Chapter 260: The Sword of Murong Longtu!

The Whale Fisher raised his hand, pressing his silver hair tightly against his scalp, staring fixedly at Yao Guang before him—he was the youngest martial legend in eight hundred years, his vitality and slaughterous might profound, yet inferior to the others in internal cultivation.

But his array art is peerless, his arcane techniques unmatched; if one truly wished to kill him, they would need an assembly equal to or even greater than the one that fought Zhang Ziyong to the death today—top generals, peerless experts, an army of ten thousand Tie Futu.

Nothing else—

The leader of array art fears nothing more than mass battles!

What he fears, instead, are beings like the Master Jiankuang.

With a single green blade in hand, he can overturn heaven and earth, reverse the six directions.

No arcane techniques, no array formations, no mysteries—only a sword path that sought no longevity, chasing Zhang Ziyong for twenty thousand li, forcing the being who had reached the pinnacle of life, whose face had not aged in three hundred years, into pure white temples and shattered foundations.

Others entering an array would think, deduce, calculate, then proceed with extreme caution, fearing any flaw, terrified of stepping into death.

The Master Jiankuang would simply choose a pleasing angle and begin slashing.

Thus the array became no array, the Dao became no Dao.

Next came Bianshidao Sect, roaming the six voids with calm composure.

As for Jiang Su?

That man raised armies and waged war—he was beyond categorization, too ruthless; the Whale Fisher refused to bother himself, knowing Jiang Su as he did—unless a million armored troops poured their full strength into battle, such a gamble was too great, tantamount to staking the nation's fate.

One misstep could even cause his own country's decline.

Jiang Su, the War Madman, had long since ignited wars that shook the world.

Among all legends, the Whale Fisher's overall prowess rivaled the Bianshidao Sect; his array art encompassed all things, hence his arrogant, wild nature—he claimed himself the supreme master of all experts, with few worthy of his notice, walking alone through the Western Regions, entering Cangming, his expression unchanged.

Among the legends, the Master Jiankuang died young, the Divine General grew old, Bianshidao Sect's heart was empty, the Long-Lived obsessed.

Only I am unmatched—even before Jiang Su and the Master Jiankuang, he dares to be Mu Zi Yi, unbound by a single restraint!

But now it was different.

The Whale Fisher's back was soaked with cold sweat.

The silver-haired girl stepped forward slowly.

The legend who could lift dragons involuntarily took step after step backward.

"I, uh, ha, hahaha…"

"I, this… isn't this a misunderstanding?"

The Whale Fisher's scalp prickled.

The silver-haired girl stepped forward, her voice calm:

"So, the pearl you secretly left on my desk all those years ago—you sent it?"

"The pastries for my birthday each year—you prepared them."

The Whale Fisher's hand trembled: "I, hahaha, what are you talking about!"

The Whale Fisher clenched his fist, then lifted his head, revealing a bold smile:

"Call me Ye Shu!"

"It's Ye Shu, Ye Shu, right, Yao Guang, hahaha!"

The silver-haired girl took another step forward.

Though her face showed no expression, Wáng Míngyì could plainly see, from the faint curve of her lips, a resolve and stillness like a general donning armor and charging into battle.

Like when he'd once misbehaved, and his mother suddenly began calling him by his full name—surname, given name, and courtesy title—all together, right in front of his friends.

The silver-haired girl said: "You always do this."

The Whale Fisher's foot pressed against the cliff's edge; the step behind him sent loose stones tumbling down with a clatter. He chuckled nervously, scratching his head: "Hahaha, aren't you misunderstanding something? Ah!"

"It's white hair, right?!"

He plucked a strand of his hair—it was not the dull, withered gray of old age, like winter straw, but a clear, luminous silver, like moonlight on a midnight sky: "There are too many white-haired people in the world. You've mistaken me."

The silver-haired girl halted. Her hands rested gently before her abdomen, her voice cool and calm, utterly devoid of emotion. After a moment, she simply said: "True."

"There are too many white-haired people in the world."

The Whale Fisher laughed loudly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The silver-haired girl, still holding her robes, spoke slowly: "Then, as recompense for today's impoliteness, I shall accept the title you've long insisted upon."

"Since you've sworn brotherhood with Guanyi, allow me to address you thus…"

The Whale Fisher's expression froze.

The silver-haired girl bowed slightly, her robe fluttering like wind, strands of silver hair lifting. Then, after a pause, she raised a finger, pressed the corners of her lips upward, and gently pulled.

A faint, quiet smile appeared:

She said: "Big Brother."

Wáng Míngyì felt the mountain beneath his feet tremble.

The Whale Fisher—Martial Legend, Leader of Array Art, Youngest Peerless Genius, requiring ten thousand Tie Futu, five Zun Sect masters to flank, barely possible to surround and kill—

Was pierced.

With only two words.

Wáng Míngyì saw the silver-haired man's color drain, bit by bit.

Perhaps it was the silver hair.

In the sunlight, his entire body glowed a pale gray.

His eyes looked like dead fish hauled from the water.

………………

Unaware that such a thing had occurred in the Gongsun Clan's lands.

On the battlefield surrounding Zhang Ziyong, the situation remained locked in stalemate, heavy and grim.

Li Guanyi was utterly exhausted, yet held Chi Xiao Sword, using it to support himself, calmly observing the five Palace Lords before him, his spirit unyielding, while the bronze tripod devoured and expelled qi with near-frenzied efficiency.

One of the Five Great Legends of the Jianghu: Weapon Liberation!

Even with the battlefield trampling, martial artists clashing, sword madman's sword intent, sorcerers shattering his immortal body, Master Siming sealing one arm, and the divine sword Chi Xiao piercing the Long Yuan—all of this still failed to make Zhang Ziyong wish to live on.

Zhang Ziyong was not slain by suddenly bursting forth and then abandoning the dignity of a martial legend to flee—he chose to die by his own hand.

Of course, Qu Zai Shi and Ximen Hengrong also possessed the pride of martial artists; theoretically, legends would never beg for life in shame—but Zhang Ziyong was different; Li Guanyi always felt he might have done such a thing.

In truth, Li Guanyi could sense it—even if Zhang Ziyong had not pressed the sword into his own body at the end, the aura spewing from Chi Xiao would have utterly annihilated him.

Yet Zhang Ziyong's final, dwindling shred of pride, worn thin by obsession, refused to die beneath the swords of Gongyang Su Wang and others—he chose to die by his own hand, in the blade's brilliance of Chi Xiao, the first divine sword of eight hundred years.

Yet precisely because all these elements converged.

Added to which, the Four Palace Masters of the Academy delivered a final funeral procession in unison.

This supreme martial artist, a three-hundred-year legend of the Jianghu, had his entire cultivation body meticulously sliced into mincemeat; his primordial energy returned to heaven and earth, the vast majority surging into this realm, transforming it into a paradise-like state.

But a small portion remained, equivalent to unclaimed pure primordial energy.

It surged, swirled, and poured like a reverse flood into Li Guanyi's bronze cauldron—just over half a month ago, when Li Guanyi had made his pact with Jiang Wanxiang and split ways with Ling Pingyang and the Fire Qilin troops, descending along the Jianghe.

He encountered Zhang Ziyong at his peak, his arm severed by the Master Jiankuang.

Master Siming picked it up and ran.

Under these circumstances, they still barely managed to extract a trace of Jade Fluid from Zhang Ziyong's flawless body.

And even that tiny amount of Jade Fluid had already elevated Li Guanyi's physique to the level where he could trade blows with Master Ximen Hengrong—though he could not defeat him, the frenzied Ximen Hengrong, who relied solely on brute internal force, could not break through Li Guanyi's defenses.

Now, the Jade Fluid no longer gathered drop by drop.

Flowing in? No!

This was a疯狂倒灌!

It was like a dam bursting.

The bronze cauldron seemed starved for eight lifetimes.

Since joining Li Guanyi, it had never feasted so well.

It likely never would again.

At this moment, it nearly longed to fly into heaven and earth, endlessly absorbing this pure, boundless primordial energy; the emerald-green Jade Fluid swirled and soared within, emitting a powerful, vital aura.

Even before any cultivation began, merely the residual waves of the Jade Fluid entering the bronze cauldron caused Li Guanyi's many hidden injuries to heal rapidly; from outside, the young man sat calmly amid the ruins, surrounded by abundant primordial energy, facing a top-tier expert without the slightest unease.

Gongyang Su Wang smiled: "Master of Chi Xiao?"

"I never expected to hear this legendary title again."

Li Guanyi replied: "My wounds are too severe; forgive this junior for not rising to greet you, Elder."

Then his second question: "Did Zhang Ziyong truly die?"

Gongyang Su Wang said: "He is dead—utterly, completely."

"But he was Ji Chengfeng," Gongyang Su Wang paused slightly, then shook his head, muttering to himself: "No… he explicitly declared his name—he likely wished to spare the Crown Prince's reputation. If he is Zhang Ziyong, then he cannot be judged by ordinary standards."

"Have you ever seen anyone's Wu Gong reach such vitality?"

"Martial legends live long, but not endlessly. Jiang Su's martial arts are supreme, forging a path no one before him ever walked; yet even martial legends, with lifespans of a hundred years, now grow old and near death."

"The Master Jiankuang reached his lifespan's limit two hundred years ago."

"Master Siming, over three hundred years old, is likewise withered."

"But Zhang Ziyong lived over three hundred years, yet looked no older than thirty—showing no sign of aging at all. We always felt that, if left unchecked, he might have become like the ancient Taigu Chilong—immortal for eight thousand years."

"The Feixin of the Ying State still beats, eight hundred years after its death."

"Zhang Ziyong, a martial legend, cannot be taken lightly."

"He must be killed to the absolute limit." Gongyang Su Wang pointed to the casket: "Afterward, this must be sealed beneath the Academy's Ancient Confucian Path, guarded generation after generation by me and the Fire Qilin, using the Academy's power to suppress and destroy it."

Gongyang Su Wang swept his sleeve; the Qiushui Sword flew from the ground into his hand. This top-tier divine weapon, whose blade should have been like a tranquil autumn stream—pure and flawless—was now stained with specks of blood, subtly changing.

The old Confucian's palm brushed the blade: "The Sword Without Trace."

"It was forged by Murong Longtu himself at Murong Qiushui's birth."

"Sharp, unbreakable—that's all its qualities."

"Yet it cleaved even Zhang Ziyong's arm—so it is formidable. Keep it safe." He flicked his finger; the Qiushui Sword flew back into Li Guanyi's scabbard, humming loudly.

"This sword is stained with immortal blood—it may yet become a divine weapon."

Chi Xiao rotated, its chime clear and beautiful.

Then it roared in fury.

It kept jabbing at the Qiushui Sword.

Gongyang Su Wang said: "Zhang Ziyong refused to die by our hands—he slew himself with Chi Xiao. Though self-inflicted, it was ultimately the overwhelming sword intent left by the Master Jiankuang that took his life."

"That old devil could not have done this before he crossed that threshold."

"Hmph—he truly walked that path. Too bad. I want to walk it too… but I dare not."

Gongyang Su Wang admitted frankly: "Before me lies a ten-thousand-zhang sheer cliff—there is a path, but no door to enter."

"What then?"

At this moment, the Mo Juzi of the Mohists, the Living Buddha of the Buddhist Sect, and Su Yue Zhenren dispersed to survey the surrounding primordial energy, ensuring Zhang Ziyong left no hidden traps; Yuwen Lie watched Li Guanyi without speaking, ordering the Tiger Barbarian cavalry to regroup.

Gongyang Su Wang had time to chat with Li Guanyi; the old Confucian spoke gently:

"Ninety-seven divine weapons granted him the prestige of the Number One Martial Master, yet also bound him. Back then, he was nearly equal to me; we fought three times—he never broke through, and I never bested him."

"Now, in single combat, I fear I could no longer withstand his sword techniques."

"I longed to summon the ancient Confucian Path's momentum to challenge him."

"But Confucian heritage was never meant for personal duels."

"It brings no benefit to the state or the world."

Li Guanyi asked curiously:

"Before and after his breakthrough, how much did my great-great-grandfather change?"

Gongyang Su Wang seemed to hear something hilarious; he burst into laughter, patted Li Guanyi on the shoulder, and said, "You're truly a child. How much did he change? The change you speak of is birds flapping wings, fish wagging tails, swords in wild frenzy—but he became a dragon from a fish, a roc from a bird."

"The Diyi Sect Master, ninety-seven mysterious weapons crisscrossing in battle."

"To kill the sect master of the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect in the Ninth Heaven, only two strikes are needed."

"The split and transformation of the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect came from Zhang Ziyong's one discourse; Zhang Ziyong 'awakened' the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect—but such a method cannot directly resist Elder Murong's sword right now."

Li Guanyi said, "I see."

"The Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect is also connected to this fellow."

He gripped the Chixiao Sword, grinned:

"What a pity—I didn't stab enough holes into Zhang Ziyong just now."

Gongyang Su Wang laughed heartily: "Good child. You have the spirit of our kind."

The sound of warhorses came, the clanking of armor cold and lethal, sending a shiver through the heart; Yuwen Lie had reorganized his eight thousand Tiger Man cavalry and led them before Li Guanyi, his tiger-like eyes fixed on him.

"Chixiao Sword?"

Gongyang Su Wang paced forward, blocking Li Guanyi's front.

When the head of the Imperial Academy assumed his position, he bore the weight of the Hundred Schools, outside the imperial court and the realm—but now, he still honored the promise of old, saying:

"General Yuwen."

Yuwen Lie sat atop his warhorse, calmly watching Li Guanyi.

"Chixiao Sword… Li Guanyi…"

Li Guanyi smiled calmly and said, "You want it?"

He gripped the sword, then hurled it away—the Chixiao Sword struck the ground and rang out, but Yuwen Lie did not glance at the divine weapon; his war spear pressed into the earth, and he said, "Just an old legend."

"I've heard many scholars of the Imperial Academy still cling to fantasies about this sword."

"How ridiculous."

"Tian Xian said you once uttered a phrase: 'Are kings and generals born of noble blood?'"

"If you believe holding the Chixiao Sword grants dominion over the realm, then you are the very last person qualified to say that—doesn't that clash with Confucian ideals of ruler as ruler, minister as minister, father as father, son as son?"

The black-robed Confucian held his sword and replied:

"When Wu Wang overthrew the Last Emperor, I have heard it called the execution of a lone tyrant—not regicide."

Yuwen Lie looked at Gongyang Su Wang and said, "I've heard Gongyang Su Wang follows classical Confucianism, unlike the schools that split off in the last eight hundred years. So if we seize the realm and bring peace to the four seas, Confucianism will support us, won't it?"

Gongyang Su Wang said, "Naturally."

"Corrupt Confucians bring chaos. General, do you know the 'Confucian Conduct' chapter of the Book of Rites?"

Yuwen Lie said, "The Confucian Conduct is the only passage I've memorized."

This famed general spoke solemnly: "A Confucian does not serve the Son of Heaven above, nor the feudal lords below; he is cautious and calm, favors generosity, is strong-willed in dealing with others, broadly learned yet humble; he reveres literature and hones his moral integrity; even if a nation were divided into grains of millet, he would not serve or accept office."

"The Gongyang Confucian Warrior lineage still survives."

"Good."

He jabbed his war spear upward—it met the sword, and the blade rang out.

Then, from horseback, he surged with strength—the Chixiao Sword was flung upward, spinning through the air, landing before Li Guanyi, who reached out and seized the divine weapon, sitting still.

Yuwen Lie rode his warhorse.

A faint smile appeared on his solemn face.

It was the calm smile of a tiger; he said calmly, "No need for such试探 gestures before me, Li Guanyi. You and I are both men who stir up chaos. Keep the Chixiao Sword."

"I will report this to Your Majesty."

"As for Your Majesty's response, I can tell you now."

"You need not be so wary, Gongyang Su Wang—I will not ambush you."

He turned his warhorse and rode away; the eight thousand Tiger Man cavalry parted like flowing water, then gathered behind him—all movement silent, natural. The famed general raised his war spear, the weapon once used to strike down legends, pointing to the sky, his voice solemn, each word deliberate:

"We will defeat the master of the Chixiao Sword."

"To bow before the legend of the Chixiao Sword, to believe that holding it grants dominion over the realm, means we still kneel beneath the lingering might of the Red Emperor—the chains upon our flesh remain unbroken."

"Such a divine weapon is a restraint upon us."

"Let us meet on the battlefield!"

"Only by directly defeating the Chixiao Sword's master can we prove the past era is truly over; we need not serve the Red Emperor—we shall carve our own age with our blades and spears!"

"The truest way to gain the realm is ours—the Great Ying!"

"Long live the Great Ying!"

Eight thousand Tiger Man cavalry raised their spears, sharp and gleaming, toward the sky.

They roared: "Long live the Great Ying!"

"Long live Your Majesty!"

"Long live the realm!!!"

Eight thousand armored soldiers shouted in unison, the clashing of weapons cold and lethal, a chilling aura surging into the heavens.

Li Guanyi gripped the Chixiao Sword and said, "You mean to say that only by becoming like the ancient Red Emperor—shattering the old era and forging a new one—can one truly inherit the true 【Chixiao】, is that right?"

Yuwen Lie did not answer; his face bore a calm expression:

"Inherit? No—surpass."

"Let us fight one day on the battlefield."

"I await the day we meet in mortal combat, Li Guanyi!"

The eight thousand Tiger Man cavalry departed. The Chixiao Sword and Zhang Ziyong's death were the most critical matters—must be reported to Jiang Wanxiang at once. The changes here, the aftermath of battle—these were extraordinarily complex political matters.

Li Guanyi exhaled.

"Yuwen Lie..."

At that moment, Li Guanyi suddenly heard a distant scream—the silver-haired man atop the Gongsun Clan's fortress, pushed to his limit, could no longer endure the immense impact.

The legendary martial artist chose—

To run!

Arrays swirled through the air as the silver-haired man soared upward; Li Guanyi looked up and saw the Whale Fisher, and not knowing what had transpired above while they were speaking, he instinctively cried: "Uncle Ye?!!"

"Where are you going, Uncle Ye!"

"Uncle Ye?! Uncle Ye!"

The silver-haired man shouted: "Don't call me that!"

Li Guanyi hesitated, then shouted loudly:

"Big Brother?!"

The Whale Fisher let out a shriek and roared:

"Shut up!!!"

"Shut upaaa!!!!!"

In an instant, he vanished.

Li Guanyi stood stunned, unaware of what had happened; he leaned on his sword and struggled to his feet, feeling the pain throughout his body beginning to fade. He lifted his gaze far away and saw chaos all around.

The mountain where the Gongsun Clan's fortress stood was reduced to a single massive stone pillar, upon which remained the ruins of the Gongsun Clan's main hall, surrounded by raging winds.

The old sorcerer, who had embraced death, lay there, yet his life force still clung on.

Li Guanyi said: "Finally... it's over..."

When the other Palace Lords arrived, Li Guanyi asked curiously:

"Senior, you hadn't finished—how is my great-grandfather's Sword Dao now?"

Gongyang Su Wang handed a fruit to the Fire Qilin, smiling as he teased it, telling it that there was an old Fire Qilin in the Academy, eagerly awaiting their meeting, having prepared for a very, very long time.

The Fire Qilin, having tasted the fruit, was delighted: "I look forward to it too!"

Gongyang Su Wang smiled even more brightly.

"The next fifty days will be the most unforgettable fifty years of your life."

The Fire Qilin looked puzzled.

Gongyang Su Wang rose to answer Li Guanyi's question, his voice calm:

"The Sword Dao is like layers of mountains; ordinary people grasp the sword, practice the sword, as if walking through mountains and rivers—each step brings joy. Some, seeing endless flowing water, gain insight into the transformations of sword techniques; others, seeing majestic mountains, understand the霸道 of momentum."

"Before learning the sword, one feels the path ahead is endless, the mountains ten thousand zhang high!"

"But when you reach the summit and look up, you still see—"

"Beyond the Sword Dao, one mountain rises higher than another."

Li Guanyi couldn't help asking: "Is my great-grandfather now the highest mountain?"

Gongyang Su Wang replied: "When you possess a talent one in ten thousand, endure the loneliness of daily sword practice, barely survive amid the chaos of this world, and finally earn the right to reach the highest peak of the Sword Dao—"

"Then you may look up and see him."

Li Guanyi's expression grew solemn. He said:

"He is on the summit?"

Gongyang Su Wang shook his head. "No."

The old Confucian fell silent for a moment, then whispered:

"Above the Nine Heavens!"

The Sword Dao, personally judged by Confucian Master Gongyang Su Wang as having no return, no regret, and already reached the Nine Heavens, made Li Guanyi unable to help imagining its radiance—but he felt puzzled, and asked: "But where is my great-grandfather now?"

"All of you have come—why hasn't he come?"

Gongyang Su Wang said: "He must be on another battlefield..."

Recalling the records of the Juan Sect within the Academy, he said: "I think I know where he is."

Far away, in the Mystical Realm where Yao Guang had told the Master Jiankuang about Chen Baxian, a vast, boundless crimson dragon slowly circled, its ancient, hardened scales gleaming, its golden vertical pupils fixed ahead.

The white-haired swordsman, his blue robe billowing, said: "Following the aura, I never expected that the intense energy on him was the Ancient Crimson Dragon."

"You said you promised him eight hundred years of life."

"And to strike once for him."

"Too bad—I do not allow it."

The Ancient Crimson Dragon circled slowly, its body immense, its voice vast and ancient: "You have blocked me for a day. I only fulfill my ancient pact with the Crimson Emperor—to hold him here for five hundred years. Mortal swordsman, why do you stand against me? To uphold justice?"

The white-haired elder burst into laughter: "Hahahaha! Uphold justice?"

"Murong Longtu shattered three hundred sword gates—what does he know of justice?"

"Murong Longtu helps only kin, never reason."

He raised what he held, gazing at the Ancient Crimson Dragon, and said:

"Everyone has their own reason."

"Everyone believes they are right."

"Too bad—your eight-hundred-year pact with the Crimson Emperor weighs less than the sword in my hand."

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