Chapter 839: The Third Young Master's Sword and the Fated Duel

Yu Liancheng said, "Correct, this is your dream."

Xie Xiaofeng said, "Usually dreams are muddled, but today's dream is truly quite realistic."

Seeing that Xie Xiaofeng seemed to doubt it, Yu Liancheng chuckled and clapped his hands.

In an instant, the great sun plummeted, day turned to night, the stars filled the sky, and a bright moon hung high in the firmament. The clear moonlight permeated the entire world, spilling onto the small boat on the lake and enveloping the two of them. Immediately after, a meteor streaked across the night sky, dragging a long tail of flame, as if splitting the firmament in two. Then, meteor after meteor fell to the west, and the night sky became incomparably resplendent, filled with magnificent colors.

In another blink, the sun and moon, day and night, alternated constantly; one moment it was night, the next it was day. The surrounding scenery also seemed to have been pressed with a fast-forward button at this moment; tender shoots broke through the soil in a few breaths, taking root and sprouting, and flower buds bloomed. The hungry fledglings, while flapping their wings, grew full feathers and flew toward the sky...

Even though Xie Xiaofeng was well-traveled and knowledgeable, he was dumbfounded at this moment. He was stunned for a long while, then suddenly slapped his forehead: "I am indeed dreaming."

Yu Liancheng chuckled and snapped his fingers again. The surrounding scenery froze once more, yet it remained thick fog like smoke and rustling reed flowers; the thick fog locked the long river, and everything returned to as it was before.

Xie Xiaofeng sighed, "I see this is not my dream, but a great dream of Brother Yu's."

Yu Liancheng said, "It is indeed I who led you into the dream."

Xie Xiaofeng actually recovered his composure quickly: "Then I wonder what Brother Yu intends?"

Yu Liancheng, however, suddenly changed the subject: "Within three months, the Demon Sect will inevitably advance eastward. The Demon Sect Leader Bai Xiaolou has a style of Demon Blade that can be called the 'God' among blade techniques; no one in the world can resist it, and neither can you."

Xie Xiaofeng lowered his head and pondered, "What one thinks of by day, one dreams of by night. I must have been thinking too deeply during the day, which is why I have such a strange dream."

He was certain that he was currently dreaming. The Demon Sect's eastward advance was inevitable, and Yu Liancheng was the only person who had ever defeated him; both of these things made him think of them day and night, exhausting his spirit, hence this dreamscape.

Yu Liancheng said, "However, your martial arts are similar to Bai Xiaolou's; is the only thing missing a duel?"

Xie Xiaofeng developed a trace of interest in this dream of his, revealing a look of confusion: "A duel?"

Yu Liancheng seemed to be talking to himself: "In the same era, two peerless swordsmen who dedicated their lives to the sword, two peerless swords—there should naturally be a fated duel. Ximen Chuixue and Ye Gucheng are like this, and you and Yan Shisan are also like this."

Immediately after, Yu Liancheng took a step forward and gently gave Xie Xiaofeng a push.

"Only through this fated duel can you truly stand at the absolute peak."

Xie Xiaofeng lost his balance and fell into the water with a "plop." Through the rippling water surface, he could vaguely see Yu Liancheng's pair of eyes, which were slightly smiling yet filled with endless depth.

A sensation of drowning surged toward Xie Xiaofeng; his mouth and nose were full of water, making it difficult to breathe.

Yet at this moment, he had lost control of his body and could only continue to sink toward the riverbed.

Was he going to drown in the dream? Just as Xie Xiaofeng's consciousness was blurring, suddenly his mouth and nose breathed air again, and the sensation of drowning vanished.

He gasped for air, breathing deeply; he had never felt that breathing was such an enjoyable thing. After a long while, he began to observe his surroundings.

It was still the lonely boat on the river, with the reed flowers rustling.

Only, that mysterious and unfathomable fellow was not before his eyes.

Suddenly, a wind blew past.

On the fog-filled river surface, a faint, flickering firelight appeared.

Xie Xiaofeng looked up and saw a few thatched huts on the opposite bank. Outside the huts, firelight rose, illuminating an old man sitting cross-legged. He wore a green bamboo hat and a green straw cape, his head full of white hair like frost.

This was clearly an old man in the twilight of his years, but for some reason, the moment he saw this old man, Xie Xiaofeng actually felt a killing intent, heavy as dark clouds, covering this stretch of river. The weight of this killing intent made his hair stand on end. The greenwood overlords and top-tier assassins he had seen in the past seemed unworthy of even carrying the old man's shoes.

In the old man's hand was a piece of peach wood, and he was using a bone-carving knife to whittle it. With each stroke, the peach wood turned into the shape of a sword. It was three feet and seven inches long, with a hilt and a blade.

The moment the old man stood up and gripped the hilt, his entire person changed completely. That hunched body straightened, and his whole being radiated a stunning aura. It was like a Sword that had been stored in a tattered leather scabbard, suddenly drawn by someone, its sharpness piercing.

The old man suddenly thrust out with the sword. This originally dull and clumsy Peach Wood Sword suddenly had radiance, had life, and even had spiritual energy, like the axe in the hands of Lu Ban or the brush in the hands of Wang Xizhi.

He was understated and wielded it with ease. In an instant, he thrust thirteen times. Each thrust was exquisite and peerless, and each thrust seemed to have a heavy killing intent gushing out. Under the blockade of the heavy killing intent, even the sunlight could not penetrate it. And at this moment, Xie Xiaofeng finally confirmed the guess in his heart and understood why he felt familiar with this landscape of rustling reed flowers.

When he was wandering the Edo, he had met Tie Kaicheng, the helmsman of the Red Flag Escort Agency.

This young head escort, besides those one hundred and thirty-two styles of Iron Cavalry Chain-Link Fast Sword, also had an even more terrifying thirteen-style sword technique, where every move was linked and filled with murderous intent.

It was precisely one of the most murderous sword techniques in the Edo—the Thirteen Swords of Death.

Tie Kaicheng's Thirteen Swords of Death were obtained from the light instruction of Yan Shisan.

No one knew why Yan Shisan would teach Tie Kaicheng sword techniques, but Tie Kaicheng was undoubtedly considered Yan Shisan's disciple, the true successor of the Thirteen Swords of Death.

Xie Xiaofeng had quite a friendship with Tie Kaicheng. Tie Kaicheng had obtained clues about Yan Shisan, and Xie Xiaofeng had gone with him to search for them, and Yan Shisan's final traces were right here on this riverbank with rustling reed flowers.

Then, the identity of the old man before him was self-evident.

Just as Xie Xiaofeng was pondering, Yan Shisan's Fourteenth Sword had already been thrust out. It was clearly just a Peach Wood Sword, but Xie Xiaofeng seemed to hear the sword roar like a dragon, and the sword light was like something flying from beyond the heavens, sweeping away a patch of mist.

In reality, although this Fourteenth Sword had extraordinary power, Xie Xiaofeng was not overly surprised, for when he had seen the Thirteen Swords of Death in the past, he knew that the sword was not finished and its intent was not exhausted.

Then, Yan Shisan thrust out the Fifteenth Sword, that sword which was like a poisonous dragon, capable of devouring everything and stalling all things... In front of this sword, everything seemed to be broken.

No...

The scene before his eyes was truly broken, appearing with cracks.

When it completely shattered and then reconverged, Xie Xiaofeng saw Yan Shisan again.

Yan Shisan stood opposite him, only in his palm was not a wooden sword, but an extremely dazzling and eye-catching Sword.

It had a black fish-skin scabbard and a golden throat, and the scabbard was studded with thirteen pearls as large as dippers.

Although many people would regard this Sword as a decoration hung in the homes of princes and nobles, if anyone truly treated this Sword as a decoration, they would likely lose their lives due to their own ignorance. Because, in the past, it was with this very Sword that Yan Shisan had carved out his illustrious reputation, and no one knew how many famous experts had been buried under that serene and sharp cold sword light.

Xie Xiaofeng discovered that there was also a Sword in his own palm, with a black scabbard and an elegant style. Compared to Yan Shisan's sword, it did not appear conspicuous. But it was not only the Number One Sword Under Heaven, but its fame had also spanned two hundred years. Two hundred years ago, the first ancestor of Shenjian Shanzhuang had used this Sword to suppress the heroes of the world and win the title of "Number One Sword Under Heaven."

For these two hundred years, the successive masters of Shenjian Shanzhuang had relied on this Sword to create many popular and thrilling stories.

And this was also the Third Young Master's own Sword.

Yan Shisan and Xie Xiaofeng looked at each other, and when their eyes met, it was as if firelight exploded.

Time seemed to stagnate at this moment.

Then, they simultaneously made a gesture of invitation, without saying a single word.

Two peerless Swords.

Two peerless swordsmen.

When they met, there was no need for any words, but their persons and their swords would inevitably bloom with unprecedented sharpness and brilliance in the ensuing duel. Even if this was in a dream, even if this battle would not be recorded in the Wulin, even if this battle had only one spectator. And as long as they could survive, their sword techniques would surely be able to reach a higher level.