Chapter 170 — The Divine Sword

The Beast Sovereign laughed at the sky, and its vast body suddenly, impossibly, launched itself into the air, pouncing at Daoist Zhenren Yanyan. At once, from sky to earth, a great cry of alarm went up. Only Daoist Zhenren Yanyan, startled but unflustered, drew a deep breath, gave a soft shout, and his mount, the water qilin, long since attuned to his spirit, immediately retreated.

But the Beast Sovereign, for all its immense bulk, was swift as lightning; in a blink it had pounced to within arm's reach, and black qi surged as no one could say how many giant arms reached out to seize him.

At this critical juncture, Daoist Zhenren Yanyan abruptly reversed the ancient sword Slaying Immortals. His pale face flushed red and returned to pallor—three times in rapid succession—and then the strange radiance of the ancient sword Slaying Immortals surged like a great whale drawing in water, in an instant pulling down the countless qi-swords from the sky and gathering them before him into a wall of multicolored blades.

The Beast Sovereign's expression changed drastically, but it was too late to withdraw its hands. From the heavens came a thunderous chorus of thuds and cracks, and in an instant black qi scattered in disarray, no one could say how many grotesque hands reduced to flying ash.

Seeing Daoist Zhenren Yanyan turn peril into safety and even grievously wound the Beast Sovereign, the countless disciples on Canglan Mountain went from terror to jubilation, cheering and leaping. But before their cheers could die down, they saw that within the dazzling blade-wall, though countless black-qi hands had been annihilated, there remained one black arm—the thickest and mightiest of all, its black qi especially dense—forcing its way through. One palm strike, and it landed upon Daoist Zhenren Yanyan's chest.

Daoist Zhenren Yanyan reeled as though struck by lightning. His whole frame convulsed, and together with the water qilin beneath him, he howled skyward; man and beast alike were hurled backward, flying a full dozen zhang before finally coming to a stop. And those below saw clearly that along that backward flight, his dark green daoist robe was instantly shredded to powder, and from his mouth sprayed bright red blood, drop by drop, seeming to fall upon the ancient sword Slaying Immortals, dotting the white light with specks of dark red before slowly fading away.

Sky and earth alike fell into sudden, deathly stillness.

The Slaying Immortals formation in the heavens seemed affected as well, swaying and shuddering, its sky-full sword shadows restless and churning, until at last it settled into stillness. But whether because the true dharma had been damaged, the once world-covering Slaying Immortals formation now encompassed less than half its former range.

An ill foreboding seemed to settle over every heart.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Daoist Zhenren Yanyan glanced at his palm, where bright red streaks of blood ran across the skin. He gazed at his hand for a long while, then slowly raised his head and looked ahead. Now sword qi and black clouds had both scattered; the Beast Sovereign ahead was watching him with a predator's glare. Yet from the look of it, though the Beast Sovereign had wounded him, its own condition was scarcely better.

Its remaining grotesque arms, about half its original number, had in an instant suffered yet another grievous blow, more than half again erased by the Slaying Immortals sword qi. Now scarce several dozen remained—but these survivors were the mightiest of arms, wholly unlike the ordinary grotesque hands. As for the Beast Sovereign itself, its black-qi-shrouded face now seemed faintly pale, yet the will to fight on its features was like that of the fiercest of wild beasts, growing stronger with every setback, showing not the slightest intent of giving up.

The corner of Daoist Zhenren Yanyan's mouth twitched, as though in a bitter smile—but even that faint movement seemed to tug at his wounds, and his body swayed several times, drawing cries of alarm from the countless people below. Fortunately he only swayed a few times before steadying himself. Yet his weakness was now plain for all to see.

The Beast Sovereign sneered with a grinding cackle and said in a low voice, "Well? You ignorant humans—even with such peerless divine relics to aid you, you meet the same end. You may as well slay yourself now and be done with it!"

Daoist Zhenren Yanyan raised his head in silence, gazing at the vast heavens. The strange radiance of the ancient sword Slaying Immortals reflected upon his face, and suddenly there was a peculiar light in his eyes.

"Patriarchs of Canglan Sect through the ages..." Daoist Zhenren Yanyan spoke at last, but his words came low and faintly sorrowful. "Your disciple Yanyan is unworthy. I lack the strength to subdue this heretical fiend, and the common people will suffer for it; catastrophe is at hand. For the sake of all under heaven, your disciple has no choice but to violate the patriarchs' prohibition. I beg the patriarchs' protection, that the fiend may be vanquished and the demons subdued. And should your disciple afterward be condemned to eternal ruin, I shall bear it all alone."

His voice was soft, and few could hear it. The crowd only saw him murmuring, his face seemingly stricken with sorrow, and all were puzzled, not knowing what Daoist Zhenren Yanyan was doing. But a moment later, they saw him in midair open his eyes, brows locked, terrible in his dignity. His left hand's sword mudra suddenly flicked out, slashing straight across the ancient sword Slaying Immortals at his chest.

White light blazed; red radiance flashed. Daoist Zhenren Yanyan's left hand plunged into the white light, and when it emerged, blood flew scattering. Yet though his face was pale, there was not the slightest trace of pain upon it. His left hand moved in swift strokes, tracing in the void with extraordinary speed a bizarre pattern; and the drops of blood falling from his fingers did not fall downward, but as he swept his hand, congealed in midair, forcibly manifesting the pattern.

A vivid crimson taiji diagram of blood!

The crimson blood began to flow swiftly across the taiji diagram, growing brighter and brighter, almost like red jade, and the diagram itself began to spin rapidly. Daoist Zhenren Yanyan's face grew paler and paler, while the ancient sword Slaying Immortals at his hand, wrapped in white light, began to tremble faintly—as though something within that legendary divine sword had been stirred awake, yearning for something!

The taiji diagram spun faster and faster, slowly rising until it stood three chi before Daoist Zhenren Yanyan's face. By now his countenance was ghastly pale, as though all the true essence and vital strength of his body had been drawn away by that diagram; yet with the last of his strength he lifted the ancient sword Slaying Immortals and suddenly thrust with all his might, running the blood-red taiji pattern clean through. At the same moment, he cried out in a great voice:

"Heaven!... Mechanism!... Seal!..."

With each syllable he cried, in the clear, bright cosmos, in the blue sky where no cloud or wind stirred, there came—remarkably—a peal of startling thunder, earth-shaking and heaven-stirring. A dread, mighty force descended from the heavens, formless yet seemingly substantial, pouring in through the crown of his head. A fierce wind arose; across his body, as though bursting apart, came bang, bang, bang, like explosions, accompanying his three ringing cries. In an instant the garment of his upper body burst asunder, reduced to flying ash.