Chapter 170 — The Divine Sword
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 6
By now the crowd stood in dead silence, every face drained, every countenance pale. The harrowing, peerless duel just past had left them dazzled and dizzy, unable to contain themselves—but what none of them had ever imagined was that even this peerless Slaying Immortal Sword Formation seemed unable to subdue the demonic beast before them. Could it be that this catastrophe truly could not be averted?
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.