Chapter 334: A Beastly Figure Like a Mountain
Counting back more than a thousand years from today, to several hundred years ago when Zhou Dufu vanished from the continent, countless strong warriors had fallen to his hand over the centuries, and countless famous swords had been broken beneath his blade, buried in this grassland known as Zhou Garden. This grassland was the Sword Pool, or rather, the Sword Sea. Among them, one of the proudest and most powerful swords, after a long period of preparation, began attempting to leave this grassland and see the light of day again. It broke through the restrictions at the edge of the grassland, swiftly dove into the small lake beside it, and passed straight into the world beyond the cliff face, swimming like a fish in a great lake. Then, circling back from the lakebed to the cold pond at the source of the stream, it used the complex structure of the Zhou Garden world to evade the rules within, and finally succeeded.
Unfortunately, this sword did not achieve complete success. When leaving the grassland, to resist the restrictions set by Zhou Dufu, the sword’s intent remained trapped in the grassland, contending with the aura emanating from those stone pillars. Only the sword’s body made it to the forest by the stream, gradually becoming covered by fallen leaves.
The sword and its intent were forcibly separated.
One day, a disciple of Lishan named Su Li entered the Zhou Garden. He walked into that silent forest, his footsteps treading over the rotting leaves, picked up the sword body—already rusted and stripped of its former glory—and took it out of the Zhou Garden. The sword intent, however, remained trapped in the grassland, waiting in silence and solitude. Several hundred years later, a student of the National Academy named Chen Changsheng entered the Zhou Garden, holding a yellow paper umbrella in his hand. The sword and its intent finally met, and thus, the spectacle of ten thousand swords hovering in the air came to be.
This history, filled with defiance and struggle, belonged to that sword and these ten thousand swords. Chen Changsheng could not trace back through time and naturally could not understand these details, but as he held the yellow paper umbrella, standing among the ten thousand remnant swords, he gained a deeper understanding of the emotions conveyed by that sword intent.
These swords wanted to leave the Zhou Garden—nothing more.
Then, let them leave together.
Just as he had said to that sword intent earlier, and to Xu Yourong, he now made a promise to the countless swords surrounding the mausoleum.
The area around the mausoleum was dim, the warm red light turning colder, filled with the stench of earth and rust. Over ten thousand broken, aged swords, at the moment of their emergence, unleashed the hatred and power accumulated over centuries. At least a third of the beasts were killed, and the black tide of beasts was temporarily suppressed.
But the beast tide only quieted briefly. The ten thousand remnant swords could not sustain such powerful sword intent indefinitely. As time passed, the beast tide surged again, roaring furiously at the swords in the sky. Perhaps because the grassland was now soaked with blood, those roars sounded even more terrifying and bloody.
The Sword Pool had finally revealed itself, ten thousand swords hovering in the air.
Seeing this scene, both the old man playing the zither and the maid turned pale, nearly despairing. Even the powerful demon general couple wore expressions of extreme gravity, with ominous signs visible in their eyes. Yet on Nanke’s small face, there was no trace of fear—only a moment of silence.
Through countless swords, she looked at Chen Changsheng standing before the main gate of the mausoleum, her voice cold and hard as millennia-old ice: “Do you think this can change the ending of this story?”
Earlier, when the Mountain and Sea Sword had arrived through the air, she had said something similar to Chen Changsheng. At that time, he hadn’t answered, only pointing the heavy iron sword at her from afar. Now, he still didn’t answer. With his gaze, hundreds of swords before the mausoleum’s main gate slowly turned, aiming at her.
Action is always more powerful than words—it can persuade people, and it can kill them.
Seeing this, the corners of Nanke’s lips lifted slightly. She looked at those swords with contempt and said, “A bunch of defeated swords—what courage can you speak of?”
These swords had once been famous across the continent, their masters true strong warriors, but they had all fallen to that Two Severing Blade and were buried by Zhou Dufu in this grassland. Under harsh winds, rain, and endless sunlight, they had suffered bitterly for centuries, some broken, some damaged, all covered in rust.
Nanke considered herself the heir to this Zhou Garden. How could she allow these swords to leave?
She raised the black soulwood in her hand, expressionlessly gazing at the remnant swords in the air around the mausoleum.
With her movement, the black soulwood suddenly shone again, but more concentrated and pure than before, like a night pearl thousands of times brighter. At the same time, her indifferent voice rang out once more: “Defeat is defeat. You lost hundreds of years ago, and you will lose again hundreds of years later.”
As her words fell, her feet left the sacred path, and she slowly floated into the sky.
Remnant rain fell, her skirt and black hair drifting lightly. The youthful innocence in her brows gradually faded, leaving only demonic coldness. A powerful aura radiated from her petite body. Dozens of black currents, like silk ribbons, swirled around her.
Chen Changsheng had never underestimated this powerful, even terrifying, demon princess. Not to mention that she was the only disciple of the Black Robe, clearly connected to the Zhou Garden—who knew what other tricks she had hidden? Hearing her contemptuous, confident words, he knew he couldn’t let things develop like this. With a slight stir of his divine sense, a sword broke through the wind.
The heavy Mountain and Sea Sword, carrying a gale, slashed toward Nanke above the sacred path.
Teng Xiaoming and Liu Wan’er, the demon general couple, had long been prepared. They burst into the air, using their formidable cultivation to forcibly block the sword.
The Mountain and Sea Sword was very wide and large, but hidden behind it was a delicate sword.
In this moment of life and death, Chen Changsheng had also learned to use such underhanded tactics. That delicate Yue Woman Sword, concealed by the gale raised by the Mountain and Sea Sword, silently broke through the demon couple’s interception, reached Nanke, and with a soft hiss, stabbed toward her brow.
By now, Nanke had closed her eyes. Her slightly widened brows were pale, devoid of any emotion, and she didn’t see the approach of this delicate sword.
The broken zither string fell silently. The old man playing the zither, who had seemed utterly despondent, shouted loudly, stepped on the drifting strings, took a few empty steps in the air, and blocked himself in front of Nanke, using his body to intercept the delicate sword. With a *puchi* sound, the delicate sword pierced the old man’s throat, and blood splattered!
In the gale, the heavy iron sword pressed down on the demon general couple. The old man’s body was falling to the ground. Though he had delayed the Yue Woman Sword for a moment, Nanke had yet to awaken. How could Chen Changsheng miss this opportunity? He reached out, took the broken Demon Marshal Banner Sword from the air, and, from hundreds of feet away, slashed it toward Nanke!
Above the sacred path, where remnant rain fell, the wind suddenly roared, as if invisible banners were fluttering.
The war banner fluttered, the sword intent surged forward bravely. The half-broken Demon Marshal Banner Sword, carrying a fierce sword light, advanced.
Chen Changsheng didn’t know the Banner Sword technique, but he wanted to try if he could use demon sword techniques to break the demon princess’s defenses. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to see the result of this strike, because a warning suddenly arose in his sea of consciousness, forcing him to forcibly withdraw the Demon Marshal Banner Sword and hold it horizontally before his brow.
*Zheng!*
The half-broken Demon Marshal Banner Sword vibrated violently in the air beyond the stone platform, emitting an unwilling hum.
Chen Changsheng’s wrist ached sharply. If not for his astonishing willpower, the Demon Marshal Banner Sword would have slipped from his hand.
Where did that arrow come from?
Looking around the main gate of the mausoleum, he saw no arrows, only a single strand of hair slowly drifting down on the sacred path.
Had it not been an arrow that struck the Demon Marshal Banner Sword, but just a strand of hair?
He looked down at the grassland below the mausoleum.
In the center of the black sea formed by the beast tide, a beastly figure, massive as a mountain, slowly emerged.
……
……
(First chapter. Today’s writing will be slower. Anyway, I’ll finish writing eight thousand words before sleeping.)