Chapter 170 — The Divine Sword
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 6
Moments later, into the long-quiet sky came again that *whoosh* of air being sundered, and then came a heaven-and-earth-covering onslaught of sharp, whistling shrieks as countless Slaying Immortal qi-swords streaked across the sky, one after another, hurtling toward the Beast Lord with boundless killing intent. In an instant, the first wave—the purple qi-swords in square formation—was already upon him.
The Beast Lord's vast body seemed about to become the living target of those countless qi-swords—yet just before the righteous disciples crowding the slopes of Mount Canglan below could raise a cheer, the several hundred strange, long arms on the Beast Lord's body flared and flew up. Each arm was wreathed in dense black qi, until they looked almost like a vast black cloud, rising to meet the sky.
In an instant several hundred qi-swords plunged down, and the Beast Lord's several hundred strange hands danced through the air with ghostly swiftness. Against these Slaying Immortal qi-swords, which seemed well-nigh indestructible, those black hands showed not the slightest fear; in the blink of an eye the first wave of purple qi-swords was seized or struck, entangled or deflected, until every last one was caught. Amid the black qi those qi-swords swiftly lost their color and dissolved away.
Countless onlookers were struck dumb. In a thousand years, this was the first being ever to stand and trade blows head-on with the Slaying Immortal Sword Formation!
Yet amid the shifting winds and clouds, no time was left for idle thoughts of such things. Like a great river in angry flood, the sky boiled and surged; the huge, multicolored master sword continued to shed ever more small qi-swords, and more still, under the command of the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword and Dao Yan Zhenren, dissolved into an endless rain of swords that poured down, each blade carrying the Slaying Immortal killing intent, sharp and terrible, wave upon wave, like thunder, like lightning, crashing toward the Beast Lord.
The Beast Lord roared ceaselessly at the heavens, his vast voice echoing among the clouds; at this moment he seemed to face the gods themselves, fighting heaven itself. His grotesque thousand hands and hundred arms whirled through wind and cloud, black qi surging in layer upon layer, answering that sky-filling chorus of shrieks!
Wave upon wave—hundreds, thousands, ten thousands of qi-swords seemed endless, thundering down—yet the Beast Lord's vast body, as though the demon himself had taken flesh, seemed never to know a moment of fatigue. These two figures, the greatest masters of the arts of cultivation in the world today, crashed against each other in savage fury upon the peak of Mount Canglan.
But human strength, in the end, must have its limit…
Wave, and yet another wave!
Only when the forty-ninth wave of qi-sword formations came thundering down—when the seven-colored sword formations had bombarded him round after round a full seven times—did Dao Yan Zhenren, standing at the crest of the storm, turn ashen pale. Even his right hand, gripping the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword, wrapped in white light, began faintly to tremble.
Before him, the Beast Lord was in far worse straits. After enduring this tempest of frenzied sword formations, more than half of the hundred-odd fearsome arms on his body had been destroyed outright, and the dense black qi that had once shrouded him was now visibly thinner. Yet when he caught the last wave of qi-swords, the savagery on his face, far from fading, only deepened; his will to fight, undiminished, burned fiercer still, and with a hoarse, grotesque laugh, like the low growl of an evil spirit, it burst from him.