WBICDPH Chapter 122

Chapter 122: Driven by Conviction

A woman stood alone on an endless snowfield. Frost clung to her hair and lashes, formed by the biting cold.

The wind had turned her sword hand red, but her grip never loosened.

For a sword cultivator, her weapon was nothing remarkable—just an ordinary iron sword.

Ordinarily, every sword cultivator would have long since found their natal blade. At Jiang Zhenfeng’s level, the iron sword in her hand clearly didn’t suit her. On the eve of the sword trial, her longtime rival Xiao Yunkong had pointed it out.

“You still haven’t found your sword.”

Jiang Zhenfeng had been to the Myriad Sword Tomb and had visited Jiang Lou, the artifact-refining elder of Misty Rain Mountain. She had nearly traveled every corner of the world, yet she had never found a blade that truly resonated with her.

It wasn’t that the swords she’d sought or forged were bad—only that none of them felt quite right. Something was always just slightly off. And Jiang Zhenfeng was not someone who settled. So after all her searching, she was still using an ordinary iron sword.

But she didn’t mind.

To her, the right thing was worth waiting for.

The blizzard howled. The cold bit into the metal like knives, and gripping it felt like her palm was being flayed.

Jiang Zhenfeng hated the snow.

She hated that town forever buried beneath it, and she despised everything that looked the same despite being different—like snowflakes.

People in this world love to dictate how others should live. But Jiang Zhenfeng refused to believe in those rules.

She wanted to stop this hateful snow. She wanted this land ravaged by winter to return to life. She wanted seeds to break through the soil and grow into their own forms.

Her brows knit slightly. She yanked her sword out of the snow, spun it in a flourish, and drove it back into the ground.

At that instant, the force of her strike sent out a shockwave. The falling snow froze midair for a heartbeat before being blasted outward, away from her.

Another gust of wind rose.

But this wind was no longer cutting and cold. It carried the warmth of early spring. Wherever it passed, the ice melted, revealing loose soil beneath.

Soon, blades of grass pushed through the earth. Green spread across the land, reclaiming every inch once buried in white.

The gray clouds scattered, revealing a clear blue sky.

“A wind-spirit root. Impressive.”

The Patriarch of Penglai appeared among the fresh grass, looking at Jiang Zhenfeng.

“Wind is a fascinating thing. In winter, it’s a blade that kills. In spring, it melts the ice and nurtures life. It’s formless yet tangible, constant yet ever-changing—just like you, Jiang Zhenfeng.”

He raised a hand and cast a simple growth spell. Behind him, a sprout broke through the soil and quickly grew into a small tree.

Leaves unfurled, buds formed, and soon pink blossoms covered its branches. A breeze stirred, scattering petals through the air. The patriarch leaned lazily against the trunk, plucked a flower, and brought it to his nose before speaking again.

“I can understand that kid from Misty Rain Mountain. I can understand the young demon who inherited Taotie’s power. But you—I’ve never been able to see through you. You’re like the wind—impossible to grasp. Even your sense of right and wrong is blurred. Tell me, Jiang Zhenfeng: in your eyes, what is righteous, and what is evil?”

“Before I answer, I have a question for you.”

She raised a brow slightly.

“In the second trial—steadying one’s conviction—have I passed?”

The patriarch smiled, a hint of helplessness in it. “The moment the snow melted, you had already passed. My question now belongs to the third trial—Witnessing Life.”

Jiang Zhenfeng nodded, bowed, and answered calmly:

“In my heart, there is no distinction between right and evil. Those who share my beliefs are my allies. Those who oppose me are my enemies.”

“Interesting,” the patriarch said. “Then let me ask you this: right now, what do you want most?”

“At this moment? To claim the Dengwen Sword.”

“And why do you want it?”

“To protect Piaomiao Pavilion.”

“But if I’m not mistaken, you feel little attachment to that place. You even dislike some of the people there. Why protect it?”

“Because my master wants to protect it. Fang Yunzi is my teacher, my benefactor, my family. She failed to enter the Sword Pavilion and claim the Dengwen Sword. So I will do it for her.”

The patriarch fell silent for a moment.

“Then can I say everything you’re doing is for your master? What if one day she no longer wants to protect it? What if she leaves? What if she turns from righteousness to evil and opposes your beliefs?”

Jiang Zhenfeng was quiet for a long time.

Finally, she said:

“You misunderstand. I would never act entirely for someone else—not even my master. I’ve already said that I don’t distinguish between right and evil. My standard is myself. Not anyone else.

“If we follow your logic, then yes—I dislike Piaomiao Pavilion. I dislike the world. I dislike everyone who tries to confine me. So what? Should I destroy everything I hate? I could—but it wouldn’t be worth it.”

A faint, proud, and cold smile touched her lips.

“What I want is neither protection nor destruction. I want change. I will climb to the highest place, seize the greatest power, and reshape everything I despise—until the world follows my rules.

“That is my path.”

The patriarch’s gaze shifted.

He nodded in approval and clapped lightly. “You weren’t exaggerating when you entered the trial. Jiang Zhenfeng, your ambition is considerable.”

He smiled. “And I like it.”

With a wave of his hand, everything around them dissolved—the peach tree and the land crumbling into dust and vanishing into the air.

“I look forward to seeing what Piaomiao Pavilion becomes in your hands.

“Now, go claim what you desire.”

As his spell activated, Jiang Zhenfeng felt a brief dizziness. When she came to, she stood inside a sealed stone chamber.

At its center was a platform. Resting on a stand was a dark metallic sword, its scabbard engraved with two characters: Dengwen.

They weren’t alone. Lin Jin leaned against the platform, dozing, while another young lord sat against the wall, arms crossed, facing away in irritation.

Seeing her, Lin Jin blinked in surprise.

So the patriarch hadn’t exaggerated—she really had passed the trials like the wind. He hadn’t even finished his nap, and she was already here, having cleared all three stages.

He quickly stood and offered her a respectful look.

For a moment, Lin Jin regretted not paying closer attention to this part of the story. If he’d known the trials involved glimpses of the past, he would have studied Jiang Zhenfeng’s earlier life more carefully—figured out how someone this brilliant and ambitious had lost to the male lead in the original story.

He watched as she stepped forward, bathed in the soft glow of the formation, and lifted the Dengwen Sword.

At that moment, a realization struck him.

This was how it should be. She was the rightful owner of this blade.

She wasn’t the male lead’s accessory, nor the most beautiful woman in the cultivation world, nor a love-struck admirer, nor just another addition to his harem.

She was Jiang Zhenfeng, the greatest prodigy, a sword sovereign, the senior disciple of Piaomiao Pavilion. Her beauty was the least remarkable thing about her.

She was the wind. She was herself.

That was the truth.

Lin Jin felt something stir in his chest, like a feather brushing his heart.

Since arriving in this world, he had never felt so clearly that this was real—the world as it truly was.

Not a story shaped by flawed writing, but a living reality. The people around him weren’t characters—they were real, with beliefs, histories, and will.

If the male lead had taken the Dengwen Sword that rightfully belonged to Jiang Zhenfeng… then what else had he taken?

Lin Jin frowned slightly.

When Jiang Zhenfeng grasped the sword, its divine pressure surged outward, making him instinctively want to submit.

So this was a legendary artifact.

In her hand, the sword felt entirely different—her cold, proud demeanor paired with its killing aura made her even more formidable.

The patriarch smiled in satisfaction. “Draw it. The moment it leaves its sheath is when it recognizes its master.”

“Not yet.”

Jiang Zhenfeng refused.

“It’s not time. Its master shouldn’t be me—yet.”

Understanding flickered in the patriarch’s eyes. He shrugged and said nothing more. Instead, he formed a seal, linking the formations.

“Well, fun time’s over. We’ll probably only meet once in this lifetime, but I’ll still say—see you again.”

A gentle white light enveloped them.

“Thanks for keeping me company. Now, go do what you’re meant to do.”