Chapter 458: Sword Breaks Bashan

Chapter 458: Breaking the Ba Mountain Sword

Zhao Changhe had developed a true appetite for battle. His previous challenge to Lei Zhentang had not been mere bluster; deep down, he had genuinely yearned for the clash.

Even with the grim knowledge that defeat was likely, a man harboring the Bloodfiend Technique was bound to be driven by such visceral impulses when the frenzy took hold.

Fortunately, he had mastered that surging urge; otherwise, the crimson gleam in his eyes might have betrayed him completely.

In truth, suppressing his primary technique and adapting to the sword meant he could wield only half his usual might, yet Zhao Changhe found an unexpected joy in the restraint. It mirrored his experience traversing the Kunlun Mystic Realm—confronting novel scenarios at every turn, taxing his mind to employ long-neglected disciplines. That spark of sudden inspiration and the thrill of strategic collision were sensations rarely tasted when lost in the wild frenzy of his saber.

Perhaps he was simply fickle, enamored with the new? No... it was a martial artist’s delight in a fresh challenge, akin to a player encountering an intriguing update in a game.

The swordsmanship he had merely toyed with on the periphery, never fully committing to practice, now felt increasingly fascinating the more he utilized it. The essence of the saber and the sword were fundamentally distinct.

The saber was tempestuous, ferocious, direct—a force capable of shattering thousands.

The sword was detached, elegant, offering the boundless joy of fluid maneuvers alongside the swift, lethal precision of a life-or-death instant.

In reality, he had long ceased to be a stranger to the blade... he had woven sword techniques into his saber play early on, yet such a fusion could never unlock the true virtue of the sword; its core remained tied to the saber. Only now, by separating them, did a genuine comprehension of the sword begin to dawn.

He could almost sense the energy that previously roared and swept through his veins beginning to condense into a sharp, focused edge. Instantly, Zhao Changhe recalled the Sharp-Blade Grass required for tempering his physique, as well as Li Shentong's advice on refining the body through such focus.

So that was it.

Every disparate piece of knowledge and experience, seemingly disconnected, was converging into a singular path.

Furthermore... the so-called hexes and the natural anomalies written on the second page of the Heavenly Book aligned perfectly... though that page was said to correspond to Tang Wanzhuang, why couldn't it also reflect this journey into the Miaojiang region? To the extent that within the Heavenly Book’s illusory projection, an increasing array of hex-insect effects was gradually manifesting, all of which were rooted in the laws of natural biology.

What he gained, and what his foes revealed, gradually converged toward a single point—the bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.

"Hum!" The blood within his body suddenly surged violently, bringing a sensation of chaotic turbulence.

Zhao Changhe looked up to see a woman standing before him with an apologetic expression: "Our hexcraft requires a medium. Just now, I used the corpse slain by Protector Si to invoke the curse. I hope Protector Si does not view this as a sneak attack or an unfair alliance."

Strictly speaking, it certainly felt like one, but since her craft demanded such methods and she spoke with complete candor, Zhao Changhe did not mind. He smiled and said, "Naturally."

The woman exhaled a sigh of relief and smiled: "This is a blood curse, designed to disrupt the harmony of one's vital energy. At best, it saps your strength; at worst, it causes one to burst and perish. If Protector Si finds it unbearable, you may call a halt early."

Zhao Changhe asked, "If I endure it, does that count as a pass?"

The woman shook her head: "I will still seize the opportunity to strike, of course. Otherwise, what would be the purpose of pinning you down..."

As she spoke, a Miao saber materialized in her hand, testing his defenses with a swift slash: "Watch yourself, Protector Si."

"Actually, elder sister, there is no need for such courtesy. You could afford to be much fiercer with this strike," Zhao Changhe chuckled. Suddenly, his sword leaped forth like a dragon, precisely striking the flank of the Miao saber.

A sharp wave of sword-qi rippled through the clash, nearly knocking the weapon from the woman's grasp. She retreated in sheer horror: "You are entirely unaffected by the curse?"

Zhao Changhe grinned: "It is nothing. I possess the Flesh and Blood Peace Hex."

What kind of hex was that?

Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, completely at a loss.

Sisi burst into a sudden laugh. Vital energy? Wasn't that rushing directly into Zhao Changhe's greatest strength? You would have been better off choosing a different curse, like a lust hex... well, perhaps even that would be useless; yesterday in the bath barrel... and this auntie isn't nearly as beautiful as I am, even I couldn't manage...

Just as she was thinking this, Zhao Changhe let out a sudden gasp of surprise, feeling an overwhelming drowsiness wash over him.

In the heat of intense combat, he felt profoundly sleepy, as though he could fall asleep standing up just by leaning on his sword. Taking advantage of the lapse, the opponent’s Miao saber broke free from the entanglement of his blade and slashed back toward him.

The woman let out a breath: "This is the Slumber Hex. It was quietly attached to your person just moments ago..."

"Snap!" Before her words could fully register, a microscopic hex-insect suddenly tumbled off Zhao Changhe’s body. His eyes snapped back to absolute clarity. With unparalleled swiftness, his left hand seized the wrist of the woman wielding the Miao saber, while his longsword was already resting against her throat.

The woman stood dumbfounded: "How did you manage that? You clearly didn't notice it, yet the insect was purged..."

"A good match," Zhao Changhe replied without explaining, though a lingering dread remained in his heart.

Though the maneuver appeared effortless, it had been fraught with extreme peril. Had he been a fraction of a second slower in breaking the hex, her blade would have claimed his neck. The method of breaking it was precisely the sharp intent of vital energy he had just comprehended; the insect had tunneled inside only to find itself in a forest of blades, pierced and cast out... yet this insect was relatively weak. Had it been a stronger one, he might truly have fallen...

The arts of shamanic hexes were indeed impossible to guard against, yet they were undeniably fascinating.

The woman shook her head in admiration and stepped down. Zhao Changhe took several deep breaths, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him.

Though none of his opponents possessed exceptionally high cultivation, they had forced him to exhaust his entire repertoire, leaving no room for relaxation.

A handsome, upright man slowly stepped forward from the crowd, his posture as straight and rigid as a blade. He walked unhurriedly toward Zhao Changhe, raising his sword in a challenge: "Lan Wujiang of the She people, requests instruction from Protector Si."

Zhao Changhe narrowed his eyes, his slightly slouched shoulders gradually straightening as his battle intent ignited.

This aura, this sword intent, and that "Wu" generation name.

The Ba Mountain Sword Cottage!

Wait, wasn't Han Wubing a disciple? How did he share a generation name with elders like Shi Wuding?

As the thought flashed through his mind, he spoke slowly: "I have waited for you for a long time."

Lan Wujiang narrowed his eyes to appraise him, replying with equal deliberation: "As expected."

Zhao Changhe asked, "Are you truly of the She people?"

"Of course," Lan Wujiang stated. "And you? Truly of the Spirit race?"

Zhao Changhe rested his hands on his hips: "Of course!"

Yue Hongling cast a sideways glance at Sisi, who quickly turned her head away.

"Good," Lan Wujiang acknowledged. "Your swordsmanship is excellent."

Zhao Changhe countered, "But yours is lacking."

Lan Wujiang stared at him coldly.

Sisi whispered to Yue Hongling, "Do all people who play with swords talk like this?"

Yue Hongling didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "Am I not a sword wielder? Tang Buqi wields a sword too, who among us talks like that... perhaps he learned it from Han Wubing."

Sisi remarked, "It seems I must keep him far away from Han Wubing in the future... how terrifying."

Yet they heard Zhao Changhe continue: "You should have been the first to step forward. That is what a true swordsman would do."

Lan Wujiang remained silent for a moment before replying slowly, "Perhaps."

"Waiting until I am exhausted to step forward shows a faltering heart. To be timid before the fight means you are unworthy of being my opponent," Zhao Changhe sneered. "I will let you draw your sword first."

A flash of genuine anger finally sparked in Lan Wujiang’s eyes.

A sudden glare of sword-light erupted in the hall.

There was no brilliant radiance, no tempestuous energy.

A solitary thread of sword-light sliced through the void, arriving before Zhao Changhe's throat in the blink of an eye.

Yue Hongling suddenly stood up: "Superb swordsmanship!"

This was definitively a top-tier swordsman of the Ninth Profound Meridian, the sort who stood a mere step away from entering the Secret Realm!

Zhao Changhe was concealing his Bloodfiend Technique and playing with an unfamiliar weapon, which halved his inherent strength, not to mention he had just endured a gauntlet of battles that left him thoroughly drained. At this very moment, could he truly defeat such an opponent?

Zhao Changhe shifted his stance slightly. Those with poorer vision didn't even perceive his movement, yet the point where Lan Wujiang’s sword-light was brightest was subtly evaded. In the next instant, the Dragon Emperor sword thrust out at an angle, striking the side of Lan Wujiang’s blade.

With a crisp clink, both men swayed slightly from the impact.

In the following breath, almost simultaneously, the sword-radiance exploded outward. The hall seemed filled with the sudden blooming of thousands of pear trees, as though a torrential rain had been scattered across the sky.

The night rain of Ba Mountain swells the autumn pools.

The spring waters touch the sky as green waves roll.

The clashing of swords rang unceasingly, as dense as ten thousand raindrops striking the eaves at once, and most could no longer follow the two figures, their eyes dazzled and minds reeling.

"Is this the Miaojiang battle?" many whispered. "Surely this isn't the Central Plains ranking?"

"Where are their gu?"

"...The weaker gu can't even enter such a sword net. They both chose this mode to prevent gu ambushes—otherwise, why use such a draining sword net in a one-on-one?"

"I see... then what about the gu that enhance oneself?"

Lan Wujiang had one.

Yue Hongling clearly sensed the flow of power within Lan Wujiang, growing ever stronger and sharper. The emitted sword aura seemed to gain life, twisting and turning, every strand leaping forth, all aimed at Zhao Changhe's position.

Blade Grass... Blade Gu?

As for Zhao Changhe, he too used the method of spreading sword aura in all directions, but the little intent of swordplay he had learned from Tang Wanzhuang—how could it compare to another's thousand-honed control of sword aura, as dense and orderly as a forest?

Yet Lan Wujiang, caught in the midst of it, felt no ease at all.

He too sensed Zhao Changhe's sword growing stronger and faster, each strike slightly mightier than the last, and after a hundred exchanges, it began to take on the unstoppable momentum of the Yellow River rushing to the sea.

What sword art was this?

Zhao Changhe had learned from the Sword Emperor's legacy—the Sword of Avici, the Endless Blood Sea. Each strike could absorb a fraction of the previous one's power, gradually accumulating. He had once merged it into his blade technique, but later, as his opponents grew stronger, they could condense their power and resist being drained, so he had long abandoned it. Now, of course, was the time to revive it.

Lan Wujiang thought he too had a gu and unconsciously adopted this rain-of-swords pattern, with countless clashes in a short time—perfect for this technique's execution.

By the time Lan Wujiang realized something was wrong, it was too late.

A point of sword light burst before his eyes, like the Milky Way hanging from the nine heavens, piercing the firmament, with boundless waves of blood.

A fierce glint flashed in Lan Wujiang's eyes. Suddenly, he merged man and sword, charging straight into the most turbulent heart of the raging waves.

A Bashan ultimate technique: Return Date Unknown.

In any rain of swords, there must be a flaw to find. What seems the strongest point is often the core intersection.

"Fine swordsmanship," Zhao Changhe even had time to exclaim. "I've learned—thank you."

"Clang!" Lan Wujiang's long sword viciously plunged into the core, but Zhao Changhe's sword momentum suddenly shifted.

The surging waves and inverted galaxy of sword force abruptly contracted, converging into a single point, as if all the blood-sea surges had coalesced into a shrieking vengeful spirit, demanding life and death together!

A Sword Emperor's technique: the Yuan Tu Sword!

The two passed each other, each turning their back.

Lan Wujiang clutched his ribs, blood slowly seeping out.

Zhao Changhe's left arm was cut with a gash. Amid the crowd's astonishment, he suddenly swung his sword back and sliced off a piece of flesh from his own arm.

A gu insect fell to the ground, twitching and still.

Even at the moment of life and death, he was still guarding against gu...

People stared blankly at him as he cut his own flesh, clearly wincing in pain with cold sweat on his brow, yet both friend and foe felt a tremor in their hearts.

A true man indeed.

Sisi and Yue Hongling sat on small stools, chins in hands, watching his back. Neither spoke.

"Thud!" Lan Wujiang crashed to the ground. A group of his clansmen rushed over, frantically treating his wounds, glaring angrily at Zhao Changhe. "Si Laoye, what a venomous hand you have!"

"He's not dead, so what are you yelling about?" Zhao Changhe panted, his voice utterly weary. "Is there anyone else who wishes to instruct me?"

For a long moment, no one answered.

That Bai tribe leader shouted loudly, "What more is there to compete? I acknowledge your seat! Whoever dares to claim they can replace you as the fifth seat, I'll be the first to object!"

The arena fell silent; no one refuted.

Even Lei Zhentang could not bring himself to speak—he too had his pride.

In truth, the Sword Hut still harbored many disciples, but at this moment, who would dare to strike? It would be an outrage against all.

Had the fifth seat truly been taken by the Ling tribe? Lei Zhentang gripped the armrest tightly, his expression shifting between dark and bright.

Zhao Changhe stood for a moment, receiving no response. He cupped his hands in a salute to all around, smiled, and said, "You all flatter me... but this is not my fifth seat."

He slowly turned, walked to Sisi, and bowed. "Reporting to the Saintess... mission accomplished."