Chapter 64: One Sword Suppresses a Pure Yang Master (Requesting Follow Reads!)

The azure sky was washed clean, with not a single cloud in sight.

Above the heavens, fierce winds howled, but were torn apart by sword qi upon nearing.

Dou Changsheng controlled a sword forged from true qi, flying atop it as he followed the wooden bird; when Jin Wuming suddenly acted up, Dou Changsheng shifted his gaze toward him.

He clearly saw Jin Wuming launch his attack.

With an air of utter contempt, as if the Pure Yang Master were beneath his notice.

Seeing Jin Wuming suddenly point at him and accuse him of fleeing, Dou Changsheng was first startled—but immediately realized this was Jin Wuming’s trick; the Pure Yang Master Leng Wuye had indeed fallen into the trap exactly as Jin Wuming had predicted.

It was not that Leng Wuye was incompetent, but that Jin Wuming’s acting was masterful.

The deception was too great; Leng Wuye involuntarily shifted his gaze, and Jin Wuming erupted—threads of light emerged from his wrists, stretching toward his palms until they were fully covered, radiant and supreme.

In the heavens and earth, a mournful wailing arose.

It sounded like the sky and earth weeping—grief-stricken, venomous, as if gathering all darkness within the cosmos.

The sound carried an indescribable resonance.

Upon hearing it, one was drawn into painful memories, drowning in sorrow.

Jin Wuming was known as the Weeping Hands of Heaven.

He specialized in the Heavenly Weeping Scripture, the supreme art of the Divine Blood Sect.

This supreme art had been perfected to its utmost peak.

The sound lured forth past wounds—not only did heaven and earth weep, but as Jin Wuming struck, tears rained down his cheeks, each drop like a pearl falling to the ground.

Leng Wuye sensed danger; his right iron arm swelled, becoming alive, thickening again to twice its size, as wide as a water barrel, steel bones clenching tightly into a massive iron fist that roared toward Jin Wuming.

This punch tore through the air like a meteor streaking across the heavens.

Its momentum shook the heavens, stirring boundless airwaves, the sonic boom echoing like thunder across all directions.

Before the fist arrived, its pressure struck first.

Petal after petal of the Three Flowers bloomed, the primordial true qi forming a barrier that desperately held back the punch’s force—but even so, Jin Wuming’s silver-white hair was whipped upward by the force, a gash appearing on his cheek, blood welling from the wound.

Though Leng Wuye reacted swiftly, Jin Wuming’s palm struck squarely upon his right shoulder.

This fierce, brutal punch missed entirely; its terrifying power, as solid as substance, compressed the air until it slammed into the ground—with a thunderous boom, dust soared, stones vaporized, leaving a massive crater.

Jin Wuming cried out: “Hei Fu is one of the Ten Masters of the Mo School. Though he shares your rank as a Pure Yang Master, he is like a newborn sun—you have long since declined. Give him ten more years, and you won’t even see his shadow.”

“In mechanical arts, you are no match for Hei Fu.”

“This famed Mechanical Holy Fist, broken by Hei Fu, is now hollow pretense.”

“My ambush strike—any Pure Yang Master could easily block it. Yet you hesitated. That proves you are no more than a Divine Ability Master in strength.”

“Why not strike together and kill Leng Wuye?”

“The Deputy Head of the Mechanical School, the Pure Yang Master, the famed Mechanical Holy Fist—these titles will become our stepping stones.”

“Today, you and I shall make our names known to the world.”

Dou Changsheng looked up at Sun Duxiu, who floated like a spirit of the wind, ethereal as a fairy, and spoke calmly: “We cannot let Jin Wuming perish.”

“Without this 19th-ranked warrior on the Ren List, we alone cannot stand against Leng Wuye.”

“Strike together—first, survive this crisis.”

Sun Duxiu agreed at once; a man tossed over his burden, and a classical guqin landed in Sun Duxiu’s hands. His pale jade fingers gently stilled the trembling strings.

With a light pluck, the music rose, clouds spontaneously forming into a cloud-bed.

Sun Duxiu sat cross-legged, the guqin before him, his voice like silver bells: “I am not skilled in combat—I can only play one tune for the Sword Lord.”

“Recently, I chanced upon an ancient melody that can break through one’s realm during battle.”

“With my ability, I cannot push the Sword Lord beyond Divine Ability—but I can stabilize the Three Flowers, complete the Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown and the Five Qi Aligning to the Origin, making him a Primordial Xuan Realm cultivator without difficulty.”

Dou Changsheng gave Sun Duxiu a deep look; this man, ranked first among the Eight Beauties, was no mere ornament—he had just revealed a masterstroke at this critical moment.

A battlefield breakthrough, even if temporary, offered immense benefits.

It could be used against enemies, and even in daily cultivation, it allowed one to sense the next realm ahead, greatly aiding progress and shortening the time needed to master a realm.

This ancient melody was exceedingly rare.

And to play it was no small feat.

He glanced again at the sycophants—no wonder Chen Weiquan was among them; there was real gain here.

The guqin’s melody was fine as silk, soft and lingering.

Above Dou Changsheng, the celestial flower slowly bloomed, followed by the human flower; a phantom blossom also emerged slowly.

Seeing this, Chen Weiquan’s eyes narrowed; the last time he saw Dou Changsheng, the man had not even completed the Five Qi—yet now two of the Three Flowers were already present.

How much time had passed since then?

Too fast.

Despair welled within him.

Is this what a true genius looks like?

No wonder the Fire Cloud True Person said the next decade belonged to Dou Changsheng.

In Chen Weiquan’s view, the Fire Cloud True Person was too conservative—Dou Changsheng would seize the top spot on the Ren List before twenty, dominating the world and standing alone atop the pinnacle.

The Three Flowers bloomed—even though one was illusory—yet they forcibly elevated his realm to the Primordial Xuan Realm.

His primordial true qi began transforming, turning within moments into primordial true yuan.

The primordial true yuan exhaled and inhaled from his dantian, flowing through his meridians, expanding them, raising their limits, finally surging into the Five Qi Acupoints, transforming the primordial true qi within.

Dou Changsheng drew his Hero Sword, and instantly understood the Mechanical School’s greatest mistake: gathering all these men together.

Dou Changsheng charged forward, slashing with his sword.

Divine intent surged, aura spread.

Ordinary techniques were no longer needed—too crude for a Divine Ability Master; without understanding divine intent, one had no right to strike.

His primordial true yuan exploded in full force—no reserves held back.

Sword qi erupted from the Hero Sword.

A punch tore through the air; sword qi clashed with the iron fist.

Brilliant sparks flew everywhere.

The mighty primordial true yuan forcibly repelled Leng Wuye.

Dou Changsheng’s heart steadied—this was no true Pure Yang Master. Jin Wuming had not lied; Leng Wuye’s mechanical arts had been shattered by Hei Fu, and now his entire body was hollow.

One sword suppressed a Pure Yang Master.

Confidence surged, courage strengthened; the power of the Three Yuan Returning Qi Scripture rose accordingly.

His combat power surged.