# 544
Chapter 545: Arriving on a Cloud
Sensing the second divine pressure racing toward him, Zhou Ping’s brows knitted; his speed never slackened—he went even faster!
He had to cripple Seth before the two gods joined forces, or he would have no chance at all.
Sword-light tore space as Zhou Ping flashed before Seth. Rolling sword-qi surged out like a tornado straight at the god’s face!
Seth’s eyes narrowed; in the next instant he dissolved into a skyful of yellow sand and vanished.
The sword-qi swept only grains of sand—Seth was untouched. Zhou Ping’s expression turned grave.
At the same moment a gale burst from the void and slammed his back, hurling him toward the earth!
BOOM—!!
He struck the Vast Desert like a meteor, spraying grit. The surrounding sand whirled inward, forming an inverted coffin that sealed him inside.
High above, sand whirled and Seth re-condensed in his cloak.
He looked down at the sand-coffin and snorted.
“Human is only human. Without mastery of law, you can never truly wound a god.
This… is the gap between us.”
He clenched his hand; the coffin shrank violently, as if to grind Zhou Ping to powder!
CLANG—!
A clear sword-cry rang. A single blade-glow pierced the coffin, carving a gap, and the black-clad figure shot skyward.
Wind God Shu stood upon the clouds, fingers forming a strange seal that pressed downward.
Endless astral wind erupted, converging into a terrifying tide that swept toward the rising man.
Zhou Ping’s right hand trembled, yet still held sword fingers. Staring at the storm that could shred a city, he calmly thrust his fingers, the gesture so fast it left after-images.
Torrential sword-qi gathered around him and, guided by his fingers, collided with the oncoming tempest.
Sword-qi and storm crashed!
A visible shock-wave burst above the clouds, spreading a hundred li in an instant. Zhou Ping’s qi tore nearly every wind-blade apart, but remnant gusts still slashed his blood-stained black shirt, reopening countless wounds.
Fresh blood dyed him crimson as old scabs tore away.
With a stifled groan he plummeted.
Severely wounded, swordless, he was near his limit; under the gods’ combined assault he had quickly fallen to disadvantage.
Seth thrust a hand into the Vast Desert realm below; limitless sand rose and condensed into a nine-metre dark-gold spear whose killing aura dried the very air.
He hurled it!
WHOOM—!!
The spear tore the sky with a shrill shriek, lightning-fast toward Zhou Ping.
Zhou Ping raised sword fingers to block, but his qi was exhausted; the fingertips met the spear, and his entire right hand exploded into a mist of blood!
Yet the touch deflected the weapon slightly—it missed his heart and pierced his right shoulder instead.
His body smashed through the desert’s underside like a meteor and crashed into the mist-shrouded earth below.
By now the broken city protected by Fengdu’s law had slid nearly twenty kilometres away, vanishing into the mist.
To gods that distance was half a step; neither Shu nor Seth bothered pursuit. Kill the human first, the city would fall later.
Besides, Amon remained aboard the city, cursing Great Xia’s fate through the dragon-vein.
Half of Zhou Ping’s body was gone; a pool of blood spread beneath him. He dragged himself from the crater, face death-white.
“Cough, cough…”
Head lowered, he coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips.
Around him lay a city long abandoned in the mist—bricks and rubble strewn about, broken walls looming dimly.
When the coughing finally eased he straightened, lifted his head, and looked upward.
In the hazy fog two majestic divine forms drifted down…
“Human, to push this far is already pride enough,” Wind God Shu said calmly, bare feet poised upon the void as he gazed down.
Zhou Ping stood in his blood, glanced sideways at the direction the broken city had gone, and remained silent.
“Still hoping to stall so the city can escape?” Seth sneered. “You know such distance means nothing. Even half an hour changes nothing.”
Zhou Ping shook his head. “Only… regret.”
“Regret what?”
“That I was one step short.”
He lifted his eyes to the two awe-inspiring figures, a bitter smile appearing. “One step short of… slaying a god.”
“Slay a god?” Seth laughed. “A mere human—how arrogant…”
“Kill him.”
Shu stepped forward; a fingertip gathered a blade of wind—
WHOOSH—!!
A sharp sonic boom ripped through the quiet mist, racing toward them.
“Hm?” Shu and Seth looked up in surprise.
Zhou Ping raised his eyes as well—then his pupils contracted!
Within the rolling fog, clouds poured from the heavens like a vast tide surging earthward.
On the crest of that cloud-wave seven figures stood steady, bodies glowing faintly silver, dispersing the mist. Seven distinct masks looked down upon the battlefield.
They arrived on a cloud.
Zhou Ping knew those masks.
The seven stepped from the cloud onto the broken walls and walked to his side.
“You…” He stared, stunned.
The battle-scarred face that had shown no fear during divine combat now bore utter disbelief.
The figure wearing the Sun Wukong mask came forward,
clapped Zhou Ping’s left shoulder,
“Sword-Saint senior—we’re taking you home.”