Chapter 71: Sword that Hangs the Heaven

Sword that Hangs the Heaven

The left half of the golden wings unfolded, blocking in front of the sword-wielding Xiguang like an impregnable barrier.

Golden light spread across the wings, blocking the endless assault.

Behind the wings, a tall man stood in place, his deep amber eyes sunk, the uneven pattern on the sword hilt imprinted on his palm.

The black-winged man's eyebrows flew up, "Planning to shrink like a turtle?" The surrounding black feathers fluttered up with his words, tails all pointing at Xiguang.

He raised his sword, the six black wings fully spread, and his whole body leapt into the air.

Darkness spread at this moment, shadows enveloping Xiguang; from the shadows seemed to stretch out a hand of white bone, reaching from the shadows to grab Xiguang's slender calf.

On the golden boots, one white bone hand after another clung on, gripping tight and never loosening.

The silver-haired man coldly swung his sword; beneath the golden sword light, the white bones instantly turned to ash.

Just some lowly methods.

He raised his brows, his pale gold pupils locking onto the black wing, a man with the same face. His gaze was like a dewdrop hanging on morning green grass, reflecting a glint of light, carrying an imperceptible yet unmistakable killing intent.

On the black-winged man's exposed brows and eyes, it was as if a pure black eyeliner had been painted on; the jade-colored mask still clung to his face, accentuating his eerie and evil appearance.

His body also underwent a change.

Feathers twirled and drifted down; the wings once full of flesh and blood left only jade-white bones, becoming six pairs of bone wings, their edges flashing with a bloodthirsty gloom, like a grim reaper's scythe, starkly erect.

Even staring at it with one's eyes would cause a slight sting.

Fu Guang wiped it away expressionlessly, the physiological saline that suddenly appeared in her eye sockets skillfully layered several layers of mental power before her eyes.

"How ugly." The person beside her glanced at the fallen feathers and muttered, then turned to Fu Guang and said, "But the bones look quite nice."

"Hey, interested in snapping off a piece to collect?" She nudged Fu Guang herself, asking with interest.

"I think this ugly thing surviving isn't bad either." She looked at the fact that no one was talking to her and muttered to herself, "I don't even know if these bones could work on a decay-removing potion."

"If it works, could the Starship's skin be removed?"

"If we could paint on the Starship, that would also work."

A weapon of war, in her mouth it's like a readily available sketchpad, she can do as she pleases without cherishing it at all.

Black hair hanging to her waist streamed behind her; the girl's long brows slightly furrowed, her star-like eyes glittering with tiny lights, unknown what she thought.

She stood up, walked over to nearby, and stood beside the statue-like Sentinel, circling him twice.

Her gaze was like examining a commodity awaiting price, nodding at times, shaking at others, approaching and retreating rudely like a sparrow.

Casually she plucked a strand, the Sentinel's silver hair.

The long strands fluttered in her hand as she walked back.

Then she lowered her head, pulled out the red waistband, gave it a light shake, and unfolded it into a soft piece of cloth about half a meter long.

Her fingertips were covered with water element, dancing across the cloth as she wrote and drew.

Fu Guang could see from the familiar strokes that the light-element power was sufficient and flexible, likely able to serve the function of chasing-light grass, awaiting testing...

The seated golden-haired girl lowered her eyelids, no longer watching her every move.

The black-haired girl glanced at Fu Guang, lightly squeezing out a sound from her nostrils, a faint hum that drifted down onto the water surface.

Some inner demons are the exact opposite of the self: peace-lovers become bloodthirsty, the weak become strong, the resolute become hesitant.

Inner demons, they can be one's past, or a predictable future, or even a completely opposite aspect at this moment; inner demons want to seize this body, altering the present to make the "master" displeased.

Seeing one's own shadow in them is quite normal; they share the same likes and behaviors, only differing in time, and their outward expressions are not entirely the same.

They exist solely to let the self survive as long as possible; born from hesitation, doubt, and dissatisfaction.

Dissatisfied with worldly affairs, wavering about the present situation, puzzled by what happened?

You dare not make a change; then let me do it.

Since their appearance, inner demons have believed that the person who gave rise to them does not deserve this body; they will take over, become the new masters of this flesh, and then survive in another way.

As for the means of survival, whether the individual or humanity can accept it is not considered by the inner demons.

Those with weak minds easily succumb to these words, abandoning themselves and becoming slaves to desire.

Because human desire is endless, no one will be completely satisfied with what happens.

Those without desire or pursuit have no inner demons.

So then, Xiguang, what is your desire?

In the dark, unclear bright sky, a gigantic sword piercing the heavens descends irresistibly, bearing the force of a million jun of thunder, its tip pointing at where the silver-haired man stands.

As if the next instant the giant sword falls, blood will spray and sound will vanish.

Xiguang watched the approaching sword, then dispersed his wings; his sword and the accompanying path turned into points of light, like tiny fireflies in the heavy darkness, only able to illuminate the corner of his clothing.

He closed his eyes, stood relaxed, ceased, halted his thoughts.

Yet the Sword that Hangs the Heaven did not stop; it continued down, its cold sword chill and icy blade piercing his skin, cutting his flesh, severing his meridians.

He heard the dripping sound of blood flowing, the tearing sound of skin texture being split, and the sound of bones breaking.

He heard it all, his consciousness flashing through his mind, leaving nothing behind, and making no movement.

His fingertips still dangled, his eyelids not lifted.

The world fell into utter silence.

At some point a cheerful girl's voice reached his ears, her tone rising, the ending curled, unaware of whom she was asking, "Who will win?"

After a while, there was no echo.

That voice continued, "You are so boring, growing up you've become a boring adult."

"You won't even say a few more words to me." The voice brimmed with grievance, a choked-back tearful sound, as if she would burst into tears any second.

Xiguang opened his eyes; azure sky filled his vision, the rusted halt of his head turned, this place was Yummengze.

His shoulder ached, his spirit tightened.

A helpless spirit flapping its wings was embraced by a black-haired girl with her back to him; she would sometimes lift the angel's wings, sometimes touch the halo above the spirit's head.

"Really fun." The black-haired girl said with a smiling tone, as if playing with a beloved toy.

Not far away, the blonde girl sitting cross-legged on the ground was lifting her eyelids, her gaze coldly looking at him.

"Fu Guang, you say, is it?"

The black-haired girl turned her head, revealing a beautiful face identical to that of the blonde girl.