Chapter 331: Ten Thousand Swords Return to the Sect (Part One)
The sword Chen Changsheng wanted was naturally in the Zhou Garden, or to be more precise, in the Sword Pool. Although he still had no idea where the Sword Pool was, the sword he desired was undoubtedly a famous one, just like the Mountain and Sea Sword in his hand at this moment.
In truth, the sword he wanted ranked far lower than the Mountain and Sea Sword on the Hundred Weapons List, but in certain respects, its fame surpassed even that of the Mountain and Sea Sword. This was because that sword was extremely rare—a blade brought back to the Zhou Garden by Zhou Dufu from the outside world. More importantly, it was the Zhai sword of the Southern Stream Sect, meaning it was the Saintess Sword.
Chen Changsheng did not know that the girl behind him was Xu Yourong. Even now, he still held no favorable impression of the name Xu Yourong. His desire for this sword at this moment was naturally not to prepare a dowry for his fiancée, but because legend had it that this Zhai sword of the Southern Stream Sect carried its own holy light, capable of purifying all toxins, and could naturally suppress the Blood Solution Technique of the demon race.
This idea was indeed absurd, but it became reality. Just as the thought occurred to him, a remarkably fresh sensation suddenly emerged from somewhere on the grassland south of the mausoleum. The wild grass, which had been drooping wearily in the heavy rain, straightened its stalks again. Raindrops trickled down the veins of the leaves, and the grass became full of vitality.
A faint and ethereal sword intent manifested within the boundless life force, then vanished without a trace.
The next moment, this sword intent arrived at the stone platform before the main gate of the mausoleum, and along with it came a sword. The sword looked very plain, without any superfluous decoration, emitting a faint sense of holiness that brightened much of the gloom brought by the torrential rain.
This was the Zhai sword Chen Changsheng wanted.
He reached into the rain, took down this Zhai sword, and slashed at the peacock feather rushing toward him.
Amidst the raging flames, an angry peacock cry rang out, followed by a hissing sound. The flames attached to the peacock feather turned into green smoke, and the terrifying toxins hidden within the blood fire were instantly purified by the holy light radiating from the Zhai sword!
Silence. Absolute silence. Nan Ke’s small face turned even paler. The two maids behind her widened their eyes, their faces full of disbelief. The old man playing the zither showed a look of terror in his eyes, while Teng Xiaoming’s expression became extremely grave.
Suddenly, the sound of rain ceased abruptly. Liu Wan’er, who had not acted until now, darted up along the sacred path. The large iron pot in her hand turned into a sky full of darkness, descending toward the Zhai sword that was still emitting its holy light!
Chen Changsheng released the hilt of the Zhai sword, grabbed the hilt of the Mountain and Sea Sword again in the rain, and lifted it toward the iron pot. With a sharp clang of metal, a burst of energy erupted, and the black pot was sent flying by the iron sword, tearing a gap in the darkness.
Behind the darkness was not the clear sky, but Liu Wan’er’s hands.
Her hands held a silk ribbon, extremely soft and smooth, which bound itself around the Mountain and Sea Sword, preventing the heavy iron sword from moving. At that moment, Teng Xiaoming, in sync with her thoughts, wielded his iron staff and descended from the rainy sky again, smashing it toward Chen Changsheng’s head!
Just then, another disturbance occurred deep within the grassland. A slender sword, like a flowing light, traversed dozens of miles of rain to arrive before the main gate of the mausoleum, seemingly stuffing itself into Chen Changsheng’s right hand, which had just released the hilt of the Mountain and Sea Sword.
That sword was delicate and elegant, giving the impression of a needle.
Chen Changsheng gripped this sword and thrust it at Liu Wan’er. The delicate blade seemed barely able to withstand the baptism of the heavy rain, trembling incessantly along the way. The sword tip moved like lightning, as if embroidering something in the rain. No one knew what sword this was or what sword technique he was using, but it felt incredibly soft and gentle. The sword moves were like willows green and flowers red, a splendid scene woven into brocade!
With a hissing sound, the delicate sword failed to embroider a beautiful picture in the rain but instead tore apart the silk ribbon binding the Mountain and Sea Sword. The slender sword continued to pierce through raindrops, ultimately reaching Liu Wan’er and cutting her earlobe. If Teng Xiaoming’s deformed iron staff had not come crashing down, this delicate sword might have directly slit Liu Wan’er’s throat.
The iron staff broke through the air. Chen Changsheng released the slender sword, grasped the Mountain and Sea Sword again in the rain, and swept it upward, still using the lifting motion. With a deafening clash, the iron staff whistled away into the distance, landing who knows where. Teng Xiaoming, without hesitation, grabbed Liu Wan’er by the shoulder and retreated violently, narrowly dodging Chen Changsheng’s next strike.
Whether using the delicate sword or the Mountain and Sea Sword, in three consecutive moves, Chen Changsheng employed only the lifting motion—lifting thread from cloth, lifting a lamp in the night. He lifted cleanly and neatly, lifted with utmost grace.
Three swords hung silently around him in the heavy rain, a truly stunning sight.
Looking at the Zhai sword emitting its faint holy light, Nan Ke could no longer suppress the shock in her heart. She didn’t even want to think about why this legendary Saintess Sword had appeared. Enraged, she demanded, “How do you even know the sword techniques of the Southern Stream Sect!”
“Could this be the Yue Girl Sword?” Liu Wan’er stared at the slender sword in the rain beside him, deeply astonished, unaware that a drop of crimson blood was seeping from her earlobe.
In the southeastern corner of the continent, there had once been a powerful sword sect. Most of its disciples were women, and it was located in the former land of Yue, hence its name: the Yue Girl Sect. It had produced many sword masters over the centuries, until it merged with the Southern Stream Sect hundreds of years ago and gradually faded into obscurity. As for the Southern Stream Sect, needless to say, as the holy land of the southern branch of the state religion, it had always been revered and worshipped by the people.
Nan Ke and Liu Wan’er were naturally shocked by the appearance of these two swords, but what they couldn’t understand even more was why Chen Changsheng knew the sword techniques of both the Southern Stream Sect and the Yue Girl Sect. These two sword arts emphasized holy purification and subtle ingenuity, and very few men practiced them.
Chen Changsheng did not explain. His ability to master the sword techniques of the Southern Stream Sect and the Yue Girl Sect—at least to grasp their general moves and forms—stemmed not only from his thorough reading of the Daoist Canon but, most importantly, from his diligence. From Xining Town to the capital, during his year at the National Academy, the thing he did most was read, cultivate, and study all the cultivation methods in the world. Apart from the young men of the Seven Laws of the Divine Kingdom from the Li Mountain Sword Sect, no one his age could match his hard work.
Looking at Chen Changsheng on the stone platform amidst the wind and rain, both Nan Ke and Liu Wan’er felt an intense unease.
Among the demon race experts who had entered the Zhou Garden, Teng Xiaoming was the most taciturn. In terms of status, he was one of the twenty-four demon generals, ranking even below his own wife, let alone the lofty Princess Nan Ke. But all the nobles in Snow Old City knew that this was because of his deep love for his wife. When it came to true combat strength and insight, he was the strongest on the field.
So he did not let the stunning scene before him shake his resolve. His right hand reached into the rain, recalling his iron staff from somewhere. He stepped along the sacred path, splashing water blossoms, and charged at Chen Changsheng once more with a roar.
The other experts also snapped back to reality, knowing they could not let the battle continue to develop like this. Chen Changsheng, who had seemed cornered, had suddenly gained the aid of three famous swords. Who knew what else might happen next?
A series of sounds of breaking air rang out. A fierce wind swept along the sacred path, bending the heavy rain like weak willows. A profoundly clear zither sound, carrying undisguised killing intent, accompanied the several gusts of wind, surging toward Chen Changsheng at the edge of the stone platform.
Just then, a whistling cry suddenly echoed through the rainy sky. That cry was the roar of a sword, sharp beyond measure, resounding through heaven and earth, yet strangely deep, as if it were a dragon’s roar from ancient times!
In the distant sky, the shadow of the roc was slowly descending, but it was momentarily halted by this dragon roar.
The old man playing the zither turned deathly pale. His fingers, resting on the strings, trembled violently. With several snapping sounds, the zither strings broke. He spat out a mouthful of blood, instantly staining the ancient zither on his lap red.
What kind of thing was this, that a single cry could possess such divine power!
At that moment, a sword broke through the rainy sky and arrived before Chen Changsheng.
Its sword intent was supremely arrogant, unmatched in its dominance.
“Dragon Roar Sword!” Liu Wan’er exclaimed in shock.
Chen Changsheng took the Dragon Roar Sword from the rainy sky and slashed at Teng Xiaoming.
The mausoleum suddenly brightened, as if a phantom dragon burst forth from the sword’s body, striking heavily against Teng Xiaoming’s chest and abdomen. With a terrifying muffled sound, Teng Xiaoming was blasted hundreds of feet down the sacred path, his chest bones cracked in countless places.
Nan Ke drew near. True blood blazed wildly in her eyes.
Chen Changsheng looked into her eyes, then suddenly released the hilt of the Dragon Roar Sword and reached into the rainy sky again.
Another extremely bright sword flew from afar and landed in his hand.
He held the sword and advanced. Its blade, as if washed clean by water, directly drove Nan Ke back.
Another cry of shock rang out on the sacred path: “Autumn Water Sword!”
This was not the end.
This was only the beginning.
The sound of swords breaking through the rainy sky continued without pause.
Voices of astonishment kept ringing out.
“Green Lake Sword!”
“Eight-Foot Divine Sword!”
“How is this possible! This is... the Demon Marshal’s Banner Sword!”
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(Next chapter before nine o’clock.)