Chapter 420: A Young Man's Miraculous Encounter with Ten Thousand Swords
Chen Changsheng's face was illuminated by the sword light, as pale as a snowy plain.
Zhu Luo's phantom stood before him, amidst the torrential rain, radiating boundless radiance like a divine statue.
An unimaginable pressure descended upon Chen Changsheng's body and soul as the sword approached.
His sword was, of course, inferior to Liu Qing's strike, yet it was no ordinary one. Facing a human supreme he had never encountered before—one he could not even have imagined—he naturally wielded his strongest blow.
The three swords Su Li had taught him were all contained within it.
The Clumsy Sword helped him stand firm against this sacred pressure. The Wisdom Sword allowed him to discern the trajectory of this strike amidst the downpour. For this sword belonged to the divine realm, formless and traceless; Wang Po and Liu Qing might barely grasp it at their level, but without learning the Wisdom Sword, he would have had no chance at all.
Finally, he burned his true essence and life force, attempting to block the strike.
Alas, it was impossible for him to stop Zhu Luo's sword, just as a mantis's arm cannot halt a galloping chariot.
Without any surprise, the phantom sword, carrying the moonlight, bypassed the edge of the Dragon's Roar Sword.
Yet, just as Zhu Luo's sword was about to pierce his eye, it was... blocked by the scabbard of the Dragon's Roar Sword.
How could a phantom sword be stopped by a real scabbard? Only Chen Changsheng, present at the scene, understood what had happened. It was difficult to explain in words. To the onlookers in the heavy rain, the image they saw was this:
—The phantom sword thrust into the scabbard held in Chen Changsheng's hands.
...
...
In the night sky and the water, there were two moons; on the rain-soaked street, there were two Zhu Luos—one real, one illusory. But both moons were equally bright, and both Zhu Luos were equally powerful, differing only in the presence of emotion.
When the phantom sword, laden with moonlight, pierced into Chen Changsheng's scabbard, the phantom of Zhu Luo before him showed no change, still expressionless, radiating light and heat from within. But farther down the rain-soaked street, where Zhu Luo had already suppressed Wang Po's iron blade into silence, his cold, detached expression was instantly replaced by shock and faint confusion.
Suddenly, countless sword cries rang out in the torrential rain.
Then, the sound of the rain was no longer audible.
Sharp, coarse, keen, clear, and muffled sword cries erupted violently on the rain-soaked street.
Throughout the entire city of Xunyang, only the sound of sword cries could be heard.
The phantom sword seemed to encounter countless swords in an instant—clashing, grinding, or cutting against each other. Countless sword cries sounded simultaneously, and some onlookers of lower cultivation levels in the heavy rain were directly knocked unconscious by the shock!
Yet, on the rain-soaked street itself, nothing seemed to happen. Apart from the falling rain, all was quiet. Where did these sword cries come from? Where were the swords that Zhu Luo's sword had encountered?
Those swords were all inside the scabbard of the Dragon's Roar Sword.
Chen Changsheng's strike was, in essence, ten thousand swords.
The ten thousand swords he had brought out from the Garden of Zhou.
But they were all sealed within the scabbard by Zhu Luo's sword.
Yet, they still met.
Ten thousand swords, though unsheathed, could still fight.
Inside the scabbard, for a moment, there was the clash of metal and the roar of a storm, thunder rumbling!
The phantom sword in Zhu Luo's hand was continuously sinking into Chen Changsheng's scabbard.
It was not returning to its sheath; it was steadily shortening.
Some luminous particles drifted around the mouth of the scabbard.
These were fragments worn away from the sword.
Though the ten thousand swords were damaged, their sword intent remained sharp. In an instant, at least several thousand cuts and grinds occurred. How could Zhu Luo's phantom sword withstand that! Even the real moon sword in his hand, at the other end of the rain-soaked street, was shortening just the same! More unimaginably, blood began to seep from between his fingers gripping the sword hilt!
Zhu Luo's face turned somewhat pale. His eyes, which had been as indifferent and emotionless as a deity's, once again showed a hint of confusion, which quickly transformed into a fury like a flood!
He could sense the swords inside Chen Changsheng's scabbard, even recognizing some as once-famous blades that had passed away, some bearing a familiar aura from centuries ago. But he could not pause to marvel at Chen Changsheng's miraculous encounter or inquire about the truth, because those once-mighty swords were now attacking him, and he was truly wounded!
He had been injured by a youth at the Penetrating Obscurity realm.
No matter that you were a young genius.
No matter that you were the youngest ever to reach the upper level of Penetrating Obscurity.
You were still only at the Penetrating Obscurity realm, just a sixteen-year-old youth.
How could you wound me? How dare you wound me? I, a grand Eight Winds and Rain, wounded by you—this was utterly unacceptable.
A furious roar echoed through Xunyang City, instantly suppressing the sound of the sword cries.
The rain clouds gradually dispersed, and the moonlight grew stronger.
Zhu Luo took a step toward Wang Po, his sword slashing downward.
On the rain-soaked street, dozens of yards away, his phantom leaned forward and pressed down on Chen Changsheng.
The phantom sword kept thrusting deeper into the scabbard.
The luminous sword fragments sprayed out more densely.
Those lights, those fragments, were the sharpness born from the cutting of sword intents against each other.
They looked beautiful but were extremely dangerous.
The heavy rain slowed, but the water on the street had not yet dissipated. As the sword fragments fell, they even scattered the ripples on the water.
Not to mention the bluestone pavement and broken walls—everywhere was covered in debris.
Liu Qing rose from the rainwater, continuing to guard in front of Su Li's horse, holding his sword horizontally before him.
Those luminous sword fragments shot toward him like countless arrows.
In an instant, his hairband was cut, his black hair flew up, and then the hair itself was severed.
His clothes were torn to shreds, and hundreds of tiny bloody holes appeared on his body, making him look utterly miserable.
But in the end, he protected the horse and the person on it.
Su Li sat on the yellow-maned horse, head bowed, saying nothing.
...
...
Logically, Chen Changsheng should have been dead by now.
Both Su Li and Zhu Luo thought so. But miraculously, though surrounded by a sky full of luminous sword fragments, he did not even gain a single wound. A certain aura, from an unknown source, enveloped his entire body. That aura might have come from the jade ruyi at his waist, or from a string of stone beads that had somehow appeared on his wrist.
No one could sense this aura except the sword fragments themselves. So when they reached Chen Changsheng, they naturally drifted away, and the details were perfectly hidden within the light.
Then, the heavy rain returned, the rain clouds gathered again, and the moonlight gradually faded.
In the curtain of rain, Zhu Luo's phantom slowly dimmed, becoming fragile.
Finally, at a certain moment, the phantom sword was completely devoured by the scabbard.
The phantom suddenly shattered into countless tiny bubbles.
Countless exclamations rang out across Xunyang City.
Zhu Luo stood at the other end of the rain-soaked street, covered in blood, his face pale.
His right arm trembled slightly, and his sword was now nothing but a broken hilt.
At that moment, Wang Po's iron blade finally reached him.