Chapter 215: Plucking the Sword
Wind and thunder raged, miserable howls tore through the sky, the Red River stirred with waves, countless splashes flying like snow toward the heavens before falling, obscuring the panicked figures of the giant beasts fleeing Yujing.
Amid the screams, the Holy Light Angel plummeted toward the ground, golden blood spraying across the sky in two clear lines.
Though grievously wounded and in agony, he still maintained his composure, seeking the last thread of hope in despair.
His wings had been torn off by the Azure-clad Daoist, robbing him of his proud lightning speed. He abandoned flight altogether, falling toward the ground, his speed increasing rapidly. The golden blood spurting behind him could no longer keep pace, and the air he collided with ignited, turning into a trail of fire.
He crashed toward the ground like a meteor.
Only by doing this could he maintain his speed and hope to escape the quiet, terrifying Azure-clad Daoist.
With a thunderous roar, the Holy Light Angel smashed into the riverbank, creating a massive crater.
The immense impact had no effect on him. He rose without hesitation, preparing to flee to the opposite shore.
His companion, stronger in cultivation, was in the mountains across the river.
But just as he stood up, another meteor fell into the crater on the riverbank.
The White Emperor had left the viewing platform, descending from the sky to the ground, and stepped onto the Holy Light Angel’s chest.
Countless cracking sounds erupted, like a stone being crushed by a harder, larger boulder.
The Holy Light Angel’s body convulsed a few times, golden plasma spilling from his mouth and nose. Then his eyes closed, and he died.
The White Emperor slowly withdrew his foot.
He gazed at the golden blood on the Holy Light Angel’s face, lost in thought.
His gaze shifted downward, landing on the angel’s lower body, where it was smooth and featureless.
The White Emperor paused briefly, then shook his head.
So it was a genderless bird-man.
So-called angels, nothing more.
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…
The Holy Light Angel named Wrath was dead.
The direct cause of his swift demise was that, upon seeing the White Tiger’s shadow in the sky, he chose to fight rather than flee.
Given the specific circumstances at the time, his judgment and choice were not wrong.
The White Emperor’s attention had to remain on the Madam of the Pastures in the clouds. Even as he watched the human experts outside the courtyard being killed, and the city’s citizens about to be slaughtered, he could only spare a sliver of his divine soul to attack, much like the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress during the incident at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum.
If he could withstand the White Emperor’s divine soul attack, even just stalling for a time, the other Holy Light Angel could kill Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong, then join the Madam of the Pastures to attack the White Emperor. Even if the White Emperor were stronger, he wouldn’t stand a chance against them.
The problem was, he hadn’t anticipated that besides the White Emperor, there was another true peerless expert in the city today.
After descending, they had learned about the continent’s experts, knowing there was a Daoist who was formidable.
They thought that Daoist wouldn’t appear.
But he did.
And so he died.
The whole matter was that simple.
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…
The Azure-clad Daoist also landed on the riverbank.
The river breeze stirred his black hair, his azure robes fluttering lightly, truly like an immortal.
With a casual reach of his hand, he tore off the Holy Light Angel’s pair of wings.
Such an Azure-clad Daoist existed only one in the world.
Shang Xingzhou.
The middle-aged Daoist from the old temple in Xining was now the continent’s strongest and the ruler of humanity.
Shang Xingzhou and the White Emperor were old acquaintances, but they didn’t reminisce, as the battle wasn’t over yet.
They looked toward the opposite shore of the Red River.
Deep in the mountains across the river, a celestial tree swayed incessantly, wildfire energy surging skyward, occasionally interspersed with a few sword intents.
…
…
A rain of swords filled the sky, several streaks of flowing fire.
Chen Changsheng held five stone beads formed from the Heavenly Book Monuments in his left hand but never released them.
Xu Yourong stood behind him, her Tong Bow already drawn, but the Wu Arrow remained on the string.
The Holy Light Angel sensed the threat but paid it no mind, as he controlled the entire situation, and it was irreversible.
He darted through the celestial tree like a bolt of lightning, coldly watching the young man and woman before it.
Suddenly, he stopped, standing on an extremely thick branch of the celestial tree.
Chen Changsheng didn’t lend the sword to send the stones away, and Xu Yourong didn’t release the bowstring, because, like the Holy Light Angel, they had both heard that scream.
—The scream that echoed over White Emperor City, unsettling the entire Red River.
The Holy Light Angel looked toward a spot on the opposite shore, and his emotionless eyes suddenly filled with immense shock.
He clearly sensed his companion’s death, then perceived two extremely powerful auras.
His pure white wings stirred up a gale, and he prepared to leave without hesitation.
Just as he was about to head north, a rift suddenly appeared in the sky.
That rift expanded at an indescribable speed, stretching over ten miles in an extremely brief time.
Within that spatial rift was not an endless abyss or a chaotic otherworld, but a city.
A city that should have been across the river.
That city was White Emperor City.
Outside the city was a river.
By the river was a bank.
On the bank stood a man.
The White Emperor.
…
…
The rift in the sky didn’t disappear, and at its lowest point, a sharp metallic corner faintly protruded, engraved with some intricate, obscure pattern.
It was this metallic corner that had torn through space, miraculously connecting this place to White Emperor City, which was clearly behind them.
The Holy Light Angel and Chen Changsheng didn’t know what it was, but Xu Yourong did, because in the inn, she had looked into that bronze mirror many times and was familiar with its patterns.
One other person also knew.
“The Heavenly Mirror!”
On the clouds, the Madam of the Pastures’ face turned somewhat pale, whiter than the surrounding sea of clouds.
A moment ago, when Shang Xingzhou had silently appeared behind the dead Holy Light Angel, she knew she had lost.
No matter how meticulous her and the Black-robed One’s plans were, they had ultimately come to nothing.
But at that moment, she hadn’t understood how Shang Xingzhou had ignored the eighty-thousand-mile distance to suddenly arrive at White Emperor City from the capital.
Only when that bronze mirror fragment tore through the sky did she find the answer.
The authority of the National Religion might now be seven-tenths in Chen Changsheng’s hands, as he was the Pope.
But the foundation of the National Religion still rested with Shang Xingzhou.
…
…
The White Emperor didn’t step into that spatial passage.
The Heavenly Mirror was already destroyed, and the fragment forcibly tearing open a spatial rift was unstable, unable to bear the aura of a great demon like him.
Moreover, until now, most of his attention remained on the clouds, on the Madam of the Pastures.
No one in the world knew his wife better than he did, so he was extremely cautious.
But he still moved.
This time, he moved his divine soul.
The White Tiger shadow in the sky tore apart all the clouds.
His divine soul entered the Red River, stepped into that rift, and when it emerged, it was already among the mountains.
A sacred chant flowed like water from the Holy Light Angel’s lips.
A supremely solemn aura and murderous battle intent arose in his eyes.
He was still powerful. If the White Emperor and Shang Xingzhou could only attack with their divine souls, he should be able to escape.
A spear formed of light pierced through the celestial tree’s branches, leaves, and wind and clouds, stabbing toward the White Emperor’s divine soul.
Hissing sounds rang out continuously, like invisible flames burning wildly between the light spear and the White Emperor’s divine soul.
In the blinding light, the White Emperor’s divine soul gradually faded.
The Holy Light Angel remained wary and uneasy, because the White Emperor’s expression was also indifferent.
…
…
The Heavenly Mirror fragment tore through the sky, and through the rift, the riverbank behind could be seen, where only the White Emperor stood.
Now, on the riverbank, there was still only the White Emperor.
He stood quietly, gazing at the opposite shore and the western clouds, not moving.
Shang Xingzhou was no longer by his side.
The great river surged, azure robes fluttered, riding the wind.
Shang Xingzhou came in person.
In an instant, he crossed tens of miles of mountains and rivers, leaving a trail of azure robes in the sky.
The celestial tree in the mountains swayed, the sky filled with a rain of swords.
Shang Xingzhou paid it no heed, nor did he say anything to Chen Changsheng. He reached his right hand into the rain of swords.
As if picking a flower, or plucking a leaf, he took down a sword from the rain of swords. (To be continued.)