Chapter 194: Sword Formation Ring Moon
The Flame Mist Mountain Range.
Outside a certain stream valley.
Two wretched figures staggered through a stretch of woodland, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
The pair was a man and a woman. Though their Daoist robes were torn beyond recognition, one could still make out that they were the inner disciple garments of Eastern Abyss Sect.
“Sister, I… I can’t run anymore.”
The young male disciple’s face was deathly pale. A gash on his left shoulder ran deep enough to show bone.
With every few steps he took, he left behind dark red muddied footprints.
“Zilin, don’t stop.”
Wu Shuangzhi seized his arm, her voice hoarse. “If we make it into the stream valley ahead, we might be able to use the terrain to our advantage!”
Wu Zilin gritted his teeth and frantically wrung every last shred of spiritual energy from his body, following his sister as they fled toward the valley.
Some dozen zhang behind them, five green-robed cultivators came sweeping through the air.
At their head was a young man with a pair of bronze maces—one left, one right—hanging at his sides.
“Senior Brother Xu, these two can really run…”
“That male cultivator we killed earlier cost us quite a bit of effort, and the woman has some tricks of her own.”
“Nothing but trash from Eastern Abyss Sect. Running is the only thing they’re any good at.”
The cultivator addressed as “Senior Brother Xu” did not bother exchanging words with his companions. He simply surged forward at full speed toward the direction the two were fleeing.
“Enough talk. Kill them both. Root and branch.”
At that moment, Wu Shuangzhi had already led Wu Zilin into the stream valley.
The valley entrance was narrow. The two stumbled through, and the instant they entered, a fire talisman detonated against their backs.
The shockwave sent them tumbling.
Five figures filed through the valley mouth, regarding them with mocking amusement.
Wu Shuangzhi suddenly shoved her brother aside, then spun around and swept her sword. A streak of green light cleaved toward the five.
It was nearly the last of her spiritual energy. She would likely perish here today.
“A mantis trying to stop a chariot.” The Xu surname cultivator crossed both maces, and the venomous glow upon them surged, easily shattering the green light.
The residual force did not diminish. It sent Wu Shuangzhi hurtling several zhang through the air, slamming her heavily into a shallow pool within the stream valley.
“Sister!”
One of the cultivators leisurely wiped the blood from his long blade. “Why aren’t you running anymore?”
He deliberately lifted Wu Shuangzhi’s chin with the tip of his blade.
“You two siblings truly share a deep bond.”
Wu Shuangzhi trembled all over—not from fear, but as though gripped by some frenzy of the near-dead.
“Mutt of the Myriad Mysteries Sect…”
Ever since the Changping incident, the friction between Eastern Abyss Sect and Profound Abyss Sect had grown ever more acute, becoming increasingly impossible to reconcile.
The several sects near Spirit Source Marsh and the Flame Mist Mountain Range that were on good terms with Profound Abyss Sect had also taken to treating Eastern Abyss Sect cultivators with escalating contempt. Clashes had become more and more frequent.
Chief among them was the Myriad Mysteries Sect. Whenever their disciples encountered Eastern Abyss Sect cultivators abroad, they would often deal lethal blows.
The senior brother who had come with the siblings had sacrificed himself, deploying a secret technique to hold back the five pursuers and allow them to escape.
At this moment, he had most likely already perished.
“Heh heh. You’ve offended Profound Abyss Sect. One might say your fate has run its course.”
The mist deep within the stream valley, like a flowing veil, slowly swallowed the scent of blood emanating from Wu Shuangzhi, Wu Zilin, and the others.
The mist surged inward. Through its shifting depths, the landscape at the heart of the valley flickered in and out of view.
“Hmm?”
There was someone else here after all.
“What’s this? An onlooker?”
The five Myriad Mysteries Sect cultivators raised their heads and looked. At the far end of the valley, upon a low hill, sat a figure in black robes.
The mist was torn open by a mountain breeze.
The figure of the black-robed youth at last appeared fully before all present.
He sat with his gaze cast downward, a black-and-white flying sword resting across his knee, a dark blue sword chest strapped to his back.
He resembled a cold, hard reef, utterly oblivious to the killing intent saturating the valley.
Wu Shuangzhi’s vision was blurred by sweat and blood, yet that figure still struck her as incredibly familiar.
As though it had appeared countless times in her memories and musings.
“Playing the ghost.”
Among the five Myriad Mysteries Sect cultivators, a tall and gaunt one suddenly flung several flying needles from his sleeve. The needle tips gleamed with an eerie blue as they shot toward Song Yan.
“Get down here, damn you!”
Click.
An exceedingly faint sound, like a hairline fracture splitting across the surface of thick ice.
Three flying needles shimmering with eerie blue light suddenly froze in midair, then shattered without warning, one after another.
“Cough…”
His magical artifact destroyed, the tall cultivator let out a muffled grunt, his eyes filled with disbelief.
“What in the…”
The youth upon the low hill finally raised his head.
His gaze was clear and bright, a hidden edge glinting within, yet between his brows was knitted a look of irritation at being disturbed.
The Xu surname cultivator seemed to sense something amiss. He narrowed his eyes, the venomous glow upon both maces pulsing and receding.
“I advise you, Fellow Daoist, not to meddle in affairs that don’t concern you.”
Song Yan’s gaze swept across the bloody scene, then settled upon the trembling Wu Zilin.
Wu Shuangzhi finally made out the youth’s features, and a surge of hope for survival blazed violently within her heart.
“Senior Brother Song…”
“Fellow Daoist!” Wu Zilin suddenly dropped to his knees, his forehead striking the mud with a heavy thud. “I beg you, lend us your aid! Eastern Abyss Sect will surely repay you generously!”
The Myriad Mysteries Sect cultivators burst into laughter. “Heh heh. A beggar’s sect like yours, and you dare speak of generous re—”
“Too noisy.”
Song Yan suddenly spoke, cutting short the Myriad Mysteries Sect cultivator’s mockery.
His voice was soft, yet it sent an inexplicable chill down every spine.
Upon the low hill, he rose to his full height, his black robes rippling without wind.
Hummm—
A streak of black-and-white sword light shot forth in a flash, embedding itself in the ground before Wu Shuangzhi. The razor-sharp sword qi forced the Xu surname cultivator back.
Beneath the black robes, a single sword gesture traced the air.
Two flying swords—one violet, one dark crimson—flew forth from the sword chest, resembling two lithe fish gliding through water.
They appeared chaotic and unpredictable, yet seemed to follow some hidden pattern.
Countless strands of frigid sword qi rapidly converged from throughout the entire stream valley, converging upon its heart.
Upon the hilt of the Untethered Vessel, a disc of cold moonlight materialized.
“Watch out!”
The Xu surname cultivator seemed suddenly to recall something. His pupils contracted sharply, and the venomous glow upon both maces at his sides surged explosively.
He bellowed at once: “He is a Eastern Abyss Sect cultivator!”
The sword-shaped pattern upon those black robes marked him unmistakably as a disciple of the Sword-Tempering Peak of Eastern Abyss Sect!
Disciples of the Demon Subjugation Peak were exceedingly rare. So much so that many had never even laid eyes upon one.
But at that moment, the flying swords moved.
“Crescent Moon.”
Hummm—
The intertwined swords split into three arcs of crescent moonlight that swept outward, swift as lightning.
Before the five Myriad Mysteries Sect cultivators could react, the gaunt cultivator at the forefront had already seen his protective spiritual energy shatter. A thin line of blood appeared upon his neck.
His eyes bulged wide. A gurgling sound issued from his throat, and his head slowly slid from his shoulders.
The remaining two arcs of crescent sword light spun and interlocked, severing another green-robed cultivator at the waist.
As viscera spilled forth, the sword light showed no signs of abating. It sliced into the rock walls flanking the stream valley!
The other two cultivators launched their attacks in a torrent—talismans, venomous sand, flying needles—raining down upon Song Yan like a storm.
Qi Lin Jun circled through the air as a ray of lunar radiance drifted from the moon disc upon the Untethered Vessel, condensing upon the flying sword.
“Gazing Moon.”
A single stroke of moonlight swept forth, and every assault was erased in its wake.
The concentrated sword light resembled a crescent moon as it flashed past the two cultivators. Their protective spiritual energy crumbled like parchment beneath that lunar glow, annihilated on the spot.
Of the five Myriad Mysteries Sect cultivators, in the span of a single blink, only the Xu surname cultivator remained.
One or two among them had not even managed to deploy their defensive artifacts or protective spiritual energy before they met their end.
The Xu surname cultivator was now terrified beyond reason. The venomous glow upon both maces coalesced into the spectral image of a great serpent, lunging toward Song Yan.
At the same time, he turned and fled toward the valley’s mouth.
“What manner of monster is this man?!”
Song Yan’s expression was indifferent. He extended a sword finger in a void tap. All sword shadows instantly converged into one, hovering overhead and coalescing into a full moon.
“Moonfall.”
In the next instant, the sword formation crashed down like a collapsing sky.
Three flying swords shot forth in unison. Cold moonlight poured from that full moon.
BOOM!!!
The entire stream valley was swallowed by sword light the color of the moon.
The Xu surname cultivator’s twin maces disintegrated inch by inch. He watched helplessly as his arms disintegrated first, followed by his chest, his waist…
In the end, only a single head rolled onto the shallows, pinned to the ground by the Untethered Vessel with a single thrust.
The sword formation retracted. The moon disc dispersed.
Song Yan stood with his hands at his sides. The flying swords returned to their chest.
The stream valley returned to silence. Only the stench of blood lingered, drifting unresolved.
Within the valley, five severed corpses lay scattered—some cleaved in two, some crushed to pulp. The odor of blood mingled with the mountain mist, permeating everything without dispersing.
Wu Shuangzhi collapsed into the water, staring blankly at Song Yan’s retreating figure as he sheathed his swords.
Not a single drop of blood stained the youth’s black robes. Only a thread of cold luminescence, like moonlight, faded quietly along with the black-and-white sword light.
Wu Zilin stood frozen in place, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
He had not even managed to catch a clear glimpse of the black-robed youth’s flying swords. He had merely felt the moonlight descend, and the five cultivators had fallen like wheat stalks before the scythe.
He roused himself from his daze and hurriedly dropped to his knees with a splash. “Your great kindness, this humble one does not know how to repay… may I ask your name…”
“Senior Brother Song.”
Wu Shuangzhi suppressed her injuries and struggled to her feet with great effort.
“Hmm?”
Song Yan had already descended from the low hill. Hearing someone call out, he turned in surprise to look at the girl.
He had assumed she was merely a junior sister from the sect who recognized him. He had not expected her to look somewhat familiar.
“Have we met?”
Wu Shuangzhi nodded.
Wu Zilin hurried forward to support his sister.
“At the Sword-Tempering Competition, on the banks of Qingjiang Plain. We crossed paths once.”
Song Yan recalled.
In truth, Wu Shuangzhi had witnessed Song Yan’s prowess all the way back in Changping. But at that time, she had been nothing more than an outer disciple.
The two were about to offer their thanks when a green snake came slithering from nearby, a cluster of cosmos bags dangling from its tail.
It was rather strange—Song Yan had never taught her to do this, yet the little serpent was quite fond of the business of looting corpses.
The pair started in fright, but quickly realized it was his spirit pet.
Song Yan casually selected two of the five cosmos bags and tossed them to the siblings.
“Take them. A share for those who were present.”
“Would you like me to escort you back to the sect?”
Having encountered fellow sect disciples here, it could be counted as fate. He happened to be heading back to his cave dwelling anyway, so it would be no trouble to see them partway.
“Ah, thank you, Senior Brother Song. But… not just yet.”
Wu Shuangzhi declined. A shadow of sorrow crossed her face. “Senior Brother Ye of our sect sacrificed himself to protect us from those five. He gave his life so that we might escape.”
“My brother and I will rest here a while longer. Once we’ve seen to his affairs, we’ll return to the sect.”
“Mm.”
Song Yan nodded, conveying his condolences.
For cultivators to fight, kill, and perish while abroad—it was spoken of as a common enough thing, a perfectly ordinary occurrence.
But when the one who perished was a friend, a senior, a kinsman…
Few could take it in stride.
Song Yan understood. He therefore called Xiao He back and lingered no longer, departing the stream valley alone.
…
Approximately two months earlier, he had consumed the Qiyang Pill and successfully broken through to the eighth level of Qi Refining.
He had also completed the formalities of joining the Demon Subjugation Peak.
In truth, the Demon Subjugation Peak was merely a symbolic affiliation. There was no need to relocate.
Over the next two months, Song Yan had devoted himself wholeheartedly to the cultivation of sword formations.
His cave dwelling was too confined to practice them properly.
So he recalled this secluded, uninhabited stream valley deep within the Flame Mist Mountain Range.
Here he could cultivate sword formations in earnest, and take on small missions along the way to accumulate spirit stones.
To be interrupted even while training here—Song Yan truly could not fathom his luck. He could only blame himself for his ill fortune.
Yet reflecting upon his gains over these past two months filled Song Yan with unbridled delight.
The power of sword formations far exceeded his imagination.
In keeping with the principle of mastery over quantity, he had temporarily selected only two first-tier sword formations to study from the lowest rank.
One of them was the very formation he had just used in the stream valley, annihilating five cultivators in the blink of an eye.
Ring Moon.
The Ring Moon Sword Formation required three flying swords to execute, and its power was influenced by many factors.
The cultivator’s own cultivation, the grade of the flying swords, the compatibility between the swords—among others.
What surprised Song Yan most was that sword formations allowed sword qi to naturally condense and coalesce into sword shadows.
A sword cultivator’s sword qi served the same function as the spiritual energy of other cultivators.
When sword qi condensed into solid form, manifesting as sword shadows to face the enemy, it was far more formidable than raw sword qi.
Like flying swords, it was one of the primary offensive means of a sword cultivator.
And when sword qi was refined to its utmost limit, it became Sword Dao Primordial Essence.
Even with Song Yan’s current level of Sword Dao cultivation, he could still only compress a single thread of sword primordial within his Dantian. The only improvement was that the speed of regeneration had increased somewhat.
Among offensive-type sword formations, what struck Song Yan as most astonishing was that once the formation was complete, the flying sword serving as the formation’s eye could rapidly amplify and refine the sword qi.
It brought every strand of circulating sword qi nearly to the density of a sword shadow.
Simultaneously, the sword qi could nourish the flying sword in return, enhancing its power within the formation.
The two complemented each other, making the formation’s might truly terrifying.
Taking the first-tier Ring Moon formation as an example—the position of “New Moon,” the moon disc coalescing upon the Untethered Vessel, was composed entirely of supremely condensed sword qi.
Moreover, sword formations did not necessarily require flying swords as their eyes.
Once a sword cultivator’s Sword Dao cultivation was sufficient and their mastery of sword formations deep enough, sword shadows alone could execute smaller formations.
After all, in the ancient era, most sword cultivators had raised only a single natal flying sword.
The formations recorded in the Spirit Transmutation Chapter were all below the second tier.
However, this did not mean that these formations were weak.
The grade of a sword formation generally represented only the difficulty of mastering it. With diligent study and proper pairing, a lower-tier formation could be just as formidable.
As Sword Dao cultivation advanced, lower-tier formations could even be upgraded.
Since the art of sword formations was first established, there had always been sword cultivators who considered themselves of mediocre talent and devoted their entire lives to perfecting a single formation.
They refined it, optimized it, elevated it, achieving ever deeper mastery of the Sword Dao.
Countless such predecessors, throughout the vast river of history, had made the art of sword formations flourish and thrive.
And among the prodigies of the Sword Dao, some had combined multiple lower-tier formations to create a devastating technique known as the “Sword Domain.”
But those were matters beyond his current reach.
What Song Yan wished to do now was return to his cave dwelling and attempt the second sword formation he had mastered.