Seven-Colored Light Sword That Pierced Heaven and Earth

"Are you kidding me?"

Xiao Wu put her hands on her hips:

"Listen to a drunkard?

His brain's nothing but mush!

Of course we should listen to Third Brother. Third Brother is the smartest!!"

"Have you finished discussing it?"

Zhao Wuji stomped the ground hard.

With a dull bang,

the entire grassland shook three times.

A web of cracks spread across the ground,

and a powerful shockwave surged outward.

"Time's up!"

He crouched sharply, the muscles in his calves bulging as he launched himself high into the air like a cannonball.

The sunlight cast an enormous shadow behind him, enveloping all five youths.

In midair, he locked onto his target—

the white-clad youth sprawled drunkenly over the girl's shoulder.

His right fist clenched, carrying a fierce gust of wind as it smashed toward Fang Fan like a falling meteor.

The instant the fist wind descended, Tang San and Xiao Wu retreated in opposite directions.

Ning Rongrong was also startled and quickly backed away. She had not expected Zhao Wuji's target to be the drunken youth.

With a spread of her hands, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda appeared in her palm.

Two beams of support light instantly enveloped Zhu Zhuqing and Fang Fan:

"The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda is famed.

First: Strength!

Second: Speed!"

Zhu Zhuqing did not retreat.

She stood in front of Fang Fan.

She watched the enormous fist rapidly expand in her pupils.

The fist wind bore down on her face, sending the loose strands over her forehead flying.

It was not that she did not want to dodge.

Her body had been locked down by the pressure of a Soul Sage.

Her legs were so heavy that she could not lift them.

Zhao Wuji burst into booming laughter, making the leaves rustle.

"Hehe... if you get knocked flying, you'll be eliminated!"

"Is that so?"

A hoarse, languid drunken voice sounded.

The voice was not loud.

It was even slurred.

Yet it made Zhao Wuji's laughter stop abruptly.

For no reason, an intense sense of danger surged through his heart.

"Have you ever seen a sword that pierces heaven and earth?"

Fang Fan's eyes remained half-closed, the corners still flushed red with drunkenness.

He slowly raised his right hand, his five fingers slightly spread.

"Bzz—"

Seven-colored light abruptly bloomed in his palm.

Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet intertwined into a dazzling halo, turning half the grassland into a dreamlike sea of color.

The light continuously condensed and stretched, transforming into a seven-colored sword of light.

The blade was long and brilliant. Its edge trembled slightly, releasing a clear sword cry like a dragon's roar.

"Roar..."

Fang Fan gripped the sword and casually swung it forward.

The movement was light and effortless, as though he were brushing dust from his sleeve.

"Pfft—"

A seven-colored sword radiance burst from the tip.

It continuously lengthened and expanded, extending toward both the sky and the distance ahead.

Wherever the sword radiance passed, the clouds were cleaved in two, their cuts smooth and neat as if sliced apart by an invisible giant blade.

Sunlight poured through the gap in the clouds, shining upon the seven-colored sword radiance that pierced heaven and earth and refracting into countless rays of sunset glow.

The sword radiance continued slashing forward.

The five or six wooden huts across the grassland were instantly sliced cleanly in half like tofu when the sword radiance descended.

Wood chips flew everywhere, while the thatch was ground into dust by the sword qi and drifted away.

A deep sword scar was carved into the ground.

It extended from beneath Fang Fan's feet to dozens of meters away.

Dirt rolled up along both sides, and the cut was as smooth as a mirror.

Zhao Wuji's pupils contracted sharply. Every hair on his body stood on end as he smelled death.

He had never felt such bone-chilling cold even when dozens of Spirit Hall deacons had besieged him.

Without a second thought, he instantly pushed his Immovable Bright King Body to its limit, his skin glowing with pale golden light.

Yet when the sword radiance struck the Immovable Bright King Body,

it was like a sharp blade slicing through leather.

The pale golden light lasted less than half a breath before the seven-colored sword radiance shattered it inch by inch.

Zhao Wuji was struck by an overwhelming force.

He flew backward like a cannonball and smashed viciously into a row of wooden huts behind him.

"Boom—"

With a deafening crash, the huts exploded into pieces.

Broken beams and shattered planks flew in all directions, while dust rose like a mushroom cloud and obscured half the sky.

Wood chips drifted down in flurries. The air was filled with the fresh scent of wood shredded by sword qi and the earthy smell of soil.

"Holy crap... what the hell was that?"

Dai Mubai's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit a fist.

That sword scar extending from the heavens to the ground,

that row of wooden huts sliced in half,

Zhao Wuji blasted into the ruins and raising dust into the sky—

he recalled the seven-colored light sword that had struck him at the hotel yesterday.

Compared to this strike, that had been child's play.

Tang San sucked in a cold breath, the hairs on his back still standing on end.

Just now, he had been ready to save Zhu Zhuqing the moment she was in danger.

His fingers had barely touched the mechanism of his sleeve arrow when he saw that seven-colored sword piercing heaven and earth.

His hand froze in midair, and his entire body stiffened.

No Soul Rings, no soul skills—just a casual swing.

There had not even been a preparatory motion, nor was there any visible buildup of power.

Tang San saw it most clearly with his Purple Demon Eye.

The trajectory of that sword was simple to the extreme.

It was merely the most ordinary downward slash.

Yet the power of that simplest of strikes was unbelievably terrifying.

He asked himself whether he could dodge if it had been aimed at him.

The answer weighed heavily on his heart:

He could not. At least, his current self absolutely could not.

Xiao Wu stared blankly, her rosy little mouth forming a tiny O and her large eyes widening as though they might fall out.

Could someone with mush for brains really unleash a strike like that?

Then what did that make a clear-headed living person like her?

Ning Rongrong still maintained the posture of casting her support soul skill.

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda spun in her palm.

But her attention had completely left the support.

Her Sword Grandpa's Seven Kill Sword was known for its domineering, fierce power, every strike carrying the weight of Mount Tai.

Yet even Sword Grandpa's Seven Kill Sword did not have such an outrageous way of attacking.

With one casual swing,

he had sent a level seventy-two Soul Sage flying together with his defensive soul skill?

Everyone involuntarily walked toward the ruins.

Dai Mubai took the lead, lifting his foot to kick aside several broken planks.

As the dust gradually dispersed, a deep crater appeared before them.

At the bottom of the crater, Zhao Wuji lay there in disarray.

His clothes had been shredded with more than a dozen cuts by the sword qi.

The firm muscles beneath were exposed.

His arms remained crossed before his chest in a blocking posture.

A shallow bloodstain marked his arm, while the glow of the Immovable Bright King Body had completely vanished.

He lay at the bottom of the crater, gasping heavily as he stared at the sky.

That sword strike from the drunken youth simply was not something a human could unleash.

That power, that sword intent, that sense of control over the laws of heaven and earth—

in all his years, it was the first time he had seen such an exaggerated sword strike.

Zhao Wuji braced himself against the edge of the crater and stood up, rolling his sore shoulders as he shook wood chips and dirt from his hair.

His whole body ached as if he had been kicked twice by a ten-thousand-year Soul Beast. It was nothing serious, merely superficial injuries, but damn, it hurt!

That youth had held back at the final moment.

Or rather, that strike itself had never intended to take his life.

This realization shocked him even more.

To unleash such a terrifying strike and still precisely withdraw most of its power at the last instant proved that his swordsmanship had reached the realm of complete control.

This was not something brute strength alone could achieve. He was a true master of the sword.

He walked out of the ruins and brushed the dust from himself.

When he looked again at the white-clad youth sprawled over the girl's shoulder,

his gaze had completely changed.

His previous interest had become genuine solemnity.

This fellow was worth taking seriously.

"Kid,"

Zhao Wuji said in a deep voice. The shallow bloodstain on his face gave him an added air of lethal severity:

"You're impressive. Next, I'm getting serious!"