Chapter 109: The Music Ends, the Blade Appears
The people in the streets and alleys of Xunyang City were all stunned by Su Li’s sword strike. Even someone as mad as Xiao Zhang had to express his admiration.
Chen Changsheng, however, did not think so. On the contrary, he felt somewhat sorrowful.
In the eyes of the crowd, Su Li, holding his yellow paper umbrella, had pierced through the rain with a single sword stroke, effortlessly and silently killing a Star Gathering realm expert. This was truly an astonishing level of swordsmanship and realm.
But when he had left the Zhou Garden and gone to the snowy plains, he had once seen Su Li’s true sword.
At that time, Su Li, also holding his yellow paper umbrella, had not fully drawn the hilt. The sword intent had broken through the snow and traveled dozens of li. A demon general at the edge of the snowy plain had fallen to the sword, his mountain-like black shadow abruptly severed.
Compared to that demon general, what was a rat like Lin Canghai?
Compared to that sword strike back then, what was this sword strike in the rain of Xunyang City today?
After dozens of days returning south, Su Li had finally mustered a single sword strike, not even a tenth of his full strength, yet it still possessed heaven-shaking power. If he could return to his prime, no, even if his injuries were just slightly lighter, who could kill him? Who would dare to kill him?
Unfortunately, the human world only had cold reality, never any "ifs."
Everything truly was over, after this sword strike.
"Is no one coming?"
Su Li looked at Xunyang City in the rain, at the guests who had come to this feast. He was silent for a long time, then shook his head and said calmly, "It seems no one else will come."
He asked the question, and he answered it himself. Between the question and answer, there was an indescribable sense of vicissitude and melancholy.
Yet his expression remained as indifferent as ever, and he said to Chen Changsheng, "You see, in the end, it proves I was right."
Chen Changsheng remained silent, thinking that arguing about this now was meaningless.
Su Li’s expression turned serious, and his tone was extremely heavy. "Besides a fool like you, or a madman, who would help others for no reason? In this world, who is worthy of trust?"
Up until this very moment, the Li Mountain Sword Sect still had not sent anyone, not even a word. The other sects of the Eternal Life Sect, as well as the Holy Maiden Peak, had also said nothing. The Southern Domain was indeed far away, but words and attitudes should have had time to appear in Xunyang City, before the eyes of the world. Somewhat bitterly, those words and attitudes had not appeared.
Or perhaps, this showed the entire human world’s attitude toward Su Li.
Regardless of region, regardless of wisdom or folly, everyone wanted him dead.
Looking at Su Li, silent in the rain, Chen Changsheng suddenly felt very sad. His nose stung, his eyes were dry, and his voice was tight as he said, "Maybe... maybe something happened at Li Mountain."
So-called legends, when their curtain falls, are often lonely. But Chen Changsheng could not bear to see this scene. Whether in storybooks or the scriptures of the state religion, he disliked reading about the end of a feast. He did not want Su Li to leave so desolately.
Su Li looked at him and smiled, saying, "You fool, is this supposed to be comfort?"
Xunyang City in the rain was quiet and slightly cold, growing colder and colder. From somewhere far away, a zither sound suddenly came. It was unclear who was playing—perhaps a musician from the Liang Prince’s mansion, or perhaps Liang Hongzhuang’s soulmate. The zither sobbed, the singing was hoarse, and faintly one could hear words like "loyal souls" and "old city," but they were indistinct.
Liang Hongzhuang fell silent upon hearing the music. His tattered dance robe fluttered in the wind and rain as he turned and walked away, sleeves hanging empty.
Xue He led the Fire Cloud Qilin, silently bowed to the inn building, then turned and left.
The zither sound gradually faded, the singing slowly died away, and then...
"Ya!"
Xiao Zhang let out a sharp shout.
The white paper covering his face rustled loudly.
His iron spear thrust straight at Su Li.
Liang Wangsun gripped his Vajra Pestle, his steps heavy as a lotus, his spirit full like jade, his aura enveloping the entire inn.
A fierce wind rose, and Chen Changsheng was knocked to the ground, unable to rise.
The music was about to end.
That would be Su Li’s time of death.
But someone refused to let the music stop.
It was not Liang Hongzhuang, who had turned and walked away with his torn dance robe.
It was not General Xue, who had led the Qilin away in his battered armor.
It was not the musicians in the prince’s mansion wanting to continue the tune, nor the soulmate wanting the song to reach the ends of the earth.
The zither sound, the singing, had indeed ended. Yet in the inn—more precisely, downstairs in the inn—there came a crisp striking sound, like a clapper, like a bamboo zither, in any case, it continued the music. The crisp striking sound rang out with great rhythm, as if giving the music new life.
Liang Hongzhuang and Xue He, who had parted ways on the long street, both stopped in their tracks. They whirled around to look at the inn, their faces shocked.
Clap.
Clap, clap.
Clap, clap, clap.
What exactly was making this sound?
The counter downstairs in the inn was very old, its paint peeling off. On it lay an abacus.
The beads of the abacus were striking against each other incessantly.
But the person who had been flicking the beads was no longer beside the counter.
Accompanied by the crisp striking sounds, dozens of white air currents appeared in the ruins of the inn.
Seeing those air currents, Liang Wangsun’s expression turned solemn. His princely robe billowed, and his eyes shone like stars. Xiao Zhang’s expression instantly became extremely shocked, then ferocious.
With a tearing sound, the floor between the first and second floors of the inn shattered like a piece of fragile paper. A blade burst through the floor, emerged through the dozens of air masses, and with a terrifying howl, slashed toward Xiao Zhang!
Xiao Zhang’s entrance had been utterly arrogant, but this blade was even more arrogant. Because this blade had no intention of blocking his iron spear; it struck at the person behind the spear. This was clearly telling Xiao Zhang: My blade will definitely be faster, heavier, and fiercer than your spear. Before your iron spear can kill Su Li, my blade will surely cut off your head first!
Seeing this iron blade slashing toward him, Xiao Zhang was shocked, then furious.
He recognized this blade. He knew it was forged by Old Master Tang of Wenshui and given as a gift for free. He knew even more that this blade, though it looked ordinary, actually possessed divine and demon-defying power. He wanted to say something, but found he could barely make a sound.
The blade sobbed, like a poor scholar crying, like a child from a ruined home weeping.
This blade was so angry.
Xiao Zhang had dealt with this blade countless times. After Xun Mei entered the Mausoleum of Books, he was the one who had fought this iron blade the most in the world. Naturally, he was also the one who had lost to it the most. But he had never seen this blade so terrifying.
The dark clouds in the sky over Xunyang City seemed to be split open by a gash, and faintly, blue sky appeared.
Xiao Zhang knew he could not retreat, or he would surely be defeated by this blade, and perhaps even his Dao heart and battle intent would be shattered by this furious blade, leaving him a cripple for life. He gripped his iron spear with both hands and swung it horizontally to smash against that blade.
Boom! A thunderous crash.
White paper floated in the air, and blood fell onto the paper.
Xiao Zhang flew backward, spitting blood all the way, and crashed heavily into the courtyard opposite the inn.
From amidst the smoke, dust, and rubble, his furious and unwilling roar rang out.
"Wang Po! You actually ambushed me!"
(Quitting smoking while writing a novel is absolutely one of the most painful things in the world. I managed to write this chapter while holding on, and it turned out pretty good. I’m quite proud of myself. Tomorrow I want to write two chapters, but I suddenly realize... this is really hard... I’m really dying of discomfort.)