On the rear mountain of the Profound Sword Pavilion.
Xu Yuhu knelt on the shattered steps of the main hall. Xuanyi had crushed the bones in his left shoulder, and a hole pierced his chest. Blood from his body stained the flagstones beneath him dark.
But he was still alive.
Although He Dingbo's sword had pierced his chest, it had missed his heart by two inches.
The follow-up palm strike from Xuanyi had also been too hasty, dissipating thirty percent of its power.
Those two fatal mistakes had given him a chance to survive.
Bracing his right hand against his scabbard, Xu Yuhu forced himself to his feet.
Half the main hall's corridor on the rear mountain had collapsed, and astral energy had plowed furrows of all sizes through the bluestone ground.
After arriving, Lu Song had blocked three attacks for him, but Xuanyi had broken two of his ribs with a palm strike. He knelt fifty feet away, desperately leaning on his sword hilt to keep from falling.
He Dingbo stood two paces behind Xuanyi, blood still dripping from the ink-black longsword in his hand.
The faint red glow in his eyes had not faded. His pupils were unfocused, and although he stared toward Xu Yuhu, he seemed not to be looking at anyone.
Xuanyi glanced at He Dingbo, then turned back. The prayer beads in his palm stopped moving.
"Sect Master Xu, you've lost."
Xu Yuhu did not answer.
He compressed the last of his true astral force into his qi sea, then drew it back out.
At once, the astral energy around him surged.
Silver-white light seeped from every pore of his body, gathering thirty feet above his head.
The astral energy took shape, and the phantom of a two-hundred-foot flying sword emerged from the light.
Its