Chapter 80
Across the hill, someone is waiting
Translated by Vaishu
Edited by Vaishu
Pill Stream was the name of a large sect, as well as a place to the east of the central continent.
After years of abundant rain, there are large and small waterfalls in more than a hundred places, before reaching the mountain, first hear the sound of water rumbling like thunder.
The splashing mist merged with the clouds and mist. Green and red leaves intertwined with each other. If a disciple of the Luo River Sect wearing a purple robe walked forward, the color of the mountain ridges would become even more gorgeous.
But today, on the trestle road, beside the wooden bridge, and even in the white-walled, gray houses, there was not a single person’s shadow, not a single sound could be heard.
The waterfall’s gurgle and rinse were dismal.
Dead as winter.
The disciples of Liujian were gathered in the Great Void Temple.
The vast and endless great hall was tightly packed, and the outside of the hall was also filled with people.
In the middle of the hall, there was a huge empty space.
The pale-faced beautiful young girl stood there, confronting the dozen or so people.
“Junior-apprentice Sister, I’m afraid you’ve suffered too much of a blow. You’re exhausted, and your mind isn’t clear either ...”
Chu Huan said indifferently.
It was a great change, but his clothes were in a bun. From head to toe, they were unruffled, making him seem even more stable and reliable than a mountain.
As the eldest disciple of Crooked River, he had the same temperament as his master, both of them were as gentle as water.
Even the reproachful words gave birth to an inexplicable sense of trust.
As soon as he finished speaking, someone chimed in, “That’s right, Martial Nephew Qu, you can’t speak carelessly. You said Martial Nephew Chu harmed your parents, but do you have any evidence?”
“We are all very sad that Saint Qu and Sect Master Liu have passed away ...”
However, right now, Martial Nephew the Chu is still in charge of the sect. “
“What nonsense are you spouting? Do you want to disturb the hearts of the people? What kind of peace of mind do you have?!”
The ones who spoke were a few elders with realms much higher than Chu Huan’s. At this moment, they were standing behind her, seemingly with her as their leader.
The expressions of the other disciples in the hall were all different. Some were convinced, some were skeptical, and for a moment, no one spoke a word.
Normally, Chu Huan and Chen Yi would take care of the affairs in the sect. Compared to the rarely seen Sect Master and Saint, these two had a high prestige among the disciples.
Now that Chen Yi wasn’t here, the current situation was entirely due to Chu Huan’s words.
The smoke didn’t understand.
He didn’t understand why Chu Huan had entered his sect before he was born. His parents had always viewed him as their own, so why did they do such a thing?
If his father didn’t trust him, how could the ingenious traps and all sorts of sinister methods he used be hidden from the Sublime Sage?
He didn’t understand how those elders were so kind and kind yesterday, and how they could lie in such a harsh manner today.
I don’t know why, overnight.
Although her talent was outstanding and her mind was intelligent, she was still a little girl in the end.
A little girl who had always been under the protection of her parents.
How could she know that a man’s heart is hard to fathom, or that the chips for betrayal are more than gratitude?
Qu Fuyan gripped his sword tightly, his joints turning white.
She looked into Chu Huan’s eyes.
He looked at his once familiar, now incomparably terrifying senior brother, and did not take a single step back.
“Heaven knows the cycle, the sun and moonshine, you know what you’ve done!”
Chu Huan didn’t argue any further. She only said softly, “But who would believe that?”
No one spoke.
The palace was terrifyingly quiet.
Therefore, when the voice rang out, it was especially clear, as if the entire stream could hear it.
“I believe you.”
“I believe in you, senior apprentice-sister.”
The crowd parted on their own, and Chen Yi approached the door.
Wherever he went, the thick stench of blood dispersed.
His sleeve was tattered and his hair was disheveled. He was covered in dust and looked very pathetic.
However, the light in his eyes was clear and firm. It could be seen that his ambushes and assassinations along the way did not weaken him in the slightest.
At this moment, Qu Duyan suddenly had the urge to cry.
Chu Huan’s expression slightly changed. She knew the plan for the journey from the West Continent to the Rivers Stream Valley, but Chen Yi still came back.
It’s a variable.
East Continent.
Endless Snow Field.
There was no winter, summer, spring, or autumn here, and every year, it was a deathly white scene in a world of ice and snow.
As time passed, the crowd could only remember the tragic battle at Xiling Mountain, and gradually forgot why they had fought this battle.
But there are always people who don’t forget.
When the thin wisp of smoke arrived in front of his eyes, Zhou Yuantao had the illusion that he was back on Xiling Mountain, next to the mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
He had returned to his youth.
At this time, he had a way to save more primeval essence, just like how he dealt with the great sea of clouds for the rest of his life.
Struggling to hold on, trying to buy as much time as possible.
It was not to save him after the rest of the Assassins woke up from their shock but to wait for the rest of their lives to be devoured by the demons.
However, it was different now. Since the black-cloaked person was Murong Zhuo, then no one could do anything. Why not fight him?
The middle-aged Daoist slightly raised his right hand and made a grabbing motion, as if he was holding a sword.
Thousands of streams of sword Qi gathered around him, and the sound of the wind breaking was like a blood-curdling hiss.
Although his Mountain Suppression Sword was damaged, he was still alive, and Jianxin was still alive.
Zhou Yuandao’s expression was solemn. He grasped an invisible sword in his hand and slashed at the wisp of scarlet smoke!
The other party only raised his finger slightly, but he wanted to be like an honored guest.
This was because the smoke contained a terrifying and supreme pressure that was close to the threshold of a saint.
Not only did Rong Zhuo not die, but his cultivation realm was also even higher than back then.
Under the blade of the sword, the smoke dispersed.
A faint scarlet glow floated amongst the sea of clouds.
It was like a drop of ink falling into clear water. It was light and soundless, but it was quickly dyed red, dying the sky a hundred miles red in an instant.
Blood trickled out of the corner of Zhou Yuantao’s mouth. The sea of clouds under his feet churned, turning into a sea of blood.
The disciples of the Parasol felt the sky darken. They looked up and saw a blinding red cloud that blotted out the sun.
It was not like the magnificent sunset glow. It was pure scarlet as if thick blood was about to drip down.
Those with a lower cultivation realm could not help but exclaim as they felt a piercing pain in their eyes from just one look.
“The Sect Leader is fighting with a demonic cultivator on the summit, why are you making such a big fuss?!”
The disciples nodded in agreement and dispersed, not daring to ask any more questions.
He Lai turned to the young man next to him with a respectful face, “Eldest senior brother, there is a big matter on the mountain today. The elder has instructed me not to go up.”
The youth slightly frowned but didn’t agree.
He Li’s face was stiff, but she didn’t dare to say anything.
Suddenly, the wind began to blow. A ray of light cut through the glaring red clouds above the nine heavens and gently descended.
Like a candle flame in the night, eye-catching.
The youth extended his hand, and this ray of light just happened to land between his fingers like a feather.
It was spotlessly white.
The next moment, the red clouds were split layer by layer. In a continuous exclamation, thousands of feathers fell down from the sky.
All eighteen views of the nine palaces of the Bo-Pu Sect were caged in the flying feathers that filled the sky.
The young man finally made up his mind and walked up the mountain path, leaving the sound of persuasion behind him.
Zhou Yuandao stood in the sea of blood. His sea of consciousness was also infected by the blood, and the nauseating thick and fishy stench enveloped him.
His cheeks were sunken and his face was pale.
The sword strike just now wasn’t meant to cut Qingyan down in the first place.
He had to use his sword.
Tens of thousands of sword rays flowed out, breaking through the sea of blood in an unending stream. They were like bright and scorching feathers as they landed on the pine branches at the edge of the cliff.
Cheng Tianyu used the same technique on the Falling Flower Assembly. Its might was already astonishing, so how could it compare to a ten-thousandth of what was currently happening?
This was a sword technique from when Asian Saints were young.
He focused on his cultivation and glory for the rest of his life.
The Flying Feather of the Hua Pavilion was extremely beautiful and extremely chilling.
In the face of this sword, the loose branches under his feet were broken, and the dense black robe was shredded to pieces, finally revealing his true appearance.
His body blurred as he appeared above the sea of blood. As he crazily danced in the air, his red clothes became even thicker than blood.
The 100,000 mountains in the early winter were already extremely cold. The cold wind was like blades, the frosted sky was boundless, and the fallen leaves accumulated into a thick layer.
Many berserk beasts returned to their caves in preparation for their long hibernation.
But the most terrifying thing was never the beasts.
Yin Biyue and Luo Mingchuan didn’t stop for a moment along the way. They also had to deal with the endless dangers in the mountain. When they walked out of the mountain, their spirits were slightly exhausted.
As far as the eye could see, the clouds on the horizon were as red as blood, and the light was as clear as feathers.
When they were about eighty miles away from the Parasol, someone happened to be blocking the way.
Her hair tied up, her expression indifferent, she didn’t know how long she waited, but the sword in her hand was already covered in a light frost.
She was far and patient, naturally, she didn’t want to welcome them.
Across the hill, people waited.
It was not a good thing, especially at this moment, when he wanted to compete for every second.
The more he frowned.