Chapter 59: A Brow-Raise Shakes Heaven and Earth
A sharp, panicked cry rang out: "Protect the honored one!"
The honored one was the venerable. On this mountain path, the only venerable was Chen Changsheng. Those cultivators, disregarding the snowflakes in the sky, rushed toward Chen Changsheng. Even Zhong Hui, his face grim, drew his sword and charged. In an instant, the mountain path was filled with the sound of wind being cut… followed by the tearing of cloth and flesh!
The thin snow was like the sharpest divine weapon, slicing through everything it encountered!
Blood sprayed across the mountain path, condensing into crimson beads of ice that rolled everywhere.
The cultivators blocked Chen Changsheng's path, bearing wounds light and heavy. None had died, but their courage was nearly spent.
Who was that middle-aged scholar? Which sage was he?
He was no sage.
He was the antithesis of all sages.
Liu Qing's face paled as he thought of this. Suddenly, he let out a muffled groan, drew his sword, and thrust it forward!
Sword light flashed like lightning, born by the stream's edge.
Xiao De had been waiting for this moment. He moved as well, even faster than Liu Qing.
Countless blood vessels bulged on his face, brownish fur burst through his skin, and his aura grew even wilder as he lunged at the middle-aged scholar!
The middle-aged scholar finally withdrew his gaze from Chen Changsheng and looked at them. Then he slightly raised an eyebrow.
With that single brow-raise, heaven and earth trembled.
The sword light by the stream abruptly vanished. Accompanied by an ear-piercing snap, the sword in Liu Qing's hand broke in two.
He crashed onto the grass, a bloody gash appearing on his wrist, spurting blood continuously—a truly miserable sight.
Xiao De fared even worse. He hadn't even managed to cross the stream before he was slammed down into the water by that force of heaven and earth.
With a sharp crack, he fell to one knee. Stream water splashed, and blood splashed with it!
He had undergone a berserk transformation and used a blood-sacrifice secret technique, making his body harder than steel. Yet with that single kneel, his kneecap shattered into powder!
But it was only one knee; he hadn't fully knelt in the stream. This powerful demon clan warrior gritted his teeth, roaring savagely, struggling with all his might to push forward!
Liu Qing was the same. Even as he spat blood, he gripped his broken sword and thrust it forward again. Somehow, his left hand had already seized the other half of the shattered blade!
The middle-aged scholar was too powerful. Even if they set aside their past grievances and fought together, they couldn't defeat him.
But they couldn't stop here, couldn't lie down or kneel.
Because humans and demons never surrendered before the demon race!
Watching the two charge at him with death in their hearts and broken bodies, a faint smile curled at the corner of the middle-aged scholar's lips.
When he smiled, the mountains and waters brightened. Yet it remained desolate and cold, because there were still no humans or demons among those mountains and waters.
Before him, all humans and demons would die.
The deeper the middle-aged scholar's smile, the deeper the wounds on Liu Qing and Xiao De, until their white bones were visible!
With two sharp thuds, Liu Qing and Xiao De finally failed to reach the middle-aged scholar. They collapsed before the persimmon grove, blood splattering everywhere.
Liu Qing kept his mouth shut, his face pale, silent. As an assassin, if he was to die, he should die in silence.
Xiao De howled in fury, like a wounded beast, in pain and unwillingness.
Seeing this, the dozen or so demon clan warriors by the stream finally overcame their deepest fears. They grabbed their weapons and charged at the middle-aged scholar.
The demon clan expert closest to the grove, with death in his heart, directly activated his blood-sacrifice secret technique. His form suddenly grew enormous, vaguely revealing his elephant clan's true shape. He let out a deep, furious roar, sweeping up gravel and icy water from the stream to hurl at the middle-aged scholar.
The middle-aged scholar seemed to grow annoyed. He casually flicked his sleeve.
The heavy body of that elephant clan expert flew into the sky.
As it soared upward, the mountain-like form of the elephant clan expert continuously disintegrated, spraying countless blood arrows. Eventually, it broke into dozens of chunks of flesh, crashing down downstream.
The other demon clan experts met even grimmer fates—broken arms, legs, and feet, some even cut in half, yet not dying immediately.
The stream bank was covered in blood, entrails, and the despairing, mournful howls of agony!
Xiao De's eyes burned with fury as he stared at the middle-aged scholar and roared hoarsely: "I'll kill you!"
Earlier on the mountain path, when he said he would kill Chen Changsheng, it was just a bargaining tactic. But because he truly had that ability, his words had carried a chilling edge.
Now, when he said he would kill the middle-aged scholar, it sounded more like a helpless child's wail, stirring pity in the listener.
The middle-aged scholar didn't even acknowledge his roar.
Whether it was a top-five expert on the Carefree List or the world's third-greatest assassin, it meant nothing to him. It wasn't worth a moment of his attention or time.
His gaze once again fell on the mountain path, on Chen Changsheng.
The landscape on his face gradually faded, revealing a face that might or might not have been his true one.
That face was handsome, yet weathered—like a newly formed green plum, or like the ancient Buddha of the legendary Garuda Temple.
Standing amidst the blood and flesh, amid the endless cries of pain, he looked at Chen Changsheng with a calm, indifferent expression, yet also with a faint smile.
……
……
Snowflakes fell thick and fast, and the mountain path was bitterly cold.
Everyone felt it.
Everything had happened too quickly. From the moment they turned the corner on the mountain path and saw the middle-aged scholar standing before the grove across the stream, to his turning to look at them, the death of the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion steward, Liu Qing and Xiao De gravely wounded and near death, and the dozen or so demon clan experts either dead or wishing they were—it had all taken only a few breaths.
Neither Chen Changsheng, nor Zhe Xiu, nor Tang Thirty-Six had time to do anything. And even if they had, it would have been meaningless.
The middle-aged scholar was too terrifying.
Since leaving Xining and arriving in the capital, Chen Changsheng had seen some truly peerless experts. But whether it was Zhu Luo of the Eight Winds, the Star-Gazing Guest, or Bie Yanghong, none of them came close to this middle-aged scholar. Even the Southern Saintess he had seen in Xunyang City seemed a level weaker than this man.
Could the Pope be stronger than this middle-aged scholar?
Chen Changsheng had only seen the vast starry sea in the Pope's eyes, never the Pope in battle. He couldn't draw a conclusion.
If he had to find someone in his past cultivation journey who matched this middle-aged scholar's level, it would have to be Su Li.
And even then, it would have to be Su Li at his peak, in his best state.
Back on the demon snowfield, when Su Li drew the Sky-Covering Sword from his yellow paper umbrella and carved a vast, sweeping path south for hundreds of miles, it had given Chen Changsheng a similar feeling.
Who exactly was this middle-aged scholar?
Chen Changsheng suddenly remembered that when he left the Zhou Garden and delivered the yellow paper umbrella to Su Li, he had glimpsed a patch of night in the distance.
That night had risen from Snow Old City, covering half the sky.
Now, Cold Mountain was also shrouded in that same night.
His face instantly turned deathly pale.