s flow with a single strike, but for the sword intent to linger in the environment for centuries without dispersing… this is beyond comprehension.”

“A peak Nascent Soul expert burning their life essence,” Liu Sangeng explained, noticing Qin Lu’s awe. “That strike likely brushed the threshold of a Soul Formation cultivator’s power.”

“Soul Formation… truly unimaginable,” Qin Lu clicked his tongue.

They soon touched down at the mouth of the canyon. While the rift at the summit was merely a thin line, the gap at the base was an incredibly wide, shadowed valley.

To Qin Lu’s surprise, the canyon floor was packed with hundreds of cultivators sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Some were shrouded in the glowing hum of Defense Talismans, others had erected complex Formations to shield themselves, while a bold few meditated completely unprotected.

They were all bathing in the ambient energy, desperately trying to comprehend the ancient sword intent.

“Place is always packed. Looks like they’ve even claimed the walls this time,” Liu Sangeng laughed, pointing upward.

Qin Lu followed his finger. The sheer cliffs were dotted with crude, man-made caves sealed by simple wards. Cultivators had literally carved out spaces in the lethal rock to enter Secluded Cultivation.

“So many Fellow Daoists…” Qin Lu murmured. He tilted his head back, looking up from the shadowed abyss. The towering cliff walls converged infinitely higher, leaving only a solitary, blinding thread of daylight to illuminate the pitch-black canyon.

The ambient wind here didn’t just blow; it cut. It carried an unnatural, lethal sharpness that unsettled the soul. And amidst the stone and weeds, there was a deafening silence. No insects chirped. No beasts roamed. The lingering, oppressive aura of the sword had permanently sterilized the valley, terrifying even the lowest forms of life away.

“A supreme blade severed the ancient peak, leaving a solitary thread of heaven to illuminate the moss below…”

Standing frozen in the dirt, Qin Lu felt his heartbeat slow.

The fundamental truths of the blade suddenly shattered and coalesced within his mind. The metaphysical echoes of that ancient, apocalyptic sword aura resonated deep within his soul, pulling him into an inexorable trance.

It was a terrifyingly familiar weight.

“This is the exact same sensation as my Foundation Establishment opportunity!”

Overwhelmed by the sudden, cascading epiphany, Qin Lu didn’t say another word. He dropped to the earth right where he stood, crossed his legs, and plunged his consciousness into the void.