“Let this world see what true martial mettle really is!”
The words echoed incessantly across the waters of the Eastern Sea outside Jinyang City.
Though the crowd did not know where the voice had originated, it went without saying that anyone capable of conversing across vast distances with the two figures above the sea was at least of the Martial Arts Grandmaster caliber.
“It’s Grandpa Qi’s voice!”
A-Tong was perched on Qin Tiegu’s shoulders, pointing at the sky, his voice cracking with excitement.
“It’s Grandpa Qi’s voice! Grandpa Qi is talking to Sword Immortal Shen and Sword God Lü!”
Atop the city walls, the expressions of the Furnace-Listening Pavilion crowd had long since shifted.
They had heard that voice loud and clear. That was Qi Tianchen’s voice.
Yet it was the saber howl following right on the heels of that voice that truly shook them to the core.
Elder Qi had taken action in the capital!
Qin Tiegu exchanged glances with several fellow disciples, all seeing the exact same thought in one another’s eyes.
The trouble back in the capital was by no means smaller than the sword immortal duel unfolding before them.
Otherwise, Elder Qi would not have spared the distraction to shout across the distance right when the two sword immortals were about to clash with all their might.
“Martial Uncle, Grandpa Qi won’t be in danger, will he?”
A-Tong clutched Qin Tiegu’s sleeve, his little face rife with tension.
“Elder Qi has already stepped into the Earthly Immortal realm. There aren’t many under heaven who could harm him,” Qin Tiegu spoke in a heavy voice, though a trace of unease that even he had not noticed lurked beneath his words.
Right at that moment, A-Tong suddenly let out another cry.
“Huh? Where’s Big Brother Chen?”
Hearing this, Qin Tiegu whipped his head around.
The city wall was packed shoulder to shoulder as martial artists and commoners speaking in dialects from across the land jammed the battlements into an impassable sea of people.
His gaze swept swiftly across the crowd. There was no sign of Chen Zui.
He stood on tiptoe to scan once more. Still nothing.
“He was right behind me just a moment ago!” a martial artist in tight attire wielding twin sabers said anxiously.
Qin Tiegu’s heart sank like a stone.
A possibility suddenly occurred to him.
Chen Zui carried the verbal message Gu Yiyou had left for Sword Immortal Shen.
Having witnessed that kid’s fearless demeanor throughout the journey, Qin Tiegu truly could not put it past him to charge out right now to find Sword Immortal Shen.
“He wouldn’t be trying to deliver the message to Sword Immortal Shen right now, would he?”
Someone voiced the words Qin Tiegu dared not utter, their tone dripping with terror.
“Has that kid lost his mind? That’s right in the center of a battlefield between two Earthly Sword Immortals!”
Before Qin Tiegu could answer, someone by the battlements suddenly hollered at the top of their lungs.
“Look! There’s someone down below the wall!”
“What is that guy doing? Does he have a death wish!”
“Hey! Get back here! Are you crazy!”
Qin Tiegu dashed to the battlements in a few strides and leaned over the bluestone crenels to peer downward.
With just one look, the blood throughout his body ran half cold.
Outside the city gate, upon the reef beach washed by ocean waves, a slender figure was carrying a spear, walking at an unhurried pace toward the sea.
The sea breeze whipped his robes into loud flutters, and the red tassel on the spear resting across his shoulder danced in the wind like a flickering flame.
He did not look back, his steps neither hurried nor slow.
“Chen Zui!”
Qin Tiegu shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice torn to shreds by the sea wind.
“You’ve gone mad! Come back!”
Chen Zui acted as if he had not heard.
Stepping across the reefs, he reached the final elevated patch of the beachhead, planted his spear firmly beside him, and crossed his arms where he stood, looking up at the two confronting figures upon the sea.
Waves crashed against the reef beneath his feet, kicking up white spray a zhang high and soaking the hem of his robe, yet he did not budge an inch.
Meanwhile.
The ninth floor of Wangchao Pavilion.
Third Prince Zhao Li stood behind the window facing the Eastern Sea, his arms resting against the windowsill as his gaze swept across the vast green expanse of waves, taking in the two distant figures above the water.
The incoming sea breeze sent his black brocade robe, embroidered with four-clawed python patterns, fluttering wildly.
Behind him, Qingyangzi was busily at work.
The Black Iron Heaven-Measuring Ruler had already been thrust into the floor at the exact center of the pavilion floor, its markings illuminating one by one with an eerie blue radiance.
Centered on the Heaven-Measuring Ruler, an exceedingly intricate formation had been drawn across the floor.
It was not an ordinary diagram sketched with cinnabar, but a hexagram array painted with gold powder mixed with a dark red liquid.
Every formation line was thin as a strand of hair, yet they densely carpeted the entire floor, gleaming with a sinister luster under the ruler’s faint blue light.
This was Zhao Li’s true trump card for this journey.
All that talk about backing onto gold mountains while facing the vast sea, or heavenly timing, earthly advantage, and human harmony—those words were just for show, meant to appease the censors in the imperial court and the retainers in the prince’s estate.
What he truly relied upon was what Qingyangzi had covertly smuggled out of Mount Longhu over the past twenty years.
One of Mount Longhu’s mountain-protecting arts.
The Sky-Stealing Sun-Swapping Formation.
With Ziwei imperial qi as the catalyst and a Boundless Realm Grandmaster’s natal divine weapon as the formation core,
it could forcibly draw the scattered sword intent fragments into the array the very instant the two Earthly Sword Immortals clashed with all their might and the laws of heaven and earth fractured,
and convert them into the purest Martial Dao fortune to be funneled into the person inside the formation.
This was not spectating; this was outright robbery.
And the reason Qingyangzi had violated Mount Longhu’s sect rules and been expelled from the sect—that unpublicized scandal of the past—was precisely because of this Sky-Stealing Sun-Swapping Formation.
“Daoist Master, that voice coming from overhead just now—did you hear it?” Zhao Li asked without turning his head.
“I heard it.”
Qingyangzi finished the final stroke of the formation lines and straightened up, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead.
“It seems all is not peaceful in the capital. That old dog Qi Tianchen is fighting something unknown, having to squeeze out the effort just to project his voice across the distance.”
“So what?”
Zhao Li turned his head, a faint trace of sneer playing at the corner of his lips.
Reflected in the faint blue glow of the ruler, his hungover eyes unexpectedly held a cold, ruthless glint.
None is more ruthless than the imperial household.
This phrase was an immutable truth flowing through royal bloodlines since ancient times.
What of fathers and sons?
What of brothers?
Before that Dragon Throne, what was blood, and what was family? Merely jokes fabricated for the court historians.
Zhao Li leaned against the windowsill, his gaze sweeping past the sea before suddenly halting at the reef beach outside the city gate.
A person stood there carrying a long spear, looking up at the two sword immortals above the sea.
“Daoist Master, look at that fellow.”
Zhao Li gestured with his chin toward the window, his tone dripping with unvarnished mockery.
“A Second Rank martial artist holding a broken spear, standing less than two li from two Earthly Sword Immortals. Does this guy fear he won’t die fast enough, or is he simply out of his mind?”
Qingyangzi walked to the window, following Zhao Li’s gaze.
He watched for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Second Rank Mountain-Viewing Realm. Not very old, early twenties.”
“A Mountain-Viewing Realm in his early twenties could be counted a talent, but too bad he’s a fool,” Zhao Li gave a scornful laugh.
“Once the two sword immortals begin their battle, the first one crushed into powder by the residual sword intent will be him.”
Rate on N.U.
