Longevity Sect.
Jian Wudi drew his sword once more, and as the blade swept through the air, a golden light flashed across the dim night sky. In that instant, the entire night suddenly brightened as if it were day. Then, the three short swords at Jian Wudi’s waist unsheathed themselves, swirling around him, their golden radiance shimmering as if ready to strike Su Muyu at any moment.
Su Muyu also drew his sword. A cool breeze swept through the courtyard, and everyone felt a slight chill—a refreshing sensation on this sweltering, stifling summer night. Xu An touched his cheek and murmured, “It feels like rain.”
But Ge Xiu looked up and frowned slightly. “No, it’s not raining.”
Two streams of Sword Qi clashed.
The golden Sword Qi devoured Su Muyu’s in an instant, but then Su Muyu vanished from his spot. Jian Wudi retracted his sword, hesitated for only a second, then abruptly turned around—only to see Su Muyu already behind him, swinging his blade toward him.
Jian Wudi saw clearly that as the sword descended, raindrops splashed from its surface.
“Fine sword!” Jian Wudi roared. The three short swords circling him shot forward to meet Su Muyu’s strike.
Below, Su Changhe and Su Zhe, engaged in their own battles, turned their heads in unison, their expressions flickering with surprise. Su Changhe muttered, “It seems you’ve truly met a worthy opponent—you’ve even brought out your strongest, most reserved technique.”
The three short swords were knocked away by Su Muyu’s Sword Qi before they could even come within three feet of him. Then, Su Muyu’s blade was already upon Jian Wudi.
When Jian Wudi saw that sword, something long dormant in his heart stirred for the first time in years.
If Su Muyu claimed that Jian Wudi’s sword was the purest he had ever seen, then Su Muyu’s sword must be the most complex Jian Wudi had ever encountered.
The Sword Intent it carried was laden with too many emotions—resentment, fury, endurance, compromise, killing intent, tenderness… This single strike seemed to encompass every emotion a person could possess.
What had this man experienced to be able to wield such a complicated sword?
Yet, when the blade finally fell, all those emotions seemed to settle into tranquility.
Like rain after thunder and lightning.
Once the rain passed, everything returned to calm.
Jian Wudi also swung his sword without hesitation. The light from this strike was even more dazzling than the last, so bright that those below had to shield their eyes.
Jian Wudi’s earlier words were no exaggeration—every sword he unleashed after emerging from seclusion was stronger and more domineering than the last.
A deafening “boom” echoed through the air, as if thunder had cracked the sky.
But it was merely the collision of two swords.
Then, the golden light vanished. Su Muyu plummeted from the sky. Su Changhe’s eyes flickered, and he swiftly flung out a strand of Puppet Silk to catch him, though Su Muyu still stumbled upon landing. His hand was now empty. With a bitter smile, Su Muyu looked up and reached out, catching the falling sword midair.
Su Changhe raised an eyebrow. “Lost?”
Su Muyu shook his head. “Won.”
“Not good,” Su Changhe sighed softly.
“Very not good,” Su Muyu murmured.
The onlookers were baffled. If he had won, why was it “not good”?The last remnants of the golden light faded away, yet Jian Wudi remained standing on the rooftop, still gripping his longsword, though his eyes were now tightly shut. He slowly asked, "That sword strike just now was quite impressive. Tell me its name."
"Rain's Momentum," Su Muyu replied.
Jian Wudi nodded. "You won that round. I call myself Jian Wudi—Invincible with the Sword—yet the first strike after emerging from seclusion ended in defeat."
"Do swordsmen care so much about winning or losing? I only recognize life and death," Su Changhe said coldly. "You're still alive, so I don't consider this a victory."
"But after that last strike, I gained new insight. With this next sword technique, you will surely lose," Jian Wudi declared solemnly.
"Let's switch places. I don't even use a sword—who cares about his so-called insights? I'll beat him until he can't stand," Su Changhe said, rising to step forward, only to be momentarily blinded by the flash of a golden axe. He growled, "Su Muyu, you deal with Dian Ye."
Su Muyu shook his head. "Let me try once more."
On the rooftop, Jian Wudi opened his eyes—his pupils had turned a gilded gold, eerie and unsettling. Those eyes slowly rolled, as if uncertain whether they could truly see. He raised his sword, took a deep breath, and said, "None of you will escape."
"Just as I thought..." Su Changhe's lips twitched slightly.
Su Muyu sighed softly. "Pure Sword Intent is rare in this world. But when anything reaches an extreme from which there is no return, the greatest good becomes the greatest evil, the greatest evil becomes the greatest good, and the brightest light becomes darkness. He... has succumbed to demonic deviation."
"If demonic deviation makes my sword stronger, why not embrace it?" Jian Wudi asked.
"If you refuse to turn back and continue wielding your sword like this, within a year, the Sword Intent will backlash, shattering every meridian in your body until you perish," Su Muyu said quietly. "My father was once obsessed with the sword, yet he never neglected his family or the people of his city. One may hold the sword as something important, but it should never be the only thing."
"People will betray you. A sword never will." Jian Wudi raised his blade. "Die. You cannot possibly block this strike."
"Damn it." Su Muyu wanted to raise his sword in response, but the previous technique, "Rain's Momentum," had drained him too much. To execute another strike, he needed time to recover.
Su Changhe wanted to intervene, but Dian Ye and the Poisonous Woman, wielding golden axes laced with deadly toxins, were not aiming for victory—only to trap him, making the situation all the more frustrating.
At the city gates, Xie Xuan gazed toward the Longevity Sect's direction. There, a golden light flickered—now flaring, now fading, now flaring again—causing his brow to furrow. The coachman beside him followed his gaze and asked, "That doesn't look like a fire over there, does it?"
"A towering blaze, bright enough to rival the sun and moon," Xie Xuan muttered. Suddenly, he stretched out a hand, and the swords lying beside the fallen warriors in the distance began to tremble violently. Then, Xie Xuan drew his own blade—Wan Juan Shu (Ten Thousand Scrolls)—and all those swords shot toward him like arrows. The coachman quickly ducked beneath the carriage, covering his head, while Xie Xuan swung Wan Juan Shu, deflecting the incoming blades one after another.
The swords soared through the air, hurtling straight toward the Longevity Sect."Friend of the Su Family, I am trapped here and cannot join you in battle," Xie Xuan declared loudly. "Let this flying sword aid you as much as it can!"
OpenNovel