Chapter 469: Heaven and Earth, a Single Sword Between

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He Xinliang

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He Xinliang

Feng Huo Xi Zhu Hou

On the second floor of the inn, the sword qi, which was intrinsically linked to the sword body, was further amplified by Luoyang. The sword aura surged instantly, greatly surprising Xu Fengnian, who quickly summoned eight flying swords to construct a 'thunder pool' for defense. The flying swords and sword qi seemed to be fighting amongst themselves, with the sword qi repeatedly striking the flying swords, producing a continuous clanging sound.

Xu Fengnian's actions were also unexpected; he did not rush to destroy the sword qi. Instead, he fought and retreated, maneuvering around the second floor, gradually eroding the sword qi until that sword aura completely dissipated.

Afterward, Luoyang descended the stairs and advanced, pressing forward. Song Nianqing, disregarding the main figure upstairs, unleashed two swords, "Morning Bell" and "Evening Drum." These were followed by three swords representing "Heaven, Earth, and Man," and then the "Zhaodan" sword—a total of eight swords. All were truly new swords, like fresh trees in a sword forest, truly eye-opening. The three swords that borrowed from the Heavenly Manifestation realm, especially, and the subsequent "wandering sword" 'Zhaodan' which stumbled, all broadened Xu Fengnian's horizons.

Setting aside the unconventional flying sword techniques, Xu Fengnian's own sword mastery was barely considered entry-level, yet his discerning eye was exceptional. Sword Pool's Song Nianqing methodically delivered one sword after another. Even while carefully guarding against Liu Haoshi lurking in the shadows, Xu Fengnian watched intently, not daring to miss a single detail. Watching the swords was like appreciating calligraphy. An amateur might only see a piece of calligraphy with energetic strokes, but if they tried to write it themselves, they wouldn't understand the underlying structure or the rules of brushwork, thus failing to grasp its essence. This is why most people in the jianghu seek a master to guide them. Xu Fengnian was like a spectator who often watched master calligraphers write. The calligraphy he saw sometimes possessed graceful beauty, sometimes clear and powerful grandeur, sometimes solemn majesty, but all, without exception, expressed a self-contentment. Deep in Xu Fengnian's heart, there was an unknown, arrogant thought: he hoped that one day he could forge his own path, becoming a towering peak in the sword world, with few trees on its summit, but each one reaching the sky.

Xu Fengnian glanced at the old horse with swords on its back in the street. With eight of the fourteen swords used, he wondered if Song Nianqing's remaining six moves could transcend the 'Zhi Xuan' realm and directly reach the 'Heavenly Manifestation' realm. If he remained in 'Zhi Xuan', causing harm to Luoyang would be nothing but a pipe dream. Luoyang was not a member of the Three Teachings; her cultivation was a genuine martial artist's path to enlightenment, following the same route as Wang Xianzhi, utterly domineering. Among the top five experts in the new martial arts rankings at that time—Tuoba Pusa, Deng Tai'a, and Hong Jingyan—she had fought them all. Hong Jingyan, in particular, had been pulled from his fourth position and replaced by her. Facing such a demoness with almost no flaws, let alone 'Zhi Xuan' swords, even 'Heavenly Manifestation' swords probably wouldn't have a fifty-fifty chance of victory.

After a brief moment of shock and anger, Song Nianqing sighed deeply, "This old man was shortsighted. After years of secluded cultivation, I never thought I would become a frog in a well. Only now do I recall a white-clad woman blocking the Useless Monk by the Qingdu River, and I've finally guessed your identity. I wonder if it's too late."

Luoyang said she would teach Song Nianqing a sword move, but she wasn't seen drawing a sword from anywhere, nor did she use any external object as a sword. She merely extended her left hand across her chest, palm facing up, and slowly pressed her right hand downwards.

Song Nianqing, standing by the horse, looked up at the gloomy sky. He swept his hand over the six swords hanging on the horse's back. Without drawing them from their scabbards, three swords touched the ground, and three floated in the air, seemingly haphazardly placed in all directions.

Song Nianqing muttered to himself, "This old man has wielded swords his entire life. I only saw marrying and having children as troublesome matters for continuing the family line, fearing they would hinder my progress in the Way of the Sword. Forty years ago, I had a glimmer of enlightenment, almost achieving a sword immortal's strike. Twenty years ago, by chance, in a blessed land, I observed the rolling sea of clouds and a red sun rising in the east, as if it suddenly leaped into the world. I felt a new inspiration, yet I still abandoned that sword move. From then on, I began my secluded cultivation, wishing to progress gradually, first entering the Heavenly Manifestation realm, then the Land Immortal realm. Only after making some progress did I realize that I, born of Sword Pool, chose a peerless famous sword as my first sword. My first sword manual was a supreme secret manual, and my first inner cultivation technique was a peerless art. My benevolent teacher who taught me swordplay was even a grandmaster of the sword in his generation. My path was smooth, my sword cultivation progressed without hindrance, yet I was still left far behind by some reclusive individuals from the marketplaces and wild mountains. Only then did I understand that all things cry out when there is injustice. If there is no injustice in this old man's heart, how can I resonate with heaven and earth?"

Luoyang paid no attention to Song Nianqing's insights, nor did she acknowledge the six swords standing between heaven and earth. Her palms appeared to meet, yet a slight gap remained.

A celestial phenomenon occurred. Xu Fengnian gasped.

The tallest structure in the city was a Daoist temple's bell tower. Its pointed eaves seemed to be pressed down and broken by an invisible celestial hand. Immediately afterward, the bell tower collapsed downwards with unusual precision. A thousand-year-old ancient pagoda, second only to the bell tower in height, also began to be crushed. Across the entire city, all taller buildings began to uniformly collapse downwards, presenting a scene of being sliced flat. The vast city resembled a block of tofu on a cutting board, easily sliced horizontally, becoming thinner and thinner with each cut.

In a blink, Xu Fengnian dared not linger on the second floor and floated to the ground, his ears filled only with the deafening, grinding sound of immense gravity crushing wood and stone. Xu Fengnian lightly stomped his foot, then let out a bitter laugh. Not only was the sky pushing downwards, but the ground beneath was also restless, as if a great Buddha, looking down upon heaven and earth, had pressed its palms together, leaving no place to hide.

Heaven and Earth converged, leaving only a single line; this line was Luoyang's sword.

Song Nianqing's expression was grim. His three floating swords thrust upwards, while the three grounded swords penetrated downwards. Clearly, he was trying his utmost to adopt a majestic stance, as if supporting heaven and earth.

The line between heaven and earth was still ten meters high. Needless to say, the high city walls had long since been utterly destroyed. The elite cavalry that had been transferred from elsewhere to clear the city had truly stumbled upon a lucky coincidence. Without their "foresight," under the overwhelming might of Luoyang's grand sword strike, nearly ten thousand people would undoubtedly have been utterly annihilated.

The more the situation seemed set, the more Xu Fengnian remembered that three other masters were still hidden within the city: Liu Haoshi, Murong Longshui, and Old Moth of Spiderweb. Murong Longshui and the old fellow were indeed in the city, not far from there, three streets away. Murong Longshui sat cross-legged on a low alley wall, having procured a pot of wine from somewhere, and snacking on some tidbits held in her robe. Old Moth stood in the alley, making the same motion as Xu Fengnian, stomping his foot hard, which cracked all the bluestone slabs in the alley. The old man sighed, "I never imagined that after her battle with Tuoba Pusa in the far northern ice plains, this demoness Luoyang's methods would become even more insidious and profound. Princess, with her here, should we still intervene? I'm afraid we'd be pulling chestnuts out of the fire, not getting the roasted chestnuts but bringing trouble upon ourselves instead."

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Murong Longshui flicked a few peanuts, one far and one near, watching them shatter. She said, "This kind of immortal's technique, manipulating heaven and earth, is similar in principle to borrowing swords at Daxueping. After all, it can't be flawless everywhere, nor can every sword be an invincible immortal sword. Our whereabouts are bound to be detected, but it's not impossible to seize a slim chance of survival. What I'm afraid of now is that dog of the Zhao family in Tai'an City playing dirty, waiting for Luoyang to deal with us before making a move. But then it would also be harder for him to kill Xu Fengnian. It just depends on how Liu Haoshi chooses. Presumably, Xu Fengnian's head is worth more than the two of us combined. Besides, I hear that old man has a personal grudge against Beiliang. In any case, let's watch from a distance. Luoyang's temperament is unpredictable; if we provoke her, I don't want to die here in Liyang."

Murong Longshui lightly dropped into the alley. Old Moth had already quickly departed. The tall, robust princess glanced at Old Moth's somewhat hasty retreating figure and smiled.

In the street, Song Nianqing's three floating swords began to descend, while his three grounded swords began to rise. All six swords trembled and wavered.

Song Nianqing closed his eyes and concentrated.

A person has seven orifices. Each time a sword snapped with a clang, blood flowed from one of Song Nianqing's orifices. When all six swords had broken, Song Nianqing's eyes, ears, and arms were all bleeding profusely. The tragic sight of this sword master was truly horrifying. Yet, Song Nianqing's expression remained calm. Since only six of his seven orifices were bleeding, it indicated that besides the fourteen swords visibly on the horse's back, Song Nianqing, the foremost figure of Sword Pool, most likely had one more hidden sword.

Xu Fengnian, who was waiting for Song Nianqing to unleash his final sword—likely his last will—had only guessed half correctly. The princess and Old Moth were indeed in the city, but Liu Haoshi was not lurking there, waiting for an opportunity.

Ten miles outside the city.

An old man with a stern face stood in place. Only when Luoyang's hands began to draw heaven and earth together did he start to move his feet, extremely slowly. His first step covered less than half the distance of a normal person's stride. His second step was slightly faster, like an ordinary person's. His third step already covered a distance equal to two steps of an average person. And so on.

A horizontal bolt of lightning, spanning heaven and earth, surged towards the city.

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