Chapter 520: Heaven and Earth
A flash of sword light rose, so dim compared to the infinite radiance surging from the snowy mist beyond the bridge that it was utterly insignificant. The trajectory the sword traced through the rain and fog, the direction of its fall, was equally ordinary and unremarkable—anyone who saw it would deem it a very common sword strike. Yet at the very moment the sword tip lifted, the rain and snow drifting down from the sky suddenly ceased, and even the boundless light brought by the Zhai Sword began to converge and fade, drawn into the Stainless Sword!
The Great Light Sword had not yet arrived; what came with the smoke and mist was the sword intent—formless in shape, imageless in meaning. But Chen Changsheng had already seen through the intention of the Zhai Sword hidden behind the light, because he wielded the Wisdom Sword. He had spent seven full days polishing his wisdom eye, seeking to see the truth.
Being able to guess the sword intent hidden in the mist and perceive the truth not yet revealed did not mean he could easily break it. How did he manage it? The seemingly casual lift of the Stainless Sword, that sword move—clearly utterly ordinary—was nonetheless perfectly suited to the moment. It was like a meticulous painting of flowers and birds: he appeared to casually drop the final stroke, the ink line so twisted and weak, but if you stepped back a little, you would see it was a plum branch.
A casual dot of ink could also be the finishing touch; an ordinary stroke could sometimes bring the entire picture to life.
The problem lay in knowing when and where to place that dot of ink, to make that stroke—this required countless hours of practice and insight, so that one knew exactly where the stroke should fall and what brush technique to use.
What brush technique was this? What sword was this?
From a level beneath the deck of the great ship came a somewhat uncertain voice: "Plum Cottage Little Sword?"
The speaker was an instructor from the Ancestral Sacrifice Institute. Given his status, he naturally could not stand at the bow, but from a distance of about a li, he could still barely make out the sword Chen Changsheng had lifted in the rain and mist. He found the sword move very familiar, was greatly surprised, and blurted it out without thinking.
Many people heard this remark. Recalling Chen Changsheng's sword move, they realized it was indeed the little-known Plum Cottage Little Sword from the Ancestral Sacrifice Institute. For a moment, no one could speak. The fact that Chen Changsheng had an extraordinarily broad mastery of sword techniques had long stunned them into numbness. But how could he have thought to use such a common sword technique to break Xu Yourong's Great Light Sword? And it seemed to be working?
Was it really working? No, this was just the beginning.
The Great Light Sword, one of the world's five ultimate techniques, was not so easily broken. Just as Chen Changsheng's sword move broke through the rain and mist and began to show its edge, the light that had slightly faded in the snowy mist suddenly burst forth again, transforming into countless sword marks, carrying snow and rain as it once more slashed toward Chen Changsheng.
The light was still within the snowy mist; Xu Yourong was still at the other end of the bridge. Yet countless sword moves were already converging, each hidden and unexpressed. From the traces in the mist alone, one could sense how exquisitely subtle and infinitely powerful these sword moves were.
This was the most incredible aspect of the Great Light Sword. Light traveled between heaven and earth, capable of imitating all things, capable of imitating all swords. No matter how high Chen Changsheng's sword cultivation was, when faced with such a sword technique that could change on its own like a tapestry of flowers and snow, what could he do?
Xu Yourong's sword showed no pause at all. Just as that Ancestral Sacrifice Institute instructor cried out in surprise, the Zhai Sword broke through the snow, now only a dozen zhang from Chen Changsheng. The momentum of the Great Light Sword had already crossed the stone bridge and arrived before him.
Unlike the battles of the past days in front of the National Academy, Chen Changsheng did not use the Yecha Step to try to escape the opponent's sword momentum or launch a preemptive strike. Having fought Nanke, he knew well that trying to match the speed of the Heavenly Phoenix bloodline was a very foolish choice.
Moreover, since he had drawn the path on the snow bridge and Xu Yourong had accepted it, how could he retreat now? His expression calm and focused, he gazed at the boundless light within the snowy mist, hesitated not at all, gripped his sword with both hands, and from top to bottom, slashed toward the brightest point of the light!
From the great ship came Tang Thirty-Six's shout of approval: "Mountain-Toppling Staff! Break!"
Xu Yourong's Zhai Sword had not yet truly descended; what came through the snowy mist was sword intent.
Similarly, Chen Changsheng had transformed the National Academy's Mountain-Toppling Staff into a sword, but it had not truly broken the Great Light Sword.
The light within the snowy mist had already shifted through three sword intents, and Chen Changsheng had responded with three corresponding sword moves.
All of this happened in an extremely brief span of time.
Sword light illuminated the Naihe Bridge shrouded in smoke and rain, and then never faded, one flash after another.
The Luo River seemed to have entered a midsummer thunderstorm, with lightning flashing from time to time.
Yet the clouds formed by the snowy mist remained as violent and powerful as ever, not torn apart by those lightning bolts, moving toward the other end of the bridge.
Neither the people on the ship nor the citizens on both banks of the Luo River could make out the details on the Naihe Bridge anymore—such as the drifting sleeves and white gauze—only faintly seeing the figures of Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong within the rain, fog, and snowy mist.
The sacred aura radiating from Xu Yourong as she walked slowly grew stronger and stronger, the oppressive weight of the light more intense, like a divine statue in the Li Palace. Chen Changsheng, standing still, remained as before—calm and silent as a stone, unchanged in form and unmoved in heart no matter how the flowing water washed over him.
One moved; one was still.
What was still was the heart; what moved was the sword.
The Stainless Sword was like lightning; the Zhai Sword was more like a bright sun. But within the rain, fog, and snowy mist, they were actually more like two ships sailing on a twilight sea, riding the wind, breaking through the waves, drawing closer and closer, until at last they would meet.
Until now, Chen Changsheng's and Xu Yourong's swords had not yet met, but their sword intents had clashed countless times.
Countless crisp sword chimes rang out over the Luo River, followed by the tearing sound of sword edges cutting through all hard things.
Protected by powerful formations, the Naihe Bridge—which even warships could not ram and destroy—seemed so fragile in the sea of light and towering waves stirred up by the two swords. Countless cracks appeared on the hard bridge surface; the flying stone chips were instantly crushed by the sword momentum. The railings on both sides were covered with dense, spiderweb-like cracks. The stone-carved beast heads that had silently watched the Luo River for countless years were slashed by the splashing sword intent, sending stone chips flying, their ears broken and faces scarred.
The citizens on both banks of the Luo River were farther away and could not see the scene on the bridge clearly, only the light within the falling snow and the sounds. Even so, their minds were stirred and unsettled. The people on the ship were closer and were even more shaken by the exquisite sword moves within the rain, fog, and snowy mist, exclaiming in surprise.
"Is that the Tian Dang Sword Technique!"
"Fisherman's Song Three Times!"
"How does he know the Sword Technique of the Heartless Sect!"
The exclamations came from below. Those standing at the bow looked at the Naihe Bridge in silence.
Yes, there was indeed no sword technique in this world that could completely break the Great Light Sword, because this sword move from the Holy Maiden Peak was too incredible. At the moment the light appeared within the mist, Chen Changsheng recalled the records in the Dao Canon and felt the same awe—he had never seen a sword technique so intricate, nearly all-encompassing, yet so simple, already in accord with the Heavenly Dao. He had not even imagined it. The Great Light Sword was already the final shore of the sword path. Since beginning his cultivation, he had only felt something similar when he saw Su Li's sky-covering sword that cut open the path south on the demon realm's snowy plains.
With his current level of sword cultivation, there were only two ways to break the Great Light Sword: use the final form of the Li Mountain Dharma Sword, or, as he had done in the Zhou Garden or in Xunyang City against Zhu Luo, unleash the ten thousand swords from the sword pool hidden in the scabbard. But the former would inevitably lead to mutual life or death—an unacceptable choice—and the latter was something he himself could not control the consequences of, which would exceed the calculations and deductions of these seven days, so it too could not be chosen.
In the end, the method he used was the third sword Su Li had taught him, the one even Su Li himself had not mastered. But this time, he took the sword intent, not the sword move itself. He did not use that sword for defense; he only used its clumsiness, because that method seemed very clumsy by any measure.
He used countless swords to break Xu Yourong's single sword.
Light illuminated the mortal world, capable of imitating all sword intents of heaven and earth.
So he would unleash all the swords of heaven and earth.
This method was clumsy, but the person who could learn all the swords of heaven and earth and know when to strike and which sword to use, in order to break the formless form and imageless intent before the light—how could he truly be a clumsy person?
The instructors and students from the various institutes of the Green Vine below the great ship could not understand. The important figures standing at the bow, however, understood this very clearly.
So as they watched the sword intents crisscrossing between heaven and earth above the snow bridge, they remained silent for a long time.
The Minister of Rites was not a cultivator and could not hold back, asking, "How many swords now?"
Linghai Zhiwang said expressionlessly, "The Dean has delivered forty-three swords."
Priest Siyuan said with complex emotion, "And not one sword has finished."
Both statements from these two leaders of the state religion were correct, and they were not referring separately to Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong.
Xu Yourong's Great Light Sword had indeed not yet been fully executed.
Chen Changsheng's forty-three swords could, of course, be understood as one sword.
The bow was quiet. In fact, at the very beginning, people had been speaking.
When Chen Changsheng delivered his sixth sword, Su Moyu said softly, "I lose."
When Chen Changsheng delivered his ninth sword, a divine general returning from the Galan Pass to report on his duties frowned slightly and shook his head.
When Chen Changsheng delivered his eleventh sword, Xue He gently touched his severed arm.
When Chen Changsheng delivered his twenty-seventh sword, Zhe Xiu shook his head. If he were to face Chen Changsheng in a direct contest, he would lose here—of course, this was about sword dueling, not life-and-death combat. Then he looked at Tang Thirty-Six, somewhat puzzled, thinking, could you really hold out longer than me?
Tang Thirty-Six had never said when he would lose, but now he sighed with emotion, "Have all of us learned our swords to waste?"
The faces of many at the bow turned somewhat ugly, but they could not refute it.
Everyone knew Chen Changsheng had thoroughly read the Dao Canon. Had he also learned all the sword techniques in the world?
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(Without a backlog and as busy as a dog, these days are truly sorrowful. I miss my work state from last month and hope to start putting in more effort from next Tuesday.)