Chapter 204 — The Broken Sword

Suddenly, from the deepest heart of the light burst a tremendous report, like a thunderclap crashing down from the heavens. A mighty blast of wind struck them full in the face, sand and dust rolling on every side, every object blasted outward—even the bodies of Zhou Yixuan and his companions were lifted off their feet and sent tumbling helplessly away.

And within that thunderclap there seemed to be a voice bellowing, thunder-like:

"Will you not turn back!"

The answer to that voice was a cold laugh, brimming with boundless contempt and arrogance.

The light and shadow wavered, then slowly dimmed and scattered away, and a great crater stood revealed amid the dust. In the pit two men faced each other: one whom Zhou Yixuan and the others had never seen, short and stout, his face full of wrath, a crimson immortal sword in his hand, awesome in his dignity—save that, whether from injury or not, traces of blood already edged the corners of his mouth. The other, by his robes and bearing, was the mysterious man they had just fought, but the layer of black qi that had shrouded his face and form had now dispersed—perhaps because the struggle with this stout man had been too fierce for him to maintain it.

Seen from afar, this mysterious man wore the Daoist robes of Canglan Gate, and his features were serene and mild, with a long five-stranded beard; at first glance he gave the impression of an accomplished adept, distinguished and uncommon. Only now his eyes glittered with cold light, red gleams flickering in them, lending him an added strangeness.

The stout man glanced toward Zhou Yixuan and the others, seemed to see that the three were for the moment in no mortal danger, and at that showed a shade of relief. Then his expression turned grave; he fixed his eyes on the Daoist, and after a long moment said with a cold sneer: "Did you think that a 'Heart-Piercing Lock' art alone could hold me?"

Red gleams flickered in the Daoist's eyes; the savage aura upon him was at its height, almost a visible thing, ceaselessly stretching and retracting. "I'd forgotten," he said, voice bleak, "that art was created by the patriarch of your own line. Still—worn upon your own body, it can't be pleasant."

"Pah!" the fat man barked. "You have fallen into the demonic path, and you still dare talk so wildly. The Heart-Piercing Lock was long ago forbidden by decree of the patriarchs of every generation. You ignore the ancestral precepts—have you any regard left for the patriarchs of Canglan Gate?"

The Daoist sneered. "That day you fought me a great battle; the wreck of the ancestral shrine was hardly my doing alone. Have you any regard left for the patriarchs of Canglan Gate?"

The fat man choked on that, and grew only angrier—yet for a moment could find nothing to say, and could only glare at the Daoist. The Daoist studied him a few moments, then said with a sudden cold smile: "I'd advise you not to play the strong. Your cultivation runs deeper even than I thought—deep enough to break the Heart-Piercing Lock's ban by force—but to save those three you spent your cultivation to force a way through. Now the blood and qi are surging back, every channel in your body in turmoil. At best you've six-tenths of your usual cultivation left. Heh heh."

He laughed, bleak and cold. "In your prime that day you were no match for me—I took you and locked you in that ruined coffin. And now you dare stand against me?"

The fat man showed not the least sign of fear or retreat. "In those years you and Senior Brother Wan were peerless in the world, sweeping away demons and monsters," he said sternly. "I followed at your heels, and had I died for you I would have had no regret. But you are not the man you were, and what I do now is what you and Senior Brother Wan did then—striving unto death without regret."

He gave a long cry, his face bearing a measure of steadfastness and a measure of deep grief, and shouted: "Take my sword!"

Even as the words left him, his figure was a bolt of lightning, merging in an instant with the blazing red light, like a dragon soaring into the heavens, hurtling down upon the foe. The red in the Daoist's eyes blazed high, yet his pupils contracted slightly. The crimson pillar of light was so mighty it seemed to rend the sky and split the earth, well-nigh unstoppable—leaving only one road: to perish together.

Yet he laughed coldly all at once. His right hand swept out, and a cold gleam kindled—no great radiance to it—and yet it checked the crimson pillar's course before his breast.

The instant that cold gleam touched the crimson pillar, it blazed suddenly with glory; seemingly edgeless and dull, it nevertheless cut its way in by main force, light flickering blinding-bright and trembling.

The fat man gave a sudden furious roar, then a cry of pain; the crimson light broke and folded back, bursting apart with a roar. He was flung staggering through the air, could not even keep his feet when he struck the ground, and reeled backward again and again—and all the way back, blood was already bursting from his mouth. His injuries were plainly grave; even the breast of his robe was soaked through with a great stain of red.

As for the Daoist, the cold gleam flashed and was gone. Look closely, and in his hand he held a plain, unremarkable ancient sword—archaic in form, and stranger still in substance, like stone and yet not stone. Strangest of all, the sword was broken: the first two feet of it had snapped away.

Blood running from his mouth, the fat man glared at the Daoist and rasped: "You—you dared bring the Immortal-Slaying Sword down from Canglan Mountain?"

The Daoist threw back his head and laughed wildly, his manner arrogant beyond measure. And in the distance, the more Zhou Yixuan and the other two heard, the more appalled they grew—until at the last their minds were simply blank with shock.

The ancient Immortal-Slaying Sword!

That broken blade in the Daoist's hand—was it truly the Immortal-Slaying Sword, the first of all immortal blades under heaven?

Then who in the world were these two men, whose cultivation was so terrifyingly high?