Meanwhile, enthralled by Xinzi’s mystical ability, the White Immortal sect male disciples knelt at the formation’s core, chanting scriptures as their cultivation bases surged upward—forming a tower of resplendent qi light that snatched the eyes of the onlooking spectators.
At a steady pace, the Yang Doll got closer to completing Xia Hu’s sword condensation. Alas, the motley crew of disciples couldn’t buy the fem swordmaster enough time to cross the critical step. Worse, they now worked against him—over-drafting their cultivation bases to carry out Xinzi’s nefarious designs. Unhurried, the monk took out a bracelet adorned with lotus-shaped gilded stones and chanted ordinary Lianist chants while smiling at Xia Hu.
The smile—that teasing, unsettling smile that so often concealed dastardly plots, sent shivers down Xia Hu’s spine. “Not right. Knowing that I’m on the brink of turning all sword orbs into a Yang Sword, why is he still so calm?”
‘Completing the Yang Sword is only the first step of this event. Don’t forget that while Xinzi cannot condense his sword without the orbs in your possession, you can’t pass this trial until you snatch the formation insight he controls, either. Your situation isn’t much better than his. Why should he be worried?’ Xue Yuanshao started, reminding Xia Hu of the stakes bound to Xinzi’s defeat.
‘That Xinzi strikes me as the type that doesn’t shy away from heretical or flat-out demonic techniques. Worse, despite my recovery progress this past month, I still can’t see through his soul. The soul seals weaken but have enough self-repair mechanisms that someone at my current level can barely detect them—much less probe their depth. Whoever set them up isn’t weaker than me at my peak. In fact…they might have crossed that threshold already.’ The last words flowed out at a slow pace, as if Xue Yuanshao measured their implications before uttering them.
‘Didn’t you tell me that you cultivated to the peak of Supreme Clarity, but missed the Immortal Destiny due to lack of opportunities? Stronger than you means…’ Xia Hu’s eyes trembled, and he struggled to stay in control of his emotions.
‘An Immortal…’ Xue Yuanshao’s cautious tone recognized the weight of these words. In a world where the Immortal realm belonged to two clans only—one of which caused his family’s ruin while the other profited from it—Xue Yuanshao would rather not rush a confrontation with an Immortal’s kin. But things being what they were, they couldn’t afford to back off.
‘Don’t flounder. For you, this might not be unfavorable news. In the mortal world, only two clans can produce Immortal-level powerhouses. And one doesn’t need to hide its identity on the Eastern Continent. Considering what you told me about him, I can pretty much guess that boy’s background. Follow what I tell you, and if I’m right—regardless of the tricks he puts forth—there will be a chance for you to turn things around.’ A brief mental exchange followed, after which Xue Yuanshao fell silent. An imperceptible glint flashed through Xia Hu’s eyes, and his hand tightened around his sword handle.
Riding the winds, Xia Hu glided down the air, hovering a few meters above Xinzi, who maintained the same praying stance. A ring of radiant runes swirled around the bracelet, adding to its golden shine as Xinzi’s chants intensified—forming a perfect match with the enthralled disciples.
Xia Hu’s form blurred down the maze walls and, in a frontal thrust, he drove his sword at Xinzi’s forehead. Even as it neared him, the monk ignored the blade—better, he welcomed it, facing the lethal thrust with an insouciance fit for a selfless, martyred saint. Needless to say, a selfless martyr, Xinzi was not. Radiant runes flashed across his chest, casting his textbook Retribution Seal. Powered by Xinzi’s deeper cultivation base, the Retribution Seal could now exhibit its full prowess.
Xia Hu’s sword bounced against a golden sheen of light. The blow returned twofold, shredding his right hand’s veins with searing jolts of pain. Stroking his lotus bracelet, Xinzi didn’t give chase, calmly chanting his sutras while the enthralled disciples raised their hands at the sky. A boulder-sized ball of Spiritual Qi crystallized above the qi column—uniting the 200 disciples in a single mind. Still they chanted, pouring any relevant sword insight into the qi ball, and shaping it through the White Immortal sect’s traditional method. Instantly, Xia Hu realized why Xinzi didn’t bother to stop his sword condensation.
“Indeed, while I do not have the average disciple’s understanding of sword arts, I just so happen to have 200 such disciples at my beck and call. So what if I can’t condense my Yang Sword without your orbs, just like your puppet is doing the job for you, can’t my fellow disciples do it for me?” Xinzi said and stood up. With 200 Spiritual Senses to drive the transformation, the qi ball morphed at a drastically faster pace than Xia Hu’s sword, which built on Lord Hanxing’s complex sword insight.
“Big Brother Xia, what is your perception of Liberation? Most issues in this world have simple answers. You lied? Admit the truth. Murder? Confess the crime. Defeat? Admit your loss. Transparency is such a powerful shield. Once you let go of your fears and fetters; once you freely endure the consequences of your actions, you realize that all the things you hold so dear are no more than floating clouds in the endless loop of mortal woes. Why not let it all go and achieve liberation? Such a simple choice, yet men persist in error, double down on their mistakes, and curse all they can when things go south.” Xinzi’s voice carried a magnetic appeal. Xia Hu’s limbs trembled, and underneath his mask, his eyes glazed over.
“Big Brother Xia, I’ve seen you go from meek to conceited, from conceited to confused, and from confused to a raving swordsman—all in a matter of months. Now you wallow in degeneration—taking steady steps towards self-destruction. And for what? Who did I hurt?” Xinzi stepped forward, a shroud of golden light lit up his form. And his words echoed like a mermaid’s beguiling call to an ignorant sailor. The connection between Xia Hu’s Spiritual Sense and the Yang Doll broke, halting the sword’s condensation.
A Lianist chant’s success rate built on two factors: the Soul Force and mental fortitude of the clashing parties. Xia Hu excelled at the former, but since the Ice-Fire cave catastrophe, the latter broke down—and till now, he still struggled to put the pieces back together. Trapped in a plethora of violent and conflicting emotions, Xia Hu grew vulnerable to Xinzi’s “liberation” chants.
“Poison, drugs, chants or heretical spells, of all the profane means at my disposal, which one did I use to alienate you from those you love? If not for self-defense, how could we reach this point? Big Brother Xia, I can’t bear to watch you go further astray. I am not the problem. If it weren’t me, someone else would do you just the same. You obsess over things you have no understanding of—confound your past with your present—are broken, imbalanced, lost and begging for salvation. Salvation has arrived and extends its hands at you. Take it, and I will free you from the burden of your self and let you indulge in what you truly crave…for as long as you desire,” Xinzi said and stretched his hands out.
Entranced, Xia Hu took one step forward. Xue Yuanshao didn’t intervene, for he knew that if his disciple couldn’t even cross this step on his own, his work and plots would lead to failure at every turn—might as well end it now.
The first step never fell. An angelic face flashed within Xia Hu’s eyes and—stopped in suspension, his leg trembled while his mind wandered off.
‘Chun Xu, what do you like about me?’
‘Your looks. They give me no end of bragging rights with my sword maids and drive my would-be rivals insane.’
‘Huh?’
‘Wasn’t that the answer you were most afraid of? Knowing you, you wouldn’t ask the question if you didn’t fear the answer. What, feeling insecure? Don’t worry Big Brother Xia. No matter what you look like in the future, as long as you do not fail me, I will not let you down.’
Even as he struggled with his transformation, Xia Hu held onto these words. Back when he was at his lowest, only Chun Xu could look past his shallow cultivation base and inexistent progress to love him wholeheartedly. Because of her words and her words alone, he refused to give up. A twister of green winds formed underneath Xia Hu, his eyes flashed with green light and—faster than Xinzi’s body could process, Xia Hu’s sword dropped on his waist!
Blood-colored light oozed from Xinzi’s waist, pairing with the Retribution Seal to resist Xia Hu’s offensive. Again, the sword bounced against Xinzi. But this time, not only did it leave a narrow cut in his waist, but the rebound effect never came.
Not giving Xia Hu time to follow up with another move, Xinzi kicked at his groin, forcing the swordmaster to rush out of the way and create space for Xinzi’s own retreat. The two leaped back, landing in their initial spots.
“Xinzi, the cultivation road is by default an obsession. Might and immortality, which one of these two has not obsessed and driven the countless cultivators that preceded us? I do not want to be free and don’t need you to indulge me. My sword can seize all that I want!” Xia Hu’s eyes flared with determination, and though he remained silent, Xue Yuanshao felt gratified.
“Worth a shot.” Xinzi stroked his exposed cut and shrugged the matter off as if the previous exchange had little to do with him. Despite the years spent side by side, there were times when Xia Hu couldn’t give a coherent explanation to Xinzi’s actions and was willing to squander all his assets for a glimpse at Xinzi’s thoughts. This was one such time.
Sanguine energies erupted from Xinzi, radiant green winds coiled around Xia Hu and the sworn brothers’ final battle took off.