Chapter 329: A Very Heavy Sword
The wind was somewhat cold, stinging the face with a slight pain, but it was merely a cold wind, not a spiritual attack from the old man playing the zither. Those mist-like thoughts of mountain ghosts and witch tigers seemed to avoid the yellow paper umbrella, but how could they truly evade it?
The yellow paper umbrella in Chen Changsheng’s hand was personally crafted by Old Master Tang of the Wenshui Tang family using countless rare materials. If the wielder’s cultivation was sufficient, it could completely block all spiritual attacks. Even though his cultivation was still lacking, it was enough to shield him from the Black Robe’s scrutiny outside the Garden of Zhou. What were the old zither player’s mental attacks in comparison? But the old man’s strike signaled a dangerous warning—it meant Nanke had finally abandoned her pride, and the demon clan’s experts would likely join forces to besiege him.
This realization made Chen Changsheng alert. The demon general couple, Teng Xiaoming and Liu Wan’er, had stood silently and quietly below the divine path, as low-key as their names suggested. But he had never forgotten the terrifying power they displayed by the lakeside beyond the cliff. They were both true experts at the upper level of Star Gathering. Aside from the Five Saints, the Eight Winds and Rain, and unparalleled masters like Su Li, who could claim to easily defeat them? Even if they had forcibly lowered their cultivation to enter the Garden of Zhou, retaining only the upper level of Penetrating Darkness, their combat experience and instincts might make them even stronger than Nanke in a fight.
Nanke’s sword momentum had not yet been completely shattered by his sword intent. The starlight, like a sea of fireflies, still danced stubbornly before the yellow paper umbrella. Chen Changsheng’s gaze crossed the umbrella’s edge and Nanke’s shoulder, landing below the divine path. His expression suddenly tightened. Amid the wind and rain, Liu Wan’er smiled at him, appearing gentle and serene, like a mother waiting at the door for her son to return. But the honest-looking middle-aged man beside her was gone—where had he gone?
Suddenly, a thunderous roar like spring thunder exploded in the sky above the divine path! The cold wind weaving through the tombs seemed to freeze in that instant, while the falling rain grew even more violent.
Chen Changsheng looked up and saw a black dot in the gloomy sky.
That black dot descended with the torrential rain, growing faster and faster, magnifying countless times in an instant, until it seemed like a mountain in his eyes.
The twenty-fourth demon general, Teng Xiaoming, had turned into a heavy peak, gripping that seemingly ordinary carrying pole. He condensed the wind and drove the rain as he fell from the sky, howling through the air with unmatched ferocity!
Seeing this scene, Chen Changsheng’s face paled several shades, yet his eyes remained calm as before, without a trace of fear. The short sword in his right hand pierced through the falling rain curtain to meet the attack.
The yellow paper umbrella in his left hand was blocking Nanke’s two rivers of stars and the witch tiger’s full-force pounce from the zither’s sound. He couldn’t move it. If he wanted to use the umbrella to block Teng Xiaoming’s heavy strike, his only option was to retreat under it. But that would leave him with no way out, forcing him to endure the assault passively. So he chose not to do that. He chose to strike with his sword. In this tense moment, he didn’t forget to channel a thread of the sword intent from the umbrella into the short sword.
With a thunderous crash! The stone platform before the tomb’s main gate shook violently. The rainwater on the ground, like terrified ghosts, tore and twisted, trying to flee, turning into a vast mist. In a corner behind the mist, Xu Yourong, affected by the shockwave, turned pale instantly. Unable to hold on, she closed her eyes in agony and began to regulate her breathing to resist.
The mist settled. Chen Changsheng still stood in place, but he seemed shorter than before. A closer look revealed that his feet had sunk deep into the hard bluestone ground, up to his knees!
Teng Xiaoming’s mountain-like heavy strike from the rainy sky was truly terrifying. Chen Changsheng, relying on the short sword and that thread of sword intent, had taken the blow head-on. Even his body, bathed in the true blood of the Black Dragon, felt like it was about to shatter. Every bone—from his brow to his collarbone, from his cervical spine to his ankles—ached unbearably. His right hand trembled incessantly, like an old man suffering from a severe illness. If he hadn’t known that losing the sword meant death, his right hand could never have held the hilt.
Teng Xiaoming stood in the downpour, expressionless.
The carrying pole in his right hand was actually an iron rod, as thick as an ordinary person’s arm. It was forged from secret iron of the Demon Mountain mixed with two taels of meteorite true gold, incredibly hard. On the snowy battlefield, it had crushed countless experts of the Zhou army to death. Now, dozens of deep sword marks scarred the rod, and its tip had been sliced off by half.
The iron rod and Chen Changsheng’s short sword had met for only an instant, yet so many sword marks had been carved into it. The short sword’s sharpness was beyond imagination, and the sword intent was so fierce and sharp it chilled the heart. But Teng Xiaoming showed no reaction. He stared at Chen Changsheng in silence, like a true mountain. No matter how violent the wind and rain, they could not shake his body even slightly, giving off an extraordinarily solemn aura.
This was a true expert. Watching this demon man standing in the rain, Chen Changsheng naturally had this thought, followed by many more. As Nanke had said earlier, he could only unleash one-thousandth of that sword intent’s true power. How could he defeat such a formidable opponent? The key was that, at his current cultivation level, the combination of that sword intent and the short sword was far from enough to block or even overcome this iron rod. He needed a sword that could better harness the power of that sword intent.
He needed a heavier sword.
Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, Teng Xiaoming raised the iron rod again. The rod, covered in sword marks, seemed even more fearsome than before. The torrential rain around it suddenly scattered. Thunderous sounds echoed along the divine path as the rod howled through the air, the wind and rain along its path fleeing.
By now, Nanke’s sword momentum had been completely shattered by the sword intent from the yellow paper umbrella, and the old zither player’s mental attack was also blocked. Chen Changsheng could now try to use the umbrella to meet this iron rod strike. His face was still pale, but not from tension—it was because the rain was too cold, and also because of the unease stirred by the final thought in his mind.
He could use the yellow paper umbrella to block this iron rod, but he didn’t want to. He had a vague feeling that the sword intent attached to the umbrella, though immensely powerful, was not the best way for him, at his current cultivation, to counter this rod. He still felt he needed a heavier sword.
In truth, he had no other choice but to use the umbrella, because he didn’t have a heavier sword. Yet… he just felt he should have a heavy sword.
As this thought arose in Chen Changsheng’s mind, a change occurred somewhere in the grassland south of the tomb.
The rain there was much lighter than at the tomb. The water in the grass was gently tapped by the drizzle. But suddenly, for no apparent reason, the ground in that grassland sank, as if collapsing! The puddles on the grassland and the rain from the sky condensed into a water sphere, becoming incredibly dense, as if something extremely heavy underground was drawing everything around it.
A furious screech echoed from the depths of the dark sky. It came from the roc. What was about to emerge that made it so enraged? One could even sense its vigilance and unease.
The heavy iron rod tore through the wind and rain on the divine path, arriving before the tomb’s main gate, only a dozen zhang from Chen Changsheng. Yet he did not raise the yellow paper umbrella. Instead, with a clear ring, he sheathed the short sword!
He himself didn’t know why he did this—why he put away the sword?
At that moment, a rumbling roar erupted outside the tomb, as if true thunder and lightning had struck the ground. Compared to this sound, the wind-and-thunder noise of the iron rod was like firecrackers children set off during the New Year.
A pitch-black object broke through the rain, arriving before Chen Changsheng, then hovered motionless.
It was a sword. Its dark material was unknown. The blade bore no patterns, was not smooth, and looked exceptionally rough. It didn’t even have an edge, as if it had never been finished. In short, this iron sword had no distinctive features, emitted no striking aura. It was just very wide, very straight, very long, very thick, and very black—so it looked… very heavy.
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Chen Changsheng wanted a heavier sword.
And so, a heavy sword appeared before his eyes, hovering silently in the wind and rain.
The sword’s hilt pointed diagonally downward. He could easily grasp it if he reached out. The sword’s positioning was so convenient that, without a second thought, he raised his hand.
His right hand passed through the seemingly frozen layers of rain and grasped the hilt.
The hilt of this iron sword was also thick, large, and rough. His palm seemed to meld perfectly with its surface, clearly feeling a heavy weight. At that moment, something happened. The sword intent attached to the yellow paper umbrella did not follow Chen Changsheng’s spiritual command to flow through his body into this iron sword—because this iron sword already contained a sword intent of its own. The sword intent from the umbrella disdained or didn’t want to contend with that powerful intent. At Chen Changsheng’s current cultivation and sword mastery, he couldn’t accurately perceive the strength of the sword intent within the iron sword, but he could clearly feel that it was as heavy as the sword itself.
He withdrew his hand and took the iron sword from the rain.
To take this heavy iron sword from the rain required immense strength. At the same time, this heavy sword bestowed upon him a tremendous power. Then, he swung the iron sword, chopping down at the iron rod that came through the rain.
The iron sword and iron rod met in the downpour.
A brief silence followed, then a continuous explosion of wind and thunder. The rain shattered into thousands of water arrows, shooting outward in a circle. The cliff face before the tomb’s main gate was riddled with countless deep holes, scarred and pitted. A clear light spread from Xu Yourong’s bow behind her, shielding her, but it couldn’t protect Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng’s clothes were full of tiny holes, like leaves eaten by insects, fluttering in the rain. His face was deathly pale, and his feet were still sunk into the hard bluestone ground, surrounded by cracks like a spiderweb. He looked somewhat miserable.
But he hadn’t taken a single step back.
That powerful demon general had retreated, blasted back over a hundred zhang, crashing heavily into the rain, spitting blood continuously. The iron rod in his hand was bent at an extremely exaggerated angle.
The rain still roared like thunder, but the divine path above and below was dead silent.
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(Today, I had an early meeting that would delay the update. I mentioned it in the book, in the group, and on WeChat public account, but some readers still didn’t see it. Now I think the simplest way is to trouble everyone to follow the WeChat public account. That way, if something comes up, I can tell you directly. Just this chapter today. Tomorrow, seven thousand words and above.)