Chapter 226: Kill!
In Yuanzhen’s eyes, the might of the sword formation was like the collapse of heaven itself.
Three swords struck as one. Vast sword qi transformed into frigid moonlight, cascading from the full moon above.
Sword cries wailed beneath the moon.
The instant the moon’s shadow descended, Yuanzhen’s face drained of color. In panic, he urged the Mingwang Art, desperately trying to shield his entire body.
The sword formation’s attack was simply too swift to evade!
Yet the moment the golden Buddhist light touched his skin, the torrential sword qi shattered it to pieces.
The Sanskrit inscriptions upon the darkwood alms bowl flashed one after another, but they too cracked and crumbled under the relentless onslaught.
Yuanzhen’s mind reeled. Gritting his teeth, he finally summoned a golden-red kasaya. With a sweep of his great hand, Buddhist light flared.
The kasaya whirled once around his body, then vanished. In its place arose a golden barrier rippling like water.
The solitary moon finally descended and collided with the golden barrier in a thunderous impact.
The darkwood alms bowl caved inward with a splintering crack. A sweetness rose in Yuanzhen’s throat, and a thread of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. He staggered, nearly collapsing to his knees.
Song Yan’s expression remained placid, though inwardly he was somewhat surprised.
This was the first time since mastering the Huanyue Sword Formation that he had failed to instantly kill his opponent.
“An inferior-grade spirit artifact?”
Yuanzhen’s golden barrier—rippling like water—swayed and wavered, appearing unstable, yet it managed to deflect the majority of the sword qi from Moonfall.
Song Yan had never witnessed such defensive power from any superior-grade magical artifact.
Therefore, he had guessed this was an inferior-grade spirit artifact.
But his guess was wrong.
This protective kasaya was a lower-grade spirit artifact.
Yuanzhen’s mana was draining at a devastating rate. With his current Sacred Art’s peak Qi Refining cultivation, driving this lower-grade spirit artifact was an enormous strain.
Even using this lower-grade spirit artifact to withstand his opponent’s killing strike was an ordeal.
What in the world was going on…
How could the Kingdom of Chu possibly harbor such a person?
Meanwhile, on the other side, the demonic energy around the Zen Body surged wildly. Its palms rose, and countless streams of demonic energy gathered and condensed overhead, forming into a colossal Buddhist staff over six feet long.
It was now clearly perceptible that, due to the main body’s peril and the instinctive dread welling from within, the clone’s power was steadily waning.
Yet there was nothing it could do. After all, it was merely a clone.
Bound by the flaws of the demonic art, the clone possessed little intelligence. But it knew that to save the true body, this Qi Refining cultivator had to die.
Carrying a crushing aura, the great staff thrust directly toward Song Yan.
But the white-bone Dharma Body’s right hand—its five black fingers—had already seized one end of the staff.
A terrifying force far beyond the Qi Refining stage shoved the Dharma Body back several zhang.
At that moment, another skeletal hand materialized from thin air, gripping the other end of the staff.
Upon the white bone, wind and thunder arose in solemn fury, spreading across the entire Dharma Body.
Its skull dipped suddenly, and with a thunderous crack, it snapped the demonic staff clean in half!
Both hands wrenched the broken pieces apart, one in each grasp.
The Dharma Body possessed no sentience.
Its emergence carried but a single thought.
“Kill!”
It stepped forward, its left hand spinning the broken staff to lock the Zen Body’s neck in place.
Then its right hand, gripping the other half of the shattered staff, drove forward with devastating force into the Zen Body’s lower back.
Pfft.
The broken staff pierced through the clone’s body in an instant.
“Ugh…”
Yuanzhen’s clone stiffened.
Massive quantities of demonic energy gushed uncontrollably from the wound, drawn into the Dharma Body’s palm, where it transformed into new flesh and sinew.
But the white-bone Dharma Body’s momentum did not slow. Its right hand released its grip, the palm transforming into a fist, and it hammered the clone into a stumbling retreat.
Before it could regain its footing, the left broken staff was passed to the right hand and hurled with savage force at the clone.
Bam!
The broken staff pinned the clone firmly to the ground.
The demonic clone and the true body were linked in spirit. At that moment, a tearing agony and mortal terror surged through their connection.
Yuanzhen’s mind wavered. The mana flow, already barely sustained, turned chaotic in an instant.
Song Yan extended a finger from afar. A sliver of razor-sharp sword essence gathered at its tip and shot forth in a streak.
Without stable mana to support it, that strand of sword essence became the last straw that broke the camel’s back.
The kasaya tore open with a resplendent rip.
In desperation, Yuanzhen forced down the searing pain in his mind, channeling the last dregs of his mana to use the shockwave of the disintegrating kasaya and hurtle backward.
Yet though he barely dodged the sword formation, endless exhaustion and agony crashed over him like a tide.
He staggered several steps, failed to steady himself, and collapsed to the ground. His expression was dazed, as though all will to resist had drained away.
Song Yan’s face was cold.
Six sword shadows flowed from the sword box, swirling around Yuanzhen.
Boom!
At that very moment, the demonic clone’s energy suddenly surged, and it slammed into Song Yan’s Dharma Body in what appeared to be a death blow.
On the verge of death, the clone was maddened beyond reason. Demonic flame exploded into a staff shadow that swept across the six directions, blasting the Dharma Body back, then charged straight for Song Yan’s face.
Bam!
In that critical instant, the white-bone Dharma Body did not hesitate for a heartbeat. Its right palm slapped down—and tore its own left arm free!
The left arm shattered into countless streams of sword qi, which in a flash condensed within the right palm into a phantom of a flying sword. Wind and thunder surged upon its surface.
Look closely, and one would find the sword’s form bore a striking resemblance to Buxizhou—merely several sizes larger.
The phantom sword was hurled forward and in a single breath pierced clean through the demonic body.
The clone pitched forward and hit the ground, motionless.
Song Yan walked over at an unhurried pace.
Yuanzhen now bled from all seven orifices. His kasaya hung in tatters, like nothing more than a few rags.
“You… who are you…”
He raised his head weakly, only to find Song Yan had already come to stand before him. A shadow fell over him like a demon gazing down.
As though suddenly remembering something, he cried out in rapid succession, “Don’t kill me! I possess the Sacred Art of the Demonic Sect! And her—” He pointed to Wu Huaguo nearby. “Do you know what treasure she carries? Spare me, and I’ll tell you how to obtain it—”
Song Yan was unmoved. His sword finger curled.
Six sword shadows began to rotate with lethal speed.
At that moment, Song Yan felt demonic energy coil around his ankle and elbow, and the rotation of the sword shadows faltered.
“Hm?”
He looked down. Yuanzhen’s demonic clone, though on the verge of death, had dragged its ruined body to Song Yan’s feet.
It looked up at Yuanzhen, its voice wooden. “Run… quickly…”
Run…
Yuanzhen’s mind snapped back from its daze.
“Yes… run. I must run!”
“The Sacred Art is not yet complete. I cannot die at the hands of some nameless junior!”
But in that very instant, a massive black hand slowly descended and seized the demonic clone’s skull.
The Dharma Body had lost its left arm, yet its movements were barely impeded.
Black fingers traced with golden lines drove the demonic clone’s head into the ground with savage force.
Then it drew the phantom sword from the clone’s back and raised it high.
Beneath Yuanzhen’s blank stare, the blade plunged downward, sinking into the clone’s skull.
The entire mountaintop fell into absolute silence.
Boom!
The clone detonated, erupting into a torrent of demonic fog that poured ceaselessly into the white-bone Dharma Body.
Yuanzhen sat stunned for a long while. The scene before him felt like a dream, utterly unreal.
All his visions and ambitions vanished in the span of a breath.
“…” His face was ashen. He sat cross-legged where he was, and slowly pressed his palms together.
“Excellent.”
From the clouds, the sword descended.
A deluge of sword qi swallowed him whole.
When the dust settled, only a corpse riddled with wounds lay upon the ground, devoid of all life.
At the same moment, the Dharma Body behind Song Yan slowly dissipated.
Hooo—
Between his teeth, his breathing gradually slowed.
This was perhaps not the most perilous battle Song Yan had fought thus far, but it was nearly the one in which he had given his absolute all.
Dharma Body. Sword Formation. Sword Essence. Sword Qi. Natal Flying Sword.
Every weapon in his arsenal had been unleashed in a matter of moments, all to annihilate the enemy’s resistance with overwhelming force.
Fortunately, the danger had passed, and the foe was slain.
With the demonic clone’s dispersal, the restrictions holding Wu Huaguo shattered and vanished. Yet she did not dare move.
Gazing at Song Yan’s figure and his placid expression, he was struck by a sense of unreality.
She had expected a desperate, brutal struggle—perhaps even one in which Yuanzhen would suppress Song Yan.
But this Fellow Daoist Song seemed unwilling to toy with his prey. He had deployed terrifying means, brutalized the “Demonic Yuanzhen,” then dispatched him with casual ease.
Unbelievable.
Could this truly be the combat power of a cultivator at the Qi Refining stage?
Though the aura he had displayed was still far from the majesty of a Foundation Establishment elder of her clan, that inexplicable sense of oppression was unlike anything she had ever witnessed.
At Qi Refining, he possessed such might. If he were to establish his Foundation…
As for whether it was “demonic art” or not, Wu Huaguo could not have cared less.
This man had used that very “demonic art” to save her life.
This was a Sacred Art!
Her eyes blazed, and a single thought now filled her mind.
This Fellow Daoist Song must be cultivated as an ally. In the future, he will surely become a pillar of the Wu clan!
He is the true great fortune of our Wu family!
…
Warm sunlight spilled through the blossoming trees of the courtyard, casting dappled gold upon the pavilion.
At the Shanyang Villa.
Song Yan sat across from Wang Ke, perusing an ancient Daoist text.
Wang Ke held a thin golden page in his hand, placing stones upon the chessboard to reconstruct a position, muttering to himself with furrowed brows, seemingly lost in thought.
The conclusion of the Grand Go Assembly had been somewhat hasty.
Some said that Grandmaster Yuanzhen from the Central Domain had been unable to accept defeat and had moved against Wang Ke, only to be cut down by a companion at Wang Ke’s side.
Others claimed that demonic cultivators had used the Grand Go Assembly as cover to secretly target the Wu clan’s patriarch, only to be suppressed by a mysterious guest elder of the Wu clan.
Rumors swirled. No one could say for certain.
In any case, the finals had been fraught with twists and turns.
But the championship of the Grand Go Assembly had ultimately fallen upon Wang Ke’s head.
On this point, no one raised objection.
“Sigh.” Wang Ke let out a long sigh. “How strange. Which ancient sage could have left behind this manual?”
“The moves and positions don’t resemble a Go manual at all.”
Song Yan did not look up, his attention entirely absorbed by the ancient text in his hands, allowing Wang Ke to grumble on alone.
Wang Ke’s protective restriction had been destroyed by Yuanzhen using some unknown demonic secret art.
Song Yan needed to ensure this man remained alive until they reached the capital of Chu. Otherwise, he would have returned to the Lanxi Cave dwelling with the Liang couple long ago.
The spoils from slaying Yuanzhen had been given only a cursory inspection.
This ancient text was among them, containing detailed accounts of Foundation Establishment for cultivators, so he had taken it up to read.
The path walked by Buddhist cultivators differed somewhat from ordinary Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment. For instance, the Buddhist realms corresponding to Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment were called the “Hinayana Stages.”
The two levels corresponding to Qi Refining were called Coarse Stillness and Subtle Abiding.
The two levels corresponding to Foundation Establishment were called the Desire Realm and Future Zen.
Yuanzhen had acquired this text describing Foundation Establishment not for the purpose of cultivating Buddhism, but presumably to aid his “Yin-Yang Zen Body” demonic art in achieving Foundation Establishment.
The book likely originated from the Central Domain and contained much that Song Yan had never heard of.
It stated that when a cultivator forged their Dao Foundation, the outcome varied from person to person, influenced by countless factors.
Even variations in mood or mental state could affect the results of Foundation Establishment.
Yet throughout history, many cultivators, upon successfully establishing their Foundation, discovered that upon the Dao Foundation itself, a peculiar pattern had manifested.
This was called a “Dao Pattern.”
In truth, Foundation Establishment manifesting a Dao Pattern was fundamentally no different from ordinary Foundation Establishment.
The only difference was that ordinary Foundation Establishment was stable and balanced, whereas Dao Pattern Foundation Establishment carried certain distinctive advantages and disadvantages.
The book offered several examples.
A cultivator whose Foundation Establishment manifested a Dao Pattern known as “Jiuli” was typically fierce and warlike, but prone to wrath and agitation, frequently beset by inner demons.
Conversely, a cultivator whose Foundation Establishment manifested the “Chan Na” Dao Pattern cultivated in serene tranquility, immune to disturbance. Yet they were indecisive, and in battle found it difficult to strike killing blows.
The book cited numerous examples: some cultivated at a far faster pace, but possessed extremely shallow spiritual energy.
Others had vast spiritual energy, but their Dao Foundations were extraordinarily fragile.
Those who exhibited this phenomenon were, for the most part, individuals who had pushed some aspect of their cultivation to an extreme or possessed some singular, extraordinary talent.
Dao Pattern Foundation Establishment was truly difficult to classify as good or bad.
It undeniably carried advantages, but its disadvantages were equally pronounced—sometimes even fatal.
And yet, inexplicably, it enjoyed widespread popularity among cultivators. To ordinary cultivators, possessing a Dao Pattern seemed to set one apart, to mark one as extraordinary.
As the sole heir of the Sword Sect, Song Yan had found no mention whatsoever of Dao Pattern Foundation Establishment in the Hualing Chapter.
It seemed this matter was of no consequence to sword cultivators.
Having finished the entire Daoist text, he had gained a general understanding of the precautions and procedures involved in Foundation Establishment.
He speculated that the reason the Hualing Chapter mentioned Foundation Establishment so sparingly was because, after severing the spirit seed and planting the sword, the Sword Dao seed became the cultivator’s spiritual root.
The process of Foundation Establishment would then differ little from the ordinary, requiring no special explanation.
He had once known nothing of Foundation Establishment and naturally lived in constant apprehension.
Now, Song Yan’s heart was considerably more at ease.
He set the book aside and looked at Wang Ke, who was still scratching his head and tugging at his beard in frustration. “The Grand Go Assembly is over, and you’ve obtained the manual. When shall we set out for the capital of Chu?”
Wang Ke started, then replied, “We can depart at any time.”
“Then let us leave tomorrow, lest delay bring trouble.”
He was, of course, referring to the Luozhen Vine.
“Mm. Very well.” Wang Ke nodded.
Song Yan rose to his feet and walked out of the courtyard.
He intended to visit the Wu clan before departing. Before this, Wu Huaguo and Rong Xiaofeng had repeatedly extended invitations to express their gratitude for saving their lives, but he had declined each time.
Now that the Grand Go Assembly’s affairs were settled, it would be fitting to call upon them and bid farewell before taking his leave.
Only Wang Ke remained, still muttering to himself over the golden page of the Go manual.
“This Five-Star Dragon Vein Diagram—however I look at it, it doesn’t resemble a Go manual.”
He lay back, holding the golden page up to the sunlight, hoping to discern something within.
“The formation of the pieces and the flow of the terrain—it resembles the art of feng shui divination.”
Hearing that familiar name, Song Yan’s footsteps halted abruptly.