Xu Long Xiang began his charge, his speed surpassing his earlier confrontation with Huang Qing by an immeasurable degree. The Daoist supernatural art of shrinking distances into mere inches couldn’t even begin to compare.
In Taoist scriptures, there is a phrase used to glorify their immortals: “scattering beans to create soldiers.” Naturally, this was just a saying meant to impress simple villagers. However, Huang Qing’s sword qi had already permeated every corner of the surroundings, omnipresent, bearing a resemblance to the idea of turning grass and trees into soldiers. More importantly, combined with his Insightful Foresight cultivation stage, Huang Qing could precisely predict Xu Long Xiang’s attack routes. Before Xu Long Xiang could reach him and his sword, “Calming the Storm,” he would inevitably collide with the minute, mosquito-like sword qi that filled the air, allowing Huang Qing to foresee the future and act accordingly.
Huang Qing anticipated that Xu Long Xiang would circle behind him for a deadly strike to his back. He did not turn around but flicked his sword slightly out of its sheath. At the same time, a sword rainbow suddenly erupted from two zhang behind him, slicing through the sky. However, the expected moment did not arrive—Xu Long Xiang did not appear as predicted, rendering Huang Qing’s preemptive sword strike meaningless. Worse still, Huang Qing had already begun planning for the counterattack in anticipation of Xu Long Xiang breaking through the sword rainbow. In the life-or-death battle between two supreme martial artists, a slight miscalculation can lead to a vast divergence. Indeed, Xu Long Xiang, after a deliberate pause, finally appeared beside Huang Qing like a ghostly shadow and charged forward. Huang Qing’s internal energy, which had been flowing like a waterfall cascading for thousands of feet, abruptly shifted across several key acupoints, like a great river changing course. Although “Calming the Storm” could not be drawn in time, Huang Qing swung the scabbard horizontally, releasing a fan-shaped arc of sword energy that cleaved the heavens and earth apart with mighty force.
In the martial world, speed is the ultimate defense. Rather than retreating to avoid the brunt of the attack, Xu Long Xiang relied on his terrifying speed, lowering his head, bending his waist, and charging forward with a ferocious shoulder strike that sent Huang Qing flying far away.
Xu Long Xiang dashed straight across the ground and, in an instant, reached out to seize Huang Qing’s ankle, yanking it downward with all his might. This not only dragged Huang Qing toward the ground but also shattered the energy flow he had barely begun to muster.
As Huang Qing crashed into the ground, Xu Long Xiang delivered a fierce kick!
With no choice but to endure, Huang Qing barely managed to block the kick with his arm, his body once again sent flying into the air.
In an instant, Xu Long Xiang leapt up and slammed his elbow into Huang Qing’s chest, sending him crashing back to the ground.
As a dark shadow loomed overhead, Xu Long Xiang interlocked his fingers into a single fist. If this punch landed squarely, even Huang Qing, the “Sword Qi Approaching,” or even the unbreakable golden body of Murong Baoding, would be reduced to shattered fragments.
As Huang Qing slammed onto the ground, he looked up at the descending Xu Long Xiang. With “Calming the Storm” planted in the sand and its scabbard pointing skyward, he aimed the blade at the relentless youth.
The sword remained in its sheath, but the sheath itself flew forth.
The sheath shot toward Xu Long Xiang.
Thus, the legendary sword “Calming the Storm” was drawn for the first time in this manner.
Xu Long Xiang struck the scabbard with both fists, deflecting it slightly. His body barely hesitated before continuing its downward descent.
Huang Qing lightly tapped the ground with his left hand, his body suddenly spinning and his right hand swinging “Calming the Storm” in a dazzling circular arc of sword energy.
Like a full moon rising from a desert of yellow sands.
Though hastily executed and far from reaching its peak, the sword strike of “Calming the Storm” was still astonishing.
Unfortunately, it conformed to the old saying: “For every foot the Dao rises, the Devil rises a yard.”
Xu Long Xiang gave no thought to weighing the pros and cons. He simply smashed through the crescent moon of sword energy with his fists. This was the true meaning of unstoppable force.
Huang Qing quickly flicked his sword tip, sending his body gliding backward more than ten zhang. Xu Long Xiang’s fists struck the earth, the resulting explosion echoing down to a hundred zhang below.
Huang Qing steadied himself in the distance, gripping his sword tightly, raising his arm level with his shoulder.
A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of the “Sword Qi Approaching’s” mouth.
Rather than emitting a dazzling sword rainbow to display its might, the long sword instead seemed to drink in the surrounding “blue mist” like an immortal absorbing morning dew.
As “Calming the Storm” was fully drawn, especially after appearing to swallow greedily, the invisible sword qi around Huang Qing and Xu Long Xiang rapidly condensed, like fireflies in a summer night, flying toward the sword’s tip.
Huang Qing’s poetic name was “Sword Qi Approaching.”
What did “Sword Qi Approaching” mean?
It meant that even before Huang Qing arrived or drew his sword, his sword qi had already spread like “mites before rain,” imperceptibly fine, countless in number, filling the world.
Holding the sword in one hand and placing the other behind his back, Huang Qing glanced at the sky, where a few dark clouds drifted closer, then returned his gaze to the youth slowly rising from the crater.
Huang Qing spoke softly, “A man’s life is a journey, each step leaving a mark in heaven and earth. Yet most people’s steps fade without a trace—wind blows away yellow sands, snow covers paths, water washes away stone steps. I, Huang Qing, am no exception, but my sword is different.”
With each word Huang Qing spoke, another “Calming the Storm” sword materialized around his blade, stacking in four directions—up, down, left, and right.
Layer upon layer, motionless as a mountain.
Soon, nearly three hundred identical “Calming the Storm” swords had gathered before him.
Xu Long Xiang could no longer see Huang Qing at all, though he could faintly hear the voice of the number one swordsman of Northern Yan.
“In the past hundred years of the martial world, there have been two sword immortals. Li Chungan was famed for his vigor and vitality, opening heaven’s gate with a sword, a single sleeve becoming a green dragon. Deng Tai’a was renowned for his swift swordplay, unmatched in the precision of his blade.”
“Huang Qing does not wish to follow their paths. This sword in my hand seeks only two words.”
“Unmoving.”
Between Huang Qing and Xu Long Xiang, a towering mountain of swords appeared, steadily growing and advancing toward Xu Long Xiang.
Xu Long Xiang did not retreat but charged forward, shattering dozens of swords in his path. As his momentum was hindered, he tore through another dozen “Calming the Storm” swords with his hands.
No matter how fiercely Xu Long Xiang charged, breaking through the swords with brute force, new blades immediately replaced the fallen ones. The youth, blocked by the sword wall, grew furious. He retreated, creating distance, then launched a fierce charge, shattering over a hundred “Calming the Storm” swords in one go and crashing into the sword mountain, creating a deep indentation. Yet in the next moment, the sword mountain began to grow again, its momentum not only undiminished but even forcing the youth backward, his feet sliding step by step despite his attempts to resist with his shoulders.
The youth turned abruptly, spreading his arms, using his back to bear the weight of the sword mountain.
The sword wall finally halted!
Above the immense sword mountain, dark clouds gathered, lightning flashing within.
The youth’s pupils gradually shrank until they vanished entirely.
Huang Qing spoke softly, “Your birth, Xu Long Xiang, was never meant to follow the rules. You were never meant to live long in this world. I shall use the rules to shape the square and the circle.”
Huang Qing raised “Calming the Storm” and drew a circle.
A motion so simple even a child could perform it, yet for Huang Qing, the greatest swordsman in the world, it was executed with immense difficulty and resistance.
Then, the countless “Calming the Storm” swords forming the mountain of blades began to shift formations.
Floating swords appeared before, behind, and above Xu Long Xiang.
Forming a massive semicircle.
Each “Calming the Storm” sword pointed directly at the youth in the center.
Huang Qing gazed toward the sky along the arc of the sword formation. The black clouds thickened, lowering further, with purple lightning as thick as tree trunks rolling wildly.
Huang Qing’s sword arm began to tremble as he whispered, “Since you seek death and fear not inviting heavenly calamity, I shall send you off one final time.”
This last sword strike was named “Rules.” Originally, Huang Qing had intended to challenge the sword immortal Deng Tai’a with it, a contest of speed unlike any before in sword history. Yet now, it was used against Xu Long Xiang.
Suddenly, Huang Qing spat a mouthful of blood onto his sword.
“Calming the Storm” fell to the ground.
The sky-filling semicircular sword formation exploded violently.
Huang Qing’s face was filled with shock and bewilderment.
In the distance, the youth stood bent over, arms hanging low.
His face was hidden.
Seven or eight thick streams of dark qi, like malevolent dragons, swirled wildly around him.
At that moment, Huang Qing’s robes fluttered unexpectedly.
The fleeting scene that followed filled the “Sword Qi Approaching” with horror.
The Copper Monk Patriarch had been stabbed in the abdomen by a single blade, crashing forward with the attacker still holding the knife, colliding into a hill.
The entire hill shattered instantly. The next sand dune fared no better, like firecrackers in a child’s hand during the New Year.
Huang Qing turned his head and saw the figure standing firm with a blade in his left hand. Further away, another hill exploded, and the Copper Monk Patriarch rose from the swirling sands, alongside him, a towering, hundred-zhang-high divine general’s form.
Could it be that the Copper Monk Patriarch hadn’t even had time to summon his divine form after the attacker’s blade?
Had the Prince of Beiliang, Xu Fengnian, truly arrived?
Amid his shock, Huang Qing caught sight of the anomaly in the sky and exhaled in relief.
Even if Xu Fengnian had arrived so swiftly, he was still too late.
The heavenly calamity had already arrived.
Seven layers of heavenly thunder were about to descend!
Layer upon layer, no matter how mighty a terrestrial immortal you were.
Boom!
A bolt of purple lightning struck Xu Long Xiang.
Xu Fengnian paid no heed to the Copper Monk Patriarch or the “Sword Qi Approaching.” He charged straight toward the rolling thunder and swung his blade.
Exactly like the old man in the sheepskin cloak had done with his “Green Dragon in a Sleeve.”
The thunderbolt shattered instantly.
Huang Qing stared in disbelief. Did these two brothers truly act without regard for reason?
That was heavenly lightning, a symbol of divine retribution!
Was Xu Fengnian truly prepared to withstand all seven layers of heavenly thunder alone?
Even the immortal Qixuan Zhen, during his battle against the Demon King, had only endured six layers of purple lightning.
Xu Fengnian stood beside Xu Long Xiang, placing a hand on his younger brother’s head and murmuring softly, “Xionger, Father is gone, but as long as your older brother remains, the sky may fall, but it shall never be your burden to bear.”
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