Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four: The White-Clothed Swordmaster Qian Chen

Qian Chen raised his sword to eyebrow height, pointing it levelly, as if paying homage to the supreme Dao of the sword.

The Ghost-Eater Divine Lord’s Wind God’s Howl emitted a soul-shattering wail; the mournful wind howled in rising and falling tones, forming a melody that shook the spirit.

Upon hearing this melody, Qian Chen’s swordlight faltered, and his gaze gradually grew hazy.

The Ghost-Eater Divine Lord tore the wind into claws, seizing Qian Chen’s Jinghong Sword with his right tiger-head gauntlet, trapping the swordlight within his grip.

A sharp, supple sword, bound by a divine weapon inherently superior to it, was instantly locked in all its possible movements.

At this moment, the Ghost-Eater Divine Lord unleashed his hidden flail; his left hand curled into a claw, clad in an unremarkable black glove, through which his true qi coalesced into a mysterious black demonic aura, carrying a sinister power that could snatch souls and steal spirits, lashing toward Qian Chen’s face.

This claw could dig out a man’s very soul.

The Ghost-Eater Divine Lord felt a flicker of triumph—before the eyes of the orthodox martial world, plucking out the soul of this youngest new Grand Master would surely crush the morale of the righteous.

The black glove on his left hand was none other than the ancestral divine weapon of the Nether Palace—Ghost God’s Wail!

The Ghost-Eater Divine Lord was a rare genius in the martial world, capable of wielding two divine weapons simultaneously—he relied openly on the mighty, terrifying Wind God’s Howl, while secretly using the hidden, elusive Ghost God’s Wail as his killing blow; this time, Qian Chen seemed doomed.

A few Grand Masters far away, who could pierce through the storm’s veil and watch the battle, sighed involuntarily.

As if bidding farewell to the youngest Grand Master in the history of the martial world.

He’s still too young!

But just as the Ghost-Eater Divine Lord was about to grasp Qian Chen’s face, Qian Chen instantly gathered his scattered gaze and smiled faintly at him—he let go of Jinghong Sword, and in his left hand appeared a black banner, which he swept across the Ghost-Eater Divine Lord’s face; with a flick of his right wrist, a jade ring slipped free and dropped downward.

The Ghost-Eater Divine Lord, struck by the sweep, was instantly bewitched, his Wind God’s Howl slipping unconsciously from his grasp, swallowed into the seal of the Dragon Sparrow Ring.

Qian Chen retrieved Jinghong Sword, and with a single point of swordlight, pierced through the Ghost-Eater Divine Lord’s third eye, gently ending his life.

You have two divine weapons? I’ve hidden at least eight magic artifacts!

You thought I was a swordmaster devoted to the Dao of the sword? I let go! Surprised?

Why didn’t your soul-snatching power work on me? Because my true form is a primordial spiritual treasure! All my earlier feints were fake… my devotion to the sword was fake… this entire identity is fake… I’ve long since learned your secrets from Divine Lord Chengwu, knew the nature of your second divine weapon, while you knew nothing of me.

Friend… you’re still too young!

If I can’t handle a brat like you, have I lived for millions of years in vain?

Qian Chen held Jinghong Sword, appearing as a lonely swordmaster, even gently brushing away a trace of blood from the blade’s tip, his expression carrying a hint of melancholy… and solitude. As the Wind God’s Howl was reclaimed by Qian Chen, the tornado’s gales calmed, and the orthodox martial heroes finally witnessed Qian Chen’s ceremonious farewell.

Kang Qiandeng was instantly stunned!

What profound devotion to the sword’s solitude! It was as if he were brushing away not snow, nor blood, but the loneliness of having no one to test his blade—just as the sword itself was loneliness.

Qian Chen’s white robe, gently wiping blood from his swordtip before the Ghost-Eater Divine Lord’s corpse, became an unforgettable memory for many swordsmen here; many vowed their lives to chasing this lofty, solitary aura of the sword.

Kang Qiandeng was brainwashed by this scene. Years later, after slaying a great enemy, he still wished to imitate Qian Chen and brush away the solitude from his blade—but always felt his opponents weren’t worthy of such a ritual, so he could only gaze at his swordtip with a faint sadness and lonely eyes, a trend that soon spread.

Kongming Chan Master was also stunned!

Had the Ghost God’s Wail created an illusion? Was the one who unhesitatingly dropped his sword, pulled out a long banner divine weapon to ambush the Tiger God, then drew a jade ring divine weapon to seize the Wind God’s Howl—not this aloof swordmaster at all? Was it merely that Kongming Chan Master’s eyes had been blurred by the wind?

Kongming Chan Master instinctively turned his head and saw the equally stunned Elder Wan Shi and Hong Sihai, confirming he had not been deceived.

In that moment, he felt a sudden, profound resonance with a thought Qian Chen must have had once—this old monk has lived eighty-eight years in vain; indeed, he is still too young. His experience is insufficient… compared to these young people… this old monk truly…

Qian Chen walked forward slowly, sword in hand, his bearing making the rough martial crowd feel ashamed.

Returning Jinghong Sword to Kang Qiandeng, Qian Chen was startled by the intense worship blazing in Kang Qiandeng’s eyes—it was clear that, had Jinghong Sword not been its ancestral divine weapon, Kang Qiandeng would have been tempted to offer it to Qian Chen outright. Kang Qiandeng had clearly forgotten all about Qian Chen poisoning Su Sanguan; he now firmly believed Qian Chen to be a peerless swordmaster devoted to the Dao of the sword.

Qian Chen silently shook his head inside: “Boy, you won’t learn anything from me about swordsmanship!”

“But I can teach you how to show off!”

“Just now, that tiger challenged me to a show-off contest—I used only three-tenths of my strength and crushed him utterly.”

“Learn just one-tenth of my show-off art, and you’ll be able to roam the world unchallenged!”

But Qian Chen naturally wouldn’t say such a ruinous thing now. With Tianluo Umbrella on his back, he happily marked another head, advancing his quest to three kills. Just as he prepared to casually claim another head, the Dawn Divine Lord, entangled with Hong Sihai, sensed something amiss and fled immediately—he joined forces with the Fat God, preparing to retreat together.

The two were about to combine their flight, when the Fat God suddenly turned pale, staring at the back of the Dawn Divine Lord as if Qian Chen stood behind him. The Dawn Divine Lord, startled, turned around—but no one was there.

At that moment, the Fat God pulled out a large cloth sack—his divine weapon, the Heavenly Cloth Sack—and opened its mouth, swallowing the Dawn Divine Lord whole.

Then, slinging the sack containing the Dawn Divine Lord over his shoulder, the Fat God ran toward Qian Chen, shouting as he ran: “Don’t strike! I’m on your side!”

“Who’s your side? Head-hunting dog!” Qian Chen snapped—this was two heads about to fly away!

The Fat God, belly bulging, trotted up to Kongming Chan Master and Qian Chen, removed his mask, revealing a cheerful, chubby face, bowing and scraping: “Actually, I’m a spy from Shaolin! The Twelve Zodiacs’ attack on the Four Seas Hall? I was the one who tipped them off! Just now, I was acting—I couldn’t beat that tiger, so I planned to blend in with my brother, pretend to fight toward him, then turn on him—but brother, you’re too fierce!”

“We’re all on the same side! No misunderstandings, okay?”

Kongming Chan Master pressed his palm to his forehead and sighed helplessly: “This is indeed my younger brother—Laughing Maitreya! Dharma name: Kongxu…”