Chapter 170 — The Divine Sword

The Beast Lord threw back his head and laughed, then his vast body suddenly, impossibly launched itself into the air, pouncing toward Dao Yan Zhenren—and at once, from sky to earth, cries of alarm rose on every side. Only Dao Yan Zhenren, startled but composed, drew a deep breath, gave a soft shout, and beneath his feet the water qilin, long since attuned to his mind, at once backed away.

But the Beast Lord, for all his immense bulk, was swift as lightning; in an instant he was already upon him, and black qi surged as countless giant arms reached out to seize him.

Just at this critical moment, Dao Yan Zhenren abruptly inverted the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword. His pale face flushed red, then paled again—three times in rapid succession—and the ancient sword blazed with monstrous light; like a great whale drawing in water, it sucked down the countless qi-swords from the sky in an instant and set them across his front, coalescing into a wall of many-colored swords.

The Beast Lord's expression changed drastically, but it was too late to withdraw; from the heavens came a booming chorus of *pop-pop-pop* and *crack-crack-crack*, and for a moment the black qi scattered in disarray as countless strange hands were reduced to flying ash.

Seeing Dao Yan Zhenren turn peril into safety and even wound the Beast Lord in return, the countless disciples on Mount Canglan swung from terror to joy, cheering and leaping. Yet before their cheers could fade, they saw that within the blazing sword wall, though numberless black-qi hands had been annihilated, one arm—the thickest and most massive of all, its black qi especially dense—forced its way through and struck Dao Yan Zhenren full in the chest.

Dao Yan Zhenren reeled as if struck by lightning; his whole body convulsed, and together with the water qilin beneath him he raised his head and gave a long, anguished cry as both man and beast were hurled backward, flying a full ten-odd zhang before coming to a halt. And those below saw clearly: along that backward flight, his dark-green Taoist robe was shredded in an instant, and from his mouth sprayed bright red blood, drop by drop, as though all of it fell upon the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword, dotting the white light with points of dusky red before slowly fading away.

Sky and earth alike fell instantly into deathly stillness.

The Slaying Immortal Sword Formation in the heavens seemed affected as well, wavering and swaying, the myriad sword shadows across the sky restless and trembling—but at last it settled once more. Only, whether because the true art had been injured, the formation that had once blotted out the sky now covered less than half its former range.

A sense of foreboding seemed to settle over every heart.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Dao Yan Zhenren looked at his palm, where crimson streaks of blood ran across the skin. He stared at his hand a long while, then slowly raised his head and looked forward. The sword qi and black clouds had all dispersed; the Beast Lord ahead was watching him with a tiger's hungry glare—though by the look of him, for all that he had wounded Dao Yan Zhenren, his own condition was scarcely better.

The strange arms that had numbered about half his former total had in an instant suffered grievous hurt again, more than half erased by the Slaying Immortal sword qi; now perhaps only a few dozen remained—but these survivors were all the mightiest of arms, wholly unlike the ordinary strange hands. As for the Beast Lord himself, the face once shrouded in black qi now seemed faintly pale—yet the will to fight on that face was like that of the fiercest wild beast, growing stronger with every setback, showing not the least inclination to give up.

The corner of Dao Yan Zhenren's mouth twitched, as though in a bitter smile—but even that slight movement seemed to pull at his wounds, and his body actually swayed several times, drawing startled cries from the countless people below. Fortunately he only swayed a few times before steadying himself. Yet his weakness was now plain for all to see.

The Beast Lord laughed coldly ahead, "*Ka-ka*," his low voice saying, "Well? Ignorant humans like you—even with such a peerless divine relic to aid you, your end is no different. You'd best do away with yourself while you still can!"

Dao Yan Zhenren raised his head in silence, gazing at the vast heaven, the strange light of the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword reflected on his face—and suddenly there was a peculiar radiance in his expression.

"Ancestral masters of the Canglan Sect, generation upon generation…" Dao Yan Zhenren suddenly spoke, but his words came low and faintly sorrowful. "Your disciple Dao Yan is unworthy, powerless to subdue this heretic demon, bringing ruin upon the common people; catastrophe is at hand. For the sake of all under heaven, your disciple has no choice but to violate the ancestral prohibition. I pray the ancestral masters grant their protection, that the demon may be subdued and the evil vanquished. Even if afterward your disciple falls into eternal perdition, I am willing to bear it all alone."

His voice was soft; few could hear it. The crowd saw only that he muttered incantations, his face seeming somehow sorrowful, and for a moment they were baffled, not knowing what Dao Yan Zhenren was doing. But moments later, all at once they saw him in midair open his eyes and knit his brows, awe-inspiring and terrible, as his left hand's sword-seal suddenly drew—and slashed straight across the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword at his chest.

White light flashed, then suddenly red gleamed forth; Dao Yan Zhenren's left hand plunged into the white radiance, and when it emerged blood was flying—yet though his face was pale, there was not a trace of pain upon it. His left hand moved with swift strokes, tracing a bizarre pattern in the empty air with extraordinary speed, and the drops of blood falling from his fingers did not fall downward at all, but followed the motion of his hand and congealed in midair, bringing the pattern starkly into being.

A blood-red taiji diagram, wrought of blood!

The crimson blood began at once to flow across the taiji, brighter and brighter, almost like red jade, and the diagram itself began to spin swiftly. Dao Yan Zhenren's face grew paler and paler, and at the same time the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword at his side, wrapped in white radiance, began faintly to tremble, as though something within that legendary divine sword had been roused, and hungered for something!

The taiji spun faster and faster, slowly rising until it hovered three chi before Dao Yan Zhenren's face. By now his countenance was deathly pale, as though all the true essence and vital force of his body had been drawn into that taiji—yet he still summoned his last strength, raised the ancient Slaying Immortal Sword, and suddenly drove it forward with all his might, running the blood taiji clean through. At the same moment, he cried aloud:

"Heaven!… Mechanism!… Seal!…"

With each syllable he cried, in the clear and open world, in the blue sky where no cloud or wind stirred, there came—startlingly—a peal of thunder to accompany it, shaking heaven and earth; a awe-inspiring force descended from the sky, formless yet as though possessed of substance, pouring in through the crown of his head. A gale rose, and upon his body, as though bursting apart—*bang, bang, bang*—like explosions, three in time with his three cries, the garments of his upper body burst asunder in an instant, crumbling to flying ash.