Chapter 224 — Striking at the Heart

In an instant the abandoned charity manor was utterly destroyed. Everything was torn to shreds by that mighty force and blown by an even greater wind toward some unknown distance. Even the few solitary trees standing sparsely nearby, caught within the range of this breathtaking contest of arts, were torn up by the roots, stripped of leaves and branches, and sent flying off into the distance.

Tian Buhui and Lu Xueling were no ordinary folk. They had long since risen into the air and stood in midair, evading the sand and earth that rolled below like a flood. Yet the wind in the sky was so fierce it cut like a blade; with their cultivation, they could still feel such pain—which shows how violent this exchange was.

Yet the situation in the field did change after all. The black qi wall looked flimsy, but amid the ceaseless flashing lightning and thunder it slowly pressed downward, and that earth-dragon torrent of terrible might was pressed down inch by inch.

Ming Li's cultivation had advanced greatly, but in the end he was still no match for Dao Yan the Perfected One's centuries of quiet cultivation.

Tian Buhui watched the wind and thunder that never ceased in the field, and in his eyes too there seemed to roll wind and thunder. After hesitating several times, he set his jaw, and the crimson flame in his hand blazed high. With a great shout, man and sword became one, and he flew into the fray.

Behind him, Lu Xueling was slightly taken aback, and seemed about to speak but held her tongue.

The crimson flame burned like a blazing fire, wrapping Tian Buhui's whole body in its light, dazzling beyond measure—almost like a phoenix crying to the heavens from within the flames, save that it looked a trifle plump. Yet awkward as his posture was, Tian Buhui's cultivation was no trifling matter. Even Dao Yan the Perfected One dared not make light of this sword-riding charge. With a whistle he shifted his body aside, yielding to Tian Buhui's sharp momentum.

The black qi wall dispersed in an instant, gathering once more around Dao Yan the Perfected One's body. The giant earth torrent in midair paused for a moment, then with a crash, as though losing the support of its force, crumbled and fell in a shower, like a rain of earth from the sky. A figure flashed out from within it, grave of face, yet not the least bit panting or strained—it was Ming Li.

Everyone had seen this last exchange with their own eyes. Dao Yan the Perfected One's arts were indeed profound beyond mortal understanding. Ming Li had mastered four volumes of the Heavenly Book, but perhaps because he had studied them only briefly, his cultivation was still no match for Dao Yan the Perfected One, who had already attained the Grand Purity realm—yet the gap was not great, and he was well able to give battle. This single exchange alone, if spread abroad, would be enough to shake the world and make Ming Li's name resound.

Tian Buhui's sword thrust struck empty air, but the crimson flame did not weaken—it blazed higher. In midair it twisted, sweeping across the heavens like a rainbow piercing the sun, then curved back and drove straight at Dao Yan the Perfected One.

Dao Yan the Perfected One swayed and evaded again, and said with a cold laugh, "What, can you take up the sword again? Have you settled your principles and morals, then?"

Tian Buhui gave a cold snort, halted, and held his sword level, saying sternly, "Your merits are peerless, but you have indeed committed a grave wrong. I fight because the command of the past patriarchs demands it. If you die by my hand today, I shall take my own life in atonement."

Ming Li's body gave a slight shudder. He glanced at Tian Buhui, puzzled for a moment, but in such haste who would explain it to him? Then Tian Buhui gave another long cry, and the crimson flame blazed fiercely, spreading across heaven and earth with matchless momentum. Seeing it, Ming Li frowned; after a moment's hesitation he too flew up to attack.

With two great masters assailing him, Dao Yan the Perfected One's cultivation—which in times past had reached the very heights of creation—was at last revealed in full. His sword incantation pointed and swept, and at the same time that layer of dark yin ghost-qi, thick as ink and black as lacquer, shifted without fixed form, able both to attack and defend. In midair he fought two alone and held Tian Buhui and Ming Li off, not falling short in the least.

In the midst of the fierce battle, Tian Buhui brought his sword down with the force of a mountain splitting and the sea overturning, so mighty that even one as strong as Dao Yan the Perfected One had to give way before it, drifting back three feet. Seizing that brief opening, Tian Buhui seemed suddenly to remember something and shouted to Ming Li, "Old Seven, be careful—he still has the Immortal-Slaying Sword!"

Ming Li's heart gave a sudden start. The power of the ancient Immortal-Slaying Sword was something he knew to the marrow of his bones. Yet a moment later, those three words—Immortal-Slaying Sword—seemed to sear through his heart like boiling oil, and the blood in his whole body seemed to boil.

Ten years ago, atop the Canglan Mountain—that green figure that fell!

In an instant Ming Li's eyes went blood-red. With a great roar he charged in, every stroke and art a desperate, all-or-nothing stance. Tian Buhui was startled, then seemed to understand something, sighed inwardly, and gave chase.

Ming Li's sudden recklessness was something Dao Yan the Perfected One had not anticipated, and for several exchanges these two left him somewhat flustered. Yet his cultivation was truly beyond the sage and into the holy. Facing Ming Li's desperate assault and Tian Buhui's sword that grew fiercer with every stroke, Dao Yan the Perfected One still stubbornly turned the situation back little by little. Though for the moment he could gain no advantage, neither could any sign of decline be seen in him.

The longer Tian Buhui fought, the more his heart quailed. He had always known that this senior brother of his, the sect master, was a rare genius such as the world seldom sees, his ten years of cultivation far surpassing Tian Buhui's own. He had come at great risk to stop Dao Yan the Perfected One largely because, according to the dying words handed down by the past patriarchs, once the Immortal-Slaying Sword entered demonic ways, its wielder's power ought to decline greatly. Even so, Tian Buhui had in truth prepared himself to perish together with him.

But after this succession of exchanges, Dao Yan the Perfected One's divine cultivation only filled Tian Buhui with boundless admiration. He even began to wonder—could it be that his senior brother's cultivation had truly grown so high that the Immortal-Slaying Sword could affect his mind but no longer his cultivation?

The battle in the field grew ever fiercer, Ming Li's strikes ever more frenzied. Dao Yan the Perfected One defended with some difficulty, yet still without a single gap, and his occasional counterattacks were vicious in every stroke. Had Tian Buhui not come to the rescue in time, Ming Li would have been gravely wounded long ago.

As these perilous moments kept recurring and Tian Buhui was growing frantic, a clear cry suddenly rang out, and a white figure came drifting near, bearing not the slightest taint of the dusty world. Where blue light flashed, Tianxuan descended from the sky, auspicious qi steaming around it.

At last Lu Xueling too joined the battle.