Fan Xian stood expressionlessly amidst the wind and snow, breathing calmly. His slightly trembling palms were turned toward the sky. Every inch of his skin and every pore on his body greedily absorbed the names and shapeless yuanqi between heaven and earth. A faint layer of light appeared over his clothes.
He did not know what this clear and lively yuanqi was, where it came from, or why it existed. Ever since he had sensed the existence of these things by the East Sea, he discovered that if he recited the confusing breathing technique recorded on the little volume, he seemed to be able to absorb the yuanqi that existed between heaven and earth and change it into true essence.
After the attack and impact earlier, the abundant and famous Tyrannical zhenqi in Fan Xian's body was depleted in an instant. In such a dangerous situation, he could not have hidden any. In front of the Emperor's face, Fan Xian's began to adjust his breathing again.
Even though the Emperor had been injured, moved, and grown old, he was still a Great Grandmaster.
With the lift of his hand and foot, the Emperor took control of the situation, leaving Fan Xian with no choice but to retaliate with all his strength. In an instant, his store of zhenqi was nearly fully consumed. Although he was greedily absorbing the yuanqi between heaven and earth, the fluctuations amidst the wind and snow were very weak. Additionally, the amount of yuanqi he could sense was very thin. For this situation, it was not any help at all. Although he was regaining his zhenqi slightly quicker and could manage to climb to his feet in the snow, how could it help him defeat a Great Grandmaster?
For the warriors on this land, foreign magic was an existence of little value or interest and not worth considering. Even when Master Ku He, an open-hearted and fearless Great Grandmaster who even dared to eat human flesh, began to study this magic in the last days of his life and had the fate to obtain that small notebook, he still did not manage to forge another path. At most, it could only be considered a helping technique.
Just like Fan Xian now He breathed in and out, meditated, and restrained his qi, but it was like trying to breathe in a paddy field and being able to suck in oxygen from the muddied water.
He couldn't wait any longer. The figure in the bright yellow dragon robe on the other side of the wind and rain was already moving with slow and determined steps across the snow. The dozens of feet seemed distant. It seemed like the snowflakes there were many times smaller than the other snowflakes. However, for the Qing Emperor and Fan Xian, what difference was there between the edge of the world and close at hand?
Fan Xian's eyes contained neither joy nor anger. They just showed calmness. The slightly warped sword of the Wei Emperor stretched horizontally across his brow, glowing with an icy light. The large and small circulations in his body moved slightly, making the pool of qi behind his waist glow with a bright light.
Ever since his rebirth, he had diligently and steadily meditated and stored his vigorous zhenqi. It was like the summit of a snowy mountain being struck by a powerful ray of sunlight. In an instant, it became a trickle. Then, the water in the trickle grew and grew, forming a little stream and eventually a large river, surging through his Meridians, which were thicker than anyone else's in the world. They flowed into his four limbs and each area of his body, strengthening his spirit and hammering against his fleshy body.
The snowy ground beneath his feet split like a lotus and a flower exploded outward. Fan Xian's body trembled. Weakly, but with unusual ruthlessness, he carried these completely different auras and moved forward with his sword.
A lightning-like flash of sword light illuminated the sinister world, lighting up every snowflake. One could even clearly see the edges of the snowflakes.
After the attack earlier and under the powerful pressure the Emperor exerted, Fan Xian, and the Sigu Sword he inherited from Dongyi's Sword Hut, finally combined perfectly under the protection of the two circulations of zhenqi and light body technique to reach the true final realm. This attack was the same brightness as when the Shadow pierced Sigu Jian inside the manor of the Master of Dongyi.
With a crack that was difficult to hear, Fan Xian miserably and decrepitly fell down from the air and flew back, landing heavily on the snowy ground. However, the lotus snowflake he had formed earlier still maintained its shape in the air. From this, one could see how quickly he had moved forward and back, to the point that the lotus snowflake had not even had the time to shatter.
He had moved forward smoothly and struck out casually, ruthlessly, and naturally. But, his retreat was even faster and incredibly miserable.
The Emperor slowly took back his calm and Tyrannical fist that was extended in the air. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at Fan Xian in the snow, still silent. In the face of this attack, even the Emperor had to move slightly to avoid the sharp blade. Thus, his fist had not been fully wound up. Since the previous punch had not killed Fan Xian, presumably this punch would not either.
Fan Xian was like an undefeatable cockroach. He climbed up with difficulty from the snowy ground with a trickle of soon-to-be frozen blood hanging from the corner of his mouth. He stared coldly into the Emperor's calm eyes. Suddenly, he vomited up a mouthful of fresh blood.
Everything in the world, regardless of whether it was speed, technique, or movement, related to martial arts was built on the foundation of zhenqi. With insufficient qi, how could one move as fast as lightning? How could one use those wonderful techniques? Zhenqi was the foundation of martial arts. The Meridians in Fan Xian's body were different to that of normal people. The techniques he cultivated were also different. They were very Tyrannical and vigorous. Looking around, he was truly an anomaly.
However, the Emperor's body was even more unusual. The Meridians in his body were not magnanimous and different like Fan Xian's. Instead, he had no Meridians. From the top of his head to the tip of his toes was a channel for conducting zhenqi. The Emperor's cultivation of the Tyrannical martial method was even more powerful. Plus, there was an imperial aura amidst the fierceness.
Comparatively speaking, the Emperor was an upgraded version of Fan Xian. Fan Xian was a little monster while the Emperor was a big monster. Yet, Fan Xian wanted to rely on his own strength and apex cultivation to openly oppose the Emperor. This was, without a doubt, a courageous and absurd decision.
The old saying held true. In this world, regardless of whether it was in personal cultivation or power, Fan Xian was already one of the most powerful people. In reality, he was already the second best, which he admitted to himself. However, the person he faced today was the best and most powerful person in the world.
There was not a glimmer of defeat in Fan Xian's calm eyes. With his eyes narrowed, he watched as the Emperor gradually approached him through the wind and snow. He knew that when the Emperor reached him step by step, that would be the moment it would be difficult for him to obtain any advantage in movement through that strange magic.
Fresh blood dripped down from this lip and landed on his robe. It immediately froze into a bloody frost by the coldness in the Palace.
The black eyes narrowed as Fan Xian raised the sword of the Wei Emperor in a reverse grip with his wrist horizontal and forward, fully alert. He used the strip of cloth tied to his wrist to wipe away the remaining blood on the side of his lip. Licking his lips, he smiled and said in a hoarse voice, "So invigorating."
Ever since his youth, he had grown up under the care of the Overwatch Council. From a very young age, he was trained to take over the Overwatch Council. From his bones to his skin, from his head to his toes, everything had been submerged in the Overwatch Council's sinister darkness. He had met countless difficulties in his life and many powerful enemies. Each time, he had always done everything he could to weaken the other, to use those despicable and unmentionable methods to achieve the final victory. However, he had rarely depended on a sword in his hand to bravely carry out a direct and hot-blooded battle with powerful enemies.
Looking at the gradually approaching Emperor and feeling the authority filling the air gradually pressing down on his body, a firm and determined expression flashed across Fan Xian's delicate appearance. At such a tense moment, he thought of Yan Xiaoyi's hand pulling open his longbow in the primeval forest to the north of Danzhou three years ago. It seemed to have also approached his body in this cold way.
On the meadow, Fan Xian had courageously stood up. Now, he also stood up bravely, staring at the Emperor coldly through the wind and snow. Taking a deep breath, he faced the approaching wind, shook his right arm, and stood firmly on the snowy ground. Like a civet stepping on a snow lightning attack, his figure abruptly shook as he vanished from where he stood.
He escaped? The Emperor watched as the gray shadow moved with the wind and snow and swept across the walls of the deserted palace, moving quickly toward the south of the Royal Palace. He furrowed his brows slightly as a complicated and cold smile rose to the corners of his lips. The Emperor shook out the sleeves of his bright yellow dragon robe and immediately dissolved into a blurry yellow shadow, disappearing as he followed Fan Xian's shadow.
In the air above the Palace, Fan Xian's hands dropped naturally by his sides. Quickly but naturally, he flew along with the wind and snow, becoming a gray shadow above the walls and eaves of the Palace.
In the desolate courtyard earlier, he had put on the appearance of a young cub fighting for its life that had turned tail and fled, using everything he had to escape into the snow and wind to run away from the Emperor There was not a glimmer of humiliation in his heart. The Emperor was a Great Grandmaster, a big monster. In any event, he was not a man. It was normal to not be able to defeat someone who wasn't even a man. Staying to fight desperately even though one knew one could not win was stupid.
Sensing the slight changes in the wind and snow through his clothes, Fan Xian's posture was unusually beautiful. He flew like a cold-resistant bird, changing his heading periodically. He sketched out one beautiful arc after another, yet his speed did not reduce at all.
In the long silent Royal Palace, it was already time for the sun to rise. Occasional eunuchs and servants sweeping the snow caught a glance of a gray shadow sweeping through the air. They all thought it was just a trick of the light. No one in the world could fly so fast.
Fan Xian swept freely through the air, flying through the sinister and quiet Royal Palace. Every 60 to 80 feet, he would touch down lightly on the corner of an eave or wall without any obstruction to his figure at all. He would then enter another palace. Such bodily movement and speed had truly never been seen before.
A drop of sweat rolled down Fan Xian's back from the back of his neck. This full-strength flying technique did not burn too much of his true essence. Using the power of heaven and earth, escaping into heaven and earth, and obtaining the miracle of heaven and earth, flying through the air actually calmed his state of mind. The two circulations in his body began to warm up. Drop by drop, they began repairing the damage he sustained under the Emperor's attack. The unnamed martial technique also seemed to exhibit the highest levels of output in this harmonious atmosphere between heaven and earth, allowing him to recover faster and significantly improving his condition.
He tapped lightly against the head of a stone beast at the corner of the eaves and did not even jingle the copper bell held in the beast's mouth. Fan Xian flew in the air above the palaces and looked down on the ground and people in the palace with a particular sense of being an immortal and disdaining of mortal life. Particularly for the people starting fires and sweeping the snow, not a single one of them realized that someone was flying in the air above them. Such a feeling was wondrous.
But, the sweat continued to drip down Fan Xian's back. Although all of his mind was focused on the harmonious realm and he had no intention of turning back to look, he could still clearly sense a powerful but hidden power following steadily behind him, like the footsteps of a god of death. Although slow, it was impossible to completely leave behind.
He had not expected to still be unable to throw off the Emperor after increasing his speed to such a level. Fan Xian's eyes narrowed slightly. He continued to charge toward the great gates of the Royal Palace to the distant south.
From the desolate courtyard in the northwest corner, Fan Xian left easily and headed south. Strangely, he did not choose the closest palace gate to the north or those walls to fly over.
He had talked with the Emperor for so long in the Palace, so he naturally had something to rely on. Both father and son were aware of the situation at hand. Fan Xian promised the Emperor that this was only a battle between two people. For the sake of the future generations of the Qing Kingdom, the Emperor could only place the pressure of an Emperor on Fan Xian alone.
As long as Fan Xian could escape this one time, the world would be at peace for many years. For the sake of the various bargaining chips hidden around the world, the Emperor would not make a move against Fan Xian's subordinates before his death. This was the meaning the Emperor's process. It was impossible to chase back even with four horses.
However, the Emperor would not allow a power to exist and hide within his kingdom that could be a threat to him, so he had to kill Fan Xian.
Fan Xian did not leave the palace. Although the tall, cinnabar red walls around the Royal Palace were supposedly able to stop any ninth-level warrior in the world. Uncle Wu Zhu luring old Eunuch Hong out of the Palace back then had already proved that the wall was nothing to a warrior who truly stood at the peak. This was especially true for someone like Fan Xian, who had put down endless hours of hard work in flying techniques ever since he was a child.
Fan Xian continued to constantly head south through the snowing Palace. He swept by Shufang Palace, Hanguang Palace, the rundown Eastern Palace, and Guangxin Palace. He saw many people, but no one in the Royal Palace saw him.
He swept over three formal palaces, six courtyards, saw 72 women, and finally landed on the largest palatial hall within the Royal Palace, Taiji Palace.
There was never anyone on top of the towering palace, other than the craftsmen who may have rushed hurriedly on top when it was being built during the inception of the kingdom. According to the hearsay, two people fell to their deaths while building the large hall. In the end, they had even invited someone from the Tianyi Dao Sect from the Wei Kingdom to calm the resentful spirits.
On Taiji Palace, a thick layer of accumulated snow lay on top of the glazed tiles. The two colors blended together beautifully like a magnificent fabric. It made one unwilling to destroy it. But, Fan Xian did not have the time or inclination to admire the snow. He moved along the middle of Taiji Palace and floated upward. Although it was incredibly slippery beneath his feet, it was unable to shake his body.
Sweeping up, Fan Xian's foot landed on the tall spine in the center of Taiji Palace. He stood in the harsh wind. His body was buffeted by the falling snow, and his clothes fluttered loudly in the wind. He stood on the highest point of the Royal Palace. Facing him was the majestic front gates of the Royal Palace. Around him were the seemingly low palace walls. He could even see that half of Jingdou had sunk under a thick covering of snow.
He didn't know where Ruoruo was now after leaving the Palace. He didn't know if Wan'er and the others had already left Jingdou. Fan Xian stood at the highest point of the Royal Palace and looked with narrowed eyes at the manifold layers of private residences in Jingdou as he waited for the yellow shadow behind him to materialize.
Fan Xian did not turn around. A powerful sense of disappointment flashed through his eyes. The sound he had been waiting for did not ring out, and the change he was waiting for did not happen. The entire Royal Palace remained silent, particularly on top of the majestic hall. Other than the Emperor behind him, there was only the wind and snow, nothing else.
Fan Xian slid down the glazed tiles of the hall. Although a great battle in the wind and snow at the summit of the Royal Palace would presumably be great to watch and extremely dignified, in his opinion, one could only live with dignity. It was impossible to die with dignity.
The gray shadow and bright yellow shadow seemed to come to a stop and land at the same time on the thick snowy ground in front of Taiji Palace.
The Emperor stood in front of Taiji Palace's long corridor. Behind him was the deep main door of the hall. Usually, he summoned and held audiences with his officials in this palace and controlled the lives and deaths of countless people in the world. Now, he stood there alone.
Fan Xian stood in the square in front of the hall, surrounded by a thick layer of snow. He looked at the thick gates of the Royal Palace in front of him and narrowed his eyes slightly. It was as if he was unsure if he had the strength to break through those palace gates. He slowly turned and looked at the Emperor. "In reality, in the end, everything is just like a fight between two wild beasts."
The Emperor was silent with a cold expression. He looked at Fan Xian like he was looking at a dead person. Ruler and subject finally stopped their flight and pursuit, which had completely surpassed the imaginations of everyone in the world. They stood quietly in front of the hall, revealing themselves to the eyes of people.
The eunuchs sweeping snow outside the hall, the serving girls quietly walking by in the long corridor, and the red-faced guards holding knives and standing to attention all opened their mouths in shock as they watched the Emperor and Sir Fan junior stand on the snow-covered ground. Shocked and confused, they couldn't speak for a moment.
Fan Xian looked at the Emperor calmly, but he was thinking of other things. He sensed something odd. Charging from the northwest deserted courtyard to the south of the Royal Palace, the Emperor came close to him a number of times and found a number of opportunities to kill or capture him, but the Emperor did not take action. Why was this?
Presumably, the Emperor, with his slightly furrowed brows, also did not understand why Fan Xian did not escape out of the Palace and instead headed south.
Fan Xian was waiting for a change. Unfortunately, after the Emperor revealed himself on top of Taiji Palace, the first change did not happen. But, what about the second? The Emperor knew clearly just how much potential Fan Xian had. Any change at this time had to be something that even Fan Xian did not know about.
It was just like the miraculous incident in the Hanging Temple back then. Coinciding destinies and gathering of fate, each person had their own goal. In the end, no one could control the changes that happened.
Fan Xian firmly believed that this change he knew nothing about would happen because the Hanging Temple incident back then triggered powerful factions all around. However, as the greatest enemy of the Qing Kingdom, the Northern Qi court maintained its silence the entire time.
The Northern Qi inherited the legacy of the Wei Kingdom and had been in this world for thousands of years. Did it not have any plans against its greatest, the Royal Palace of the Qing Kingdom in Jingdou? Fan Xian did not believe that. He firmly believed that Northern Qi must have hidden a trump card within the Royal Palace. Now, while the Qing Kingdom's ruler and subject, father and son, turned against each other and sprayed blood over the Royal Palace, was the best opportunity for the Northern Qi Emperor to use his trump card.
A muffled thud like battle drums or the singing twang of tens of thousands of bowstrings sounded, as if a large battle had burst forth. In reality, it was just the massive city guarding crossbow on a corner tower of the Royal Palace. In the silent, even oppressive atmosphere, the spring-tightened crossbow began to move.
A steel crossbow bolt as thick as a child's arm flashed like a black bolt of lightning under the powerful force of the spring. It charged through the air outside the corner tower. Its vibrations created an explosion in the air as it tore through the endlessly dancing snowflakes right in front of Taiji Palace. Spinning quickly, it forcefully split open a dark channel through the air and shot at the bright yellow figure in front of the hall.
No one knew how the solidly cast city guarding crossbow base was turned and aimed in the direction of the Royal Palace. No one knew how the Northern Qi people infiltrated into the imperial soldiers of the Qing palace and quietly took control of that tower. Fan Xian only knew that the Northern Qi's trump card had been played. That was enough. With a sharp whistle, Fan Xian sank his zhenqi into his feet. His body became as heavy as stone. Moving like a waterfall, he moved with his sword, following the giant crossbow bolt closely as it spun toward the Emperor.
The powerful crossbow bolt was very close. In the end, the distance was too great. In the Great Grandmaster's realm, the Emperor only had to shake out his sleeves to retreat, forcefully using his powerful cultivation to turn distance into time and avoid this startling attack.
However, Fan Xian saw, from the corners of his eyes, a shaking serving girl kneeling in the long corridor stand up at this moment with a glimmer of coldness flashing through her eyes. She pulled a slender needle from her hair and struck toward the Emperor's back.
Both the Northern Qi people and Fan Xian seemed to have underestimated the Qing Emperor's will and reaction, which had been honed through decades of training. When everyone thought that the bright yellow figure in front of Taiji Palace would split apart the giant crossbow bolt, the Emperor's figure disappeared from where he stood. He had abruptly moved forward three steps on the snow.
With a giant boom, the massive bolt flew past the Emperor's temple and pierced ruthlessly into the jade-smooth stone boards. In an instant, the surface of the stone shattered like bean curd. Cement and mud sprayed in all directions. It just happened to block the secretly attacking female assassin behind the stone.
The Emperor's right arm shook out his sleeve. A giant wave of zhenqi took control of the shards of rock and snow behind him. Striking out like a giant dragon, it headed straight for the body of that serving girl.
Fresh blood sprayed outward. Countless shards of stone and snow struck like arrows against the serving girl's body. In an instant, her body was riddled with hundreds and thousands of wounds.
This assassin did not even have the time to attack. She didn't even have the time to make a sound before she collapsed into the snow and dissolved into a blurry puddle of blood and flesh.
Using this force, the distance between the Emperor and Fan Xian reduced a little more. Fan Xian was charging forward with all his strength. In a flash, the father and son were almost within reach of each other. They were so close that Fan Xian could see the Emperor's slightly thin face, icy and emotionless eyes, and the murderous intent showing in his calm pupils.
The Northern Qi's trump card was indeed incredible. Regardless of who they were dealing with, they were probably sufficient. However, it was not a pretty sight for them to go against such a Great Grandmaster as the Emperor, but there was not a glimmer of disappointment in Fan Xian's eyes. He continued to pierce through the air with his sword, ruthlessly aiming for the Emperor's eye.
It was still the same situation as the two times they crossed swords earlier. The Wei Emperor's sword in Fan Xian's hand could not touch the immortal demon-like figure of the Emperor, who moved in fantastical and boundless ways on an inch of ground. The blade at the tip of the sword disappointedly and weakly broke through the air to the side of the Emperor's cheeks with a whoosh but accomplished nothing.
However, the Emperor's fist had come rushing toward him again. This was a true punch of the Way of the Emperor. The Emperor no longer held anything back. In the wind and snow-filled sky, the jade-like fist suppressed all whiteness and flashed a light that should not exist in the world as it crashed toward Fan Xian's chest.
The Emperor's face was very pale, an unhealthy white. It was as if this Great Grandmaster had put all of his considerable zhenqi into his punch. If this punch landed, no matter what miraculous zhenqis Fan Xian had to protect himself and regardless of his clever birdlike flying technique, he could only be shattered into pieces.
The Wei Emperor's sword left Fan Xian's hand. With a whistle, it flew through the snowy air toward the tightly closed doors of the great hall.
He faced the brilliantly white fist. With a harsh cry, he began to tremble violently. Stupidly and slowly, his finger stretched toward the Emperor's face across three feet of space.
The slowness was only a kind of sensation. In reality, the finger contained all of the true essence Fan Xian could force out in this life. It was too condensed. The insubstantial qi actually created a feeling of substance and seemed to have a weight, making his finger shake violently in the snow. He was also shaking. His face was unusually pale, and his eyes unusually bright.
Even with a sword in hand, Fan Xian could not drive it into the Emperor's body, much less a finger. Besides, his finger was still some distance from the Emperor while his murderous fist was about to touch Fan Xian's robe.
A sharp cry came from the tip of Fan Xian's finger. It was like a demon that wanted to tear through its human disguise and crawl out from its fleshy prison. It was also like the note of a bamboo flute that could no longer endure its loneliness after not being played for a long time and wanted to burrow out and become a few lines of music in the air.
A clear and severe streak of sword qi filled with killing intent spewed forth from the tip of Fan Xian's finger. In an instant, it crossed the distance between the two people and shot toward the Emperor's throat.
Remembering when he was small, the Danzhou urchin was as easy to tease to a smile. Why would zhenqi immediately disappear into the air when it left the body? Uncle Wu Zhu did not know internal qi and was unable to explain. Why had none of the martial artists in the world tried it? Fan Xian began to experiment with it as a child. With unusual diligence, he silently practiced for a long time without the advice and correction of others. Afterward, he was able to push zhenqi out of his palm and return it to his body across a very small distance. Was this because of the two circulations in his body or because of his stubbornness and hard work?
But, what could this do? It simply wasted a great deal of his time. By the time he entered Jingdou, his Unnamed Tyrannical martial method, which he had been practicing since his youth, had still not become as famous and astounding as Haitang's or Thirteenth Wang's. The zhenqi that could return to him on his palm could not be used on a true battlefield. It was even more impossible for it to form outside his body as a killing weapon. Other than climbing the cliffs of Danzhou, climbing the red palace walls, stealing keys, stealing kisses from his fiancé, what else could it be used for?
But Fan Xian was not satisfied because Ye Liuyun had once come to that precipice and left tens of thousands of pits on that stretch of sand. He knew that there were people in the world who could exert controlled amounts of zhenqi. Thus, he stubbornly, and even stupidly, followed this path. However, he was still, unfortunately, unable to do anything even after a long, long time.
This was because Fan Xian did not know that other than him, a strange creature, only those in the world who had reached that other realm were able to control zhenqi outside their body. Although the ninth-level warriors in the Sword Hut could have a faint sheen of light on their sword, there was some difference in quality compared to the progress of one's person.
The ignorant and stubborn child gradually grew up. The ultimate martial method that other's saw as a treasure became the symbol of stubbornness in his hands. Until one day, on the banks of the East Sea, he finally felt, through the coming and going zhenqi on his palms as it gradually extended outward a little then a little more, the ripples in the air that were no longer in his body.
Fan Xian could sense the fluctuations of true essence between heaven and earth. Of course, he could clearly sense the zhenqi that belonged to him as well as control it and use it. Regardless of whether it was because the ignorant and stubborn youth was stubborn to the end or because of that little volume, when all was said and done, the final result was the shapeless sword qi that sprayed out of the tip of his finger now.
With sword in hand, how could he pierce this illusory and indistinct bright yellow figure in front of him? His finger trembled but only a thought was needed to change the flow of the sword qi for it to split through the air. Who could dodge it?
The Emperor could not. In front of this harsh sword qi, he only had time to turn his body while his fist brushed past Fan Xian's shoulder and struck empty air.
Although it had hit empty air, the clothes on Fan Xian's left shoulder still shattered completely as a large pit opened up in the snowy ground behind him. Snowflakes danced all around.
The sword qi at the tip of Fan Xian's finger also struck the Emperor. Accurately speaking, it had brushed past the Emperor's neck. The shapeless sword qi had torn through the thin layer of skin on the Emperor's neck. Fresh blood seeped out.
The opportunity could not be lost. Another sharp whistle erupted from behind Fan Xian's lips. He forced what remained of the true essence in his body into the tip of his finger. Pressing forward through space, he aimed once again for the Emperor's eye.
The Emperor's punch fell empty. His face paled further. Looking at Fan Xian's new attack coming toward him, there was no sign of retreat in the Emperor's eyes. On the contrary, a mocking smile rose to the corners of his lips.
The Emperor also extended an index finger and brought it down on the tip of Fan Xian's finger and sword. His body floated forward. In an instant, the distance between them disappeared into nothing.
The flow of qi spluttered. Instantly, the Emperor's fingertip touched Fan Xian's fingertip, which was endlessly spewing forth sword qi. Two slender index fingers came together. One hand trembled continuously while the other was unusually steady. Powerful qi flowed between the pads of the two fingers. The light grew increasingly bright, making the snowflakes dancing through the air retreat back.
The Emperor restrained the smile at the corner of his mouth. With a light wave of his right arm, his index finger came down on Fan Xian with the pressure of Dong Mountain. With a crack, Fan Xian's index finger shattered.
It was as if his body had been struck by a heavenly hammer, flying backward like a kite. However, he did not sweep backward like when he was actively on the defensive. Instead, it was as if he no longer had any strength to support himself. He crashed fiercely into the snowy ground, unable to move again.
The ruler and subject, father and son locked in a battle of life and death on the snowy ground seemed to have both forgotten the sword flying through the air. The sword of the Wei Emperor had been whistling toward the main door of Taiji Palace ever since it had left Fan Xian's hand.
In reality, neither of them had forgotten. In such a battle, between such powerful people, no one would take any extra actions that would unnecessarily use up energy.
There was bound to be a follow-up to the flight of this sword. The follow-up was the exquisite and complicated decorative motifs on the silent front door of Taiji Palace. When Fan Xian's fingertip first erupted with the startling sword qi, the tightly closed doors of Taiji Palace opened without explanation.
Thirteenth Wang, in simple clothing, flew out of the dark heart of the Qing court and caught, in mid-air, the Wei Emperor's sword that had left Fan Xian's hand. With his right arm slightly bent, he swept through the air like lightning. His figure expanded slightly. He let out a violent cry, gathering the killing intent he had been accumulating for a long time into this one attack. Just like this, he struck ruthlessly toward the back of the Emperor's neck.
Thirteenth Wang, brave and without equal, exhibited heroicness in this attack. Compared to the white-clothed Shadow's attack in the Hanging Temple, when he had jumped out of the sun, it was even hotter and brighter. It was clearly a sneak attack from behind the Emperor, yet it he managed to make it feel just and honorable.
The pure-hearted and last disciple of the Sword Hut had inherited fully and truly from Sigu Jian. Furthermore, he came to an understanding of the Tyrannical zhenqi during Fan Xian and Sigu Jian's conversation that night. At this moment, he gathered his lifetime's cultivation into one attack, making it incredibly powerful. If Fan Xian was faced with this attack, he would certainly be injured.
It seemed the Emperor knew that a superior ninth-level ace would suddenly run out of the depths of the hall behind him. Crushing Fan Xian to the ground with a finger of mountain-like force, his face did not change at all. Without turning around, he simply swept his sleeve back.
Throughout his life, each of the Qing Emperor's punches, fingers, and sleeves were at the apex of humanity. No one dared to gaze at its brilliance. However, the sweep of his sleeve now was unable to swallow up mountains and rivers. Calmly and easily, it swept toward Thirteenth Wang's heroic attack.
In the end, he was not a god. Just as Fan Xian judged, the Emperor was no longer in his prime. These years of loneliness, age, sickness, and injury had made him actively or passively, physically or mentally, choose to come down from the altar.
Thirteenth Wang's explosive cry still echoed in the empty Royal Palace as the brilliantly glowing Wei Emperor's sword pierced the sleeve of the Qing Emperor's dragon robe with a soft sigh, brushing past the Emperor's chest.
When the Emperor had swept his sleeve, he had already turned slightly. Although Thirteenth Wang's attack had been ferocious, it still had only brushed past him. It only scratched across the Qing Emperor's flesh.
However, the Emperor's hand in his sleeve had moved like a golden dragon in the clouds and captured Thirteenth Wang's wrist.
Thirteenth Wang's wrist trembled. The Wei Emperor's sword in his hand raised its head like a snake spirit and pierced toward the Qing Emperor's chin at an impossible angle. The Qing Emperor gave a muffled groan and threw his shoulders back, crashing into Thirteenth Wang's chest. With a number of cracks, Thirteenth Wang sprayed forth a mouthful of fresh blood as a number of his bones snapped.
He felt a vigorous strength about to throw him off. With a muffled grunt, his eyes glowed red. He stretched out his hand, without regard for his life, and wrapped a death-grip around the Emperor's right hand, refusing to let go.
At this most critical moment, a flowery figure flashed behind Thirteenth Wang. Just like how she had not been present earlier, she appeared as freshly and cleanly as nature. Just like how a returning clansman desiring hot water and a flower in the wind and snow needed warmth, she naturally captured the Emperor's other hand, his left hand.
Haitang Duoduo had arrived. This saint girl of Northern Qi, the present leader of Tianyi Dao, was like a very quiet and weak girl as she hovered by the Emperor's side, by his sleeve. Like a cloud or a petal, she could not be shaken or thrown off. Intimate and natural, she made one disgusted and fearful.
For some reason, Haitang did not choose to target the Qing Emperor's weakness. Instead, she focused all of her cultivation and bound the Emperor's left hand.
The Qing Emperor's eyes were unusually cold and calm. His already thin face appeared even gaunter as his eyes sank in deeply and his face paled. He knew that the two young people holding down his hands were the ones that the two dead old men had left behind especially to deal with him. Still, his expression did not change. Only a bell-like sound rang out from within his not very powerful chest.
In an instant, vigorous zhenqi entered the bodies of the two young superior ninth-level aces. In the space of a breath, Thirteenth Wang's right arm began to wilt and grow hot. A number of streams of fresh blood flowed out of his five senses.
Haitang Duoduo's situation was not any better. A mouthful of fresh blood spewed out of her mouth as her body began to tremble violently. It was as if she could be shaken into the snow at any moment by the Emperor.
At this time, blood began to stain the snow in front of Taiji Palace. Not far in the distance, Fan Xian lay decrepitly in the snow as if he would never move again. It seemed that there was no one who could help Haitang and Thirteenth Wang, these two young people that had been recognized by the previous Great Grandmasters as the most likely to step into the Great Grandmaster realm. Were they just going to die at the hands of the only Great Grandmaster left in the world?
A wave of caution flashed through the Emperor's heart. Although he had been on his guard since last night, he had never felt any arrogance about his Grandmaster realm. He was not Sigu Jian. He did not give Fan Xian's side any opportunities. Although, up to now and on the Taiji Palace, he had still not encountered the change he was most on guard again. This present wave of caution still made him narrow his eyes and look at the bloody, snowy ground in front of him.
Wherever the Emperor's gaze touched, the snow seemed to melt at a rapid pace. Of course, this was not because of the heat of the Emperor's gaze. Instead, from the moment the sword qi erupted from the tip of Fan Xian's finger, the snow beneath had already began to melt.
All of this had happened in a moment. The Qing Emperor injured Fan Xian with a finger, his two hands had been locked down by two powerful martial artists, and the snow began to truly melt and loosen.
There was a white-clothed man beneath the snow. The foremost assassin in the world, the king who forever walked in the darkness, the head of the Sixth Bureau of the Overwatch Council whose sword had taken countless lives, the first disciple of Dongyi's Sword Hut, and the shadow beside the wheelchair had only ever worn white twice in his life.
Once was in the Hanging Temple. He had jumped from the sun. His entire body had been enveloped in golden light, like an immortal. The second time was now. He rose from the snow-covered ground all in white, like a saint.
The Shadow faced the same man, the most powerful person in the world, he had attacked two times in white clothing. Thus, the Shadow's attack now was his most powerful and sinister attack ever.
Unlike Fan Xian and Thirteenth Wang, his sword also seemed white, without any light on its surface. It appeared very simple and dim. However, his attack was also very simple and not particularly fast. But, it was very steady. The angle he chose was strange. The angle of the blade and the turn of the sword were all according to a calculated position and extended outward without any shaking.
This one strike was very strange. He did not aim at the Emperor's face, eyes, throat, abdomen, or any other fatal position. He also didn't aim at his feet, knees, waist, or any of these strange choices. Instead, he aimed at the juncture of the Emperor's left thigh.
With a thud, even someone as powerful as the Emperor did not manage to avoid the Shadow's attack. The slightly white tip of the sword gently pierced into the juncture of the Emperor's thigh. A stream of blood flowed out.
The Shadow was an assassin. His life was lived to kill others. In his eyes, there was no one who could not be killed. Just as many people thought, an injury to the thigh was not a fatal blow, but the Shadow knew that there was an artery at the juncture of the thigh. Once it was sliced open, blood sprayed out over three feet. No one could survive it.
Although this attack pierced shallowly into the juncture of the Emperor's thigh, it was not enough to kill this powerful man because that artery had not been sliced open. Lying in the snow, the Shadow was like a focused butcher. Steadily and carefully, he flicked upward.
Compared to the sky full of snow, the Emperor's face was a few shades paler. In the instant the white-clothed Shadow struck, he had already retreated backward, sliding backward with Haitang and Thirteenth clamped around his hands. However, the white-clothed Shadow still made the attack.
The Emperor felt a flicker of pain. His eyes narrowed. Then, he person became a dragon in the wind and rain, picking up all of the snow, people, sword intent, and resistance around him. Enveloping everyone present, he floated up in front of Taiji Palace.
[JW1] For some reason, this part followed the "2" of the chapter name.
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