Chapter 27: Sword Essence
Hiss...
Wang Xi’s eyes were bloodshot, his entire body’s spiritual energy surging like boiling water, his earth-yellow Daoist robe billowing as though caught in a storm.
Now, in this mire, the power of earth had already dissipated, leaving only the spiritual energy he’d previously infused into the Mountain-Sealing Seal.
His palms pressed together, knuckles flashing with dazzling light as the Mountain-Sealing Seal suspended in the air shuddered violently.
The remains of the giant crab were crushed to powder beneath the shadow of the mountain; its shell shattered with a sound like firecrackers, foul monster blood splattering with the mud.
“Mere ants... Die for me!”
Blood seeped from Wang Xi’s lips as he drew out three blood-red jade talismans. They ignited at his will, and three mountain shadows coalesced in the air before plummeting downward.
Wan Songran gritted his teeth. His spiritual energy roared to life once more, the Verdantwood Spirit-Severing Talisman before him glowing a brilliant green.
Those three mountain shadows disintegrated as they fell, but with Wang Xi recklessly pouring his strength into the talismans, the phantom mountains still came crashing down.
Song Yan’s legs were buried deep in rock and earth, his protective aura shattering like thin ice, a persistent ringing in his ears.
He gathered his remaining spiritual power, channeling it all into his flying sword.
A hum split the air.
The flying sword, wreathed in spiritual fire and lightning, became a streak of white light that shot up to meet the falling mountains.
“Mountain-Cleaving Slash!”
A thunderous roar.
The mountain phantom jolted, then collapsed in an explosion of rubble. The peachwood and metal flying sword wailed in agony amidst the thunder and fire, cracks spreading across its blade like spiderwebs—already strained to the limit, it finally shattered as it collided with the mountain shadow!
Bang!
A fierce flash of light, and the flying sword splintered apart. The mountain phantom dissipated, and the earth-element spiritual energy within the Mountain-Sealing Seal began to leak away.
The giant crab’s corpse, not yet stiff, continued to struggle beneath the mire, sending up waves of muck.
Wang Xi hurriedly retreated, trying to escape the radius of the Verdantwood Spirit-Severing Talisman.
Swish, swish, swish—
Three broken blades, still sparking with lightning and fire, sliced across half the battlefield!
In Wang Xi’s horrified gaze, they tore effortlessly through his failing protective aura and pierced his brow, chest, and dantian.
“No... can’t...”
Wang Xi’s throat worked, an unwilling whimper escaping his lips. The Mountain-Sealing Seal shrank and fell, mingling with the rubble as it sank into the mire.
He dropped to his knees. Lightning and fire danced in the bloody hole in his brow, burning his flesh to ash.
Before long, the thunder faded, and the flames died out.
Wang Xi, inner disciple of the Profound Origin Sect, was dead—his spirit scattered.
“Cough... cough...”
Song Yan coughed up blood and collapsed to the ground.
With his peachwood sword destroyed, his spirit suffered a heavy blow—waves of agony crashed through his mind. Yet even after his sword’s shattering, he had managed to control three shards in a last desperate attack—he was utterly spent.
“Haah... haah... cough...”
His body was already covered in wounds from facing Wang Xi head-on. Now, he could only cough up blood, utterly exhausted.
Wan Songran, at some point, had seated himself atop the armored crab’s corpse, idly toying with its demon core.
The Verdantwood Spirit-Severing Talisman, now a useless scrap, fell into his hand.
He sighed with a twinge of regret and tossed the spent talisman into the swamp.
Rising to his feet, he gazed down at Song Yan.
“Heh... Fellow Daoist Song, such fine swordsmanship...”
With the Fangtail Flute held crosswise in his hand, a strange melody began to play.
Song Yan’s heart sank. This man still had strength to spare—he could even wield the ancient flute...
Leaves rustled in the forest, sparrows startled into flight, and several green-eyed falcons burst from the shadows.
Song Yan rolled aside, barely avoiding a fatal blow; his left arm was torn open by a beak, the wound deep to the bone.
“No offense, fellow Daoist,” Wan Songran said politely, though his smile grew increasingly wild.
“Since you’re the scapegoat Profound Origin Sect wants, and you’ve seen the wonders of my Fangtail Flute, you must die... If you live, I’ll know no rest—I’ll never sleep easy again!”
He tapped the flute lightly, as if commanding troops on a battlefield. The falcons beat their wings, poised to strike.
“Don’t worry—I’ll leave your corpse intact.”
“Disciple Song Yan of the Abyssal Cave Sect saw that Senior Wang Xi was depleted and wounded, and tried to murder him for his treasures, but was discovered and killed by Senior Wang’s spell. Pity, Senior Wang’s injuries were too severe, and in the end, he perished as well.”
“Does this story satisfy you?”
Song Yan lay on the ground, gasping for breath, coughing blood—yet his gaze was as calm as still water.
Within his dantian, that quiet edge of spiritual energy rapidly unraveled.
A faint, nearly imperceptible glow began to gather at his right hand.
“How dull,” Wan Songran scoffed, waving his hand. “Kill him.”
A flock of falcons, reeking of blood and death, swept toward Song Yan.
As the first trace of sword energy coalesced at his fingertips, the gathering glow abruptly sped up, like a shark sensing blood in the water.
Still prone, Song Yan summoned every ounce of his strength and shouted:
“Xiao He!”
A hissing cry—
A green snake darted to shield Song Yan, spitting venomous mist that drove the falcons back.
“Oh?” Wan Songran fixed his gaze on the snake spirit, his interest piqued.
“An enlightened beast? Once I kill you, I’ll add this little snake to my collection.”
At Song Yan’s fingertip, a sword energy, sharp as death itself, had silently formed—without a sound, without any ripple of spiritual power.
This was the purest essence of swordsmanship, perfectly contained!
Song Yan understood—this was his final chance.
Strangely, at the very brink of life and death, he felt no fear or panic.
His ragged breaths gradually slowed.
“I should thank you, Song Yan—before dying, you’ve given me quite a gift!”
“Is that so...” Song Yan’s lips twisted into a painful semblance of a smile. “Then your thanks... are a bit premature...”
“Because I have... more than one gift for you.”
“Hm?”
Song Yan raised his right hand, lightly tapping his finger in the air.
The sword shadow tore through the void, streaks of blue-gold light cleaving the air, the sound as crisp as shattering glass.
A hum—
From Song Yan’s fingertip to the armored crab’s corpse beneath Wan Songran, there were about fifteen paces.
How far is fifteen paces?
For this sword-energy essence, it was but a heartbeat.
Like the first rays of dawn piercing the clouds.
When Song Yan blinked again, the sword energy had already dissipated into the distant sky.
Wan Songran’s mouth fell open, his expression blank as he slowly lowered his head, staring in disbelief at the bloody hole in his chest.
“You...”
A mixture of confusion, absurdity, and incredulity twisted his face.
The green-eyed hawks wheeled overhead as if waking from a dream, then scattered.
Thud—
Wan Songran toppled from the giant crab’s corpse, sinking slowly into the mire.
Silence returned.
Blood seeped from Song Yan’s ears, nose, and mouth as he felt that final edge of power fading.
“Yan Yan, are you alright?”
Xiao He returned to human form, rummaging through Song Yan’s bloodstained robes for medicine.
“Cough... Xiao He...”
“Don’t worry about me... go... drag him over here...”
Song Yan waved her off, taking a blood-staunching pill from his own storage pouch.
“Ah? Oh!”
Xiao He hooked her tail around Wan Songran’s body, dragging it from the swamp before it could sink.
Song Yan swallowed a healing pill, forcing himself upright, then took several more energy-restoring pills to slowly replenish his strength.
Now, with his spiritual power exhausted and his meridians torn, he dared not take a stronger Golden Sprout Pill, fearing it might do more harm than good.
He needed only to gently nourish his energy and heal his injuries.
“If Wan Songran spoke truly, the entrance to this secret realm should be reopening soon...”
There was no time for a thorough search. Song Yan broke the seals on Wan Songran’s and Wang Xi’s storage pouches.
Their owners dead, the spiritual bindings faded—it took little effort.
He dumped everything inside, talismans and treasures alike, into his own pouch without looking.
Then he took the jade pendant from Wang Xi’s body and, guided by a glimmer of light, dragged his wounded self toward the exit of the secret realm.
...
Not long after Song Yan’s departure—
Shao Sichao emerged quietly from the depths of the forest. He gazed long and hard in the direction Song Yan had gone, but did not hurry to follow.
He extended his senses into the mire, searching carefully.
“Ah! Here it is.”
With a flow of spiritual energy, he washed the recovered object clean, revealing the Mountain-Sealing Seal.
“This junior... truly is wasteful, isn’t he?”