Genius Noble With System-Chapter 445: Sword Tomb

Apollo was surprised not because he was sovereign but because he held the sword title, meaning he was the best swordsman in the Empyrean sword realm, where it was entirely possible for more than one sovereign to exist.

The door before Apollo trembled—then slowly began to open.

Apollo did not hesitate.

He was not at a level where he could speculate about a sovereign's intentions, nor did he believe himself qualified to question them. Overthinking would change nothing.

With a calm expression and steady steps, he crossed the threshold.

As he entered, his gaze sharpened—quiet anticipation burning beneath his composure.

He wanted to see for himself… what kind of opportunity could make even the Sword Sovereign open a door.

The world around him changed again, but this time, instead of a warm and calm garden, he was standing right in front of a tomb, to be exact, the tomb of swords.

As far as his eyes could see, countless swords were buried in the ground. Some were shattered, some rusted beyond recognition, and others still gleaming with sharp, merciless light. Ancient swords. Broken swords. Divine swords. Cursed swords. Each one carried a history steeped in blood, glory, and despair.

The moment Apollo fully regained his senses—

The swords trembled.

Not one. Not a hundred.

All of them.

A deafening hum filled the space as overwhelming sword energy erupted from the buried blades, surging like an endless storm. Invisible pressure slammed into Apollo from every direction, crushing his breath and tearing at his consciousness.

His chest tightened.

Breathing became difficult.

It felt as though countless wills were crashing into his mind at once—pride, rage, sorrow, obsession, madness—each sword screaming its existence, refusing to be ignored.

But he wasn't an ordinary swordsman; his eternal sword rule burst out from him quickly, colliding with countless sword powers, quickly calming down his mind, and gaining the ability to move freely.

After regaining control, he finally saw the tomb of swords right in front of him clearly and couldn't help but feel surprised, as even the weakest sword here was a high-grade divine treasure of eternal god level swordsmen.

And there were countless of them; he cannot see the end of it. Millions of millions of swords were buried right in front of him, with every sword having a definite sword rule.

Apollo's heart beat faster—not with greed, but with pure anticipation.

If this place was a tomb to others, then to him…

It was a treasury beyond imagination.

If he could comprehend even a fraction of the sword rules left behind by these fallen masters, he wouldn't need to guess how far his Eternal Sword Rule could advance.

He already knew.

It would soar to a height even he could not yet envision.

Also, he can feel that the deeper he goes, the stronger the swords and their rules become. But he didn't immediately try to go deeper into the sword tomb, as just the outer area was already good enough for him.

But Apollo did not rush.

He did not immediately try to push deeper into the Sword Tomb. The outer region alone was already more than sufficient for him at his current stage.

He understood one thing clearly—he could not swallow more than he could digest.

Forcing progress would only destabilise his Eternal Sword Rule. What he needed was steady refinement, not reckless advancement. A slow and steady approach was the most reliable path forward.

With that thought in mind, Apollo closed his eyes.

He stepped forward at an unhurried pace, and his Eternal Sword Rule quietly spread outward like an invisible sheet, thin yet all-encompassing. It brushed gently against the buried swords, carefully resonating with their lingering wills rather than provoking them.

One by one, fragments of different sword rules responded.

Some were sharp and domineering. Some were calm and profound. Others carried traces of madness, sorrow, or unyielding resolve.

Apollo did not attempt to forcibly devour them.

Instead, he allowed his Eternal Sword Rule to absorb it slowly after understanding and then refine it—treating each fragment as nourishment, slowly converting the accumulated experiences of countless fallen swordsmen into nutrients for his own growth.

Step by step, his understanding of eternal sword rule started to increase as he continued to gather different inspiration from every sword around him.

From one…

To a hundred…

To a thousand—each fragmented sword rule he encountered was refined and absorbed, becoming fuel for his own path.

Some rules emphasised speed, cutting through time itself.

Some embodied weight, carrying the gravity of mountains.

Others focused on purity, destruction, continuity, or unyielding will.

Individually, they were incomplete—mere remnants left behind by fallen swordsmen.

But within Apollo, under the harmonising influence of the Eternal Sword Rule, those fragments were no longer chaotic. They were dismantled, purified, and reforged, stripped of personal obsession and reduced to their most fundamental truths.

He lost track of time as time passed day after day and continued to improve until suddenly he opened his eyes, and a sharp yet ethereal aura burst from him.

"Peak of third layer." He murmured, feeling great.

His eternal sword rule seemed to have reached the peak of the third layer, and his foundation was unprecedented, as he understood tens of thousands of fragments of sword rule.

But he felt something was missing that stopped him at the third layer. His eternal sword rule is unlike other rules; it seems to surpass every category of rule, so a breakthrough in it is equally difficult.

Understanding alone was no longer enough.

He needed pressure.

He needed opposition.

He needed swords that could threaten his will, not merely nourish it.

Apollo lifted his gaze toward the deeper regions of the Tomb of Swords.

There, the atmosphere was different.

The sword auras grew heavier, sharper, and more tyrannical. Each step forward felt like wading into a sea of invisible swords. These were no longer the remnants of ordinary Eternal God swordsmen—these swords carried the lingering will of half-step Transcendents and even beings who had once brushed the threshold beyond.

But he didn't hesitate and continued to move forward with steady steps; he moved deeper into the tomb, allowing the crushing pressure of those superior sword wills to descend upon him.

His Eternal Sword Rule stirred once more—not in excitement this time, but in challenge.