Chapter 987: Sword Falls, A Thousand Piles of Snow
The imperial city was built against the mountain, its terrain extremely steep. The observation platform was at the highest point, very far from the square in front of the imperial city. The massive boulder that had split from the Whale Fall Platform rolled down the mountain slope with a thunderous momentum, crushing countless stone walls and artificial hills along the way, but it still had some time before it would hit the ground.
Hearing the thunderous rumbling, many commoners looked up, their faces turning deathly pale as they desperately fled to the distance. But everywhere was packed with people, and retreating to safety in time was no easy task. Screams of terror, curses, and cries filled the scene with utter chaos.
The sound of the Whale Fall Platform cracking, followed by the ensuing wails, also reached the observation platform.
Many ministers and demon generals were frozen stiff with shock, unable to react, let alone capable of resolving the impending tragedy.
Those true experts who could react in time and had the power to save the commoners, however, showed no reaction at all.
They still stared at that patch of cold clouds, watching the occasional flashes of sword light within, utterly focused.
The boulder falling from the Whale Fall Platform would at most kill a few hundred commoners in front of the imperial city. To these important figures, it was hardly a major matter.
The outcome of this battle was the truly important thing, for it would determine the lives or deaths of millions.
Suddenly, those clear sword chimes vanished. Wind howled from all directions, sweeping the cold clouds thinner by several degrees.
The multitude of swords flew back from the depths of the clouds, surrounding Chen Changsheng and Luo Luo, vibrating slightly with a humming sound.
Who had won?
Chen Changsheng's complexion was somewhat pale. Behind his left ear was an extremely shallow wound, strands of hair stuck together by blood no longer floating. Under the light of the sky, one could clearly see that within that shallow, short wound were some black stains—likely crystallized demonic energy—but wrapped in something, they glistened faintly.
The Demon Lord's condition was even more disheveled.
The golden ring binding his hair had broken into over a dozen pieces, his black hair completely loose, dancing behind him.
Five straight, deep gashes appeared on his robes, clearly sword marks.
Only one of the sword wounds oozed blood, like golden sap, glaringly bright even under the dim sky.
That pear tree had been chopped by Chen Changsheng's sword into the finest fragments, scattered everywhere by the wind, mingling with dust, no longer visible.
Standing on the empty ground, the Demon Lord's figure seemed somewhat desolate.
Had Chen Changsheng truly won?
What sword had he used?
Watching this scene, the demon race experts were deeply shaken, countless thoughts surging through their minds in a very short time.
Yes, Chen Changsheng had won this battle.
If not for the Demon Lord's unimaginably tough physique, he might have already been cut in two by Chen Changsheng's Stainless Sword.
Of course, the Demon Lord's realm and methods were also terrifyingly formidable. The storm of swords had failed to affect his vision at all, and his decisiveness was incredibly strong. He had taken a great risk by enduring Chen Changsheng's first four swords, using a ferocious counterattack to wound Chen Changsheng as well.
Do not underestimate the shallow wound on Chen Changsheng's neck. The black stains within it were the Demon Lord's purest crystallized demonic energy. Once they touched flesh and blood, they would spread rapidly, like sparks igniting an entire prairie. Even an expert who had entered the sacred domain would have to leave immediately and find a way to remove these demonic energy crystals.
Chen Changsheng was still a distance from the sacred domain—an insurmountable gap. In theory, he should have been doomed. But fortunately, he was originally of an immaculate body, had once bathed in dragon blood, and his own blood contained countless holy light energies mixed with true phoenix blood, which happened to suppress the Demon Lord's methods.
The observation platform was utterly silent, like a dead tomb. The rumbling and cries from below became even clearer.
The demon race experts still paid no attention, only staring at Chen Changsheng and the Demon Lord on the field, utterly shocked, their emotions complex, their intentions gradually shifting.
Though that cold cloud concealed the traces of the storm of swords and the peerless demonic arts, how could the demon race experts fail to perceive the danger and terror within?
Chen Changsheng and the Demon Lord were, of course, the strongest of the younger generation.
But in this battle, the realms, cultivation, strength, and everything they revealed were still more powerful than the entire continent had imagined.
More importantly, this was a battle of historical significance.
Neither Chen Changsheng nor the Demon Lord had yet entered the sacred domain, but one was the emperor of the continent's north, the other the human race's Pope. The entire continent firmly believed that, given enough time, they would inevitably cross that threshold. In other words, they were already, and would surely become, true saints.
They would be the rulers of this continent in the future. Their names would appear many times in history books. When they were still young and fought a battle, the outcome of that battle would inevitably influence the continent's situation for the next several hundred years, constantly rewriting history.
What would happen next?
When the demon race experts saw Chen Changsheng raise his Stainless Sword again, a chill suddenly ran through them.
Was Chen Changsheng truly going to continue striking until he killed the Demon Lord? Would history draw a full stop here ahead of time?
Seeing Chen Changsheng raise his sword again, the Demon Lord's face was somewhat pale—not from fear, but from anger.
In his eyes, besides killing intent, a new trace of malice appeared.
Before the battle began, he had believed his own abilities were enough to kill Chen Changsheng.
So he had not prepared to use his most powerful means.
Even holding the Starry Kill, he still felt that means was too dangerous and best left unused.
What he had not expected was that Chen Changsheng's sword cultivation had grown so powerful in just a few dozen days.
He could not even defeat his opponent, let alone kill him.
This filled him with immense humiliation.
So he made a decision.
He grasped the cold, hard object hidden in his sleeve.
Waiting for Chen Changsheng's sword to fall again.
...
...
When the Demon Lord grasped that object in his sleeve, no one noticed anything unusual beforehand.
Only the clouds and mist gathering over White Emperor City suddenly accelerated.
That cracked boulder was still rolling down, getting closer to the ground. Countless demon commoners cried out, powerless and despairing, awaiting death.
The Demon Lord awaited Chen Changsheng's sword.
Madam Mu's expression suddenly turned grave.
Whether because the Demon Lord had grasped that object in his sleeve, or... because Chen Changsheng's sword did not fall.
Yes, no one on the observation platform had expected this.
With a whooshing sound, countless swords flew swiftly from the scabbard Chen Changsheng held.
But those swords did not strike the Demon Lord. Instead, they flew off the observation platform, disappearing into the clouds and mist.
Those swords stirred the clouds, pulling out countless strands of cloud silk, looking somewhat like mist.
But more like lightning, because the swords were so fast that the naked eye could only see the bright trails they left in the air.
Even those who saw this scene had a certain illusion.
As these swords broke through the mist, they had already arrived before the imperial city.
At that moment, the boulder falling from the sky was still several dozen zhang from the ground.
...
...
The crying, screaming crowd fleeing in all directions gradually stopped.
Because they did not feel the earth shake, nor did they hear the sound of the boulder landing.
It was not silent, but rather a dense sound of scraping, right above their heads.
They looked up at the sky, their expressions becoming dazed.
They saw a very magical scene.
That boulder had stopped, as if floating in the sky.
Countless swords, like lightning, struck down toward the bottom of the boulder, continuously making sounds of cutting hard objects.
Those swords were so fast that in a few breaths, they had already pierced back and forth countless times.
Countless straight cracks appeared on the surface of that boulder, growing denser, and then it disintegrated.
Another wave of terrified shouts erupted before the imperial city.
...
...
Some commoners had been injured while fleeing and could no longer move, right beneath where the boulder had been.
A noble lady from the upper city was utterly despairing, crying continuously, looking very pitiful.
A bear clan laborer from Song Town reached out and pulled her into his arms, turning his sturdy back to the sky.
He had just thrown the chef from the bun shop out of the crowd, and his leg was badly injured, leaving him no time to escape.
But no matter how sturdy a back, it could not bear the weight of that boulder.
Even if he shielded the noble lady in his arms, they would both be crushed into meat paste.
Yet in the final moment of life, to have a warm embrace, to feel kindness, to offer kindness, was ultimately a comfort.
When that terrifying shout rang out, the noble lady knew the boulder was about to fall, and her cries grew louder.
The bear clan laborer held her even tighter.
After an unknown amount of time, those terrified shouts suddenly turned into wild cries of joy at surviving a disaster.
The noble lady gradually stopped crying and, with fear, glanced up at the sky.
That boulder had not fallen.
Nor did any rain of rubble fall.
What drifted down slowly was stone dust.
That stone dust was very fine, very light, very white.
It looked like snow.
The bear clan laborer helped her up.
The noble lady from the upper city felt a bit embarrassed.
In the falling stone snow, the two exchanged a glance.
Thinking of that intimate embrace earlier, they could not help but feel awkward.
The noble lady said softly, "Thank you."
The bear clan laborer scratched his head and said, "You're welcome."
The noble lady looked into his eyes and said seriously, "I want to marry you."