Wait, How Did My Digital Girlfriend Become a Sword Immortal?

Chapter 924: The Real Death

...The moment he saw that Heavenly Demon Law Manifestation, Derifis—who was already breathing more out than in—jolted violently. The few breaths he had just managed to inhale were scared right back out of him.

"Devil! You are a devil!"

He watched with his own eyes as that terrifying demon devoured all the Battle Master vengeful spirits surrounding the White-clothed Swordsman.

Finally, the White-clothed Swordsman's demon-possessed appearance vanished, returning once more to his spotless, pristine form.

The Heavenly Demon Law Manifestation, however, patted its belly in satisfaction.

"Burp—!"

"Truly delightful!"

The Heavenly Demon Law Manifestation let out a voice that was both demonic and not, somewhat similar to Chen Huaian's, and sneered:

"Thanks for the hospitality. Not only did I fill my belly, but I also don't have to get your causality on me."

Derifis didn't know what causality was.

He lay sprawled on the ground, shrinking back into the icy cold corner of the wall in terror.

His earlier imposing manner had long since vanished without a trace, as if the White-clothed Swordsman was the one who truly grasped the essence of Death divinity.

As Derifis was defeated...

Boom, rumble, rumble—!

The earth in the center of the colosseum suddenly trembled, as if some ancient existence was awakening from deep underground.

The rocky ground cracked inch by inch, and a pitch-black altar radiating a chilling aura slowly rose from below.

Upon the altar stood a tall statue.

The statue wore a cloak, held a massive scythe, and beneath the hood's shadow was no face, only two flickering will-o'-the-wisps, gazing down indifferently upon all living things.

It was the idol of the God of Death.

It was also the sign that the inheritance of the Divine Position had begun.

The moment he saw this statue appear, Derifis's face instantly turned as pale as paper, the last shred of his wishful thinking scattering like ashes.

The Divine Trial had descended.

This meant that the young girl before him and that terrifying White-clothed Swordsman had already gained the recognition of the God of Death.

The old king is dead, the new king shall rise.

And he, this former inheritor, had now become a superfluous footnote in this inheritance, a stumbling block about to be swept into the trash heap.

In the Divine Trial, there is only life or death between competitors.

And a failed competitor is destined to die.

He felt that he was about to die.

"No... no! Don't kill me! I beg of you!"

Derifis crawled towards Chen Huaian on his hands and knees, tears and snot streaming down his face:

"My Lord! Sword Battle Master, my Lord! I am useful! I can still be of use!"

He pointed a trembling finger at that statue, babbling incoherently:

"I have guarded this place for a hundred years! Even if I haven't fully comprehended it, my understanding of Death divinity far surpasses that of ordinary people! I can offer all my insights to you!

I can be your watchdog, help you manage this city of sin!

You will need time to face the Divine Trial, I can handle those trivial matters for you!

Don't kill me... I don't want to die, I don't want to die!"

Even if he had to live like a maggot in the mud, he still wanted to live.

Only by surviving... would there be a chance to turn things around!

However.

Chen Huaian simply stood there quietly, his white robes fluttering in the howling wind, not even deigning to lower his gaze to look at him.

Those profound eyes pierced through the deathly mist emanating from the statue, as if staring directly at the deity within that void.

"Death divinity?"

A faint, mocking smile curled at the corner of Chen Huaian's lips.

Deep within his Sea of Consciousness, that ancient, unadorned "Green Lotus Sword Manual" slowly turned a page.

All methods in the world, though different paths, lead to the same destination.

In this world, this power was called "Death divinity."

But in his Sword Dao, this was merely one among ten thousand Sword Intents.

Be it slaughter, or death.

Beneath his sword, they were nothing more than a bout of wild, drunken calligraphy after wine, nothing more than a song sung loudly beneath the moon.

"You mean to say... you can teach This Venerable One to comprehend death?"

Chen Huaian finally spoke, his voice as indifferent as ice.

He slowly raised the Chaos flying sword in his hand, holding it horizontally before him.

"But in This Venerable One's view, that so-called death of yours is too vulgar, too superficial, and misses the true essence entirely."

Zheng—

The sword was drawn an inch from its scabbard.

A bone-chilling wave of deathly intent roared forth.

This aura was not the decay and slaughter Derifis had comprehended upon mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

This was extinction.

It was withering.

It was the return of all things to one.

It was the transcendent detachment that regarded life and death as nothing.

"In This Venerable One's homeland, slaughter is not the art you imagine it to be, and death... is actually a form of liberation!"

As Chen Huaian's words fell, the scenery within the originally empty colosseum abruptly changed.

Countless illusory figures materialized out of thin air behind him.

These phantoms were all swordsmen dressed in long robes.

Some sat sprawled casually, raising a cup to invite the moon; some strummed a zither and let out a long cry, impassioned and fervent; some lay drunkenly among flowers, their demeanor wild and unrestrained; still others drew their swords and began to dance, their sword shadows coiling like dragons.

They were the chivalrous knights of antiquity.

Their appearances and builds were all different, yet the essence of their bearing was the same.

This was a group of madmen who cast life and death aside, using the sword as their brush and blood as their ink.

Derifis stared blankly at this scene.

The aura emanating from those phantoms actually made the Death divinity within his own body tremble.

"This... what is this..."

Chen Huaian did not answer.

He simply gave the sword guard a gentle push, and the long sword was completely unsheathed.

Hum!

The originally dark and gloomy colosseum was instantly enveloped in a blinding expanse of blood-red color.

But this crimson carried not the slightest hint of blood-stench or decay. Instead, it exuded a sharp aroma of wine and the cold fragrance of plum blossoms.

Chen Huaian took a step forward, his thin lips parting slightly: "Ten Steps to Kill One Man."

With that soft chant, the entire world seemed to freeze for an instant.

Within that Domain woven from the boundless blood-red hue and the piercing Sword Intent, gnarled and ancient plum branches actually began to snake forth from the void.

They had no roots, no source, yet they stood proudly upright. Upon their branches, several crimson plum blossoms burst into full, furious bloom in the blink of an eye.

"So beautiful..."

Derifis's turbid old eyes reflected this sea of falling blossoms, and for a moment, he even forgot his fear.

For a hundred years, he had painstakingly pursued the true essence of death, always believing it should be rot, darkness, and the despair of piled bones.

He had never imagined that death could be so poignantly beautiful, so—magnificent.

"The matter done... brushing dust from the sleeves."

Chen Huaian's figure moved.

His wrist turned, and sword light danced wildly.

The unrestrained phantom swordsmen behind him seemed to receive some summons, transforming into countless streams of light that instantly converged into that single sword.

Then, with a plain, unadorned sweep of the sword.

Hum—!

An invisible wave of Sword Intent rippled outwards from Chen Huaian like a gentle breeze skimming a lake's surface.

The wind rose, the blossoms fell.

The myriad red plum blossoms that had just reached their peak of splendor, the moment they touched this Sword Intent, withered and fell in unison.

Countless petals drifted down like a crimson rain, rapidly wilting, turning black in mid-air...

Finally dissolving into nothingness, into dust.

The extreme of prosperity must decline; facing death gives birth to life.

After the fleeting, dazzling brilliance, comes eternal extinction.

Derifis, at the center of the Sword Intent, stared obsessively at a single petal drifting down before his eyes.

"So this... this is death..."

His voice was hoarse and trembling.

As that petal completely dissipated, his body, like that withered blossom, lost all moisture and luster.

His skin rapidly turned ashen, cracked, and crumbled into countless tiny motes of flying ash.

His bones, his flesh and blood, even his barely clinging soul—all of it completely decomposed within this sword's "Withering."

A breeze blew.

This former City Lord who had entrenched himself in Demon Tower City for a century, who once believed he had mastered death,

Transformed into just a puff of dull gray dust, vanishing before the altar along with the lingering shadows of the plum blossoms.

Only that Chaos flying sword remained, pointing obliquely at the ground, its blade trembling slightly, letting out a clear ring that seemed to linger with unsatisfied meaning.

The Domain slowly retracted.

The blood-red color faded, the plum branches vanished.

The colosseum returned to its original dimness.

Chen Huaian stood alone before the altar, his white robes pristine, his expression aloof,

As if what he had just casually wiped away,

Was nothing more than a speck of dust upon his sleeve.

...