Naked Sword Art-Chapter 371: Immortal Dragon Cosmic Storm

Xiao Fang didn't feel like he was being watched. He felt like space itself was bending around his very soul, pulling his consciousness into something vast, ancient, and incomprehensibly deep. His surroundings melted away—the auction hall, Xiao Hei's concerned voice, even the faint clamor of the crowd. All of it faded into a silent, expansive nothingness.

Suddenly, he vanished.

Xiao Hei, wide-eyed, stared at the now-empty chair in shock. It had happened too quickly—and it seemed as if he had been sucked into the scroll.

Xiao Fang floated—or rather, drifted—through fractured starscapes, across ribbons of distorted galaxies, and over planes of existence that bent and folded in upon themselves like living origami. The laws of reality twisted and unfurled before him, and somewhere within that chaos, a colossal presence stared back.

It was not a being—not in any way mortals could understand—but a Will. A consciousness. One that had slept across ages. One that had once torn holes through dimensions as easily as a blade cuts silk. It was not malicious, but it was aware.

And now, it was aware of him.

Remaining motionless wouldn't get him anywhere. Steeling himself, Xiao Fang pushed forward—fearlessly—toward the presence.

A soundless voice echoed through his mind—not in words, but in emotion, in truth:

[ "To part the veil of the Heavens is not the act of the bold, but the burden of the boundless. This is the edge of fate. Beyond it, even Immortals bleed. Can you endure it?" ]

'Can I endure it?' Xiao Fang thought, echoing the words in his mind.

It reminded him of the first time he read the [ True Immortal Lightning Tribulation ] scroll. It said:

["Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power. Immortal Lightning strikes from the highest heavens. Can you endure it?"] (Chapter 115)

Remembering the pain it had caused him, Xiao Fang stiffened. But when had he ever backed down from a challenge?

He was trapped in this void—but with the simple conviction to move forward, a crack appeared out of nothingness. Back in the auction hall, Xiao Hei watched in astonishment as a spiraling dark circle opened where Xiao Fang had vanished—slowly growing larger.

"Fang! Are you there?" Xiao Hei called out, her voice tinged with worry.

Xiao Fang heard her. The crack before him was the only way back. But the moment he got too close, every fiber in his body screamed in agony—like it was being torn to shreds. He staggered back. The pain vanished, and his body seemed unharmed.

[ "True space is not distance—it is detachment. Let go of form, and you may find the path." ]

The voice returned, echoing through his mind.

All his life, he had trusted his swordsman instincts. And now, every cell in his body was warning him not to approach the crack in space. It would annihilate him completely.

But there was nowhere else to go.

'Let go of form,' Xiao Fang thought.

A swordsman was prideful and fearless—especially in the face of certain death.

With conviction in his brows, Xiao Fang finally took a step forward. Then another.

The sensation of being torn apart returned—but he didn't stop. Even as he watched his hands shred into nothingness within the torrent of space, the pain wasn't as bad as the pain he felt from his Lightning Tribulation. He continued, step by step, until the world around him collapsed into a singularity.

A blinding white light consumed everything.

And then—he was back. Sitting in the chair of his booth.

"Fang, where did you go?" Xiao Hei asked, her voice soft with concern.

Trying to stand, Xiao Fang's knees buckled beneath him.

"I… I don't know," he replied.

His hands trembled as they clutched the scroll. Beads of sweat rolled down his face like rain. He inhaled sharply, but the air offered no comfort. One thought rang in his mind:

'What the hell was that.'

A sharp crack echoed from the scroll, and a faint light began to radiate from its core. The warped lettering twisted one last time before settling into perfect clarity. The aura around the scroll shifted—no longer unreadable, but recognizably ancient, profound, and terrifyingly immense.

[ Immortal Dragon Cosmic Storm ]

Xiao Fang stared at the name on the scroll, not knowing how to feel about it.

The presence withdrew slowly, not back into the scroll, but straight into Xiao Fang.

The space around him shimmered faintly, like heat rising from stone, and the casket beside him—solid jade—had developed a hairline fracture down the middle.

Xiao Fang collapsed back into his seat, his breath shallow. But in his dantian… something had changed.

He slowly raised his hand, waving it through the air. The space around it moved—subtly, unnaturally—like reality itself was bending at his fingertips.

Though it was too faint, he wouldn't have noticed unless he was really paying attention to it.

'Everything feels different,' Xiao Fang thought.

Xiao Hei eyed him curiously. But when she saw him waving his hand around like that, a strange thought crossed her mind.

'Did that scroll make him stupid?'

"Xiao Hei, come help me up. It's time we leave this place," Xiao Fang said.

He took out his old walking stick and, with her help, pulled himself back up to his feet.

The auction was now coming to an end. So everyone was making their ways out.

Xiao Fang stepped out of his private booth, the heavy doors sliding shut behind him with a dull thud. The corridor ahead stretched long and dimly lit, the soft lantern light flickering against the intricate murals etched along the walls—paintings of great beasts, fallen sects, and ancient wars. The scent of sandalwood and smoke still lingered in the air.

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"Xiao Hei, slowly," Xiao Fang said.

Xiao Hei followed closely. She had never seen him like this before—each step he took was heavier than the last. He looked as if the very act of walking was draining what little strength he had left.

Other cultivators began exiting their booths as well, quickly filling the corridor with murmurs, flowing robes, and watchful gazes.

Xiao Fang moved with careful, deliberate steps, the click of his walking stick echoing along the polished floor. A black cloth was tightly bound across his eyes, making him appear no more than an ordinary cripple.

But those who looked closely could sense something else. His body ached. His spirit felt torn. Whatever that scroll had done to him, its effects were still unraveling within him—slow, subtle, but relentless.

He kept walking—until Xiao Hei suddenly stopped.

Before he could ask why, Xiao Fang felt the presence ahead.

A woman stood directly in their path.

"Who—"

"You're Long Wang, aren't you?" she said smoothly, her voice confident.