Chapter 327: The Return (Part 2)
That sword intent entered the yellow paper umbrella, and the world around the tomb resonated, but the first to change was naturally the yellow paper umbrella itself.
The yellow paper umbrella still looked as it always did—old, slightly dirty, unchanged in appearance—but the aura it emitted had transformed greatly. In this defensive umbrella-shaped artifact, it suddenly felt like an incredibly sharp sword. In Chen Changsheng’s eyes, it was clearly still an umbrella, yet in his hand, it unmistakably conveyed the sensation of a sword.
That azure-blue sword light arrived, carrying Nanke’s absolute killing intent and immensely powerful true essence.
Chen Changsheng raised the yellow paper umbrella to meet it, as if holding a round shield, trying to block the spear thrust by his enemy.
Dozens of days ago, by the lakeside at the cliff in the Zhou Garden, when he fought those two maidservants, he had often used this method. But clearly, today’s yellow paper umbrella was vastly different from that day’s, all because of that sword intent? Yet this was also entirely distinct from when he had earlier used the short sword to unleash sword intent—they were two different concepts.
The difference and distinction lay in the fact that, with that sword intent, the yellow paper umbrella had become immensely powerful, even somewhat terrifying.
On the stone platform before the tomb’s main gate, countless sharp cutting sounds suddenly erupted. Those sounds seemed like cracks in space or turbulent eddies in the air—rapid and brief, yet unceasing. Countless seemingly fine sword winds burst forth from the umbrella’s surface, swirling around his body, spinning at high speed, cutting through everything they encountered.
The rain and snow on the cliff path, and that azure-blue sword light.
The raindrops falling from the sky were sliced into powder; the lingering snow on the ground was shredded into fluff; the hard ground and stone walls, even the tomb’s main gate, were covered in countless deep sword marks. As for that azure-blue sword light arriving through the air, before it could even illuminate the two rivers of stars in the Southern Cross, it was shattered into ten thousand rays of starlight, scattering along with the broken wind fluff.
Those sharp cutting sounds gradually faded, then vanished.
Those fine sword winds slowly settled among the tomb’s stone cliffs, not reappearing.
The torrential rain continued to fall, but compared to before, it seemed much more timid, especially the rain landing on the yellow paper umbrella.
A profound silence fell.
Beneath the tomb, on the grassland, it gradually grew noisy. The beast tide, like a black sea, stirred faintly, showing signs of unrest.
Earlier, when that sword intent entered Chen Changsheng’s body and he unleashed it with the short sword, the beast tide had remained calm. But when that sword intent entered the yellow paper umbrella and effortlessly shattered Nanke’s sword momentum, proving certain things, the countless beasts on the grassland could no longer control their emotions.
Some beasts, fearful and uneasy, tried to retreat. More beasts roared angrily at the tomb. Countless howls merged together, like thunder, threatening to tear open the gloomy sky. If not for Nanke forcibly suppressing them with the Soul Wood, the black ocean of the beast tide would have already surged toward the Zhou Tomb.
Nanke didn’t understand why the beasts reacted so strongly. Was it because the appearance of that sword intent signaled that the Sword Pool might soon manifest? Then why hadn’t the beast tide surged like this when that sword intent first appeared? She was puzzled. Her gaze passed through the rain and landed on Xu Yourong. It was she who had earlier told Chen Changsheng to discard the sword and use the umbrella.
Everyone present today was a strong expert. Xu Yourong, severely injured and not yet healed, was extremely weak. Most of the time, she kept her eyes closed and didn’t watch the battle. Yet somehow, she was the one who understood something. This made Nanke both angry and unwilling, just like the feeling she had when that sword intent was used by Chen Changsheng earlier.
Here, we must again quote Tang Thirty-Six’s famous assertion: Xu Yourong and Chen Changsheng were truly two people who excelled at leaving others speechless.
Xu Yourong, forcing herself to stay alert, looked at the restless beast tide below the tomb and said weakly, “Close the umbrella.”
Hearing her words, Chen Changsheng closed the yellow paper umbrella.
When an umbrella is closed, it looks very much like a sword. Many people have had similar experiences—in the streets and alleys after the rain stops, using the tip of an umbrella to poke at mud and walls for fun.
Why? Because when closed, an umbrella resembles a sword.
At this moment, the yellow paper umbrella in Chen Changsheng’s left hand looked very much like a sword.
The beast tide around the tomb instantly fell silent.
Those angry roars vanished.
Those restless beasts trying to move toward the tomb became panicked and uneasy, as if something major was about to happen. Deep within the beast tide, several Star Gathering-level powerful beasts, massive as mountains, began to emit a brutal, bloody aura. The enormous shadow in the sky had lowered even more than before.
The Sword Pool was the greatest secret of the Zhou Garden. The sword was the greatest taboo of the grassland.
What connection did this sword intent, and the Sword Pool it represented, have with the countless beasts roaming the Sunset Grassland? Xu Yourong silently deduced and calculated, her mind rapidly draining, her face growing paler and paler. Finally, her gaze fell on the umbrella in Chen Changsheng’s left hand. She thought, it seems this really is the legendary yellow paper umbrella.
...
Outside the Zhou Garden, the wind and snow remained as before.
The enormous shadow in the sky had lowered even more than before. On the distant snow plain, over a dozen demon general figures stood like mountains, exuding a bloody, powerful aura. So far, one demon general had fallen, seven were injured, and three of those had lost limbs. The demon race had already paid a heavy enough price.
Snowflakes landed on Su Li’s shoulder, instantly sliced into countless shreds.
There was blood on his sword, but none on his body. He appeared uninjured, but in truth, he had expended a great deal. He could no longer perfectly contain his sword intent within his body, and it began to leak out.
The Black Robe sat cross-legged on a snow mound, looking at him calmly and saying, “Though your name is Su Li, you cannot leave today.”
Su Li looked at the shadow in the sky and remained silent.
“What you like to eat most, what you dislike most, where you’ve been these years, how many people you killed in the Great Western Continent, whether you prefer mountains or the sea, how often you write to your daughter, how long it took you to master the first sword move after joining the Lishan Sword Sect, how many times you argued with your master, how many days you cried after your master died in the Zhou Garden...”
The Black Robe gently stroked the square plate on his knee with slender fingers and said, “All the information I could gather about you has been used in this trap. How could you possibly leave?”
Su Li withdrew his gaze, looked at him with mockery, and said, “What I dislike most are people like you. Clearly, in the end, it still comes down to fighting with brute force, yet you always insist on reasoning and calculating probabilities. Even when you’re about to die, gasping your last breath, you still can’t forget to put on a show of having everything under control. Who are you trying to impress?”
A low laugh came from within the Black Robe: “Naturally, I’m showing it to someone like you, whom I’ve calculated to death.”
Su Li sneered and said, “Do you really think everything can be calculated?”
The Black Robe said, “Why not?”
“You certainly know that stars can move. Since stars can move, how can there be a destined, unchanging fate? Without destiny, how can you calculate?”
Su Li looked at the night sky. He didn’t see the two rivers of stars in the south, only the snowflakes falling endlessly before that shadow. He said clearly, “Everything in the world changes every moment. When snow falls for a long time, it piles up thicker and thicker, and at some point, an avalanche may occur. How can you calculate that?”
“The sword path is not snow. Cultivation is not falling snow. Quantitative change doesn’t necessarily lead to qualitative change, and a desperate situation won’t allow you to break through.”
The Black Robe knew what Su Li meant by that remark about snow falling. He said calmly, “Because you are an unprecedented genius of the sword path.”
This was praise, coming from the mouth of the continent’s most mysterious demon strategist. Even Su Li should feel proud. But this statement was also a heart-stabbing blow.
An unprecedented genius of the sword path—if he could break through, he would have done so long ago, whether through the great terror between life and death or any other means or methods.
The Black Robe continued, “The reason you cannot achieve the Great Perfection of the sword path is not due to any other cause. Talent, comprehension, willpower, and even the most crucial luck—you have never lacked any of them. The reason is that you lack one most important thing, and that thing is vital to the sword path.”
Su Li naturally understood what he was talking about.
“The sword path cultivates the sword.”
The Black Robe’s voice carried no emotional fluctuation as he made his cold conclusion: “Without a sword worthy of you, your sword path can never be complete.”
...
(The next chapter will be a bit late, but I’ll try to have it out before eleven o’clock.)