Chapter 347: Soaring through the Sky

Chapter 347: Soaring Across the Void

Zhao Changhe’s body hung in midair, yet with utmost grace he spread his wings again, rising higher into the void.

The sword light scraped past beneath his feet.

Zhao Changhe kicked at the opponent’s face; the man swung his sword back to parry.

His toe struck the man’s wrist, and Zhao Changhe used the force to spring onto a nearby pine, then rebounded, fingers together like a sword, thrusting at the other’s eyes.

This fluid, flowing sword technique was elegant and ethereal, already entering the hall of mastery—no one could tell that his true foundation was the blade.

It wasn’t solely to mimic Wang Daozhong more convincingly; in truth, he didn’t know the Wang family sword style. The main reason was that before, he hadn’t used swords, and even when he had sword techniques, he deliberately merged them into his blade work—simply because carrying an extra sword was too troublesome.

But now he had a ring, inside which lay an unfinished sword blank, and in his mind, a host of sword techniques and sword intent inherited from the Sword Emperor. Not to wield a sword in the left hand and a blade in the right would be a shame to this fate.

The opponent before him wasn’t too strong, perfect for practicing swordsmanship.

This was also a process of truly integrating and understanding what he had learned. Having studied so many sword techniques without ever holding a sword—could he truly grasp them? Did he really think that using a blade to mimic them meant he understood the sword?

The opponent let out a surprised cry: “Fine swordplay, fine footwork! You’re no nameless wanderer out there—dare you state your name?”

Zhao Changhe didn’t reply. As the opponent’s sword swept toward his fingers, he dragged his left palm, deflecting the sword’s path upward, while his two fingers swiftly turned downward, striking the man’s shoulder point.

The man’s body went numb; he thought his end had come, but Zhao Changhe casually snatched his sword and laughed as he departed: “With such a stir, how can one attain Wu Wang? The meaning of the Celestial Book is beyond your knowing.”

His voice still lingered, but he was already gone.

In just a few moves, he had seen through the maze and truly reached the position of “Wu Wang.”

He played the part of a lofty expert to perfection. The blind man observing found it somewhat amusing—this fellow hadn’t known how to break the formation moments ago, yet now he acted as if he understood everything.

The man, with his acupoint sealed, stood awkwardly still, shouting, “Someone, come and unseal my point!”

Soon, rustling sounds came from the surroundings, and someone pushed through thorns, panting, “Damn it, what kind of dogshit formation is this? I went out specially to study formations for a year, and I still can’t break it. Clearly this is the Wu Wang position—why can’t I get out?”

The sealed man said helplessly, “First, unseal my point.”

“Who did it?”

“A new face… very strong, likely on the Human Ranking.”

“So the Real Man has brought in new blood from outside again? Tsk… fewer and fewer have entered the mountain these past couple of years. I thought there’d be less competition, but it seems the old Daoist can’t wait any longer.”

“Nonsense, how many years has it been? No one has even made it past the mountainside. How many years does the old Daoist have left? He’d be a fool to wait. I reckon soon he’ll trick the whole city into coming… Hey, first unseal my point!”

“Oh…” The man nodded, then suddenly drew his blade and chopped off the sealed man’s head.

Blood spurted like a fountain; the slain man’s face still held a stunned expression, not understanding why his comrade had killed him.

“Pah, you call yourself a villain entering the mountain?” The killer sheathed his blade contemptuously. “After all these years, you still don’t get it? You think you’re helping the old Daoist find a treasure? If he had the skill, he’d have taken it himself long ago—why leave it to us? He’s just waiting to see who gets the chance, then snatch it.”

Since it was all about fate, others weren’t comrades—they were competitors.

As for whether he himself would have it confiscated by Yuxu later, that was a matter for another day. For now, reducing the number of competitors was the real priority; otherwise, even getting his hands on it would be hard, let alone what came after.

What he didn’t know was that Zhao Changhe stood nearby, head tilted, watching the scene with a click of his tongue.

Villains abounded, and it was no wonder none had made it past the mountainside in all these years. Yuxu had sent them to retrieve the Celestial Book precisely because he knew these wretches could never succeed.

The man pondered on the spot for a moment, then suddenly clapped his hands: “I see—to leave Wu Wang, one must fight without fault. It’s not just about positioning… Does this kill of mine count as a fight?”

He suddenly dashed toward the Wu Wang position, and Zhao Changhe watched as he brushed past him, racing off into an unknown distance.

By going that way, he would actually descend the mountain. Behind the Shi position lies Lü—the reverse journey.

Zhao Changhe took a deep breath and continued climbing.

This place was truly intriguing… It seemed not to test your music, formations, or even your character.

It spoke of nature—don’t get lost in music, don’t force the formation; when fate arrives, it arrives.

No wonder this page of the Celestial Book was in Kunlun… It wasn’t about the myriad arts of the strange gates; it was the application of the Way of Nature, using everything natural in martial arts.

And at this very moment, the secret treasure he needed to comprehend was closely tied to how to integrate heaven and earth—as if tailor-made for him.

Zhao Changhe walked slowly upward, asking as if to himself, “Why didn’t you hint at this Kunlun page of the Celestial Book earlier, only now when I’m about to come? Is it because fate has brought us together, or because I’ve reached the time to experience these things?”

The blind man’s voice came from somewhere, as if directly into his mind: “Follow fate as it comes—that is nature. Whether at the bottom of the Ancient Sword Lake or atop Kunlun’s peak, you happened to arrive, so I told you. If I had summoned you, would that be your fate?”

“So, I have the fortune of the Celestial Book?”

The blind man was silent for a while, then slowly said, “Yes, you do.”

Both of them simultaneously recalled the third card Zhao Changhe had drawn.

She had not explained to him what it was, and Zhao Changhe had never asked.

Zhao Changhe continued forward, and ahead lay a cliff, with a stream flowing below. The gap above was estimated to be over thirty meters wide, impossible to cross. Occasionally, birds flew over the stream, water splashing, birdsong echoing, the mountain quiet and solitary.

Someone sat at the cliff’s edge, slowly twisting a rope. When he saw Zhao Changhe approach, he didn’t lift his head or pay any attention.

Zhao Changhe asked directly, “Why hasn’t anyone built a bridge?”

“Newcomer?” The man still didn’t raise his eyes, saying woodenly, “Can’t build a bridge—no matter how you try, it breaks midway. Otherwise, it would have been done years ago, and you wouldn’t be here asking.”

Zhao Changhe observed for a moment and shook his head slightly.

Above the secret treasure realm, it was hard to say, but for Xuan Pass martial artists, who the hell could leap over thirty meters with lightness skills? Was that flying or lightness?

To cover half the distance with lightness was already decent… By Zhao Changhe’s current level, his lightness wasn’t top-tier among his peers, but it was in the front ranks. Leaping without any foothold, he could manage at most twenty meters—already quite immortal to ordinary eyes.

Following this man’s method of twisting a long rope, he imagined jumping halfway first, then swinging the remaining length to catch a tree on the opposite side—feasible, but time-consuming.

Zhao Changhe asked again, “Why twist the rope yourself instead of buying one in the city?”

The man said impatiently, “Anything brought from outside just doesn’t work. Who knows why? Don’t bother me.”

Zhao Changhe laughed, “What about stolen ones? Do they work?”

The man paused, then chuckled, “You’re clever.”

Zhao Changhe glanced back again, understanding that this test was about using nature. His own lightness needed a certain foundation, but not anything extraordinary—consistent with the previous trials. Relying on tools too far beyond the norm wouldn’t be recognized by the Celestial Book; twisting a rope from local materials could count, but a rope taken by force wouldn’t count as using nature yourself.

An interesting test.

Zhao Changhe didn’t bother twisting a rope. He glanced back again, as if calculating something.

After a moment, he suddenly sprinted, leaped into the air, and soared across the void.

The rope-twister stared in shock—you have no tools, and you just jump like that?

Are you out of your mind?

But as Zhao Changhe’s breath ran out and he began to fall, he casually stretched out a foot and lightly tapped, as if finding some foothold, effortlessly gaining lift again and shooting straight to the opposite bank.

The rope-twister suddenly realized.

A crane had just flown by—he had stepped on the crane, truly using everything natural, without any trace of artifice.

Skill aside, his nerve was immense. How could he be sure a crane would pass under his foot just as he jumped? What if it didn’t? What if his calculation was off and he stepped into empty air?

But there were no such what-ifs. Zhao Changhe truly crossed on the crane. The man watched, and instead of admiration, a murderous intent rose in his eyes.

There was only one page of the Celestial Book—such a man could not be left alive!

“Swoosh!” A needle as fine as a hair silently shot toward Zhao Changhe’s back!

But Zhao Changhe seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. He reached back with his longsword, lightly flicked, and easily deflected the needle back.

The man hadn't expected him to defend against even this, and instead found himself caught off guard, the fine needle whistling into his brow.

He laughed wildly, his expression manic: "Your breath is spent, you won't make it across either—let's die together, hehehehe..."

Zhao Changhe had just stepped onto the crane and risen, not yet reaching the opposite bank, and while airborne he deflected this strike, but the breath in his body turned turbid, and indeed he began to fall. Only about a meter remained to the other shore...

Suddenly he extended his palm and sucked.

Earlier, someone else had thrown a rope tied to a tree on the opposite bank; the end of the rope lying on the ground was suddenly sucked into his hand. Using it for leverage, he leaped, landed steadily, and disappeared at the bank, without even a glance at the attacker.

With a "bang," the attacker, a tiny bloody hole in his brow, fell to the ground, his eyes full of regret.