Chapter 58: A Single Glance Brings Winter Snow
Hot Recommendations: , , , , , , ,
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 under heaven, his swordsmanship had been guided by Su Li, his talent was extraordinary, his cultivation realm 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 fearsome than Zhu Luo?
Zhu Luo was one of the Eight Winds and Rains. On this 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, was he the Heavenly Mechanism Old Man?
No, this middle-aged scholar did not resemble any of the Eight Winds and Rains.
"Could he be the White Emperor?" Tang Thirty-Six's expression was extremely grim.
In truth, there was no need for careful deduction; the real answer was already on the verge of being revealed. Yet, trapped as they were in these mountains, they could never have guessed it. Because there was no reason for such a great figure to appear in the Cold Mountain, to appear here, to appear on this side.
Beside the small stream, besides Liu Qing, there were others—Xiao De and over a dozen powerful demon clan warriors who looked like subordinates.
The dozen or so demon clan warriors were scattered on the grassy bank of the stream, while Xiao De stood in the water itself.
This great demon, who used a violent exterior to mask his inner pride, whose calmness defied imagination, and who was an absolute realist, stared at the back of the middle-aged scholar before him. He finally 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 inflicted it, Liu Qing, now had blood seeping from the corners of his eyes under the oppressive aura of that middle-aged scholar, unable even to draw his sword. Xiao De understood all too well the vast chasm 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 indomitable 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 if 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 that crucial 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 growing 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 forest that hung like lanterns, resembling a retired official returning to his hometown.
The next moment, he 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 both Liu Qing and Xiao De, peak Star Condensation experts, felt as if a faint layer of night shrouded his brows and eyes, making them 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 inscribed with countless words and painted with landscapes. One moment it was a vast, sandy desert; the next, a magnificent, surging azure sea. With a raise of his brow or a curl of his lip, all things in heaven and earth moved in response. The scenery was incredibly vivid, yet it carried an absolute sense of cold desolation.
Because this world contained myriad sights, but not a single person.
Not one person.
All the people were dead.
Seeing the middle-aged scholar's face, Liu Qing confirmed his conjecture. His face grew even paler, and a stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He had bitten his own tongue. Only through this method could he keep his mind from collapsing.
Deep within Xiao De's eyes, which were beginning to show signs of berserking, a surge of blood-red color welled up—a precursor to activating the demon clan's Blood Release Secret Art!
With the conjecture confirmed, even joining forces could not secure any chance of survival. They had to resort to their most hidden, most powerful means just to fight for their lives. And what made them feel a profound sorrow was that even fighting to the death, they could not continue to live in this world. They only hoped to delay for a moment, to let the sages 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 you thought about it, it wasn't in vain.
That middle-aged scholar paid no attention to the mental turmoil of Liu Qing and Xiao De. He didn't 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 exceptionally pure white, yet they were infinitely perilous.
The temperature on the mountain path plummeted drastically, 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 on the mountain path, front and back; there was nowhere to go. Because those snowflakes, seemingly gentle, actually contained an unimaginable amount of the world's primordial power within each thin flake.
Just then, a very subtle fluctuation of energy arose on the mountain path.
That steward from the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion, at some unknown moment, had used his divine sense to activate a secret treasure hidden in his sleeve, preparing to send a warning to the depths of 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 was shattered into bloody pulp!
"Enemy!" The Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion steward, filled with fury and despair, let out a sharp howl towards the depths of the Cold Mountain.
The howl failed to 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 breathed no more.
A chorus of exclamations erupted on the mountain path.
The cultivators participating in the Boiling Stone Assembly 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 perhaps his detachment.
With a single glance, ten thousand snowflakes fell, trapping everyone on the mountain path with a formation, and 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 fell, the middle-aged scholar had been staring at Chen Changsheng.
What did this mean?
...
...
(There will be another chapter at eight in the evening.)