Two Old Men Brawled, One Sword Slew the Enemy

On a moonless night, the darkness ran deep.

Darkness shrouded the vast world, veiling the universe.

Floating Cloud Mountain, True Mystery Peak.

Xuanming looked down at the newcomer from above.

Ever since Xuanxu entered secluded cultivation, he had kept watch on True Mystery Peak every night, sleeping on his side atop a century-old ginkgo tree.

After eight consecutive days, his wait had finally paid off.

At that moment, Xuanming felt both excited and helpless.

Excited because someone had come.

Helpless for the very same reason.

As for the visitor's identity, he could only guess.

Putting himself in the other man's shoes, if he were the one steering the Chen lineage, any covert scheme would surely aim to settle everything once and for all: seize the abbot of the Truth-Seeking Abbey in one stroke, threaten him, and force him to surrender a place.

Otherwise, he would only beat the grass and startle the snake, losing a handful of rice without stealing the chicken. The conflict between the two sides would be dragged into the open, and once word spread, public opinion would turn against the Chen lineage.

Thus, to ensure victory—or even eliminate all chance of failure—the strongest member of the Chen lineage would surely have to act.

Moreover, Xuanming already had half a foot over the threshold of Qi Refining. With his flawless foundation establishment and the accumulation granted by "one day, one year," his reserves ran deep, and his strength far surpassed others at his level.

Though he had used no weapon, even a single strike of his sword fingers was beyond an ordinary Fourth Realm Essence Refining cultivator's ability to withstand.

Those who could emerge entirely unscathed were as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.

Among the Chen lineage, only Old Master Chen could manage it.

Of course, even if his guess was wrong, there was no shame in that.

This man would die tonight regardless!

With his identity exposed, the black-clad man's eyes flashed with surprise, but after a moment's thought, he found it perfectly reasonable.

The Daoists on this mountain were no fools.

And this mysterious old Daoist had been waiting here.

Clearly, they were guarding against the Chen lineage.

These damned ox-nosed Daoists were evidently cleverer than he had imagined.

Given the current situation between the two sides, their guessing his identity was unexpected, but understandable.

Yet Old Master Chen did not admit it. He committed himself to self-deception: so long as no one tore off his mask, he would deny everything to the bitter end.

As he studied the old Daoist before him, his wariness deepened.

A falling leaf foretold autumn; a blooming flower heralded spring.

In that brief clash just now, he had actually been forced back several steps.

Though it had happened suddenly and he had responded hastily, it still revealed that this old Daoist possessed formidable strength, no less than his own.

"To think the Truth-Seeking Abbey had such reserves as a Daoist of your caliber."

Old Master Chen spoke, deliberately making his voice rough and coarse.

"May I ask your Daoist name?"

"This old Daoist is Xuanming."

"How is that possible!"

Old Master Chen was shocked.

Wasn't Xuanming a Third Realm cultivator?

How had he suddenly become a Fourth Realm expert?

And his accumulation was so deep that his strength likely rivaled Old Master Chen's own. Clearly, he had reached this level long ago.

A possibility suddenly occurred to him:

Quietly playing the fool, pretending to be a pig to devour a tiger!

This old Daoist had probably entered the Dao at fifty-five, then advanced by leaps and bounds with the legacy left by the Truth-Seeking Abbey's previous abbot. Yet he had deliberately kept a low profile, holding back all this time.

That earlier breakthrough and foundation establishment had clearly been an act, spreading false news, concealing his realm, and fooling the world.

All the elders of the Truth-Seeking Abbey had played along.

Their aim was to catch a powerful enemy off guard and deliver an unexpected, crushing blow when the abbey faced a crisis.

And unfortunately, he happened to be that powerful enemy.

He had forced the old Daoist Xuanming to act.

"No wonder!"

Old Master Chen gritted his teeth.

No wonder the Jade Radiance Pill had failed to tempt him.

He had never needed it in the first place.

No wonder he had dared refuse him.

He had the strength to back it up.

No wonder he had been waiting here.

Age had honed him into a wily old fox.

Every inconsistency now fell into place.

In the flash of a spark, thoughts surged through Old Master Chen's mind. Realizing that tonight's scheme would fail, that he might even lose his allotted place and be unable to answer to those above him, he could not help cursing aloud.

"What a crafty, treacherous old ox-nose!"

Whoosh!

Xuanming had no time to concern himself with Old Master Chen's thoughts, and he turned a deaf ear to his furious shout.

Seizing the moment of his shock, Xuanming wasted no words. He leaped down from the treetop, pressed his index and middle fingers together into a sword, and struck first to gain the upper hand.

Sword winds howled; sword qi erupted.

A terrifying sword intent surged toward him like a mighty, rolling river.

A chill swept over Old Master Chen's entire body. Suppressing his thoughts, he dared not be careless and raised his hand to draw a great saber.

Its blade was thick and heavy, golden from end to end.

Keen saber radiance burst forth like a geyser.

Vast saber intent bore down like a mountain.

Even a lion used its full strength when hunting a rabbit.

Besides, he had come to Floating Cloud Mountain at night with sinister intentions and impure motives, and he was on the Truth-Seeking Abbey's territory.

It would have been fine if the old Daoist Xuanming had not blocked his path.

Now he was stopped by an opponent no weaker than himself.

It was like venturing alone into a dragon's pool or a tiger's den; the danger had multiplied.

If he could not escape quickly, a long night might breed unforeseen troubles, alerting the other Daoists on the mountain and leaving him surrounded.

Two fists could not overcome four hands, and even a fierce tiger feared a pack of wolves.

At that point, his life would very likely hang in the balance.

Thus, Old Master Chen made no probing attacks. He struck with everything he had, intent on shaking off the old Daoist Xuanming as quickly as possible.

Sword qi collided with saber radiance, their thunderous clash deafening.

Rocks shattered, trees toppled, and sand and stones flew.

One wielded his fingers like flying darts; the other swung his saber like driving rain.

They traded blows without yielding an inch, exchanging several rounds in the blink of an eye.

Sword intent flowed without end, while saber intent followed wave upon wave.

Within moments, Old Master Chen was filled with both dread and fury.

Dread, because even after fighting this long, Xuanming had yet to draw a sword. He held a fly-whisk in his left hand and wielded sword fingers with his right.

Strike followed strike, the sword qi growing stronger each time.

This old Daoist's strength exceeded his expectations, standing far above his own—terrifying beyond compare and impossible to fathom.

Fury, because every time he tried to withdraw, the old Daoist Xuanming closed in, forcing him to abandon the attempt. It was like sinking into a mire, trapped deeper with every struggle.

Unable to win or flee, Old Master Chen felt himself slowly becoming a black carp caught in a net.

Powerless over his own fate, left for another to slaughter.

Across the peaks of the Truth-Seeking Abbey, the Fourth Realm Daoists were alerted.

On Blazing Sun Peak, Xuan Yang, who had been drinking alone, snatched up his wine jug and rushed out of Blazing Sun Hall, heading straight for True Mystery Peak.

On Spring Snow Peak, Xuan Yin, who had been studying the Yin and Yang Foundation Establishment Manual, lightly tapped his toes and flew toward True Mystery Peak like a wild goose sweeping through the sky.

On Cleansing Heart Peak, Xuan Yu had just finished examining the written confessions of offending disciples. He stepped out of the Discipline Hall and departed with a solemn expression.

On Firecloud Peak, the Spirit Crane spread its wings and took flight. Xuan Kong, who had just finished a late-night meal, leaped onto its back.

Under the immense weight, the Spirit Crane sank, nearly plunging from the sky. Xuan Kong's expression abruptly darkened.

Only when the Spirit Crane beat its wings strenuously and rose again did his face brighten, like clouds dispersing after the rain.

Meanwhile, on True Mystery Peak.

Xuanming and Old Master Chen had already exchanged over a hundred rounds. The latter's expression grew ever gloomier, dark as ink.

He had realized that this old ox-nose was treating him as a free sparring partner.

Despite having the strength to crush him, Xuanming deliberately held back, sparing him several times at the brink of death.

For a moment, Old Master Chen felt equal parts relief and rage.

Relief, because he could live a little longer.

Rage, because a man could be killed, but not humiliated.

This bastard Xuanming was slicing flesh with a dull knife, squeezing every last bit of value from him. He had gone too far!

In stark contrast to Old Master Chen's foul mood, Xuanming glowed with delight as he felt his combat experience soar and his techniques grow more polished. He could produce the same power with less magic power—less expenditure, greater effect.

Whoosh!

Another powerful strand of sword qi swept toward him. Old Master Chen failed to dodge in time, and its lingering force grazed his cheek.

His black face covering crumbled to ash.

A bloody line appeared on his aged face.

Seeing his identity completely exposed, unable even to cover his ears while stealing a bell, Old Master Chen blazed with fury.

He could deny it when he used the Chen lineage's signature supreme technique.

He could deny it when he wielded the Chen lineage's Lifeless Golden Blade.

All of that depended on keeping his true face hidden.

So long as his face remained concealed, he could find excuses for everything else: the Chen lineage's supreme technique and golden blade had been stolen, for instance, or a traitor from the lineage was roaming outside—a family scandal.

But now that veil of shame had been torn away.

Old Master Chen had lost his final escape route.

He was so furious that air blasted from his nostrils, his hair and beard flying.

"You old bastard Xuanming! I'll fight you to the death!"

Old Master Chen roared, sprang into the air, and swung the golden blade down with savage force. Magnificent saber light cleaved forth, and an illusory mountain of blades emerged, bearing down to crush him.

The air shook, the peak rumbled, and the mountain forests trembled. Rocks rolled down in torrents, while grass and trees were reduced to fragments.

He knew there was no escaping his doom tonight.

Since that was the case, Old Master Chen would eliminate the greatest threat to the Chen lineage and perish together with the old Daoist Xuanming.

Only then could the lineage gain a chance to breathe. Though it would be at a disadvantage in the struggles to come and face difficult circumstances, the Truth-Seeking Abbey would not uproot it entirely.

Outside True Mystery Peak, the Daoists arrived.

They saw Senior Brother Xuanming, his robes fluttering.

They also saw the hysterical Old Master Chen.

They wished to help, but the vast saber intent felt like sharp needles against their backs, making it impossible to approach.

Merely nearing the edge of the battle left them lightly injured, forcing them to retreat to one side.

They could only watch the two old men brawl.

This was a battle between the strongest men of the Truth-Seeking Abbey and the Chen lineage.

The Daoists watched with burning eyes, afraid to miss the slightest detail.

As for Senior Brother Xuanming's safety, they were not worried at all. He had not even drawn his weapon.

When the thousand-foot mountain of blades appeared, the Daoists could not help exclaiming, "Half-condensed technique intent! Half a step into Qi Refining!"

No wonder Old Master Chen had dared climb Floating Cloud Mountain at night.

He had glimpsed the threshold of Qi Refining, and his strength had emboldened him.

Unfortunately, beyond every mountain stood a higher mountain.

Against Senior Brother Xuanming, he could only suffer a one-sided beating.

"Then Senior Brother Xuanming has also glimpsed that threshold, and he may be even closer to the Qi Refining Realm than Old Master Chen."

Xuan Yin spoke.

The others had reached the same conclusion.

None of the Daoists could hide the shock on their faces.

Counting carefully, Senior Brother Xuanming had entered the Dao less than two years ago, yet he had already reached this point without their realizing it.

The Daoists were both delighted and ashamed. Compared with their senior brother, their decades of cultivation might as well have gone into a dog's belly.

"The great roc rises with the wind in a single day, soaring ninety thousand miles straight into the heavens. Senior Brother Xuanming is a hidden dragon about to rise from the abyss!"

Xuan Kong sighed with heartfelt admiration.

Xuan Yang nodded in wholehearted agreement.

"Senior Brother Xuanming's Dao foundation is extraordinary. I'm not surprised that he can glimpse that threshold. I thought it would take several more years, though. I never imagined it would happen so quickly."

Xuanming paid no attention to how the other Daoists reacted.

As the mountain of blades bore down on him, he withdrew his sword-finger gesture. A trace of seriousness appeared on his face, but only a trace.

"It's time to end this!"

Xuanming's tone was calm, yet every word rang with weight.

The Peachwood Sword hummed, then left its sheath with a metallic clang.

With the sword in hand, he unleashed his full strength in a gentle forward thrust. The seemingly effortless stroke erupted with terrifying power.

A hundred-zhang torrent of sword light surged upstream like a mighty river, washing away the blade intent and shattering the mountain of blades.

Old Master Chen was swallowed by the river of sword light, his body riddled with wounds and torn to pieces. His eyes widened, disbelief written all over his face as the light in his gaze gradually faded. His final murmur before death was aged and feeble, leaving much to ponder:

"That's impossible!"

What was impossible?

Was it impossible that he had been slain so cleanly and decisively, without dragging his enemy down to death with him?

Or was it impossible that Xuanming was so terrifyingly powerful, unlike anyone in the fourth realm?

Or was it impossible that Xuanming possessed combat strength far beyond an entire major realm, comparable to a Qi Refining True Person?

Who knew!

In any case, Xuanming had no interest in finding out.

A waste of time.

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