Chapter 115: Sacrificial Weapon

Boom!

As the head was stomped down by Fang Can, the man felt only a wave of earthy stench.

The hard ground was directly pressed into a mark by his even harder skull, the entire head sinking into the soil.

'Too oppressive, simply too oppressive!'

The man struggled desperately to prop his body up, yet felt the foot above him like a heavenly pillar, impossible to resist.

"Hmm? Still dare to resist."

A surprised voice came from overhead, then the voice continued: "In that case, strip him first, break his limbs and hang him up."

The next moment, he felt himself grabbed by the believers around him; with a series of snapping sounds, amidst excruciating pain, his four limbs were precisely twisted and broken.

When his vision cleared again, he had been stripped of his clothes, hung on a flag, like a paper doll, slanting in mid-air.

Fang Can turned his head, looking at the fellow who had jumped out first.

He discovered that after that fellow took a punch from him, his face had completely caved in, brain matter spilling from both ears, yet he somehow hadn't died.

"Huh, should one say martial artists' vitality is indeed tenacious? Not even dying from this."

Fang Can wore a smile, watching this group of challengers one by one shamefully stripped and suspended on flagpoles; the murderous aura from just now had completely dissipated.

Walking to the spot where Wan Chenyu had left the broadsword, he gripped the hilt with his right hand.

With a slight exertion, he pulled the entire broadsword from the earth; at most a hundred or eighty jin, entirely lacking the heaviness Fang Can had faced just now.

This heavy broadsword was over four chi long; on the blade surface, a lifelike golden dragon coiled and twisted, its dragon head held high, eyes like torches, vaguely containing anger and majesty.

The hilt portion, presumably made of superior black ebony, was inlaid with rings of gold thread, hard yet warm in texture.

Held in hand, it felt both steady and comfortable. Golden threads were wrapped around the hilt, echoing the dragon pattern on the blade. The hilt's end was carved into the shape of a dragon tail.

Gazing at this broadsword forged from unknown black gold, Fang Can recalled the power Wan Chenyu had displayed when wielding it, and his hand gripping the hilt unconsciously tightened.

The next moment, he felt his right arm sink.

The weight of the entire broadsword instantly increased by at least ten times or more.

And starting from the golden threads on the handle, the golden dragon on the blade seemed to come alive, radiating golden light, Jin Guang spreading until it covered the entire blade edge.

"This..."

Fang Can pondered, his right arm gripping the hilt gradually exerting more force.

He then discovered that as the strength with which he gripped the hilt increased, both the weight of the entire broadsword and the temperature of the blade edge kept rising.

Under the added weight, Fang Can's legs began to sink bit by bit into the earth.

Until finally, with Fang Can gripping the hilt with all his might, the weight of the broadsword in his hand had approached 50 tons, as if all his strength were pressing down upon it.

Feeling the scorching wind strike his face, the gazes of the martial artists around him fixed upon him.

"Not bad." Fang Can, satisfied, gripped the broadsword in his hand, looking toward Li Xiangyang beside him and said:

"Hey, what is this thing? Looks quite extraordinary."

To Fang Can's question, Li Xiangyang, stripped and hanging, remained silent, clearly unwilling to answer.

"Tell me, and I'll let you down early; otherwise, just hang there." Fang Can threatened, unafraid the other wouldn't speak.

Previously, this fellow's attitude had been decent; now that he was captured, treating him a bit better was no harm.

After such an explanation, Li Xiangyang finally spoke: "This is a Sacrificial Weapon, forged by a martial artist on the Path to Heaven condensing their own inheritance."

"Sacrificial Weapon?" Fang Can looked down at this broadsword.

"Every martial artist, after stepping onto the Path to Heaven, can, according to the quantity of their Light of Heart, give birth to a corresponding inheritance following their will."

Li Xiangyang said: "Most martial artists choose to bestow their Light of Heart upon themselves, gaining abilities beyond the ordinary, while a small number choose to lend their Light of Heart to external objects, allowing weapons to be endowed with special power."

"We uniformly call these weapons Sacrificial Weapons."

"Brother Wan... Wan Chenyu's broadsword was a Sacrificial Weapon forged by his uncle; later, his uncle died in an accident, and this blade was passed down to him by the clan."

"Because his uncle was a Second-Transcendence expert, two inheritances were condensed upon the entire Dragon-Pattern Black Gold Blade: one is Heaven-Pressing, the other is Crimson Flame, which can increase the blade's weight and temperature."

Because he usually associated with Wan Chenyu, regarding this Sacrificial Weapon, Wan Chenyu bragged about it every day like a fishing enthusiast, making Li Xiangyang hear it until he developed calluses.

So he understood even the inheritances within it completely, and now revealed everything.

"But... aren't you from the Sword Stealing Mountain? How could you not even know about Sacrificial Weapons?" Li Xiangyang asked subconsciously.

"What's wrong with the Sword Stealing Mountain? Must one know this?" Fang Can retorted subconsciously.

"You are the experts on Sacrificial Weapons; after every disciple passes away, they leave their Sacrificial Weapon within the mountain gates."

"Who doesn't know that the Sacrificial Weapons inside your Sword Stealing Mountain cannot be counted on two hands; at least dozens of Sacrificial Weapons are stuck in the Sword Grave in the back mountain, and pseudo-Sacrificial Weapons are even more countless." Li Xiangyang stated matter-of-factly.

Fang Can: "Huh? Is that so?"

Li Xiangyang: "Otherwise what?"

Speaking thus, Li Xiangyang stared at Fang Can with a suspicious gaze; as a disciple of the Sword Stealing Mountain, how could he not even know about Sacrificial Weapons.

Previously they had suspected; why would a female sect like the Sword Stealing Mountain choose to stand behind and support Fang Can? There must be something fishy.

As if seeing through the other's meaning, Fang Can unconsciously rolled his Bai Yan and said: "If you had this little time to cultivate to the Ninth Layer of the Profound Gate, you'd know nothing either."

With these words spoken, Li Xiangyang's suspicion was immediately dispelled; the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion would not lie, meaning this freak truly cultivated to this state within two months.

Thinking of this, he felt his teeth ache with jealousy.

Comparing people kills people; he, the Second Young Master of the Li family, was at least considered a genius, at least one in a hundred thousand, yet he couldn't withstand even one move of this fellow.

At this moment, he was still stripped and bound to the pole; seeing this, he begged for mercy: "Hey, put me down first; later Wan Chenyu's caravan will be here, I can't lose face like this."

"Caravan?" Fang Can waved lightly, signaling his subordinates to untie Li Xiangyang, while his gaze looked toward the distance.

He saw several li away, a vast caravan of at least several thousand people heading this way.

Amidst the dust kicked up by the caravan, the high chant of suonas faintly drifted over.

'Interesting, preparing a banquet band for himself in advance?' Fang Can couldn't help but chuckle.

His original plan to return to the sedan chair was foiled; he lightly leaped and sat sideways on the sedan, gazing at the approaching caravan in the distance.

And after tidying up, Ye Yonglie and the others also noticed the approaching convoy in the distance; having roughly guessed its significance, they all turned on the look of spectators waiting for a show.

At this moment, Wan Chenyu on the flagpole slowly awoke, feeling only excruciating pain in his face and utter darkness in his eyes.

But his keen ears had already heard the suona sounds coming from afar—the sound of his own convoy.

In the next instant, a sense of dread rose from the depths of his heart!

(End of this chapter)