Chapter 164: The Might of the Sword Formation!
【Intelligence 3: The broken sword beside Xiao Yan’s skeleton is called the Moon-Laurel Sword — a spirit embryo. It shattered during its master’s final battle. Its blade contains rare ores including purple-vein dark gold, red wutong heartwood, and geng-metal marrow. Once smelted, these materials can be used to upgrade a sword weapon.】
“Oh?”
Shen Xiuhan’s interest piqued.
Cold Granary was keen beyond measure — it could cut iron like mud. But at the end of the day, it was only a mid-tier treasure weapon.
To the average rivers-and-lakes fighter, that counted as a divine blade. But set before a true expert, it fell short.
If he could extract the rare ores from this broken sword and fold them into Cold Granary, raising its grade…
Even if it didn’t reach spirit-embryo level, an upper-tier treasure weapon alone would be a massive boost in combat power.
The thought was all the motivation he needed. He bent down without hesitation, gathered the scattered sword-fragments one by one, and stowed them in the pouch.
Then his gaze moved to the final entry.
【Intelligence 4: Chenjian Wu’s Fourth Chief Jia Pingxiu has grown suspicious of your identity. He tracked you to the pool’s edge. He believes you infiltrated the island to search for treasure and is currently hiding in ambush, preparing to strike and seize whatever you bring up.】
“Jia Pingxiu…”
Shen Xiuhan’s gaze went sharp. He tilted his head upward.
High above.
A single faint golden mote hovered motionless beside the pool — like a coiled viper, waiting for its prey.
“The fat one who questioned me at the compound gate?”
“So the token didn’t fool him after all.”
Shen Xiuhan’s brow creased. His mind raced.
Duan Xiao was occupied with Zuo Muxian. He couldn’t spare a thought for the island’s interior.
But this was still the heart of Chenjian Wu’s stronghold — wolves on every side.
Once the fighting started, the noise could draw a swarm of bandits — the Blood Ascetic included.
At that point, he’d be surrounded on all fronts.
“So I have to end him fast. Lightning strike, then get out.”
Cold resolve flashed through Shen Xiuhan’s eyes. His gaze swung to the palm-sized sword-formation disc on the cavern wall, and a thought surfaced.
A moment later, his decision was made. He plucked the disc from the wall, channeled a pulse of force, and his figure reappeared in the pool.
The water was bone-cold, pitch-dark, visibility nil. An azure glow sheathed his body, holding back the pressure.
“Hoo…”
Shen Xiuhan exhaled, took down the concealment-array slab, and let the bubble carry him slowly upward.
…
At the pool’s edge.
Jia Pingxiu crouched in the reeds, his bulk compressed into a surprisingly compact ball. Only his eyes showed, fixed on the water.
The surface was still as glass. Reeds whispered in the night wind, fraying his patience.
“Why hasn’t he surfaced…” Jia Pingxiu muttered, palms slick with sweat. “Did I get it wrong?”
The thought flickered and was immediately dismissed.
“No one takes a risk like this — sneaking onto Dongyi Island — for nothing. He’s down there.”
Certainty. And with it, greed swelled like wild grass, smothering every doubt.
“What kind of treasure is worth all this? Rare herbs? An ancient sanctum?”
“Best case, it’s a secret manual. I’ve got blood-pills to eat — I don’t need medicines. What I lack is a method. Duan Xiao and the Blood Ascetic won’t share theirs, and neither suits me anyway. A good manual, and I’ll be the second Transforming Strength fighter in Chenjian Wu!”
While he was lost in fantasy, the pool’s surface rippled.
“Here he comes!”
Jia Pingxiu’s pupils contracted. He pressed lower, breath held.
The ripples grew — wider, denser — as though something were rising from the deep.
SPLASH!
A figure burst from the water.
Shen Xiuhan skimmed the surface, toes tapping in rapid succession, then vaulted ashore, landing cleanly on the flagstones.
Jia Pingxiu’s stare locked onto the moon-white pouch at his waist.
‘That pouch — it wasn’t there before!’
His breathing quickened, heart slamming against his ribs. Restraint collapsed. His right hand flipped — three copper coins pinched between his fingers.
These weren’t ordinary coppers. The edges had been ground razor-thin, and fine silk threads ran through the square center-holes for launching force.
He flung them.
FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH!
Three coins in a triangular spread, trailing piercing shrieks of split air, screaming toward Shen Xiuhan’s face.
Shen Xiuhan gave a cold snort. His right leg drove into the ground like a rooted tree — immovable.
His left foot rose like a dragon lifting its head, toe-tip flicking three times in rapid succession.
Thirty-Six Paths of Sky-Collapsing Legs — Splitting Kick!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each coin was struck dead-center by his toe and deflected sideways.
THUD THUD THUD — they buried themselves in the earthen walls on either side, throwing up puffs of dust, leaving three deep holes.
Jia Pingxiu had never expected the coins to do the job.
The instant they left his hand, his right had already dived into his shirt and closed around a hilt.
“Little bastard — hand over the goods!”
Jia Pingxiu roared, launching skyward — his corpulent frame moving with ape-like agility.
A concealed blade cleared its sheath with a piercing whine, its light like a bolt of white silk aimed straight at Shen Xiuhan’s heart.
But —
Shen Xiuhan’s toe tapped the ground. His figure ghosted several feet to the left — unhurried, precise.
The blade grazed his robe-front, the force-wind pressing an indent into the fabric, but never touching skin.
Jia Pingxiu’s first thrust met empty air. His face changed.
He whipped his head around — and found Shen Xiuhan already facing him, cold gaze boring in like twin drawn blades.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
The voice was quiet, but it hit like ice-water to the skull. Jia Pingxiu’s heart lurched; every hair stood on end.
Before he could react, Shen Xiuhan raised his right hand. In his palm — a lustrous Origin stone, seemingly conjured from nowhere.
His left hand flipped. The palm-sized sword-formation disc appeared. A flick of his finger seated the Origin stone into the central slot.
CLICK!
Stone and disc locked seamlessly.
In the next instant, the entire disc erupted into violent trembling — a deep, resonant hum, like some beast of ages past being roused from its millennia-long slumber.
The hum swelled, faster and louder, shaking the eardrums.
“You—”
Jia Pingxiu’s face contorted. A dense, choking aura of death crashed over him. Every alarm in his body screamed. His feet were already moving to retreat.
But before the word was done —
SWISH!
A bolt of sword-qi lanced from the formation disc.
Silver-white. Thin as a cicada’s wing. Blindingly bright.
It was impossibly fast — in the very instant it separated from the disc, it had already crossed the gap.
Jia Pingxiu had no time to react. No time even to blink. The sword-qi passed through his midsection.
SHUNK!
A soft, clean sound — like a sharp blade through tofu, like shears through silk. Instant. Effortless.
Jia Pingxiu felt a chill at his waist. He looked down.
What he saw was beyond horror.
His upper and lower halves had separated. The cut through his robes was perfectly straight, the cross-section mirror-smooth — exposing pale fat and vivid red flesh beneath.
SHUNK…
The blood seemed half a beat slow, then erupted from the wound in a gushing spray.
Jia Pingxiu’s pupils shrank. Terror filled his bulging eyes. His mouth gaped, and a ragged shriek was clawing up his throat.
“Aghh—”
But before the scream could finish —
The second bolt of sword-qi arrived.
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Sword-light crisscrossed — silver-white lattice — weaving a dense, inescapable net of death beneath the moon.
Jia Pingxiu’s round body shuddered inside the web of blades.
His face still wore the mask of frozen terror — mouth agape, eyes bulging, lips twitching — but no sound emerged.
A moment later —
THUD-THUD-THUD!
Seven or eight chunks of flesh hit the flagstones. Blood gushed, staining the grey stone crimson around the pool.
The thick scent of iron mixed with the night wind and carried far.