Chapter 419: The Culminating Sword of an Assassin's Career
When Zhu Luo, like the moon's reflection in water, manifested a seemingly corporeal clone and effortlessly crossed the spatial rift carved by Wang Po's iron blade to reach this end of Rain Street, if he had directly struck at Su Li, then Su Li might have died the next moment. Or, if he had ignored Chen Changsheng, who was on the verge of being stabbed to death, nothing further would have changed.
But Zhu Luo did not do that. This was not a mistake—at least in that instant, those who had not foreseen the subsequent developments believed Zhu Luo had made no error. They even thought his response was impeccably perfect, marveling that this strongest figure in the human world had always maintained control over the situation. They recalled that elegant phrase: "Wind and rain envelop Xunyang."
Even Zhu Luo himself believed his response was flawless. Su Li would die, but not by his own hand. The Zhu clan of Tianliang Commandery could avoid many future troubles, and he would not leave a particularly unsavory mark in the annals of history—even if such a mark remained, its ink might be fainter. At the same time, he had not forgotten the request from the Li Palace, allowing Chen Changsheng to live.
Wind and rain besieged the city, the moon hidden behind. The moon's reflection in water split into two, the real and the illusory corresponding. His clone possessed nearly the same combat power as his true body, while he himself was of three minds, like a deity, using the simplest method to solve the most complex problem.
The scene at that moment was truly beautiful. The outcome of this matter should have been perfect. This legendary powerhouse of humanity had no reason to lack confidence. Yet he forgot one very important thing: confidence often means underestimating one's opponent. Moreover, it was only in that final instant that he realized who his true enemy was.
That cold sword thrust toward Zhu Luo's clone.
Chen Changsheng had earlier felt this sword was not as terrifying as he had imagined. Now he realized that the other party had been holding back all along. This sword was truly terrifying—so terrifying that even someone like Zhu Luo could not evade it.
With a soft *pfft* sound.
Liu Qing's sword traced a bizarre curve in the torrential rain, like a sparse branch in a moonlit pond, slicing the moon's radiance in the water into several pieces. At the same time, it cut into Zhu Luo's clone, plunging deep inside!
This was not the end, but the beginning.
Only after Liu Qing's sword pierced Zhu Luo's clone did it begin to unleash its most intense power. That cold sword suddenly became scorching hot, then began to glow, to burn, spewing forth countless golden firebirds. Each firebird seemed to carry a sun on its back. Rain Street was abruptly illuminated, and Zhu Luo's clone burned from the inside out!
This was the secret sword art of Li Mountain.
The Golden Crow Sword Technique.
A furious roar echoed from the other end of Rain Street.
Zhu Luo's gaze crossed Wang Po's iron blade, fixed on the scene dozens of zhang away. He was enraged to the extreme. Liu Qing's sword had clearly pierced only his clone, yet somehow, at this moment, his chest began to bleed!
In the centuries since stepping into the sacred domain, had anyone dared to wound him? Had he ever bled? He had long forgotten the feeling of being injured, even forgotten that he could be hurt.
Until now.
But what truly infuriated him was not the injury itself, but the identity of that assassin—and the fact that the assassin had used Li Mountain's Golden Crow Sword Technique. This filled him with immense rage and even stirred some ominous premonitions!
The furious roar resounded across Rain Street. Zhu Luo slashed his sword at Wang Po before him. His sword intent surged, the dark clouds parted abruptly, and the moonlight brightened countless times over. Simultaneously, the sword light falling on Wang Po multiplied manyfold.
Wang Po's blood gushed from his body like a storm, yet the iron blade in the rain remained unmoved.
Zhu Luo's sword struck before him but landed far away. At the same moment he swung his sword, using the Water-Moon Body technique, his clone at the other end of Rain Street also struck at Liu Qing. Though it was a clone, it possessed nearly the same formidable strength as his true self. Even if the opponent was the world's third-ranked assassin, how could he withstand the might of such a sword?
Liu Qing's elusive, ghostly figure was entirely enveloped in the sword light. With countless sharp *ssshh* sounds, in an instant, dozens of bloody holes appeared on his body.
If it had been any other opponent, even one of the same Gathering Star Upper Realm as Liu Qing, they would have died on the spot under Zhu Luo's wrathful sword, with no possibility of exception.
But Liu Qing was no ordinary cultivator. He was an assassin.
He excelled at killing people, and naturally, he also excelled at avoiding being killed.
The seemingly ordinary, even shabby clothes he wore were actually woven from ghost silk, capable of resisting cuts from ordinary blades. Of course, in a battle of this level, that was of little significance. More importantly, beneath his clothes, he wore a soft armor made by the Tang clan of Wenshui. His ordinary, unremarkable face was actually a mask—unlike Xiao Zhang's white paper mask, this one came from the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion, with defensive power equivalent to armor. Of course, this too was of little significance. But... all these things combined gave it meaning.
The meaning was that Zhu Luo's furious sword could not kill him on the spot. It meant he could still stand in the torrential rain and continue to strike.
The sharp *ssshh* sounds turned into the crisp clashing of sword intent against hard objects.
Liu Qing was drenched in blood, yet stood firm as a mountain.
In that moment, the assassin became a death warrior.
Because behind him stood Su Li.
The sword in his hand, like a sparse branch in a moonlit pond, had clearly exhausted its momentum, yet it forcibly advanced another inch. The burning sword, spewing countless firebirds, radiating infinite light and heat, exploded the next moment!
The sword exploded inside Zhu Luo's clone!
With a thunderous *BOOM*!
The torrential rain on the long street was blasted backward.
Zhu Luo's clone suddenly became extremely bright, with faint signs of damage at its edges.
And at the other end of Rain Street, Zhu Luo's chest was a bloody mess!
...
...
Having silently followed Su Li and Chen Changsheng for dozens of days, Liu Qing had suddenly struck moments ago, stabbing Chen Changsheng until he was drenched in blood. Only when Zhu Luo arrived on the scene did he finally reveal his true purpose. It turned out he was not there to kill, but to protect.
This sword, whether in terms of calculation or any other aspect, had been pushed to the extreme.
It could be said that this sword was the best summary of Liu Qing's entire career as an assassin.
Such a bizarre sword. Such a radiant sword. Such a patient sword. Such a terrifying sword.
This sword was powerful and fearsome to an unimaginable degree.
But... it was still not enough to kill Zhu Luo.
Because this extreme still belonged to the extreme of the mortal world.
And a powerhouse like Zhu Luo, since stepping into the sacred domain, could be said to have transcended humanity!
The furious roar had not yet ceased when it suddenly transformed into a clear, cold cry, desolate and icy to the extreme, like the bright moon above a snowy plain.
Zhu Luo's clone swayed unsteadily under the washing of the rain, but did not disperse.
The next moment, a phantom sword suddenly appeared in the clone's hand.
It thrust straight at Su Li.
Su Li watched the sword expressionlessly. His right hand had already grasped the handle of the yellow paper umbrella.
Even if he had no strength left to fight, for people like them, they would die in battle.
That was roughly the meaning.
After unleashing his sword, Liu Qing could no longer hold on and collapsed into the rainwater.
Blood spurted from his body and face.
He could do nothing more.
Zhu Luo's sword arrived, clear, solitary, and cold.
Because he was truly enraged.
He was determined to kill Su Li. No matter who tried to stop him, they would die together.
Suddenly, a faint dragon's roar echoed across Rain Street.
Or rather, a dragon's cry.
It turned out that Chen Changsheng was still present.
Just at the moment Zhu Luo was about to toss him aside, Liu Qing's sword had arrived.
So he had fallen onto Rain Street.
The Dragon's Cry Sword was in his hand.
He rose from the water, leaping into the air to strike.
When he struck, it was the dragon's cry.
His sword met Zhu Luo's sword.
The real Dragon's Cry Sword met the illusory Moonlight Sword.
There might be no difference between the swords themselves—perhaps the Dragon's Cry Sword was even stronger.
But the gap between the swordsmen was simply too vast.
Silently, that phantom sword, like moonlight shining on a snowy plain, easily bypassed the blade of the Dragon's Cry Sword and continued forward.
Then, it was blocked by the scabbard.