Nightfall

It was early and the morning light was faint. There was a layer of mist on the plains, dimming the light. The dew on the grass reflected the light around like black pearls.

There were five swords on the plains. They were swords that Second Brother had taken from the disciples of the Sword Garret. However, unlike yesterday when he stood in front of the swords, he took a path beside them instead.

The battle of Verdant Canyon had lasted all day. Instead of taking a step back, he took a step forward.

There was a sudden shout in the mist.

“Liang Xiang of Sanqing Mountain is here for a challenge!”

Sanqing Mountain was a famous scenic spot in southeastern China and was a large sect in Haotian Taoism. However, the Lanke Temple had grown too well known these years, so it seemed less unknown by contrast. In actuality, there were many powerhouses in the sect.

Liang Xiang was the most talented disciple with the highest cultivation state in Sanqing Mountain. He was deeply loved by the elders of the sect and had garnered plenty of attention from the West-Hill Divine Palace. As such, he was very confident in his own Sword Taoism.

After receiving the military order from the West-Hill Divine Palace last night, he did not look dejected like other cultivators. Instead, he was very excited. He wanted to see if Mr. Second of the Academy would fight with him.

That was why he sounded so confident and proud.

A gleaming flying sword accompanied his speech. The sharp and narrow body of the sword, like an arrow, easily pierced the air and mist and arrived with a whistling.

Second Brother looked deep into the mist emotionlessly. He did not even glance at the flying sword before he extended his right hand.

There was a tearing sound in the mist.

It sounded like countless sheets of paper being torn to pieces by powerful fingers.

The Qi of Heaven and Earth in front of the Verdant Canyon was torn apart by the sound.

The wisp of Qi of Heaven and Earth dragged by the flying sword broke naturally as well.

A painful groan sounded in the mist.

The flying sword that had surged at Second Brother with a roar suddenly lost control and fell down slowly.

Into Second Brother’s hand.

Second Brother held the flying sword and tossed it behind him.

There was a clang as the sharp sword plunged deeply into the damp plains.

Together with the five swords from yesterday.

The morning light glowed even stronger as the mist dissipated.

The scene on the plains grew clearer.

A young taoist priest stood on the plains with empty hands and his chest soaked with blood. He seemed to have been scared silly.

This was the proud Liang Xiang of Sanqing Mountain.

Two of his companions from Sanqing Mountain came forward to hold him by his arms so that he would not fall.

Liang Xiang regained consciousness and uttered a guttural scream of fear.

He had mocked the South Jin Kingdom yesterday when he watched the Sword Garret disciples have their swords taken away. However, he only understood what that had felt like when he saw his Natal Sword being taken away.

How could something like this happen?

How did the man across him manage it?

Why didn’t his Elders in the sect teach him that before?

His fellow disciples dragged him back to the southern plains as he stared at the gloomy sky in a stunned manner. He would occasionally moan strangely as his Taoist Heart had been completely destroyed.

Second Brother did not notice such details.

He had already forgotten where the proud young Haotian Taoism cultivator had come from and what his name was.

Several more cultivators appeared on the plains. There were also several more Martial Arts cultivators who had served in the army for many years. They all did not ride horses and were covered in talisman paper.

Was this the West-Hill Divine Palace’s response?

Second Brother raised his broad and straight iron sword and pointed it at the dense group of cultivators, his left hand tucked behind his back.

Those from the Academy gathered under the shelter and watched their Senior Brother’s movement, knowing that he was ordering them not to move unless commanded.

Since the West-Hill Divine Palace was prepared, then the zither and flute wouldn’t be needed for the moment.

The second cultivator to attack the Verdant Canyon was someone from the Little Eastern Hills.

He was a Martial Arts cultivator who cultivated in unique arts. Unlike others, he had fought tigers and lions in the wild over the years to improve his cultivation state, which was high. If he were willing to join the army, he would be able to become a general no matter whether he went to the South Jin Kingdom, the Kingdom of Song, the Kingdom of Qi or any other lands. However, his goal in life was to become a commander of the West-Hill Divine Palace divine guards, which was why he had never left the mountains until the Divine Hall’s edict came. That was when he finally welcomed the opportunity of his life.

As long as he could show off his prowess during the battle, then the Divine Hall would notice him.

That was what the cultivator thought and did.

He raised the large heavy knife he used to kill the lions and tigers in the Little Eastern Hills and bellowed loudly. He rushed forward to the Verdant Canyon with a trail of dust behind him.

The cultivator was so fast that even the air started to hum.

The vision of the cultivators on the plains grew blurry and the cultivator arrived before Second Brother. He cleaved down forcefully.

Second Brother’s face was blank.

He raised his broad and straight iron sword and waved.

On the edge of his armor was a piece of his shirt sleeve.

The sleeve did not flutter at all when he waved his sword.

Just like what Liu Bai had told his disciples yesterday, Second Brother did not wave the sword through his own strength, but through the power of Heaven and Earth. That was why his actions were so natural.

His movement was nature.

Just like the wave of a sleeve.

It did not cause any fluttering breeze, but it caused the aura of heaven and earth in front of the Verdant Canyon to roll up.

His arm and the iron sword waved between the aura. He focused his will on it, but not his energy.

The iron sword met the cultivator’s large blade in the air.

The blade that had once killed lions and tigers was shredded by the aura like the thinnest tissue.

There was a clanging sound and the large heavy blade shattered into numerous pieces.

The iron sword continued forth, tapping on the cultivator’s chest lightly.

There was a loud boom.

The beefy cultivator flew into the sky and was tossed several dozen feet away before he landed heavily on the ground, causing a large crater to appear.

Moments later, an angry growl sounded in the crater.

The cultivator threw away the hilt in his hands and climbed out of the crater angrily.

Then, he fell back into the crater once more.

He shouted angrily and climbed up again.

And fell back again.

He did this five times.

The cultivator could not climb anymore and he sat at the bottom of the crater, lost.

He coughed.

And started vomiting blood. The blood was black, and there were bits of his internal organs inside.

The force of the iron sword had penetrated the man’s body and shattered his organs.

And the cultivator had not realized until he tried to stand for the fifth time, that his shaken organs had cracked and split apart.

Just like his seemingly powerful blade.

The following attack at the Verdant Canyon was not done by a single person.

Or by a single sword.

It was carried out by more than 20 swords.

The 20 swords were flying swords of cultivators from varying sects and countries.

The gloomy skies enveloped the plains, and with the shrill clanging of swords and them shining like rainbows, the skies brightened again.

They were all Great Sword Masters in the Seethrough Realm!

There were not many cultivators in the world, and the number of cultivators in the Seethrough Realm was even lower. Only the Tang Empire and the West-Hill Divine Palace could organize so many of them together on a single battlefield.

More than 20 flying swords soaring about at once were extremely rare.

Even the most powerful powerhouses at the peak of the Knowing Destiny State would find it troublesome when faced with such a challenge.

However, Second Brother did not feel so. He only thought that it was a hassle since he only had two hands.

Looking at the 20 or so flying swords heading toward him, he stuck his iron sword into the ground in front of him. Then, he reached out and made casual catching movements. However, his actions were done so quickly that it seemed like a chaotic mess.

There were several clanging sounds.

He had caught all the flying swords.

His palms were not large.

So it was a wonder how he had managed to hold so many swords.

Those flying swords in his hands were like too proud and lazy peacocks that would not be bothered to dress up before spreading their tails, looking like a mess.

Then, he tossed the flying swords behind him.

And they all plunged into the soft and wet plains.

In a world where Haotian Taoism reigned, even the Sword Sage, Liu Bai and the Master of Calligraphy, Lord Wang, were all considered visiting professors. There were many cultivators who served them. The battle of Verdant Canyon was undoubtedly the battle in which there was the largest number of cultivators fighting.

Countless cultivator and allied forces surged through the plains, attacking the Verdant Canyon like waves. They slammed against the silent man standing in front of the Verdant Canyon, and no matter how many of their compatriots in front fell, the people behind continued to charge forth.

The succession continued.

However, those at the back did not manage to move forward at all, they could only fill the gaps at the front.

Several arms coated in blood flew into the air.

Several bodies were tossed into the distance.

Countless flying swords burst through the air and then were turned into scrap metal in the man’s hands.

The plains in front of the Verdant Canyon yesterday were littered with tens of thousands of arrows, turning into a forest of arrows.

The Qi of Heaven and Earth was roused by today’s battle, shattering those arrows into fragments. Today, more than a hundred flying swords replaced them, deeply inserted into the plains.

The flying swords were all different. Their auras were different. Some were broad and others were narrow; some were sharp while others were blunt.

But once they were all inserted into the ground, they bore no differences.

They were all dead.

It was a forest of swords, and also a graveyard of swords.

Second Brother stood before the swords’ burial mound, waving his own iron weapon.

He stood where he had started, not moving a single inch.

His brows were still as flat and they did not raise up, not even for a moment.

He did not show off any amazing power, only standing there, waving his sword calmly. No matter his posture or the strength with which he wielded the sword, they had not changed at all.

He seemed not to know what exhaustion was as every stroke of his sword was just as focused as it had been from dawn to noon. That was why it seemed casual and it felt as if there would not be any changes even if he were to continue until dusk.

His body was covered with blood. He had not moved when the blood flowed down his armor and when it dripped off him. As such, several pits filled with blood appeared in front of him as the blood trickled down.

Just like in the previous years, neither his posture nor expression had changed. He seemed just as consistent.

And he killed just as consistently.

And the more consistent he was, the more frightened he made others.

The sword style on the plains tapered off.

Fear overtook the hearts of many cultivators and they stopped their attacks subconsciously.

A sudden cry emerged from the crowds.

There was a cultivator from a certain sect who had been so frightened he had started crying.

Nobody thought of laughing at the man.

Because when they looked at the iron sword that still had blood dripping off it…

Everyone felt like crying as well.