Chapter 843: Together Striking Down the Desolate
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The night was deep and heavy, and in an instant A Liang's figure vanished from sight. Only sword light flared up on all sides, illuminating the four corners of heaven and earth.
One man drawing his sword created a spectacle as magnificent as the myriad divine techniques displayed on the ancient battlefield.
Xinzhuang, who together with Shouchen was responsible for operating the grand formation, was a direct disciple of the Great Ancestor of Tuoyue Mountain and the senior sister of Li Zhen. She quickly scanned her surroundings, employing a divine ability to penetrate the hidden realms. Her eyes blazed with treasure light, and even the River of Time and the Path of Nether Darkness could be traced by her gaze—yet still she could not find a trace of that man. No wonder he had managed to slip away during that perilous pursuit by great monsters in his early years.
Shouchen had already drawn a sheathed longsword from his sword case. Pinching the blade with two fingers, he swiftly wiped toward the tip, as if peeling off a layer of an immortal's shed skin. The sword light transformed into a bolt of lightning that collided with the brilliant electric light. At the same time, he sent a heart-to-heart warning: "Stop searching. You and I only need to preside over the formation at our feet and focus on receiving the sword."
Xinzhuang heard this and immediately composed herself. She offered up an unremarkable pouch, gently shaking it. Mist rose and rapidly expanded, as if she had borrowed wind and rain from the ancient Wind God and Rain Master to shroud her form. The drifting mist appeared no larger than a square zhang, but within it was a hidden realm—a vast wind-and-rain world stretching thousands of miles, like another kind of mustard seed technique. It helped Xinzhuang conceal herself within a giant lake, so that even if A Liang could casually slash through the mountain-and-water restrictions of a minor world, he could not strike her true body.
The great monsters of the Desolate gathered for this siege of A Liang seemed to think that if one didn’t carry at least one immortal weapon, they had no face to appear on this battlefield.
Xinzhuang, temporarily safe, took a few extra looks at the sword case Shouchen carried on his back. In terms of lineage, the only one in the Desolate World that could compare with Tuoyue Mountain was the line of Wenhai Zhoumi.
Shouchen repeatedly wiped the sword blade, continuously peeling off layers of ancient sword intent to contend with the thunderous aura manifested by A Liang’s sword path. Although both were Ascension Realm sword cultivators, the gap was enormous—not only because Shouchen’s current realm was not yet fully stable, but more because there were differences in the height of the sword path. Shouchen had to admit that the only way to approach A Liang’s current height in the sword path was if the latter died young and he lived long, then slowly through painstaking effort and subsequent opportunities, there might be hope.
The sword case Shouchen carried was painted with an ancient map of the Three Mountains, Four Seas, Five Sacred Peaks, and Ten Rivers. It differed greatly from the Taoist talisman true-form diagrams widely circulated in later eras. Because of being caught by A Liang’s sword intent earlier, the sword case’s camouflage had fallen away, revealing the long-lost true forms of the Three Mountains in full view—one like a divine being sitting in corpse pose, one like a wild ape walking in the mountains, and one like a dragon flying from a cloud. The duties of the Three Mountains were to govern yin-yang creation and the five elements, determine the period of life and death and the length of affairs, preside over the division of stars, and concurrently rule the fate of water creatures and dragons.
The sword case itself was a treasure array of high immortal weapon grade. It was said that in ancient times, a Lingzhen Perfect Man, holding this map, could cross the Three Mountains and Five Sacred Peaks, traverse rivers and seas, and be revered and welcomed by all deities and spirits. It was an ancient array, but the name of the forge master who crafted it was unknown. He was only habitually respectfully called Master Sanshan Jiuhou by mountain-top cultivators. Later, it was painstakingly refined by his teacher Zhoumi into a sword-nurturing vessel called "Sword Tomb," hailed as the ultimate synthesis of the world's sword-nurturing gourds. It could warm up to nine longswords at most and could gestate certain abilities similar to a natal flying sword. Once a Qi refiner obtained this treasure, even if not a sword cultivator, they were better than a sword cultivator.
Such was the importance of mountain-top lineage. Even immortals' seeds understood that taking a teacher was like reincarnation—no falsehood at all.
As for Zhuyan, the ancestor of the Moving Mountains clan, he stepped on the sword "Ding Shan," his great Dao manifesting as a mountain-and-river minor world. Zhuyan held a long staff, using the dharma aspect to expand his true body a thousand zhang tall, the staff also enlarging. He smashed down with the staff, striking the head of that fire dragon, crushing it into pieces. Sparks flew everywhere; mountains and rivers for a thousand li were drenched in a downpour of fire. Unexpectedly, the fire dragon with its shattered head spontaneously transformed into thousands of slender fire dragons, each winding like the veins of a mountain range, resembling the earth's dragon veins, thus provoking Zhuyan, the Moving Mountains ancestor. If he liked moving mountains, he could just move them.
Zhuyan switched to holding the staff with both hands, his massive body spinning continuously, laughing loudly: "Damned A Liang! Though we are on opposing sides, I respect you as a man. Later, in my Desolate mountains and rivers, I'll erect a stele for you. I, your grandfather, will personally write your epitaph. I'll make sure your grave mound is piled high with wine year after year—how about that?!"
The staff swept again, and Zhuyan executed a life-bound divine ability of the Moving Mountains clan—a grand move of dividing rivers to create land. On the scarred and sword-intent-covered earth, he parted the vast sword intent that had condensed like a giant lake. This seemingly unreasonable water-dividing method far surpassed the mountain and water spells of later eras across several worlds. It could split the great waters of rivers and seas at will, revealing the ground beneath, cutting through mountains and rivers, exposing land—a visible transformation of seas into mulberry fields.
Then Zhuyan landed with a crash, stepping on the exposed mountain roots of the earth. His true body abruptly swelled by fifty percent, and he swept his staff horizontally, roaring: "Get out here now! Kneel and kowtow obediently, and die!"
Xinzhuang, watching from afar, frowned slightly, genuinely disliking Zhuyan's combat style—shouting and yelling, truly clamorous. But she knew his true nature. Despite Zhuyan, the Moving Mountains ancestor, liking to issue harsh words and make flamboyant boasts on the battlefield, and having rampaged across two continents and one route in the Haoran World, smashing mountains and crushing peaks with violent methods, in truth, whenever he faced a strong opponent, Zhuyan fought with great discretion and insidious means—a combat style similar to Shouchen's. If one took Zhuyan as a mere brute-force great monster, the outcome would be dire.
The golden-armored knight beside Xinzhuang had already taken out a meteor hammer from his waist. He twisted his wrist, and golden light flowed, spinning rapidly, condensing into a flawless golden circle of Dao techniques. With a swift throw, it shot toward that comet descending as if to split heaven and earth. Those two miniature meteor hammers of his had originally intercepted two unusual celestial meteors, then were painstakingly refined using countless heavenly materials and earthly treasures. For ten thousand years, most of the Confucian Temple's accompanying sages had been stationed beyond the heavens with the Ritual Sage, constantly battling divinities. Combined with the early grand expedition led by the Ritual Sage, including ancestors of various schools and the Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain, the celestial battles had never ceased, creating many worldly phenomena. For instance, they had caused two heavily taboo sky-leak sites in the Desolate World—one in the high northwest, the other in the southeast where the sky seemed to have caved in. The former often rained fire and meteorites, while the latter was perpetually battered by torrential rains, pouring down without end, almost never seeing sunlight throughout the year. The old throne great monster Fei Fei had found Yu Si, who later became a Jiashen account sword cultivator, at one of those sites.
Before A Liang struck, Xiao Xun had already taken the lead to warn: "Zhang Lu, when the real fight starts later, A Liang won't go easy on you. If he does, he's asking for death. So be careful. It's better to offer wine at someone's grave than to have someone offer wine at yours."
Xiao Xun had served as the Hidden Officer at the Sword Qi Great Wall in her early years, famously heartless. When she made friends, she had only one requirement: if someone disliked the Haoran World, Xiao Xun got along with them. In this matter, A Liang was an exception. Perhaps it was because this Confucian disciple, a descendant of a sage of the Literary Temple, didn't resemble a scholar at all. Plus, A Liang's identity as a sword cultivator, and that he could stay at the Sword Qi Great Wall for a hundred years without budging—Xiao Xun actually had a very good relationship with him.
Thinking back to those days, on the city wall during heavy snow, there was a slovenly man holding a little girl's two ponytails, claiming to be "lifting a brush to write a character." Maybe it was like A Liang himself said: every sad story has a warm beginning. Every deep winter with heavy snow comes from the bloom of spring flowers.
Zhang Lu stood up, smiling: "I'm not a child anymore. I know the stakes. Today's battlefield has only sword cultivators, no friends."
This great sword immortal, who had once become a gatekeeper at the Sword Qi Great Wall, possessed two natal flying swords: one called "Inverted Shadow" and the other "Shattered."
Xiao Xun stood up and leaped without manifesting a golden body dharma. She met that sword intent with her true body, plunging into the green river manifested by the sword path, swinging her slender arms, punching freely, shattering sword intent. Except for that fight between Zuo You and her that had gone from the Haoran World into the heavens, during the years Xiao Xun served as Hidden Officer at the Sword Qi Great Wall, she had never offered up her natal flying swords, nor even wielded a suitable sword. Every time she went to battle, she didn't even bother with the standard swords from the sword workshop.
Today would be different. Because Zuo You would definitely come to the battlefield.
Venerable Old Chu Sheng gestured for Fei Ran not to rush into action. The old cultivator held a staff and tapped the ground several times. Each tap of the staff was the execution of a supreme divine ability. The creation of the Great Dao followed his heart: pot heaven, spirit binding, dream incantation...
Liu Bai let out a faint sigh. Trapped in such a siege that could kill a Fourteen Realm cultivator, even if you were A Liang, could you truly hold on until Zuo You arrived?
The next moment, A Liang, who had been invisible, finally appeared on the battlefield. The sword light came before the person.
He didn't go for Xinzhuang but aimed his sword light straight at the back of Zhuyan's head. "You son of a bitch! You like spewing filth from your mouth, don't you? Today I'll teach you how to draft your boasts!"
Zhuyan had no time to retract his true body, so he offered up a secret technique, using his dharma aspect to replace his true form. Even though he was stepping on mountain roots, he no longer dared to manifest his true body. In an instant, he shrank back to the ground. Zhuyan's dharma head was sliced off by a sword strike. Before it could bounce up even a little, it was shattered by the next sword light midair.
Xinzhuang's eyes widened. Shouchen said in a deep voice: "He's coming for you!"
Sure enough, a streak of sword light, not a straight line but perfectly following the curve of the yin-yang fish array, broke through the formation in one stroke. A Liang stepped forward with his sword, penetrating the misty world, his sword intent like iron cavalry smashing through formations, completely ignoring Xinzhuang's second array restriction. Fortunately, Xinzhuang had not been careless; she immediately activated the formation, reversing yin and yang, exchanging minor worlds with Shouchen, swapping positions.
Shouchen's sword case dropped off by itself, transforming into an ancient array. This Ascension Realm sword cultivator manifested a golden body dharma with three heads and six arms, each hand holding a sword. A Liang, wielding only two swords, had no swordsmanship to speak of—just random slashing. Compared to Shouchen's dharma, A Liang's mustard-seed-sized figure repeatedly thrust his sword, the sword light drawing arcs, dazzling and crisscrossing, hacking Shouchen's dharma backward each time it received a sword.
On his final strike, his figure flickered and vanished, heading straight for Xinzhuang. Xinzhuang had just re-activated the formation when Shouchen sighed, too late to warn her. A Liang returned to his original position, one sword striking straight down. Xinzhuang's mind trembled; she had no power to resist. She had to let her dharma robe die in her place. The robe suddenly expanded like a sea of clouds, then shattered like falling petals, but Xinzhuang was nowhere to be seen.
A Liang, expressionless, twisted his wrist, holding a nearly shattered longsword inverted. He casually stabbed the tip into the earth void, and the longsword disappeared as if an immortal stepping into emptiness. The next moment, the longsword pierced through Xinzhuang's back, tilting her body up. At the same time, that longsword shattered, and within Xinzhuang's personal minor world, a storm of flying swords rained down.
This was what fighting a sword cultivator was like—never dragging on. Often, in the blink of an eye, victory and defeat, life and death, were decided together. A Liang had dealt with countless mountain-top great cultivators and had seen all sorts of chaotic techniques and abilities. After wounding Xinzhuang's foundational Dao with one sword, almost simultaneously, he shattered the second longsword in his hand. Countless fragments flew, sword energy surging, gathering around Xinzhuang, temporarily setting up a sword formation to trap the space around her. If any of you had the ability to reverse the river of time, go ahead, but you wouldn't be able to let her flow backward along it.
Fortunately, Venerable Old Chu Sheng pressed his staff with his palm, reciting silently. He used some method not only to protect Xinzhuang's life but also to allow her to temporarily maintain her Immortal realm. He also dispersed A Liang's residual sword energy and smoothly patched the yin-yang fish array that had been impossible to reassemble. A Liang had expected this; he was long accustomed to it. One person besieged by a group—taking a few losses was nothing.
A Liang pressed his hands on the hilts of the two swords at his waist and vanished again.
Liu Bai watched with shock. Was this A Liang, truly going all out in battle?
In one corner of the sky above the Desolate World, a vortex churned, wind and clouds surged, and eventually, a suffocating aura of the Great Dao descended slowly to the mortal world. There was no trace of a flying sword, but it was unmistakably a natal flying sword.
And in the north of the Desolate World, a sword light was speeding south at an unimaginable rate.
On A Liang's left and right, one vertical and one horizontal—sword path and swordsmanship—together they struck down the Desolate.
---
At the Fire God Temple in the capital, old grandmaster Yu Hong no longer looked at that young woman. The old man forced down a mouthful of blood. The man who had firmly sat as third in the Martial Ranking strode out of the snail-shell dojo. His originally small figure gradually grew, returning to normal height in everyone's sight. He finally stopped, once again cupping his fists in salute to the four directions, immediately drawing thunderous applause.
This first-class honorary minister of the Great Li Ministry of Justice, even without relying on his peak martial arts that had shaken the capital, could walk sideways across the entire continent with just his honorary minister status. After this battle, Yu Hong's prestige, both in the mountains and the martial world, advanced a step further.
Among the crowd, some silently cupped their fists or covertly performed deep bows, seeing Yu Hong off. They were all descendants of the former Zhu Ying Dynasty. Later, they either took official posts in the Great Li court or made a living in the capital, in a situation similar to that of Zhongyue Mountain Lord Jin Qing. Today they came with more complex feelings than ordinary spectators. The Zhu Ying Dynasty, once the most powerful nation in the middle of Bottle Gourd Continent, was far superior to many of Great Li's vassals whose territories were no bigger than a tofu block. So the Dugu clan of Zhu Ying had no hope of restoration.
As for whether this act would offend taboos, these people were quite indifferent. The Great Li Song clan court had that much tolerance. And what supported this magnanimity, in the end, was naturally national strength. Back then, the Great Li iron cavalry swept from north to south, unstoppable, their hoofbeats echoing on the shores of the Southern Sea. Every nation's mountains and rivers became their homeland, a chilling and fearful sight. But in the end, the Great Li Dynasty protected the continental landmass from sinking or shattering, earning a measure of respect.
Zhou Haijing, also a Peak Realm martial artist, did not currently hold such an official position. Earlier, she had joked with the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal, asking Su Lang to help introduce her to the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of Justice, to put in a good word with Dong Hu and Zhao Yao, the two central ministers of Great Li. But Su Lang knew well that this was just Zhou Haijing's usual speaking style—not to be taken seriously. After this boxing match, Zhou Haijing had only slightly lost. So a first-class honorary minister position was surely within her grasp. Perhaps even before she returned to her lodging in the capital, officials from the Ministry of War's Selection Department or the Ministry of Rites' Sacrificial Department would come to find her on their own.
Thinking of the place Zhou Haijing had chosen—according to her, she had wandered into the capital and selected a feng shui treasure spot by chance—Su Lang felt deeply helpless. It was truly too shabby. Su Lang couldn't imagine that the Great Li capital had places piled with chicken and dog shit, even pigpens by the roadside. Earlier, when looking for Zhou Haijing, Su Lang had even passed by the door of an unlicensed brothel for the first time in his life. Anyway, it was a narrow, dimly lit alley with brothels on both sides; there was no way to avoid them. When he finally found Zhou Haijing, she laughed heartily, and her first words were that he must compensate the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal with a pair of boots.
At that moment, Su Lang asked softly, "Miss Zhou, are you all right?"
"Not really. That old fogey hits hard."
Zhou Haijing reached behind her back and rubbed the spot where Yu Hong had struck her with an elbow, complaining resentfully, "Doesn't know how to show a lady any mercy at all."
After the boxing match, her meticulously applied makeup had turned into a big smudged mess. As for the mountain of hair ornaments she had piled on earlier, Yu Hong's fist force had scattered them all. What a shame—those were money. If she could have kept a few, she could have made a small profit. She said angrily, "Next time we box, I'll definitely get my revenge. With fewer people watching, watch me go straight for the lower body. Then I'll treat you to egg-fried rice."
Su Lang was speechless. This female grandmaster, close in age but a realm higher, after years apart, was still... witty as ever.
Zhou Haijing slipped into the carriage, took out a handkerchief, spat out a mouthful of clotted blood, and tucked it into her sleeve. She paid no attention to this injury. She dipped her finger in saliva and flicked through a few slips of paper—her bets placed earlier at several major gambling houses in the capital.
On the rooftop, Chen Ping'an asked, "I'm going to meet an old friend. Want to come along?"
Ning Yao glanced at the carriage on a distant street. "The driver?"
Chen Ping'an nodded, explaining, "His name is Su Lang, nicknamed 'Green Bamboo Sword Immortal.' He's a martial arts figure from the Songxi Kingdom, sort of half a neighbor of old master Song Yushao."
Since Su Lang now had an official position and had advanced to the Far Traveling realm, even if he couldn't finally reach the Peak realm, as long as he had no major calamity, he had at least another hundred years of life. So in the future, he would still have a lot of dealings with that mountain god shrine and Song Fengshan and Liu Qian as a couple. Back then, when Su Lang had just broken through to the Seventh Realm martial artist, it was when Song Yushao had washed his hands and withdrawn from the martial world. As a junior, Su Lang had already won fame but was still aggressive. Chen Ping'an had given Su Lang a punch, sending him back to the small town. But later, he cooperated with Su Lang, who had come to his door, to put on an act, giving the other a way out and gifting Su Lang a huge martial reputation: "his swordsmanship on the ground is not inferior to sword immortals on the mountain."
Such were the old traditions and social niceties of the martial world. In the same world, as long as no mortal enmity was formed, at the wine table one spoke pleasant words. On narrow paths, leave a step for others to walk, turning a one-log bridge into a broad sunlit road.
Ning Yao looked at Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an immediately understood, shaking his head with a smile. "Do I have that many strange remarks? I'm just catching up with Su Lang."
Just like walking the martial world, don't flaunt gold and silver. Under normal circumstances, Chen Ping'an wouldn't casually open his bamboo basket to reveal that "family background." To put it plainly, hitting someone in the face is not done.
Ning Yao said, "Then I won't go."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Then on my way back, I'll buy some capital city snacks."
Ning Yao nodded. She flickered and vanished, silent and invisible. She actually knew that Chen Ping'an was still worried about that battle, so he wanted to find something to do to distract himself—taking his mind off things. So she let him go meet his so-called martial world friend alone.
Under the watchful eyes of various government yamen runners and clerks, the crowd dispersed in an orderly fashion. In a secluded alley, the carriage slowed to a halt. Su Lang frowned slightly. A Daoist and a Buddhist monk blocked the way—a young Daoist and a young monk, both unfamiliar faces.
The young Daoist announced his name and produced a jade token representing the Daoist Registry Bureau's Genealogy Department. "Capital Dao Registrar Ge Ling, have matters to discuss with Miss Zhou. Kindly ask Miss Zhou to alight from the carriage first and follow me to the temple for a talk."
The young monk pressed his palms together. "I am a little novice monk from the Translation Bureau."
Su Lang narrowed his eyes. A Daoist official under the Great Li Chongxu Bureau? Beneath the Capital Dao Rectifier were six departments: Genealogy, Litigation, Green Word Seals, Seals, Geography, and Rules. This young Daoist calling himself Ge Ling was in charge of the Genealogy Department. The superior of a Dao Registrar was the Capital Dao Rectifier, who managed the issuance of Daoist lineage certificates and promotions and demotions, but he had no authority over a pure martial artist like Su Lang. If the Dao Rectifier himself had come, Su Lang might have shown some deference—though the official rank of Dao Rectifier was not high, it was a position with real power. But a mere department head was a minor official. Moreover, he had nothing to do with the Ministry of Justice. Did he really think that Su Lang's second-class honorary minister status from the Ministry of Justice was just an empty title? Su Lang wore a green bamboo segment tucked at his waist, tied with a colorful cord and hung with a "No Trouble" token of the second class—that was not low. Only pure martial artists at the Peak realm could hope to wear a first-class No Trouble token. Great Li second-class honorary ministers were mostly Golden Core sword cultivators, Far Traveling realm martial artists, or Nascent Soul Qi refiners. Unless one had exceptionally great military merit, even a Golden Core Qi refiner who was not a sword cultivator would only be classified as third-class.
Su Lang said calmly, "If you have something to say, say it. If not, get out of the way."
Ge Ling smiled. "So you are the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal of Songxi Kingdom. I have long admired your name. But today I have matters to discuss with Miss Zhou, not suitable for outsiders to overhear. Please forgive me, Sword Immortal."
The young monk asked softly, "Sword Immortal?"
Now whenever the little monk heard the word "sword immortal," his tonsured head felt twice as big. In just a few days