Gu Yiyou looked at the overwhelming blade intent surging toward him and suddenly smiled.
“Li Kunlun, you are right. This sword intent truly does not belong to me.
“All my life, I, Gu Yiyou, have been nothing more than a servant to my master.
“An old servant who draws the sword for him.
“In my hands, this body of sword intent is indeed a tragic waste.”
He slowly raised the sword, its tip pointing toward the sky.
“But the reason my master did not keep his appointment to fight you back then was not because he feared you.
“It was because he is Shen Xingzhi, the number one under heaven.
“If he had struck, the struggle for martial fortune between Grand Shuo and Grand Zhao would have lost all balance.
“The scheming ambitious figures in the imperial court would have used it as an excuse to launch an even harsher crackdown on the martial artists of the world.
“He refrained from striking to preserve the martial world across both realms.”
Li Kunlun’s brows furrowed slightly.
This strike was fully charged, yet he was in no hurry to unleash it.
Looking into Gu Yiyou’s eyes, which had suddenly turned extraordinarily bright, an ill omen stirred within his heart.
“Today, I shall let you see!”
Gu Yiyou’s voice rose sharply as the majestic sword intent surrounding him exploded completely in that instant.
“Just how lofty my master’s Way of the Sword truly is!”
The moment his words fell, Gu Yiyou unreservedly released every drop of the half-portion of sword intent within his body!
As the sword intent surged out from within him, his meridians emitted a grating, ear-splitting screech.
At the same time, countless fine fissures burst open on the surface of his skin, spraying blood around him like mist.
For his body simply could not withstand releasing sword intent at such a caliber.
A physical body at the peak of the Boundless Realm, no matter how toughened, could not carry an Earthly Sword Immortal–level sword intent erupting all at once.
Yet he no longer cared.
More than thirty years ago, on that desolate mountain at the border between Grand Shuo and Grand Zhao...
Because his Dao Heart was not yet firm back then, he had failed to fulfill his duty of drawing the sword for Shen Xingzhi.
That regret had been like a venomous thorn, lodged deep in his heart for thirty full years.
Today, even if it meant sacrificing his old life, he would make up for the regret of that year!
The sword intent shot skyward!
It directly tore Li Kunlun’s abyssal, prison-like blade intent to shreds.
Under the impact of this sword intent, the snow-white blade shadows above the thirty-six peaks of the Canglan Sect shattered simultaneously!
They dissolved into a haze of snow-powder that fluttered down across the sky.
Li Kunlun’s pupils contracted abruptly.
This sword intent had far exceeded his expectations.
If Gu Yiyou were allowed to unleash this strike, even he, Li Kunlun, might not emerge unscathed.
However...
Just as Gu Yiyou pushed his sword intent to the absolute limit and was on the verge of striking...
A hand pressed gently onto his shoulder.
The hand had long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles, warm and firm.
The instant that hand touched his shoulder, Gu Yiyou shuddered violently.
The surging wave of sword intent about to burst forth was forced back into his body in an instant by a power as gentle as water yet as vast as the abyss.
Under the soothing touch of this power, the near-bursting wounds in his meridians slowly healed.
Gu Yiyou turned his head stiffly.
He saw a face.
That face was as handsome as ever, the corners of the mouth curved into a faint, half-smiling smirk that he knew all too well.
The figure standing there looked just as free-spirited and elegant as he had over thirty years ago.
“Master...”
Gu Yiyou’s lips trembled violently, his voice so raspy it was barely coherent.
Shen Xingzhi nodded slowly.
Looking at Gu Yiyou’s face—lined with wrinkles and framed by silver hair and beard—a profound gentleness flickered deep within his eyes.
“It has been many years. You have grown old.”
A thin sheen of moisture rose in Gu Yiyou’s weathered eyes, and cloudy tears streamed silently down the deep furrows of his face.
He wept while smiling, his wrinkles bunching together until he looked like a child.
He raised his sleeve to wipe away his tears, only to find it soaked in blood, so he lowered it again and let the tears flow freely.
“Master, you still look just as you did back then.”
Gu Yiyou smiled through his tears, his voice filled with joy that sprang from the very depth of his heart.
“Not a bit changed... not a bit changed...”
Suddenly remembering something, the smile on his face froze, and he blurted out in panic:
“Master, weren't you having a duel with Sword God Lü in Jinyang City? Why are you here? That duel...”
“It is over.”
Shen Xingzhi smiled faintly.
“I lost.”
Hearing this, Gu Yiyou trembled violently.
His eyes widened as he stared at Shen Xingzhi in disbelief.
“What... what did you say?”
He had followed Shen Xingzhi since the very first day Shen Xingzhi stepped into the martial world.
He had watched with his own eyes as Shen Xingzhi swept through the martial world invincible, rising step by step from an obscure wanderer to the undisputed top Sword Immortal under heaven.
In all these decades, Shen Xingzhi had never lost once.
Even in the direst peril, facing enemies many times his number, he had always carved a path out through blood with his sword.
He had never been defeated—not even once.
In Gu Yiyou's eyes, even Lü Beisheng, reputed to be the fastest to break through realms in the martial dao, could never defeat his master.
“It must be because I took away half of Master's sword intent.
“If that half-portion of sword intent had remained with Master, Lü Beisheng would never have been a match for you...”
Gu Yiyou blamed himself.
“Yiyou.”
Shen Xingzhi interrupted him, his tone calm as ever, yet carrying an unquestionable certainty.
“A defeat is a defeat. There is nothing more to say.
“That kid Lü Beisheng's Way of the Sword is indeed purer than mine.
“I accept my defeat wholeheartedly.”
He paused, a carefree smile surfacing at the corners of his lips.
“Besides, this half-portion of sword intent was nurtured sword by sword over thirty years by yourself.
“It is yours, not mine.
“What logic is there in using your own power to compensate for my loss?”
Gu Yiyou opened his mouth to say more, but Shen Xingzhi raised a hand to stop him.
Shen Xingzhi turned around, his gaze crossing a hundred zhang of void to settle upon the burly figure holding the pitch-black long blade opposite them.
“Li Kunlun.”
Shen Xingzhi’s voice was not loud, yet it echoed with crystal clarity across the thirty-six peaks of the Canglan Sect.
“I hear you have always wanted to duel with me.”
Li Kunlun’s grip on his blade tightened slightly.
He stared at Shen Xingzhi, complex light swirling within his dark-gold eyes.
As the number one figure in Grand Shuo, he naturally knew Shen Xingzhi’s great renown.
Over these decades, he had thought more than once about seeking out the world’s number one Sword Immortal for a decisive duel...
Yet for various reasons, he had never been able to make the journey.
Now that Shen Xingzhi stood right before him, he suddenly realized he could not see through the man at all.
Shen Xingzhi simply stood there, his green robe fluttering, empty-handed, without a trace of sword intent leaking from his body.
Had he not witnessed him walking out of the void with his own eyes, Li Kunlun would have almost thought the elegant man before him was merely an unversed young master from a wealthy family.
Yet the less he could fathom him, the more terrifying he was.
“Just now, you said that my old servant was unworthy of this sword intent.”
Shen Xingzhi turned his head to glance at Gu Yiyou, a hint of meaningful depth joining the smile on his lips.
“You were not entirely wrong. Alone, he indeed cannot unleash the full power of this sword intent.”
He paused, settling his gaze back on Li Kunlun, his voice abruptly rising a notch.
“So, since master and servant are of one mind, joining forces to unleash a single strike together—you wouldn't mind, would you?”
Li Kunlun’s brows twitched sharply.
Rumor had it that every time Shen Xingzhi struck with his sword, his Sword Attendant Gu Yiyou had to unsheath the blade first and hand it to him before he would move.
Everyone in the martial world knew of this rumor, yet no one knew the reason behind it.
Some said it was an eccentricity of Shen Xingzhi, some said it was a ritual, while others claimed some unknown martial secret method existed between master and servant.
“I have long heard that every time Sword Immortal Shen strikes, this Sword Attendant must draw and present the sword.”
Li Kunlun said slowly, holding the pitch-black long blade horizontally before him.
The silver edge of the blade shimmered with a piercing cold glare under the Northern Shuo sunlight.
“Since Sword Immortal Shen has come in person, how could Li decline? Please!”
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