Chapter 607: The Old Man's Move

Xu Fengnian, with only his purifying earth soul remaining, had stopped the blood flowing from his brow. The other Xu Fengnian, who had returned from his out-of-body spiritual journey, possessed one heaven soul and two earth souls. Even combined, they were still missing two heaven souls and four earth souls, yet this was enough to wound Wang Xianzhi. Xu Fengnian didn't feel his abilities were lacking, but verbal arguments were pointless. So, when Wang Xianzhi questioned him, he didn't engage in a verbal battle with the clearly angered old man. Instead, he openly focused on repairing the body gifted to him by Gao Shulu.

Wang Xianzhi sneered, "So, you have no last words?"

Xu Fengnian raised his hands to his face, wiping away the blood with his fingers, his gaze clear.

Wang Xianzhi pronounced a single word heavily: "Good."

Then, the Xu Fengnian who had "returned from his travels, wielding a sword," saw Wang Xianzhi step forward and hurl the long spear forged from heavenly lightning.

However, as he witnessed this scene, the Xu Fengnian with a physical body had already been sent flying backward, crashing to the ground a hundred zhang away. His uncontrolled body even bounced once on the ground, sliding back another dozen zhang before finally stopping.

Wang Xianzhi's attack was so incredibly fast that the standing Xu Fengnian only saw the afterimage left behind after Wang Xianzhi threw the lightning spear.

The fallen Xu Fengnian slowly rose, hunched over, his chest revealing a large, mangled expanse of flesh and blood, occasionally crackling with white lightning. As he extended his hand, countless thin red threads, like crimson snakes, emerged from his arm. Wherever Xu Fengnian's fingers touched, these red threads and the white lightning annihilated each other. It was evident that the secret art Xu Fengnian had stolen from Han Diaosi's head did not produce immediate, dramatic results.

The lightning spear remained in Wang Xianzhi's hand, its power diminished by only a fraction.

Another footprint appeared in the sand before the old man.

Xu Fengnian, having just straightened up, was struck again by the lightning spear. This time, however, he wasn't knocked down. His head tilted slightly backward, and his hands gripped a section of the lightning, preventing it from piercing his neck. His feet skimmed lightly over the ground as he darted backward.

The first time, Xu Fengnian had intentionally left himself wide open, enduring a lightning strike with Gao Shulu's immaculate physique, hoping to gain a deeper understanding of Wang Xianzhi's energy flow. Since Wang Xianzhi's second spear was identical, there was no need to remain so receptive to attacks.

The footprints before Wang Xianzhi grew deeper, and the intervals between his spear throws became shorter. From a distance, Xu Fengnian could only retreat repeatedly, falling back eight consecutive times. For the final retreat, he employed the nameless boxing technique taught by Hong Xixiang of Wudang. His waist moved like an axle, his body rotating in a circle, and his hands also drew arcs to form circles. The lightning followed Xu Fengnian's body, circling around him again and again. When Xu Fengnian finally stood still, his spine was erect, his back straight without slouching. His hands gently swayed up and down, and a few inches above each palm, a flickering orb of lightning pulsed. They appeared playfully light, making it easy to underestimate the formidable power they contained. Xu Fengnian moved his hands in arcs, and the two snow-white lightning orbs, wreathed in electricity, merged into one and gradually dissipated before him.

Simultaneously, the Xu Fengnian who had returned from the "Black and White Spring and Autumn" underwent a drastic change in expression and began to dart towards "himself."

A ninth footprint appeared before Wang Xianzhi, who now held only three feet of lightning in his hand. Before Xu Fengnian's spirit could re-enter his body, Wang Xianzhi closed in on the latter, delivering a strike that was neither clearly a spear nor a sword.

This three-foot length of lightning instantly pierced Xu Fengnian's body as easily as a knife slicing tofu. Wang Xianzhi, gripping the three feet of lightning that had successfully breached Gao Shulu's physique, abruptly pulled it up, lifting Xu Fengnian entirely into the air.

The next scene was perplexing: Before Wang Xianzhi could pull out the lightning, Xu Fengnian acted first. He pressed his hands against the divine weapon, which seemed to come from the heavens, and kicked Wang Xianzhi's shoulder. His body floated two zhang away, his steps faltering. Not only did he not seize the chance to pull out the lightning, but he forcefully slapped it, intentionally driving it further into his body.

Wang Xianzhi did not pursue. He stood his ground, nodded, and for the first time, showed a hint of admiration.

If Xu Fengnian had pulled out that lightning segment himself, then the preceding eight spear strikes and the final sword strike would have been endured for nothing.

The eight spear strikes were merely a diversion. The crucial part was the new sword technique Wang Xianzhi had created, which he had originally intended for Deng Tai'a upon his return from visiting immortals.

People commonly use "three feet of green blade" as a metaphor for a long sword. His sword technique was called "Three Feet." In advanced swordsmanship, intent is always more important than technique, and the profound meaning of "Three Feet" naturally lay within those three feet. If Xu Fengnian had pulled out the three feet of lightning to lessen his injury, he would naturally not have grasped its profound secret. But even if he understood the meaning of the "Three Feet" sword, what then? Even if Wang Xianzhi were solely a swordsman, he possessed four more sword techniques, each no less than "Three Feet." The reason he chose this particular move was simple: since Xu Fengnian had wounded him with a single saber strike, he would return the favor, ensuring even the size of the wound was identical. As for his other four "Earth Immortal Sword" techniques, Wang Xianzhi's original intention for them was always to cut down a thousand cavalry with one strike, viewing the imperial court as nothing.

Wang Xianzhi came from humble origins. At that time, the Liyang imperial court was far from its current inclusive nature; it was truly a period where the poor had no path to nobility. He still remembered the hardships he faced after abandoning scholarly pursuits for martial arts. He finally mastered a rudimentary form of qinggong for the first time but dared not display his skills in the bustling cities. Instead, he could only practice in desolate wilderness areas, experiencing the sensation of gliding over grass and leaving no trace in the snow. Exhausted, he would make the heavens and earth his bed, collapsing freely onto the grass or snow. He still recalled the earthy scent of mud and grass, and the cool feeling of washing his face with snow. Later, by chance, he switched to practicing swordsmanship. The sheer ecstasy he felt when his sword first manifested qi was a memory that remained vivid, no matter how many years had passed. After that, he gradually ascended to the pinnacle of martial arts, looking down upon the human world as he rode the wind. Looking around, there was no one standing beside him; conversely, there were few things left worth remembering.

The two Xu Fengnians stood together, but their souls never merged. This was because Wang Xianzhi's sword strike damaged the spirit far more than the body. Since Gao Shulu's physique could still endure the injury, there was no need to overcomplicate things. If they recklessly merged, it would be akin to walking into a trap and would damage the originally immaculate and invincible golden body.

Wang Xianzhi's wound was already sprouting new flesh, muscle, and bone, like tender buds on a branch, his chest injury no longer shocking to behold. Now, it was Xu Fengnian's turn to suffer. The red threads, like crimson snakes, struggled to cling on, yet they still couldn't completely purge the lingering lightning sword qi.

Wang Xianzhi suddenly spoke, "When I was still a scholar, I had a heart-to-heart conversation with an elder scholar. He said something that I remember to this day, though he is likely long reduced to dust in his grave: 'Rather than having your words recorded in history, it is better to have your head hung at the nation's gate.' Yet, in that chaotic era, this scholar simply died amidst the turmoil of war. He never had the chance to implement his ambitions in the imperial court, nor did he die a meaningful death. When I heard of his demise and went to collect his body, it was merely one among over a hundred corpses, strewn haphazardly along a muddy roadside, which I dug out and hastily buried. The long sword this gentleman wore in life, likely worth dozens of taels of silver, had long been taken. His possessions became commodities for lesser men, traded for official positions or drinking money."

"When has Wang Xianzhi ever blocked the path of a junior?"

"While I held sway in the East Sea, for every day I lived, has there ever been a martial artist as brazen as Liu Songtao, causing chaos in the world?"

"The imperial court is powerful, with armored soldiers and cavalry galloping forth, while the common people are unarmed. In the rise and fall of empires, the ones who die most are precisely these innocent people. I do not expect these people to easily cope with oppression from officials in times of peace, or the marauding soldiers and bandits in times of chaos. I only hope that when more people are at their wits' end, or even just before death, they can take one step forward, instead of merely kneeling and begging for mercy. What Wang Xianzhi seeks is not much; it is merely to grant the people of the world this one step, nothing more."

Xu Fengnian calmly asked, "Why are you saying these things?"

Wang Xianzhi calmly replied, "I have lived too long and seen too much; usually, I have nothing to say to anyone. You refuse to speak your last words, but I want you to die with full understanding. If you were merely an ordinary prince's descendant, inheriting your position through two generations of schemes, why would I bother speaking to you? I would consider killing you a defilement of my hands."

As Xu Fengnian was about to speak, Wang Xianzhi waved his hand and said, "I know what you want to say. It's simply that whoever's fist is bigger, their reasoning holds more weight. No matter how well you speak, if I don't wish to listen, that's all there is to it."

Xu Fengnian smiled and said, "The outcome is still far off. It's hard to say whose reasoning will ultimately carry more weight."

Wang Xianzhi neither denied nor affirmed. He said, "I have also said my piece. Soon, it will become clear who is truly more deserving of death."