Chapter 257: Found You, My Beloved Master
A phantasmal shadow struggled out from the gradually dissipating phantom in the sky, transforming into a streak of dark light and fleeing toward the horizon at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.
That was Meng Xuanyi.
His contention for the Dao had failed and his Dao Foundation was damaged. All he could do now was flee.
The entire Dream Demon Race had infiltrated the Qingcao Sword Sect. Now that their plot was exposed, the Daoist Sect would never let the matter rest.
Once this was over, the Daoist Sect would conduct a thunderous reckoning. If he wanted to leave a sliver of hope for his clan’s survival, he, Meng Xuanyi, had to live. He had to disappear from everyone’s sight.
As the Dream Demon Clan Leader at the Peak of the Sixth Realm, if he completely abandoned all traces of his existence and hid within the sea of countless interwoven mortal dreams, likely only the Daoist Sect Master acting personally could find him.
The streak of light shot through the air, about to vanish into the clouds.
“You’ve already come all this way. Why leave?”
The streak of dark light that was Meng Xuanyi abruptly froze.
Behind Meng Xuanyi, Lu Changyuan slowly opened his eyes.
Unlike the phantom from before, his current form did not leak a single shred of aura. He seemed as plain as an ordinary person.
That was not weakness.
It was the perfectly formed Realm of Harmony.
Meng Xuanyi finally believed Lu Changyuan’s identity. He wanted to let out a bloodcurdling scream but found he couldn’t make a sound.
Lu Changyuan put away Broken Thought and gripped the Heaven-Cutting sword. He weighed it in his hand; it felt surprisingly good.
Back then, he had just grabbed a random Iron Sword and charged forward without a second thought. He hadn’t expected that gripping one again would bring back that same feeling.
The Platinum Face mask hid the smile spreading across Lu Changyuan’s face—an expression the Chang’an Daoist would never have.
“Since we’re at the Qingcao Sword Sect, I might as well use a move from the Qingcao Sword Sect.”
A Sword Master from the Qingcao Sword Sect was once friends with Lu Changyuan.
Thus, Lu Changyuan had a deep understanding of the Qingcao Sword Sect and had even learned its Little Grass Sword Technique.
Moreover, back when Lu Changyuan was still practicing the Killing Dao, just before he set out to walk the Red Dust once more, that Sword Master had shared a drink with him.
“Ai, this pig-headed apprentice of mine just can’t grasp this sliver of intent. What should I do, Brother Lu?”
“The intent of your sword technique is too profound; it’s normal that he can’t learn it. Don’t ask for too much from the younger generation. Your apprentice is only twenty, after all.”
“When I was twenty, I was already… ah, never mind. If this blockhead can’t learn it, my Dharma will be lost, and that can’t happen. How about this, Brother Lu? I’ll teach it to you, and in the future, you can look for someone clever within the Sword Sect and teach it to them for me.”
Lu Changyuan recalled some very interesting memories.
Humans are creatures that indulge in memories. Perhaps because Lu Changyuan was young again, he was especially moved by memories from his past, older life.
“The mountains are long, the waters wide, where am I to go? I gaze upon the road to the end of the world.”
Lu Changyuan spoke faintly. The sword in his hand vanished in an instant, then soared high into the sky.
With the sword as its center, the essence of spring began to flourish. An image of a warm March day, flowers in full bloom, ripped across the sky. The curtain of rain was savagely driven back, and the Sword Sect welcomed a warm, late-spring sun it had not seen for a long time.
The Little Grass Sword Technique had thirty-two forms in total, containing Sword Moves with names like Little Grass Sword, Great Grass Sword, All Herbs Return to the Root, and A Hundred Grasses’ Withering and Flourishing.
The names of the sword moves were simple, but their killing power was immense.
But one year.
A madman appeared in the Qingcao Sword Sect. He attempted to fuse all thirty-two forms into one, creating a unique thirty-third form.
He succeeded.
There wasn’t anything else to this Sword Move, except that it required immense innate talent. That was why even the madman’s own apprentice—the next Qingcao Gate Master—was unable to learn it.
But Lu Changyuan had learned it.
This was because the sword move wasn’t concerned with minor details; its only principle was that all phenomena between heaven and earth were but a single sword in hand. This was similar to Lu Changyuan’s own Killing Dao.
Lu Changyuan said, “How could someone think that fusing all the Sword Moves into one big move would make it the strongest in the world? And how could someone actually succeed in doing so?”
The sword struck.
Wherever it pointed, rivers changed their course as if a silver dragon had turned in its sleep. Mountains bowed their peaks as if an Immortal had lowered their gaze.
The wind howled, the rain fell to the Netherworld, yet the Thirty-Three Celestial Cyan Sword remained.
All creation shattered. Rivers broke into beads, mountains crumbled to dust, and time itself fractured into shards of Glazed glass. Yet in the midst of this destruction, everything was reassembling, ultimately returning to its origin.
This sword move.
Was called Guiyi.
~~~~~~~~~~
Li Dashu coughed up a mouthful of viscous blood. It splattered against a cloud, spreading into a dark red stain.
The sword flew from his weakened grip, vanishing to some unknown place.
A ringing filled his ears and his vision went black. The spot on his side where the Ape Lord’s Mountain Shattering Staff had struck him felt as if the bones were completely shattered; every breath sent a sharp, tearing pain through his organs.
The Dream Demon’s voice was filled with madness: “Be buried in history along with us!”
“Cough… PTUI!” Li Dashu spat out a mouthful of bloody foam. He grimaced from the pain but squeezed out a mocking laugh. “Has this Possession of Brother Xue made you forget who you even are? Is History your Dao? If you’ve got any spine, crawl out of Brother Xue’s body and we’ll fight for real, blade to blade!”
That was, of course, impossible.
If the Dream Demon abandoned Xue Mingjing’s body to fight Li Dashu, it would no longer be able to suppress its aura, and the sword of Jiang Jiayi from Celestial Mountain would surely arrive.
Li Dashu took a breath, holding his sword in his left hand while his right clutched the wound on his waist.
The Ape Lord’s blow had been too vicious. Now, Li Dashu was forced to hunch over, clutching his waist in a posture that was both comical and pathetic. He looked less like a swordsman and more like a tottering old man nearing the end of his life.
The three of them suddenly stopped all movement at the same time, whipping their heads around to look in the same direction.
An extremely terrifying aura was approaching from the distance.
“What is that?” Li Dashu jumped in shock, so startled that a few hairs from his beard fell out. “Why does that look so familiar? Meng Xuanyi!?”
A sword gleam came from the distance, joining the battlefield in an instant.
At the tip of this streak of sword light was a figure, already dead. Its corpse, bleeding blue blood, was carried along by the light as it hurtled toward this place.
The Dream Demon didn’t even have time to react before the sword strike, which shattered the river of stars, was right before its face.
The Ape Lord was sliced in two at the waist by this sword, its body torn to pieces.
The Fox Lord’s arrow had already wounded him gravely. After fighting Li Dashu for days and then taking the full force of this sword strike, his body finally exploded.
The Dream Demon fared no better. Its true form was blasted out of Xue Mingjing’s body, and its phantasmal shadow began to blur and fade.
But neither of them had perished. The Ape Lord’s shattered flesh began to squirm slowly, attempting to re-form. The Dream Demon’s shadow, though faint, had not yet completely dispersed.
A Yao Guang was not so easy to kill.
So.
Li Dashu said, “I was originally planning to let you two get a little closer. I don’t know which kind passerby helped out with that sword strike, but it’s great. Saved me some effort.”
He chuckled.
He pulled a rusty butcher’s knife from the back of his waistband.
“There really are a lot of good people in the world.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
After wounding the Dream Demon and the Ape Lord, the sword gleam still did not dissipate. Instead, it continued flying into the distance.
The sword strike finally pierced the heavens and entered Beyond the Heavens.
There, a profound figure wearing a Platinum Face mask stood in the Void, as if waiting for this very sword strike.
And beside her was a scroll.
On the title page of the scroll, a name was written.
_Xue Mingjing_
Soon, the scroll began to glow faintly, finally transforming into a pale-faced scholar dressed in a long robe.
He spoke with extreme weakness, “My thanks to the Master of the Dharma.”
The Human Race’s Seventh Realm Yao Guang—Xue Mingjing.
He cultivated the Dao of History and had left behind a life-bound book of his own history, in which his entire life was recorded. By occupying Xue Mingjing’s name, the Dream Demon had also occupied his history.
Now that the Dream Demon was gone, he could reclaim his history and return from within his own history book.
The profound figure glanced at him. “If you hadn’t had the foresight to give me your history book before you foolishly attempted to ascend beyond the Yao Guang realm, I would not have been able to preserve your true Spirit.”
Xue Mingjing gave a bitter smile and said nothing.
“Go now. Hide yourself well. The Yao Guang of the Dao of History is already dead, understand?”
He nodded, transforming into a streak of light and disappearing from Beyond the Heavens.
The Daoist Sect Master paid Xue Mingjing no more mind. Instead, she stared at the streak of sword light. Guided by the Profound Dao, the strike finally came to rest in her hand.
She toyed with the wisp of Sword Intent in her hand. Behind the Platinum Face mask, her eyes held a faintly visible emotion so complex it could drive a person mad.
“My dear Master, you really aren’t dead after all.”
Leng Moyuan extended a delicate, jade-like hand and snapped the Hundred Feet Sword Qi into pieces. Then, bit by bit, she placed them into her mouth and chewed them to nothing.