Chapter 170 — The Divine Sword
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 4 of 6
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!…"