Chapter 469: Who Is the Grandmaster

Chapter 469: Who Is the Grandmaster

“Swish, swish, swish!”

Several long swords thrust simultaneously toward Zhao Changhe, who was descending from midair.

Every sword strike seemed measured, each angle perfectly coordinated—those attacking, those blocking, those aiding, those disrupting—forming an intricate sword array collaboration more precise than any battle-hardened formation.

The lead attacker was Lan Wujiang.

His wounds had healed, and his swordsmanship seemed even sharper. As this thrust rose, Zhao Changhe felt the biting cold of a harsh snow peak, a bone-chilling frost.

It was no longer merely Lan Wujiang’s own sword technique... it had largely become Shi Wuding’s sword.

But Zhao Changhe paid it no heed.

Is that all?

With a resounding “clang,” the Toad Leap slammed into the center of the sword net.

Violent, bloodthirsty blade radiance scattered in all directions, forcing several nearby sword slaves to stagger back with muffled groans. Lan Wujiang, bearing the brunt, had his sword shattered and retreated in alarm.

What terrifying strength this Zhao Changhe possessed!

Zhao Changhe burst into the formation, grabbed Han Wubing, and shouted, “Let’s go!”

Han Wubing, dazed and groggy, was supported by Zhao Changhe as they walked. He muttered, “Actually, I’d suggest you stay far from me, because I suspect the one who stabs you in the back might be me.”

Zhao Changhe understood this truth but still said, “Less chatter.”

Over there, Lan Wujiang had already drawn another sword and charged again, surrounded by layers of sword shadows that trapped Zhao Changhe on the spot.

“Rank thirty-seven on the Human Roll, Blood Shura Zhao Changhe...” Lan Wujiang, completely failing to recognize this as the Si Laoye he had fought days ago, said flatly, “We’ve known you were in Miaojiang for a long time. Did you really think we’d be unprepared? Bringing so many out wasn’t for Han Wubing—it was for you.”

“I’m flattered.” Without a second thought, Zhao Changhe supported Han Wubing with his left arm while flipping his right hand, and a blade light flashed.

Around him, waves of blood surged, snowflakes scattered, all transforming into blade light. The sword slaves nearby felt their blood churn violently, as if about to burst forth.

Blood Fills the Mountains and Rivers!

This Blood Fills the Mountains and Rivers now bore subtle differences from before.

Having played with swords for so long, he naturally fused common techniques and intent into it. This bloodthirsty blade, compared to the earlier sword light flowing like water filling a courtyard, had countless similarities... merely one was violent, the other skillful—they could corroborate each other, drawing on different strengths to push each advantage to its peak.

“Swish, swish, swish!” The snowflakes seemed alive, dancing nimbly, even chasing after the sword slaves as they dodged with a lively beat.

Screams rang out simultaneously, blood splattering all around. With a single slash, all the sword slaves fell.

“Excellent blade work!” Before him, sword light flickered as Lan Wujiang thrust a sword at his throat, blocking Zhao Changhe’s attempt to break through.

Zhao Changhe angled his long blade upward, and the rain of blood suddenly halted, the snowflakes softening.

Time seemed to slow down, leaving only a cold gleam in the night slicing across the opponent’s throat.

A Small Pavilion Listens to Spring Rain Through the Night.

“Clang!” The once unstoppable strike was actually blocked by Lan Wujiang.

This was, after all, not merely Lan Wujiang.

But Zhao Changhe had anticipated this. As Lan Wujiang shifted slightly while blocking the strike, Zhao Changhe forcibly dragged Han Wubing diagonally, slipping past Lan Wujiang’s side. At the same time, he spun back for a returning slash, aiming again at Lan Wujiang’s neck.

Lan Wujiang had no choice but to block once more, and Zhao Changhe, with Han Wubing, dashed straight out, vanishing into the darkness.

“Swish, swish, swish!” Wind howled behind him. The sword slaves, whose throats had all been struck moments ago, were chasing again.

Zhao Changhe didn’t even look back—it was all within expectations.

Why had the aftermath of the Maitreya incident led here? There were, of course, commonalities... Was there a difference between controlling corpse puppets and controlling sword slaves?

Different types, same essence—they were already dead. To kill them again, the vital point might not be the throat; he’d have to find it anew.

Zhao Changhe only hoped that Han Wubing, cultivated in earlier years, was still alive.

He dragged Han Wubing into a frantic dash toward the nearby woods, seemingly fleeing, but actually found a thicket, pushed Han Wubing inside to hide, and pulled a garment from his ring, draping it over his left arm as if supporting someone, then leaped onto a tree.

The pursuing Lan Wujiang and his men, unable to see clearly in the night, followed suit, leaping up: “Where do you think you’re going!”

Zhao Changhe stood on a branch, coldly watching Lan Wujiang charge ahead. His arms had unknowingly doubled in thickness.

“Roar!” Longque, from its high vantage, slashed down with a sky-splitting fury!

He had a foothold; Lan Wujiang did not. With the boost of Heaven and Earth Without Self, the Blood Shura Body erupted unrestrainedly. The power disparity, with one side rising and the other falling, was more than doubled!

Lan Wujiang felt as if Mount Tai was collapsing upon him. He couldn’t even tell if this was a blade or a wolf-tooth club—if it smashed into his head, even without an edge, his skull would burst like a watermelon.

Fortunately, he had anticipated this too. With exquisite footwork, he spun midair, trying to kick off a nearby branch and circle around for another thrust.

If he could stall Zhao Changhe for an instant, countless sword slaves would rain their swords upon him. Perched on that branch, Zhao Changhe would be nothing but a live target.

But just as he began his evasive spin, a roar came from above: “Come back here!”

Lan Wujiang felt the words oddly familiar... Before he could react, his body was caught in a powerful suction. Though it didn’t actually pull him back, it froze his midair spin, preventing him from turning!

Grasping Crane Skill!

Why was his left hand empty? And how did he predict my movement? Have we fought before?

No time to think—the broad blade was already upon his head.

Lan Wujiang, terrified out of his wits, quickly raised his sword to shield his head.

When a sword loses its lightness and clashes head-on with a broad blade, the result is not a parry.

It’s a broken sword and a dead man.

With a crisp snap, the long sword shattered, and Lan Wujiang’s skull was cleaved in two by that single slash.

A wisp of blood-colored sword energy seeped from his brain, and Lan Wujiang’s corpse thudded heavily to the ground, utterly dead.

“Nothing special. In the way of life and death, he’s far inferior to the Corpse Demon... but there might be lingering troubles.” Zhao Changhe cast a hurried glance at the dissipating sword energy, with no time to dwell on it. Countless sword slaves’ long swords were already upon him, and one sword energy had even grazed his right arm as he savagely struck down Lan Wujiang.

He kicked off the branch, retreating backward. Midair, he produced an arrow from his hand and flung it like a hidden weapon.

With a “thud,” it precisely pierced the eye of the nearest pursuing sword slave.

The sword slave screamed, collapsing to the ground, still clutching his eye and writhing—he still had sensation of pain...

“Thud.” Zhao Changhe landed on another tree behind him and fled once more.

He couldn’t linger; if he did, Shi Wuding would arrive...

He hoped that the sword slaves’ pursuit would keep Shi Wuding too busy to check the thicket where Han Wubing was hidden, and that he would be led away instead.

Zhao Changhe felt a pang of worry—this was probably unreliable. It was very likely that Shi Wuding could sense Han Wubing’s location...

But at this moment, there was no other choice. He couldn’t fight while carrying Han Wubing on his back. He only hoped that Han Wubing, having left the “domain” of the snow mountain, would awaken on his own during this time...

As he fled, a sword radiance suddenly burst in the sky.

Looking up, within the full moon, swirling snowflakes coalesced into a beam—the sharpest of swords, piercing through the moon’s radiance.

Snow turned to steel!

The grandmaster of the sword path, no longer sparring with Wang Daozhong in a mere contest, finally revealed the true might of the sixth on the Earth Roll!

An almost irresistible killing intent surged from behind, accompanied by Shi Wuding’s cold voice: “Fine brotherhood, but this is where it ends...”

“Is that so?” Zhao Changhe stomped hard on the tree trunk ahead, snapping it, thick as a thigh, clean in two.

Using the force of the rebound, Zhao Changhe gripped his blade with both hands and charged without hesitation toward that flying snow sword light.

The sword slaves, those with a shred of awareness, looked up and saw a moth darting into a flame—a contest utterly mismatched in level—yet he did not even blink.

At that moment, he even forgot that he had invited the Thief Saint to help.

There was only himself, and Longque.

“Sixth on the Earth Ranking, Sword Saint of the Realm... your Way is entrusted to others yet lacks courage, your sword springs from ghostly realms yet lacks righteousness, your heart wavers without resolve, a petty schemer—who calls you master? Break for me!”

A colossal crescent blade light slashed out diagonally, meeting the terrifying sword aura in the sky.

“Clang!” A deafening, earth-shattering roar rang out; dark clouds veiled the vast sky, and the stars and moon lost their light.

The sword aura dissipated, revealing Shi Wuding’s shocked and horrified face.

Before him were Zhao Changhe’s resolute eyes; though blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, though the hand gripping Longque trembled, he had withstood it.

A strike from the sixth on the Earth Ranking—even with the power of a divine weapon borrowed, it should not have been something he could withstand.

But he truly had withstood it.

Shi Wuding was about to speak when his expression drastically changed: “Who is ambushing the sword formation!”

Zhao Changhe grinned slightly.

Everyone knew Zhao Changhe might appear here, yet you never thought of Yue Hongling?