Chapter 906: Seven Wounds Sword Ultimate

Right now, Chen Cang was experiencing great pain and terror.

He was in pain because his current life was worse than death, and he was afraid because he did not know if

he

would invent a new way to torture him.

Who was he?

He was one of the Twelve Ultimate Swords of Swordsgrave, the “Seven Wounds Ultimate Sword” Cheng Qishang.

As the title implied, the Twelve Ultimate Swords of Swordsgrave referred to twelve swordsmen whose swordsmanship had reached the pinnacle within the Swordsgrave.

The Twelve Ultimate Swords might not be the strongest or most powerful warriors within the Swordsgrave, but they were definitely the most talented swordsmen who had reached the pinnacle in a specific sword art.

Naturally, someone who had reached the pinnacle of a certain sword art was strong even if their cultivation level or combat strength weren’t the greatest.

Cheng Qishang was one such person. He was a genius who reached the pinnacle of one of the thirty six sword arts of Swordsgrave, the “Seven Wounds Sword Art”, before he was thirty. No one else in the history of Swordsgrave had ever reached this level. Hence, they named him the Seven Wounds Ultimate Sword.

Cheng Qishang wasn’t most famous for his talent in swordsmanship or his title, however. It was his training methods.

Cheng Qishang’s training methods could only be described as abnormal and cruel to the extreme. He would do anything and everything that would improve his swordsmanship. He wasn’t afraid of death, danger, or pain.

Once, Cheng Qishang sat in a cave of poison to temper his sword body. He allowed himself to be eaten by the Five Poisons without eating, drinking, moving, or even reacting for an entire month. By the time he emerged from the cave, all that was left of him was bones[1].

Once, Cheng Qishang severed his own meridians and became a beggar to temper his sword heart. He ate leftovers, tasted cold food, endured hunger and cold, and suffered oppression and disgust. He lived like this for twelve years before he fixed himself.

Once, Cheng Qishang dug out his own internal organs and polluted it with filth and sickness to temper his own sword intent. He was plagued by all sorts of diseases and injuries for decades, and he wasn’t fully healed even to this day.

This was just the tip of the iceberg that was the insane feats Cheng Qishang had put himself through to hone his sword.

Cheng Qishang loved training. He also loved teaching and training other Swordsgrave disciple in the way of the sword.

Cheng Qishang treated them like how he treated himself.

In other words, he was ruthless to them as much as he was ruthless to himself, sometimes more.

Cheng Qishang especially enjoyed torturing others using methods that anyone in their right mind would consider most inhumane, tragic and brutal. He called it “training”.

For example, he had left disciples in a pit latrine and fed them literal shit.

He had locked people in a lightless sealed room with no one but themselves to make company with.

He had humiliated the parents of a disciple and slaughtered their closest friends and family right before their eyes.

And more.

His “training” methods always surpassed imaginations. There was nothing he wouldn’t try.

As Swordsgrave did not restrict its disciples from communicating, competing, or even killing each other, countless disciples had suffered his inhuman ways.

The outcome was obvious. Twenty percent of the disciples he taught went insane, twenty percent were mentally shattered, twenty percent became cripples, twenty percent died, and the final twenty percent who survived turned into inhuman, abnormal monsters who only knew slaughter.

In the eyes of all Swordsgrave disciple, Cheng Qishang was a madman, a bastard, and an especially powerful madman and bastard.

They might all be abnormal and crazy, but compared to Cheng Qishang? They might as well be innocent, good little sheeps.

This was also why there were only a handful of people in Swordsgrave who didn’t fear or hate Cheng Qishang to the bone.

Unfortunately for Chen Cang, he was one of the many, many Swordsgrave disciples who had the misfortune of being tortured by Cheng Qishang.

The good news, he survived the madman’s methods.

The horrible news? He had fallen into the madman’s hands once more.

Not long ago, he was being chased by the elites of the Seventy Two Water Land Alliance. He was this close from dying when suddenly, Cheng Qishang appeared and saved his life. Then, he brought him to this place.

They were at the Sword Tomb, one of Swordsgrave’s branch halls. After Cheng Qishang brought him here, he had locked him up and tortured him in countless ways everyday. The way Cheng Qishang put it, he was training Chen Cang and making him stronger so that he wouldn’t bring shame to the Swordsgrave like before.

Right now, he was stuck inside a large pot. At the bottom of the pot was a blazing fire, and inside the pot was molten bronze.

He was burning inside the pot of molten bronze right now.

Normally, this would not be a problem. He was a Trueman after all. Forget getting hurt, he wouldn’t even feel much pain.

The problem was that his cultivation was completely sealed right now. In this state, he was barely stronger than a normal person.

So, how did he fare? His flesh was melting, his bones were boiling, and there wasn’t a good patch of skin to be found throughout his entire body. To call him a ghoul-like would be an insult to an actual ghoul.

Despite this, Chen Cang did not cry out in pain; did not beg for mercy even once.

He was a tough character, but was he

that

tough of a character? Of course not. His fear was just greater than his instincts.

Cheng Qishang was sitting right there and watching him after all.

Cheng Qishang was currently in his thirties. He had a thin and frail physique, and his complexion could only be described as sickly yellow. From time to time, he would cough like he was a sick, frail patient.

No one who saw him for the first time would think that he was the cruel and crazy Seven Wounds Ultimate Sword. But in Chen Cang’s eyes? He was a demon wearing human skin.

Actually, scratch that. He was far, far worse than a demon.

Cheng Qishang watched Chen Cang trembling all over as he tried to hold in the pain. He covered his mouth, coughed twice, and said slowly, “No need to hold it in. Pain should be screamed, you know.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Chen Cang squeezed through gritted teeth. Literally. He was afraid that he would scream if he opened his mouth.

If he did scream, then what awaited him was only more inhuman torture.

“It doesn’t hurt? Good. You’ve improved.” An eerie, evil smile spead across Cheng Qishang’s lips. “You’re much better than those trashes, aren’t you? I didn’t even give them much guidance, and they were already screaming like they wanted to put a hole in the sky. They do not possess the sword bone and pride of a Swordsgrave disciple at all.”

“...”

“Do you know what happened to them?”

Before Chen Cang could answer, Cheng Qishang said, “Trashes like them do not deserve to be a disciple of Swordsgrave. So, I refined them into wood coal. You know, the wood coal that’s burning under your pot right now? That’s all they are good for.”

Chen Cang trembled. He nearly broke there and then.

Cheng Qishang continued, “You are a disciple of the Swordsgrave. Your bones must be hard like a sword, unbending no matter how much pressure they’re under, and your pride must be pure like a sword, unblemished no matter how much filth buries it.”

“I will remember your teachings, senior brother,” Chen Cang replied through gritted teeth, his voice carefully controlled so that not so much as a squeak escaped his throat. Otherwise, who was to say he wouldn’t follow in the others’ footsteps?

“You say that, but your response is weak. Do you think I’m wrong, or do you have something against me?” Cheng Qishang looked Chen Cang up and down with a smile that did not reach the eye.

“Absolutely not!” Chen Cang forced down his pain and said loudly, “It is this junior brother's honor to be tutored by you! This junior brother is grateful beyond imagination!”

“Mm. Good. Glad to see that my teachings haven’t gone to waste.” Cheng Qishang nodded in satisfaction. “Since it doesn’t hurt, allow me to spice things up a little.”

A mosquito flew out of Cheng Qishang’s sleeve and landed on Chen Cang’s skull. Then, it plunged its long proboscis into his scalp.

At first, Chen Cang only felt a little itchy. He did not feel anything else.

He was confused when Chen Qishang explained, “This mosquito is called the Heguang Mosquito. The Heguang Mosquito possesses no offensive power, but it does boast one very interesting quality: it can magnify a person’s senses several fold in a short time.”

Cheng Qishang had just finished when Chen Cang realized that the pain had suddenly become several times worse than before.

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Chen Cang was at his limits to begin with. His tongue snapped in half between his teeth, and a bloodcurdling scream escaped his throat.

1. Wow, a literal skeleton warrior! ☜