Returning to Green Leaf Peak.

Song Yan adjusted his breathing slightly, calmed his mind, and then immersed his Divine Sense into the Liangyi Realm.

At a glance, the small sword formed by the nascent Dao Heart had returned to the Sword Dao Seed.

The original Flying Sword, ’Heart Demon’, had undergone a tremendous transformation.

The hilt remained as black as ink, but white patterns had materialized upon it.

Scattered dark flame waves still flickered around the hilt.

There was no obvious guard between the hilt and the blade, only a streak of white spiritual light within the inky blackness, appearing exceptionally striking.

The blackness of the blade had dissolved; it was now pure white and flawless.

Perhaps due to the black and white reflection within the Liangyi Realm, a faint white glow now emanated from the blade.

"What a sword!"

Even though Song Yan knew little about Flying Swords and their construction, just the appearance and texture of this sword were enough to make him praise it from the bottom of his heart.

Perhaps he hadn’t seen much of the world.

But this sword was right before his eyes, and it was already the best sword Song Yan had ever seen.

He controlled his Divine Sense, took a few steps forward, and his body, formed by Divine Sense, reached out to touch the hilt of the Flying Sword.

The moment his Divine Sense touched the Flying Sword,

A sudden change occurred.

The scattered dark flame waves around the hilt, and that streak of white spiritual light within the black hilt, surged towards him along his fingertips!

A sharp pain erupted from the depths of his Soul, his Divine Sense trembled, and his consciousness began to blur.

"Ugh..."

He grunted, and everything before his eyes began to turn into Chaos.

In his final moments of consciousness, the black and white colors in the Liangyi Realm shifted and changed... It hurt so much... His head hurt so much... It felt like his head was going to split open.

Buzz—

Enduring the discomfort of the ringing in his ears, he painstakingly opened one eye.

Only when the discomfort subsided somewhat did he slowly open the other eye.

Where was this place... He looked around, seeing rural fields, mud-brick and stone walls.

His mind was hazy, and he stumbled forward, staggering along.

He encountered pedestrians and wanted to go up to them to ask, but the villagers, seeing him, recoiled as if they had seen a ghost, all avoiding him.

Whispers all around him poured into his head, making his already unclear mind even more muddled.

"That Zhou family boy, who is he going to harm today?"

"Don’t make another sound, quickly close the door!"

"..."

At a certain moment,

Like a wild ghost returning to its body, his mind regained clarity.

This was Jin State, Xianyang Township, Xingyi Prefecture.

His name was Zhou Ziyin... Zhou Ziyin lost his father in childhood, and his mother grieved herself into sickness, passing away before she could discipline him.

The villagers pitied his loneliness and indulged him, but from then on, he acted recklessly.

By day, he rode his horse, trampling young crops; by night, he got drunk and smashed restaurants; his neighbors dared not speak out in anger.

He was born with Divine Power, and even before coming of age, his strength was extraordinary. He paid no attention to proper conduct, was violent and overbearing, and acted on impulse.

It so happened that a white-browed fierce tiger in Yangshan to the south devoured people and livestock, and a wicked Dragon in Jiangchi to the north capsized boats, drowning fishermen.

The common people suffered immensely, so they simply called Zhou Ziyin, the fierce tiger, and the wicked Dragon... the "Three Evils"... One day, Zhou Ziyin, carrying a wine jar, stumbled through the market and saw an old man weeping at a street corner.

A surge of malevolence rose in his heart, and he kicked over the wine jar, smashing it beside the old man: "Old man, why are you wailing?!"

"So noisy, no peace!"

The old man, terrified, cowered and said: "The white-browed tiger of Nanshan devoured two more people last night; my only son died without a complete corpse..."

Before he finished speaking, Zhou Ziyin burst into laughter: "Merely a beast, I’ll take its head tomorrow!"

The next day, before the morning mist had dissipated, Zhou Ziyin entered the mountain with a saber.

The tiger’s roar was ferocious, shaking the forest, and pine needles rustled.

The white-browed tiger pounced from the cliff top, its sharp claws bringing a gust of fishy wind as it lunged at him.

The tiger’s claws tore his half-sleeve, leaving three deep wounds.

Zhou Ziyin, however, paid no mind, immediately counter-attacking, throwing his short saber, the blade piercing the tiger’s eye.

"Oww—"

The beast roared in pain, and as it rolled, he leaped onto its back, his iron fists raining down like drops of rain, actually smashing the fierce tiger’s skull.

He dragged the corpse of the white-browed fierce tiger down the mountain, returning to the village, where passersby and villagers were all astonished.

"He actually..."

"One of the Three Evils is gone; no matter what, it’s a good thing!"

The villagers discussed, but Zhou Ziyin paid no attention, only finding their clamor noisy.

He dragged the tiger’s corpse to the old man, but found the old man still weeping and wailing.

"You old man! Look carefully!"

He threw the tiger’s corpse in front of the old man: "The wicked tiger is gone! Why are you still crying?"

He glared at the old man with wide, angry eyes.

The old man continued to weep inconsolably: "In Yangjiang Xuan Pond, the Dragon caused trouble, drowning fishermen and boatmen; my brother died without a burial place..."

Zhou Ziyin sneered, dropped the tiger’s corpse, turned and left, heading straight for Xuan Pond.

Ordinary people, hearing of a wicked Dragon, felt only terror and despair.

Zhou Ziyin, however, was filled with savage malevolence, determined to kill it.

On this day, in Xuan Pond of Yangjiang, north of Xianyang Township, the river water carried a fishy wind, the wicked Dragon’s scales were like iron, and where its tail swept, boat planks shattered.

Zhou Ziyin, holding a saber, leaped into the rapids and fought with the Dragon for three days and three nights.

The river water churned like boiling water, and villagers on the bank gathered to burn incense; when the turbid waves subsided, no one was seen, and they all beat gongs and drums, running to spread the news: 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"The Three Evils are all gone!"

Who knew that Zhou Ziyin and the wicked Dragon had fought fiercely, bobbing and sinking in Xuan Pond for three days and three nights, finally beheading it.

After three days of intense battle, Zhou Ziyin felt a gnawing hunger in his belly.

With no food available, he actually used his saber to skin and debone the wicked Dragon, devouring its flesh and blood raw.

The flesh and blood were warm, and he had a full meal.

Inside the wicked Dragon’s belly, he found an ancient sword.

This ancient sword had long accumulated and been imbued with the fierce malevolence of the violent Dragon; its blade was jet black, appearing like swirling dark clouds.

Zhou Ziyin laughed up to the sky, riding the Dragon’s corpse, and swam back along the river.

He was covered in blood, dragging the Dragon’s corpse ashore, but saw the villagers celebrating with lanterns and colored streamers, which somewhat puzzled him.

How was it that before he even returned, every household had already started celebrating?

He walked into the village, and the cheers he heard abruptly ceased, the villagers fleeing in panic.

Anger rose in his heart, and he casually grabbed a villager, demanding: "Why do you fear me so?!"

The villager, terrified, wept: "The village is abuzz with rumors of Ziyin’s death, celebrating the demise of all Three Evils!"

Zhou Ziyin staggered backward, the ancient sword in his hand clattering to the ground.

He looked at his reflection in a puddle, disheveled, with blood-red eyes, appearing even more ferocious than the wicked tiger in the mountains or the violent Dragon in the river.

"..."

Outside Xianyang Township, the Tomb of the Three Evils.

Zhou Ziyin sat withered before the tomb, the violent Dragon’s corpse beside him.

The ancient sword was casually stuck into the Dragon’s corpse’s head by him.

"A prodigal son returning is worth more than gold, changing one’s ways to become a virtuous person ~"

Suddenly, a Chant came from behind him.

He looked back, and it was the old man who had been weeping in the village!

He was now clad in a dark Daoist robe, pouring wine from a wine gourd in his hand; Zhou Ziyin, looking directly at him, actually found it somewhat dazzling.

The old man’s appearance changed, transforming into that of a middle-aged Cultivator.

A spiritual light flew out from the wine gourd, transforming into a Flying Sword, and he gracefully rose, hovering above the Flying Sword.

"The ancients said, ’If one hears the Dao in the morning, one can die in the evening without regret’."

"Ziyin, are you willing to start anew?"