Chapter 74

The opponent's sword technique looked utterly plain, like nothing more than an ordinary thrust and flick from a beginner of the sword, yet the angle and timing were cunning to the extreme.

Precisely because of this, an otherwise ordinary sword strike began to grow extraordinary, seeking out flaws and slipping through every gap.

Just as Jiang Sishui's sword was about to pierce Murong Fu's body, the long blade shifted two inches at the very last moment.

Murong Fu tilted his body, letting the blade graze past him—dangerous in the extreme.

"Star-Shifting?"

Jiang Sishui felt the pulling and shifting force transmitted through the blade a moment ago, and understood at once.

Had it not been for this ancestral Divine Art of the Murong family, Murong Fu would already have been wounded.

Murong Fu retreated three zhang away, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Jiang Sishui, Heavy-hearted.

This Divine Art known as "Star-Shifting," when used against those whose cultivation is inferior to one's own, can be called a divine technique.

But when facing someone whose cultivation surpasses one's own, it becomes like a chicken rib—useless and burdensome—one careless moment, and one might even suffer backlash from it.

Just now, he had exerted everything he had to operate "Star-Shifting"; had his opponent been a Grandmaster, that sword strike would have, as if by some uncanny trick, turned back to stab its master, letting the opponent die by his own ultimate technique.

But facing Jiang Sishui, even with a surprise attack, he only managed to deflect the sword tip by two inches.

Once Jiang Sishui reacted and infused his long sword with true qi, he could not budge it in the slightest.

From this, it was clear—Jiang Sishui's cultivation far surpassed his own!

"Damn it! How did this brat come to possess such deep inner force last night? He must have eaten some heavenly treasure or miraculous elixir!"

Murong Fu's face darkened, and without a word he charged forward again.

His long sword swept out, and in the blink of an eye he consecutively deployed eight or nine streams of Sword Technique, each one striking to the heart of the matter, capturing its essence.

This drew sighs of admiration from many of the swordsmen present.

Murong of Gusu, master of a hundred schools—truly, the name was well deserved.

"Huashan Sect's Flying Xu Sword Technique!"

"Emei Sect's Setting Sun Sword Technique!"

"Hengshan Sect's Returning Wind Falling Goose Sword!"

"Golden Sword Gate's One-Origin Sword Technique!"

"……"

Gao Yanan, who came from the Huashan Sect, was well-informed and widely experienced; every time she recognized a move within Murong Fu's sword technique, she would call out its name and origin.

Her lips moved faster and faster, and in no time at all she had named seventeen kinds of Sword Technique.

What shocked her most was that this still wasn't even half of what Murong Fu had used!

"What a 'Southern Murong'—I've never seen anyone so erudite and masterful in the sword techniques of every sect and faction." Gao Yanan praised sincerely.

Hu Hu Tiehua said disdainfully: "What's the use of knowing so many? One trick that works lets you eat your fill across the world—have you seen that fellow surnamed Jiang change his sword technique even once?"

Chu Chu Liuxiang stared fixedly at the battlefield and said in a low voice: "His sword can hardly even be called a Sword Technique, yet it conceals countless variations within; no matter what move his opponent uses, he always has a way to counter it."

The speaker had no intent, but the listener took it to heart.

Hearing Chu Chu Liuxiang say this, Gao Yanan's heart stirred: "Could this be the 'Dugu Nine Swords'?"

Curiosity arose in her at once, and she began to observe seriously.

Jiang Sishui and Murong Fu were locked in fierce combat.

In truth, if Jiang Sishui had been willing, he could have won long ago; he simply didn't want to let Murong Fu, this "experience pack," off easily.

But seeing Jiang Sishui treat Murong Fu as a whetstone for his sword, his movements growing smoother and smoother as he rapidly adapted to the rhythm of battle, the others could no longer sit still.

"Both benefactors' martial arts are exceedingly brilliant—watching has made this little monk itch for a fight as well."

A grey shadow flashed over; the moment Jumozhi spoke, his whole body lunged at Jiang Sishui, and right off the bat he launched a "Flaming Blade."

????????? Seeking flowers??????????

"Flaming Blade" is an extremely formidable martial art; in "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils," although it cannot compare to the "Six Meridian Divine Sword," it is not far behind.

Unfortunately, Jumozhi sat upon a "treasure mountain" without knowing it, and instead of continuing to study this Wu Gong, he abandoned the root to chase the branches, pursuing the Shaolin Seventy-Two Arts.

For this, he even let Dali and Tubo fall into enmity, forcibly breaking into Tianlong Temple to seize the "Six Meridian Divine Sword" manual.

However, the Jumozhi before them seemed to have received guidance from a master and had not strayed onto the wrong path of "throwing away the watermelon to pick up the sesame seed."

The "Flaming Blade" carried surging waves of fire, burning straight toward Jiang Sishui's face.

Before the palm force even arrived, the searing heat struck first; Jiang Sishui stepped into "Lingbo Weixu," his figure flickered, and he dodged aside.

Ding Chunqiu, who had recognized this Wu Gong at the side, flew into a rage and cursed at Su Suxinghe: "Just as I, this old man, guessed! Once I kill this brat, I'll come deal with you, you old thing!"

Saying so, he charged at Jiang Sishui to kill.

"Who are you trying to kill?"

Su Suxinghe would not let him off; his palms struck out repeatedly, his vast inner force pushing toward Ding Chunqiu.

Ding Chunqiu's eyes turned fierce, and he said coldly: "Then this old man will kill you first!"

Saying so, the two of them became locked in battle.

Zhao Tianhao stopped his eldest daughter, who wanted to step forward to help, and said: "Qiying, you protect Mengjiao; Father will go help him."

"Father, what are you saying? What do I need protecting from!" Zhao Mengjiao's face was full of displeasure.

Zhao Qiying, however, Knows propriety, and her heart gave a start at his words.

Right—if she stepped forward to help, that would be declaring the stance of the Central Plains Escort Agency.

And once mixed up in it, the other side might take out their anger on Zhao Mengjiao, the weakest among them.

Facing a group of Grandmasters, her second sister likely could not withstand even a single move from them!

Thinking of this, Zhao Qiying could only suppress the impulse to act, and said: "Father, be careful."

Zhao Tianhao nodded, drew out the Seven Star Sword, and was about to step forward to help.

Suddenly, with a sharp "chi," a streak of finger force pierced through the air, forcing Zhao Tianhao to halt.

Zhao Tianhao turned his head and saw that the one who had struck was the crippled Duan Yanqing.

"It seems you are making a move over the unpleasantness from a few days ago." Zhao Tianhao understood at once.

Duan Yanqing's deathly pale face showed no expression; his belly swelled as he said, "Talking more is useless—let's see the real thing under our hands."

Zhao Tianhao said no more nonsense either, raising his sword to meet the charge.

081: Shadow-Style Solitary Nine Swords, Rainstorm Pear Blossom Needles

Zhao Tianhao and Duan Yanqing were roughly equal in cultivation. Though the latter was disabled—an innate disadvantage—his "One Yang Finger" was superior to the former's "Seven Stars Sword Technique."

At the same time, both were seasoned veterans of the jianghu, equally rich in combat experience, so once they crossed hands, it was an even match.

South Sea Crocodile God's gaze, seeing his boss unable to best the opponent, instinctively drifted toward Zhao Mengjiao.

But upon catching sight of Zhao Qiying, a jolt ran through his heart and he hastily dismissed the thought.

Though he was sometimes half-crazed and not quite right in the head, he was after all not a fool through and through, daring to step forward and provoke someone who had only just taught him a lesson a few days ago.

As for Ye Mengse, she was even sharper than a ghost, watching in all directions, having long since figured out her way to advance or retreat.

And Zhao Qiying, worried that Zhao Mengjiao might be struck by a dirty trick from someone, did not dare stray half a step away.

Seven Grandmasters fought as one, each unleashing their ultimate skills, and the scene instantly livened up.

The watching heroes were thrilled beyond measure, their hearts shouting that it was satisfying.

Tang Bohu stroked his chin, his eyes fixed dead on Ding Chunqiu's back, wondering whether to seize the chance to put a spear into the man and avenge yesterday's grudge.

Although the two sides had already reconciled, those words were spoken by Shen Lang, not from his own mouth, Tang Bohu's.

Though the seven were divided into three battle groups, as they shifted and dodged, the distance between them constantly changed—sometimes far, sometimes near.

Suddenly, Jiang Sishui's figure darted aside; "Lingbo Weixu" pulled out a string of afterimages, and in an instant he shifted sideways ten zhang.

Murong Fu, still at his original spot, had no time to pursue. His face abruptly changed; his longsword circled, and an invisible force wrapped and pulled at the front, sent sideways without even a glance.

By sheer coincidence, the incoming Jiumozhi caught up with it. Seeing Murong Fu's move, his heart gave a jolt.

With no time to think it through, he raised his palm and fired six consecutive "Flame Blades."

Flames seared the void, and crackling sounds actually rang out from the air; at the same time, gaudily colored sparks flared up and vanished in an instant.

"Poison!" Jiumozhi's pupils contracted.

Fortunately he had been cautious enough—it turned out Ding Chunqiu had secretly sent poison powder over; no wonder neither Jiang Sishui nor Murong Fu would touch even the tiniest bit of it.

At the same time, Jiang Sishui, seizing the moment Murong Fu was channeling "Star-Shifting," changed his sword technique!

He was seen leaning his body back, the longsword in his hand planted on the ground; under the pressure of his full body's weight, the blade bent into an arc, then suddenly sprang back up!

"Sweeping Sword Form!"

A few pebbles on the ground were flicked up, carrying sharp sword Qi, shooting toward Murong Fu's face like arrows.

Murong Fu swept his sword sideways, sword-light flashing, slashing the pebble-like hidden weapons away.