Chapter 564: One Glance, Cold Snow Falls
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Chen Changsheng did not notice that the sky had suddenly darkened.
Because at this moment, he was utterly shocked.
Liu Qing was the third-ranked assassin in the world. His swordsmanship had been guided by Su Li, his talent was extraordinary, his cultivation realm was extremely high, and most crucially, his will was unshakably firm. Back in Xunyang City, he had dared to scheme against and even strike at Zhu Luo with his sword. So why now, when death was staring him in the face, did he not dare to draw his sword against that middle-aged scholar?
Could it be that this middle-aged scholar was even stronger and more terrifying than Zhu Luo?
Zhu Luo was one of the Eight Directions Wind and Rain. In the entire continent, those stronger than him could be counted on two hands.
Was this middle-aged scholar Bie Yang Hong? Was he Nan Tie? Or perhaps he was the Heavenly Mechanism Old Man?
No, this middle-aged scholar did not resemble any of the Eight Directions Wind and Rain.
“Could it be His Majesty the White Emperor?” Tang Thirty-Six’s expression was extremely grim.
In truth, without careful deduction, the real answer was already on the verge of being revealed. It was just that those of them trapped in the mountains could never have guessed it. Because there was no reason whatsoever for that great figure to appear in the Cold Mountain, to appear here, to appear on this side.
Beside the small stream, aside from Liu Qing, there were others—Xiao De and over a dozen powerful demon clansmen who looked like subordinates.
The dozen or so demon clansmen were scattered across the grassy bank of the stream, while Xiao De stood in the water itself.
This great demon, who used a violent exterior to conceal his inner pride, whose calmness defied imagination, and who was an absolute realist, stared at the back of the middle-aged scholar before him. Finally, he shed all his disguises. His pale face was etched with vigilance, and his brownish-yellow eyes were filled with despair.
A sword wound marked his body. The one who had given him that wound, Liu Qing, now had blood seeping from the corners of his eyes under the oppressive pressure of that middle-aged scholar, unable even to draw his sword. Xiao De understood all too clearly the vast gap in strength and cultivation between himself and that middle-aged scholar, which was why he was so utterly despairing.
But despair did not mean surrender. A battle intent, growing fiercer and more violent, radiated from his body.
Truly worthy of being a top-five expert on the Carefree List. Earlier on the mountain path, his performance had seemed far below his reputation. But now, facing the true shadow of death, facing this night that shrouded the Cold Mountain, he finally revealed his fearless will.
Xiao De’s gaze fell upon Liu Qing’s right hand.
Liu Qing’s hand gripped his sword, trembling slightly, appearing very weak.
Xiao De was waiting for an opportunity.
He knew that only by joining forces with this green-robed sword expert who had wounded him could they possibly wrest a nearly impossible sliver of a chance at survival from before this middle-aged scholar. He believed that since he himself had not given up, this green-robed man would give up even less. No matter how violently the hand gripping the sword trembled, it would eventually steady itself at some moment.
Unfortunately, that middle-aged scholar did not give them that chance.
Just as Liu Qing’s hand was gradually steadying, and Xiao De’s breathing was becoming stronger, the middle-aged scholar turned around.
A moment ago, the middle-aged scholar had stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the persimmons in the woods that hung like lanterns, resembling a retired official returning to his hometown.
The next moment, the middle-aged scholar turned to face them, his expression calm, and instantly reverted to the identity of a peerless expert.
The appearance of this middle-aged scholar was difficult to describe in words. Because whether it was Liu Qing or Xiao De, both peak Star Condensation experts, they felt as if a faint layer of night shrouded his brow and eyes, making it impossible to see clearly. As for Chen Changsheng and the others on the mountain path, they were even less capable of making out this man’s face.
People could only see… the world on the middle-aged scholar’s face.
The middle-aged scholar’s face was covered in written characters and painted with landscapes. At one moment, it was a vast desert of drifting yellow sand; at another, it was a magnificent, surging blue sea. With a raise of his brow or a curl of his lip, the myriad things of heaven and earth moved in response. The scenery was incredibly vivid, yet it carried an absolute sense of cold desolation.
Because this world contained countless scenes, but not a single person.
Not a single person at all.
All the people were dead.
Seeing the middle-aged scholar’s face, Liu Qing confirmed his conjecture. His face grew even paler, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
He had bitten his own tongue. Only through this method could he keep his mind steady.
Deep within Xiao De’s eyes, which were beginning to show signs of berserker transformation, a surge of blood-red color welled up—a precursor to activating the demon clan’s Blood Sacrifice Secret Art!
With the conjecture confirmed, even joining forces could not win them any chance of survival. They had to bring out their most hidden, most powerful techniques to even have a hope of fighting for their lives. And what made them feel a bitter sorrow was that even fighting for their lives, they could not continue to live in this world. They only hoped to delay for a moment, to let the Saints know what was happening by this small stream. Only then would their deaths not be in vain… Well, being killed by this great figure, no matter how one thought about it, it was not in vain.
That middle-aged scholar paid no attention to the mental activities of Liu Qing and Xiao De. He did not even glance at the two of them, even though they were peak Star Condensation experts preparing to fight to the death.
His gaze fell upon the distant mountain path, upon Chen Changsheng.
With that single glance, snowflakes began to fall from the dim sky, landing on the mountain path and also on Chen Changsheng.
Against the backdrop of the eerie night, the snowflakes falling from the sky appeared extremely pure white, yet they were infinitely dangerous.
The temperature on the mountain path plummeted, becoming bitterly cold. Chen Changsheng and the others instantly felt their bodies freeze stiff. Even the flow of true essence within their meridians slowed down countless times. If this situation were allowed to continue, in a few breaths, let alone fighting, even walking would become extremely difficult.
Sensing such terrifying danger, they naturally wanted to avoid it. But snowflakes were everywhere along the mountain path; there was nowhere to go. Because those snowflakes, seemingly light and gentle, each thin flake seemed to contain an unimaginable amount of heavenly and earthly power.
At that moment, a very subtle fluctuation of energy arose on the mountain path.
That steward from the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion had, at some unknown time, used his divine sense to activate a secret treasure hidden in his sleeve, preparing to send a warning deep into the Cold Mountain.
With a soft crack, the moment the secret treasure emitted its energy, it was directly crushed by the snowflakes surrounding the mountain path. The Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion steward’s right arm shattered into bloody pulp!
“Enemy attack!” The Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion steward, filled with fury and despair, let out a sharp howl towards the depths of the Cold Mountain.
The howl did not travel far. It was sliced into fragments by the countless snowflakes, falling softly to the ground like dust.
At the same time, a spray of blood burst from the steward’s lips, instantly frozen by the extreme cold into countless deep red particles, scattering all over the mountain path.
The steward’s body slowly collapsed, and he no longer breathed.
A chorus of exclamations rose from the mountain path.
The cultivators participating in the Cauldron Stone Convention glared angrily at the middle-aged scholar by the distant stream.
They could not clearly see that middle-aged scholar’s face, but they could feel his indifference, or rather, his calm detachment.
With one glance, ten thousand snowflakes fell, trapping everyone on the mountain path with a formation, then casually killing a steward of the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion. To this man, it truly seemed like a trivial matter.
From the moment his gaze had fallen, the middle-aged scholar had been staring at Chen Changsheng.
What did this mean?
…
…
(There will be another chapter at eight in the evening.) r1148