Chapter 13: Half Bridge Rain, Half Bridge Snow
"This sword is somewhat unusual."
Standing at the bow of the ship, gazing at the snow-covered stone bridge a li away, sensing the sword intent emanating from it, the expressionless face of the King of Linghai finally showed a hint of change.
Master Siyuan remarked, "A disciple of Dean Shang, naturally, is no ordinary person."
The sword intent Chen Changsheng had released was strong, but not enough to shock experts of their caliber. The shift in his mood came from the two layers of meaning fused within that sword intent.
This sword intent was hot.
Chen Changsheng knew well that whether in terms of true essence quantity or spiritual sense intensity, he was far inferior to Xu Yourong, who possessed the bloodline of the True Phoenix. So he did not hesitate to ignite the flame within his heart.
The battle had just begun, and he had not yet truly drawn his sword. But when he did, it would inevitably be his strongest strike.
A wisp of spiritual sense fell upon the endless snowy plains outside his Nether Palace, and those plains began to burn simultaneously. The Bridge of Helplessness also started to burn—no visible flames, yet the temperature rose perceptibly.
In an instant, the snowflakes falling toward his body melted, turning into water midair, splashing onto him and the bridge, washing away all the snow that had accumulated earlier.
This sword intent was straight. It bore some resemblance to the sword he had used earlier to block Xu Yourong's avalanche-like strike, but it was even straighter—not a cliff face nor a riverbank, but a single, unbroken line.
Because it was straight, it was unyielding. The Stainless Sword remained in his hand, not yet unleashed, yet the wind and snow on the Bridge of Helplessness had already frozen in midair. A straight line appeared across the center of the bridge.
The Bridge of Helplessness was split into two entirely different worlds by this line.
He was on this side; Xu Yourong was on that side.
Rain was on this side; snow was on that side.
...
...
The sword intent enveloped the stone bridge, rain falling while snow thinned.
Chen Changsheng raised the Stainless Sword in his hand, his gaze calm and resolute.
This was his first attempt to burn his true essence so violently since learning the Burning Sword from Su Li. Yet the amount of true essence and the momentum of this strike still fell short of Xu Yourong's earlier avalanche. But the spirit, energy, and focus of his sword were fuller, sharper, and more concentrated.
Mao Qiuyu suddenly took a step toward the ship's bow, staring at the distant bridge with a furrowed brow of disbelief. "Why does this feel somewhat like Po's blade path?"
Tang Thirty-Six said, "It is Wang Po's blade path."
As he spoke, his expression was grave. Earlier, he had claimed this duel was only about victory or defeat, not life or death, so he hadn't been too concerned. But now, watching Chen Changsheng's sword intent, he began to doubt his own judgment—and unease crept in.
The people at the ship's bow, hearing Mao Qiuyu and Tang Thirty-Six's words, were shaken. They naturally recalled the rain-soaked battle in Xunyang City. Xue He, who also wielded a blade, felt especially conflicted, his gaze fixed intently on the Bridge of Helplessness, unwilling to miss any detail that followed.
Xu Shiji said expressionlessly, "This boy is incredibly lucky to have the chance to learn from so many powerful masters."
"That has nothing to do with luck," Mao Qiuyu said gravely. "To learn Wang Po's blade path, one must walk his path. Not everyone can do that."
This was true.
Earlier, Chen Changsheng had used the sword techniques of Nanxi Zhai to execute the Heavenly Sound Fall, which could be attributed to his broad knowledge and the aid of the National Church, along with many fortuitous encounters on his path of sword cultivation.
But learning Wang Po's blade path was not so simple.
He had to believe in Wang Po's blade path and practice it without hesitation.
And that was precisely what worried Tang Thirty-Six.
Wang Po's blade path was all about straightness.
No matter how powerful the enemy before the iron blade—even if it was an opponent impossible to defeat—the hand gripping the blade must remain steady, and the blade's edge must stay that straight.
To achieve this, the wielder's heart had to be as straight as the blade's edge.
That somewhat shabby middle-aged man had proven this through countless battles in Tianliang County, the Tang Clan of Wenshui, the Huai Academy in the south, and Xunyang City.
Silence fell at the ship's bow. The experts, whose realms and strength far surpassed Chen Changsheng's, asked themselves whether they could walk Wang Po's blade path. In the end, they all arrived at a negative answer.
On the Bridge of Helplessness.
Chen Changsheng had not yet drawn his sword, but his sword intent had already been unleashed.
The snowflakes falling from the sky turned into raindrops, weaving a curtain that shattered piece by piece.
The broken raindrops near him were entirely evaporated into mist, shrouding his body.
Xu Yourong stood in the snow, her eyes narrowing with a solemn expression. The white veil covered her face, and the rain and mist blurred her vision, but it did not hinder her perception of this sword intent.
She knew clearly that if she crossed the line at the center of the Bridge of Helplessness, she would face Chen Changsheng's unreserved—and inevitably his strongest—strike.
This strike would surely decide the outcome.
Of course, she could continue standing in the snow, waiting for any changes that might occur later. But that might also mean allowing Chen Changsheng to elevate his sword intent to an even more terrifying level.
If he could manage it.
Chen Changsheng burned his true essence without reservation, using Wang Po's never-holding-back blade path to draw a clear line across the wind and snow on the Bridge of Helplessness.
He had drawn a line for this duel.
He made Xu Yourong choose.
The white veil fluttered gently.
Xu Yourong closed her eyes.
Then, she opened them again.
Opening and closing her eyes—it was but a moment.
In that moment, she had already made her choice.
Below the bridge, the Luo River continuously received snowflakes and light rain, rippling gently.
The large ship on the distant water also swayed slightly.
One of the painters from the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion, standing at the very front of the ship's bow, suddenly swayed. The other two painters from the same pavilion also had expressions of shock.
Then, their trembling voices, filled with shock and unease, rang out.
"Is that the sword?"
"Is it going to end so soon?"
The three painters were all at the Star Gathering Realm, not the strongest present.
But they had observed and recorded countless famous battles, and they were the most sensitive to the shifts within a fight. So they were the first to understand what had happened.
Soon after, Mao Qiuyu, Master Siyuan, and others also grasped it.
A dead silence fell over the Luo River.
All of this was because the girl on the Bridge of Helplessness had reopened her eyes.
The white veil fluttered, the wind and snow stirred wildly, but they could not hide her gaze.
Faint golden specks drifted out from beneath the white veil.
Were those specks coming from her eyes?
The Zhai Sword trembled lightly in the wind and snow. The snowflakes landing on its blade were instantly vaporized into mist.
Half of the Bridge of Helplessness was snow mist, half was rain fog, as if suspended in the clouds, no longer of the mortal world.
Xu Yourong, too, seemed no longer of this world.
She was so sacred and solemn that even the most ordinary person could sense that she had gained a power beyond the mundane.
Watching this scene on the bridge, Mao Qiuyu, Master Siyuan, and the King of Linghai showed expressions of disbelief, and simultaneously whispered in trembling voices, "The Great Radiant Sword?"