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Translated by: Hypersheep325
Edited by: Michyrr
Chen Changsheng's face was illuminated by the sword glow, just like the snowy plains.
Zhu Luo's phantasm was right in front of him, standing in the torrential rain and emitting boundless light, just like the image of a god.
An unimaginable pressure, following the advent of the sword, fell upon Chen Changsheng's body and soul.
Of course, his strike was inferior to Liu Qing's strike. Nevertheless, it was also not normal. Confronting this supreme human expert who he had never encountered before or even imagined before, he had naturally used his most powerful attack.
The three swords that Su Li had taught him were all put to use.
The Stupid Sword helped him stand firm in the face of this divine pressure. The Intellectual Sword helped him determine the trajectory of Zhu Luo's attack through the downpour. It must be remembered that this attack was of the Divine Domain, formless and traceless. Perhaps experts of the caliber of Wang Po and Liu Qing could understand it somewhat, but if he did not know the Intellectual Sword, he wouldn't have the slightest possibility of grasping it.
Finally, he set ablaze his true essence and his life and attempted to block this attack.
It was a pity that he had no chance of blocking Zhu Luo's sword, just like how the arm of a mantis could never block a speeding carriage.
Completely according to expectations, the ghostly sword imbued with moonlight overcame the edge of the Dragoncry dagger.
And yet, just as Zhu Luo's sword was about to enter Chen Changsheng's eyes, it was blocked by the sheath of the Dragoncry dagger.
How could a ghostly sword be blocked by a real sheath? Only Chen Changsheng understood what was going on. This was very hard to explain with words. To those spectators watching the battle through the rain, the scene that they saw was:
That ghostly sword had stabbed into the sheath Chen Changsheng was holding with both hands.
The water in the night had two moons and on that stormy street, there were two Zhu Luos. One was real and one was phantasmal, but both of their moons were similarly bright. Both Zhu Luos were similarly strong, their only difference being that one lacked emotion.
When that ghostly sword brimming with moonlight stabbed into Chen Changsheng's sheath, the phantasm of Zhu Luo in front of Chen Changsheng did not change in the slightest, remaining expressionless as ever, releasing light and heat. But at the other end of the street, that Zhu Luo who had suppressed Wang Po's blade into silence had his expression transform from quiet and calm to shock and a tinge of confusion.
In the pouring rain abruptly rose the sound of countless swords clashing.
And then, the sound of the pouring rain could be heard no more.
Fierce, rough, sharp, bright, and heavy sounds of clashing swords exploded from the street.
All of Xunyang City could hear this clashing of swords.
That ghostly sword seemed to have instantly encountered countless swords, or perhaps it had collided against them, or grinded against them, or cut against them. The sound of countless clashing swords simultaneously rose up. Some of the spectators whose cultivations were a little low directly fainted at the shock of these sounds!
But it seemed like nothing had happened on that stormy street. It seemed like besides the pouring rain, everything else was very quiet. Just where did this sound of clashing swords come from? Where was the sword that Zhu Luo's sword had encountered?
Those swords were all in the sheath of the Dragoncry dagger.
Chen Changsheng's one sword had always been ten thousand swords:
Those ten thousand swords which he had brought out of the Garden of Zhou.
Unexpectedly, they had all been sealed in the sheath by the Zhu Luo's sword.
But in the end, they had met.
The ten thousand swords could not leave the sheath, but they could still face the enemy.
Within the sheath, for a mere moment, it seemed like a great army was present, or a furious storm, or booms of thunder!
The ghostly sword in Zhu Luo's hand was presently sinking into Chen Changsheng's sheath.
It was not returning to the sheath, but rather incessantly getting shorter.
Brilliant little particles were being sent flying from the opening of the sheath.
Those were fragments of the sword that had been ground away.
Although the ten thousands swords were broken, their sword intents were still sharp. It was only an instant, but at least several thousand instances of grinding and hacking had occurred. How could Zhu Luo's ghostly sword possibly bear this? Even the real moon sword he held in his hands at the other end of the street was similarly growing shorter! Even more unimaginably, blood began to seep out from between the fingers of the hand that was holding the sword!
Zhu Luo's face became somewhat pale. Those eyes which had previously always maintained that godlike expression of indifference and dispassion once again revealed a tinge of confusion, which then swiftly transformed into a deluge of rage!
He could sense the swords within Chen Changsheng's sheath and could even recognize those famous swords of the past. There were even some Qis which he had been familiar with several hundred years ago. However, he was incapable of sighing with emotion at Chen Changsheng's fortuitous encounter, nor of inquiring about the truth of this matter, because those once incomparably powerful swords were attacking him at this very moment. Moreover, he had truly been wounded!
He had unexpectedly been wounded by an Ethereal Opening youth.
I don't care what sort of young genius you are.
I don't care that you are the youngest person to reach the upper level of Ethereal Opening in history.
In the end, you are only at the Ethereal Opening realm, only a youth of sixteen years old.
How could you wound me? How could you dare to wound me? I, one of the magnificent Storms of the Eight Directions, have actually been wounded by you. This is impermissible.
His enraged roar resounded through Xunyang City, instantly suppressing the clashing of the swords.
The rain clouds scattered and the moonlight shone even more brightly.
Zhu Luo took one step towards Wang Po, the sword in his hand slashing down.
Several dozen zhang away at the other end of the stormy street, his phantasm bent over Chen Changsheng and pressed down upon him.
That ghostly sword continued to stab deeper into the sheath.
Those brilliant specks of sword fragments shot out even more densely.
That brilliance, those sword fragments, were all the sharp intent resulting from sword intent hacking at sword intent.
It looked very beautiful, but it was actually incredibly dangerous.
The downpour had gradually slowed, but the puddles of water were still present. When those sword fragments landed, they actually cut apart the ripples.
This was not even mentioning the gray stone on the ground and the broken walls. There were fragments of stone everywhere.
Liu Qing stood up from the rain water and continued to stand guard in front of the horse, his sword bared before his body.
Those brilliant sword fragments shot forward like countless powerful arrows.
In a flash, his hairband was severed and his black hair floated up before also being cut apart.
His clothes were in thorough disarray and his body had gained several hundred more fine and tiny bloody holes. It was a very miserable sight.
But in the end, he had protected that horse as well as the person on the horse.
Su Li sat on the buckskin horse, his head lowered in silence.
Logically, Chen Changsheng should have already been dead at this point.
Both Su Li and Zhu Luo thought this way. But miraculously, despite being engulfed by this cloud of sword fragments, his body did not gain a single additional wound. A Qi emerged from some place and completely enveloped his body. That Qi… perhaps it had come from the jade ruyi on his wrist, or maybe it had come from the string of stone pearls that had at some point appeared on his wrist.
No one could sense this Qi except for those sword fragments. Thus, when they approached Chen Changsheng's body, they very naturally floated away. All these details were completely hidden within the light.
And then, the rain came crashing back down, the rain clouds gathered back together, and the moonlight faded.
In the curtain of rain, Zhu Luo's phantasm gradually dimmed and grew brittle.
Ultimately, at some point, the ghostly sword had been completely swallowed by the sheath.
The phantasm abruptly crumbled away, turning into countless tiny bubbles.
Countless cries of shock arose within Xunyang City.
Zhu Luo stood on that end of the street, his body drenched in blood and his face pale.
His right arm faintly trembled. His sword was no more; only the hilt remained.
Just at this moment, Wang Po's blade finally arrived before him.