Chapter 259: The Chixiao Sword Master, Father and Daughter Reunited

The cry of the Chixiao Sword was clear and piercing, yet carried an indescribable tyrannical might, piercing through the Dragon Core, and though the Dragon Core—normally unbreakable, invulnerable except by legendary martial arts—offered not the slightest resistance, it was cleanly severed in half.

Like an old friend coming to dissolve a pact that had stretched across endless years, the Chixiao Sword drove Ji Chengfeng firmly into the ground, its blade buried deep, and before Li Guanyi's eyes, light swirled and spun along its length.

Ji Chengfeng's vitality collapsed drastically, yet his divine art's tyrannical nature had long since ceased to rely on the Dragon Core for survival; he had far surpassed the Dragon Core's limits, and only in this instant, as the Dragon Core scattered and crumbled.

Ji Chengfeng lifted his gaze, and intense human emotion flickered in his eyes.

A thousand battles, a thousand defeats, absorbing the strengths of all under heaven.

He had forged for himself the 【Eternal Unperishing Body】, surpassing even supreme techniques, breaking through all limits.

For a peerless genius, breaking through in the heat of battle was only natural.

The Dragon Core merely fueled robust vitality.

It could never allow one to transcend the limit and reach the unimaginable legendary realm.

His severed left arm began to regenerate anew; the Dragon Core no longer seemed his lifeline, but rather his restraint—terrible, overwhelming energy spread through his body.

The Whale Fisher's face twisted in shock, then he sneered coldly: "Breaking the limit?"

The Whale Fisher stepped forward, extending his arm to shield Yao Guang behind him; the next instant, terrifying energy roared in all directions—except for Gongyang Su Wang, whose single sword slash cleaved through the surge, the other three Palace Lords were forced to stagger backward.

Before the Whale Fisher, the formation flickered and fluctuated as he stood before the silver-haired girl.

He braced himself, utterly resisting the explosive aura of Ji Chengfeng.

Perhaps due to qi resonance, perhaps because of the instinctive combat instincts of legendary martial artists, this final surge of lethal energy was drawn directly into the Whale Fisher's formation—the array flowed endlessly, as if turning heaven and earth, eroding vitality.

Ji Chengfeng's aura was dispersed and redirected, crashing violently elsewhere.

The Whale Fisher said: "Even before death, can't you be still?"

Only a legendary martial artist can kill another legendary martial artist.

The weight of the five individuals in eight hundred years was immense, yet when the Whale Fisher blocked this strike, his conical hat—no divine weapon—could not withstand the qi impact and was violently torn away.

The illusionary formation masking his face also shattered under the full force of the clash.

The silver-haired girl lifted her head.

She saw the back standing before her, saw the conical hat shatter into fragments.

The black hair pinned by the hairpin flew wild.

Then, from the ends, bit by bit, it turned silver in Yao Guang's eyes.

Like the memory of that rainstorm that had drowned the entire world—the Mo Sect warriors surrounding her, and that silver-haired figure, wild as a demon, charging through the slaughter.

The silver-haired girl froze, dumbstruck.

That day, the silver-haired man had slain every opponent alone, one arm cradling a child barely three years old, stepping slowly through mud stained with blood.

"Don't worry, Father is here."

"I'm here—no one in this world shall harm you!"

…………………

The Whale Fisher had no choice but to act.

The Chixiao Sword forcibly pinned him, yet Ji Chengfeng struggled desperately, willing to abandon everything to survive—he even tried to reach out and tear the Chixiao Sword from his body—but the Chixiao Sword's majestic aura was too familiar.

So familiar it made his soul tremble in agony.

Forgotten memories stirred awake; the legendary martial artist recalled his youth.

"The snowfields of Saibei, the deserts of the Western Regions—the world is vast. Watch it well for me, and then…"

The young friend, the crown prince named 【Joyful Riding the Wind】, the Chixiao Sword Master of three hundred years ago, smiled and said:

"Then, live until your hair turns white, your wife and children surround you, your descendants filial and devoted—and only then, say with peace: 'My life was complete, no regrets.' Only then, die."

"I'll wait for you."

Ji Chengfeng—or Zhang Ziyong—opened his mouth, staring at the radiant Chixiao Sword, at the young man before him; his tyrannical body seemed to freeze. He looked at the sword once held by his dearest friend, now piercing his own body.

"Was I striving for this—to live at any cost…?"

"Or was I living only to watch the world for you?"

"I've forgotten even myself."

At this moment, Li Guanyi had absolute clarity.

To grasp the Chixiao Sword would have immense consequences—adding the fiercest flame from eight hundred years ago to a world already in chaos, shattering the fragile, illusory peace of this era entirely.

And Li Guanyi would step into this firestorm of chaos.

He would face the gaze of the Academy's factions, the nations, the Central Plains—and the unknown, ambiguous scrutiny—but in this instant, he hesitated not; he surged forward like a tiger and seized the Chixiao Sword.

The Chixiao Sword finally let out a brilliant cry.

As sharp as when it had first been forged—the legend of eight hundred years, which had begun with the Chixiao Sword to pacify the world, would now end with it. Li Guanyi poured every ounce of his strength into pulling the Chixiao Sword free.

He stepped forward.

He gripped the sword with both hands.

Crimson-gold cloud patterns on the blade blazed layer upon layer; the vast destiny of the eight-hundred-year Red Emperor's realm converged, suddenly erupting as a pillar of light, soaring into the heavens.

Chixiao—Slayer of Evil!

The Chixiao Sword, which had already unleashed lethal intent against disciples of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect,

now reached its absolute limit.

Ji Chengfeng suddenly raised both hands—left and right arms unleashed supreme techniques.

He seized Yuwen Lie's spear, blocked Gongyang Su Wang's sword.

Others had no right to advance even a step.

He widened his eyes, staring at the piercing blade-light—then lowered them, and burst into wild laughter: "Ji Chengfeng? Ji Chengfeng! Wrong!"

"My name is Zhang Ziyong."

"The one who lives because of Ji Chengfeng."

"Legends of the Martial Dao: the pinnacle of life—three hundred years ago, and for all generations to come, no one like me shall ever again exist!!!"

Life force erupted; Yuwen Lie and Gongyang Su Wang were forced back, his green robe flaring wildly, unrestrained and bold, humanity once more settled upon him. The bamboo flute in his hand rose and fell, piercing through eight thousand Tiger Man cavalry, directly striking toward Li Guanyi.

At that moment, the Whale Fisher sneered and spat:

"Clinging to a dying cause."

"I am here. What do you intend to do?"

Cursing, he immediately activated the formation.

He lunged forward.

Li Guanyi landed on Murong Qiushui's sword; Murong Longtu's aura surged.

The formation of the Array Master, the sword intent of the God of Swordcraft.

Left and right interwove.

But Zhang Ziyong no longer resisted.

Zhang Ziyong's expression was serene; he opened his arms and embraced the blazing Chi Xiao Sword, the blade piercing his chest—his heart still beat. At this moment, the Martial Dao Legend, who had lived ruthlessly in the mortal world for so long, lowered his gaze slightly.

In the flickering swordlight, he saw the boy who had died three hundred years ago—his blazing intensity identical to Li Guanyi's.

Li Guanyi gasped heavily, sweat dripping from his brow.

He gripped the sword tightly; Chi Xiao Sword shrieked wildly as he shoved it deeper.

Fuck, are Martial Dao Legends really this hard to deal with?

Are there really more than one such hard-to-deal-with beings in this world?!

He no longer cared how difficult the First Divine General of the Realm might be—he only wanted to kill Zhang Ziyong.

Zhang Ziyong said: "Why not retreat?"

Li Guanyi said: "Because you deserve to die."

Zhang Ziyong said: "Fascinating... The heroes who stirred up this chaotic age—more people died because of you than because of my Dao."

"Why are you called heroes, while I must be slain by you?"

"But I have no interest in listening to your grand moralities."

"I will not repent."

His gaze dimmed slowly, yet a dangerous smile appeared. He said: "Before the Master Jiankuang and the Array Master strike, I can take you with me. But I only ask one favor."

He stared at the one holding Chi Xiao Sword; in his haze, he saw yesterday, and his voice grew unexpectedly gentle:

"Could you... call me Ziyong?"

Li Guanyi laughed, then roared:

"BULLSHIT!!!"

These two words were spat directly at the Martial Dao Legend.

All fell silent—except the Whale Fisher, who burst into loud laughter, feeling this brat was growing more and more to his taste: "No wonder he's the Master Jiankuang's great-great-grandson! Hahaha! Good! Good! So wild, so self-centered—I like you!"

"Hahahahahaha!"

Li Guanyi did not care how the Whale Fisher was laughing—he stared at Zhang Ziyong, each word deliberate:

"You just said people's views and judgments differ—that's natural. I have no interest in forcing everyone to see things my way. But in my eyes, you are beyond redemption!"

The boy's eyes seemed filled with blazing fire:

"Some say the world isn't black and white—but some things are black, and some are white. Add even a drop of gray, and it's wrong!"

"I will never compromise!"

Even now, Li Guanyi gritted his teeth, strained every ounce of strength, driving his divine weapon into Zhang Ziyong's chest, twisting it violently, trying to tear apart the wound.

Zhang Ziyong closed his eyes, yet said: "So it is."

Such an uncompromising reply—only a youth could hold such resolve. Perhaps, without such blazing heart, Chi Xiao Sword would never have answered his call; eight hundred emperors had wished to lift this sword.

But they never understood what 【Chi Xiao】 truly was.

The clouds of the celestial river—only a heart as blazing as fire could stain all three thousand realms.

In the swordlight, he saw Ji Chengfeng; Zhang Ziyong whispered:

"Enough..."

"I shall fulfill my vow from long ago."

Suddenly, a continuous sound of tearing air rang out.

His body was pierced again by Yuwen Lie's spear and Gongyang Su Wang's sword; the Living Buddha's golden body, the Mo Juzi's sword, and the Daoist Su Yue Zhenren followed close behind—these supreme masters of the age unleashed their utmost power, slamming down in unison.

Zhang Ziyong was weary. Many sorrows, many attachments, much silence—finally, they dissolved into an impossibly complex smile. His cultivation core, still operating, continued repairing his body—this core far surpassed the Undying Long Yuan!

This was his obsession.

Obsession—like demon, like god, like Buddha.

Zhang Ziyong raised his hand.

He said calmly: "You mortals—who killed me—may well be proud."

His right hand slashed down; the Whale Fisher raised his hand—then froze.

Slowly, he withdrew it.

Zhang Ziyong pressed his hand upon Chi Xiao Sword and drove it hard into his own chest.

The evil-slaying nature of the Chi Xiao Sword fully manifested, emitting a brilliant, majestic sword cry. Any martial cultivator would instinctively avoid water and fire—let alone a divine sword that cleaves through water and fire and entangles lightning.

Zhang Ziyong did not move; the divine light in his eyes scattered.

He knew his entire life had been trapped within the day three hundred years ago when Wu Di of Chen became renowned under heaven. He wandered every place where he had made a promise, seeking Ji Chengfeng.

Naturally, he never found him. But one might say he had already found him—he simply forgot, because that boy had long been hidden in his heart. He never looked back. Alas, the real person, the real thing, is rarely as good as one imagines.

Even with martial prowess risen to the level of a Martial Dao Legend, regrets remain.

He pressed down on Li Guanyi's Chixiao Sword and drove it forward with final force, severing the last thread of immortality; he staggered to his knees, lowered his gaze, and the martial legend finally died for real.

Vitality exploded outward, surging toward the heavens; where the earth had been shattered—gullies, pits, mountains, battlefields in ruins—grass and trees, flowers, sprouted forth: ten thousand ravines of green pines stretched for dozens of miles.

This place became a vibrant valley, wind sweeping through countless ravines, pines roaring like waves; as if welcoming someone, rain fell softly and steadily. The old sorcerer wept aloud: Zhang Ziyong was dead, and so the century-long downpour that had shrouded him finally ceased.

Yet within this rain, there seemed to dwell an unimaginable vitality.

After using his own body as bait to complete the crucial step, the old sorcerer's wounds healed at a visible rate, leaving him with only a breath left.

Vitality surged back into being.

Qu Zai's arms regrew; the Motian Sect martialists whose vitality he had drained gradually regained life. Ximen Hengrong, who had fallen a thousand zhang down a cliff, and the wounded Tiger Barbarian cavalry were all recovering.

Within Li Guanyi's bronze cauldron, primordial energy gathered like flowing water, continuously absorbing the primordial energy scattered after Zhang Ziyong's death; he did not even know whether this legend had been forced to die by them, or whether the Chixiao Sword's intent had stirred some memory within him.

Those who sought immortality abandoned it and died.

Zhang Ziyong's body suddenly shattered, becoming countless withered yellow leaves, swirling through heaven and earth—those were the ten thousand plus strikes of the Master Jiankuang; his sword intent never perished, becoming the final force that crushed Zhang Ziyong.

After Zhang Ziyong abandoned the repair of his cultivation foundation, he was utterly slain, reduced to a state of fluttering leaves. Li Guanyi held the Chixiao Sword, dazed and bewildered, recalling the words recorded in the 【Hall of the First Tower】:

【The Master Jiankuang's single strike stretched over a hundred li, severing red willows; his sword intent never faded.】

"Could Grandfather Tai's sword intent have remained inside him all this time?"

"He bore Grandfather Tai's sword intent and still held his own against our combined force—and even this mighty martial legend could not expel Grandfather Tai's sword intent…"

Li Guanyi collapsed, exhausted. The Chixiao Sword lay where it fell, its blade on the ground; the boy's hand trembled.

He wanted to dispose of Zhang Ziyong's remains, but he had no strength left.

Gongyang Su Wang approached, sword in hand.

After such a brutal battle, his breath remained as steady as ever.

He drew his sword with calm grace, his strike noble and majestic, yet radiating an undeniable dominance.

Sword qi scattered in all directions.

After Zhang Ziyong's death, the ten thousand leaf-like remnants were pulverized into dust and ruins by the 【Virtue】 Sword, then personally blessed by the Living Buddha of Zhongtu, while the Mo Juzi placed them all inside a bronze mechanical box.

The Daoist Primordial True One retrieved the talisman written by the Dao Sect's founder in ancient times.

He directly affixed it to the Mo mechanical box, forming layers upon layers of seals, isolating the inside from the outside.

Slain, shattered, scattered to ash, blessed—all resolved in one act.

Sin must be paid for.

No matter what one's past had been.

Good deeds cannot erase the existence of evil.

Suffering is not an excuse for evil.

Refining blood into pills, deceiving with tales of the Flesh Buddha, legends of immortality elixirs, the Luntuan Sect's manipulation of ancient martial arts world affairs, those who lured others to drink blood to cultivate—Zhang Ziyong, this man—

Must be executed!!!

Only after this extremely dangerous martial legend, who had deceived the masses into refining blood as cultivation, was subdued and slain, did Gongyang Su Wang, Yuwen Lie, Mo Xie, Su Yue Zhenren, and the Living Buddha exhale in relief—then in the next instant, they swept past him.

They landed before Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi was spent; he thought to himself he would never endure such a battle again—it was too intense, this was absolutely the most extreme scenario he could possibly face.

The Chixiao Sword hovered around Li Guanyi, as if delighted, as if joyful.

It darted and circled, then rose up, tapping repeatedly against Li Guanyi's shoulders and back with its hilt—as if it were not the world's first divine sword, enshrined for eight hundred years in Jingcheng, but rather a wildly enthusiastic, obsequious rogue hound.

Massaging and pounding its new master's shoulders and back with unbelievable fervor.

One could almost imagine a tail behind the sword, wagging so fast it left countless afterimages.

Yuwen Lie gripped his battle spear, watching the Chixiao Sword, his gaze filled with complex emotion; the four Masters of the Academy stood before Li Guanyi, surrounding him, gazing at the slumped boy sitting amid shattered rocks and ruins.

And at the divine weapon before him, singing and howling.

Gongyang Su Wang smiled and said, "How should we address you?"

Li Guanyi knew he had been exposed before these Academy elders and the entire world; he held the Chixiao Sword but lacked the strength to draw it, let alone hurl it away.

He sat there, back leaning against broken rock, the Chixiao Sword propped like a staff, its tip resting on the ground, and he smiled calmly, saying:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Li Guanyi, Master of the Chixiao Sword."

"Pleased to meet you."

The Whale Fisher grinned and laughed. "Hahahaha! Finally dead! There shouldn't be five martial legends—this old bastard was truly hard to kill, hahahaha!"

"Hmm. Li Guanyi wields the Chixiao Sword. Hey, back when the Chi Emperor's line was at its peak, this boy would've been asking for death—but now it's different. The Chi Emperor is in decline, the four directions are in chaos, just like the turbulent age eight hundred years ago."

"Eight hundred years ago, the world was in chaos, and the Chi Emperor drew his sword to bring order to the universe."

"Eight hundred years later, the world is in chaos again—and someone draws a sword."

"Among the common folk, among the people's hearts, its influence and power will likely swell to unimaginable proportions."

The Whale Fisher raised his wine flask and drank deeply.

"But now, it's not so simple."

"This world offers him great benefits—but also great dangers. The Zhongzhou faction could have been his allies, at least usable for a time—but now, all that's ruined."

"The Zhongzhou imperial clan and Li Guanyi will likely become mortal enemies."

"This is a fundamental opposition of stance."

"Originally, this so-called Zhongzhou Son of Heaven's hunting expedition was meant to be a joint effort between Li Guanyi and the Zhongzhou imperial clan—but now, his enemies have grown. And the Academy, in its golden age, remained loyal to the Chi Emperor and could follow the Chixiao Sword Master."

"But now, with the world in upheaval, how long can pure faith endure?"

"If, eight hundred years from now, there are still students willing to remain loyal to the Chixiao Sword Master for a vague, ethereal promise—I believe it, for such is human nature."

"But to claim that every single member of the Academy eight hundred years from now will remain loyal to the Chixiao Sword Master? That's pure fantasy—also human nature."

"There are too many clever people."

"The Academy isn't a unified block—so many clever people—how many will truly follow the Chixiao Sword Master, and how many will see him merely as a useful pawn?"

"Hahaha, but there's still a way—how about it, Yao Guang? If you're willing to beg me, your Uncle Ye wouldn't mind lending this kid a hand. Ahaha, as it happens, I still have one live captive on me."

"It shouldn't be a problem to trick the Yin-Yang Clan."

The Whale Fisher spoke with pride, but received no response from the girl.

So he began to feel puzzled.

The alias he used, "Ye," had grown close to Yao Guang—only slightly less so than her teacher from the Observing Stars lineage; even his most trivial questions would earn her reply.

It was merely due to her childhood experiences that she showed no emotional fluctuations.

So the Whale Fisher emphasized again:

"Come on, beg me."

"Then I'll step in and help my second brother!"

He stressed the words "second brother."

Still no reply. The Whale Fisher awkwardly drank.

Drink, drink.

At that moment, he suddenly realized that his wide-brimmed hat and the concealment array disguising his face had been shattered during the earlier clash.

This array was highly intricate—other array masters might spend a decade refining such a technique, but for the Whale Fisher, it was nearly instinctive.

So he hadn't even registered its destruction at first.

The martial legend stiffened, then, as if startled, sharply stepped back.

The silver-haired girl followed closely, stepping forward one pace.

The expressionless girl extended her hand, her pale palm gently closing in midair to grasp a strand of silver-white hair—hair from the Whale Fisher, identical to Yao Guang's, gently interwoven in the wind.

Then the girl opened her mouth, fixing her gaze on the silver-haired man before her:

"How should I address you?"

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