226: Chapter 225: Turmoil in Divine City 9 226: Chapter 225: Turmoil in Divine City 9 Hou Niao stood up, feeling somewhat listless as his spirit had just been struck,
“Disciple is present, what does Uncle Master command?”
Uncle Master Li’s eyes flashed with disgust—winning or losing was one matter, but to have one’s essence, spirit, and Qi collapse was another.
Now, this disciple lacked even a hint of spirit, indicative of a problematic fighting will, which was fatal for a Sword Cultivator.
“You go and capture the flag of Anhe Daoist Sect.
You are allowed only success, not failure, or else I will have you patrol Jin City for a lifetime.”
“Understood, I will do my best,” Hou Niao responded listlessly.
Using the patrol duty again, as if he had never done that before.
Patrol this, patrol that, what else is there?
Unlike others who would sprint upon receiving orders to build momentum, he leisurely left the island, as Yan Xisheng had just suffered a defeat and his opponent still had some time to rest; there was no point in rushing.
Finally reaching the lakeside, a pressing problem finally presented itself: how to cross the lake?
Had he not received that message, perhaps he would have borrowed a Spiritual Artifact to cross the water?
After all, he did not wish to stand out too much.
But now it was different; there was nothing left to suppress himself with;
Following one’s desires is to become a demon!
Naturally, he took off his robe, placed it into the Treasure Gourd, and with only his underpants left, he jumped into the lake with a splash, beginning to swim vigorously.
He no longer cared much about how others saw him—Quanzhen Sect or Daoist Sect?
They were merely different interest groups; as long as he achieved his goal, even if he swam naked in a public place, it would still be an unrestrained and noteworthy story; yet, if he crossed beautifully and ended up hacked to death on the other side, it would be a joke.
He needed calmness, sufficient calmness, and nothing sobered him up like the cold lake water; at his Realm, controlling one’s Heart Realm was challenging.
Unlike those True Cultivators who could stabilize their emotions in an instant, he couldn’t—he was a mortal, who needed external help.
For the first time he felt such heartfelt pain because he still hadn’t done anything significant for the old Daoist—to let him see his achievements and reassure him that his old eyes were still clear.
Cherish the present—though he often mouthed these words, tossing them around, he had never truly understood them.
Today, now, let him say farewell to his past self and truly step into the cruel Cultivation World.
With his thoughts clear, his mood also became cheerful; all men must die, and it’s good to continue walking.
What’s important is to carry on with the unfinished business.
He rolled over, belly up, kicking sporadically, feeling the coolness of his body and the chilling of his Heart Realm; looking at the blue sky above, he realized that, having shed the shackles that had burdened him for three to four years, the world had suddenly opened up.
I am a Sword Cultivator, regardless of whether I like the current Quanzhen Sect; if I like it, I’ll join in; if I dislike it, I’ll change it!
This action baffled everyone on Lake Heart Island; after three days of intense battle, this was the clumsiest way to cross the lake, indistinguishable from a common mortal, devoid of any Cultivator’s temperament.
Was this a sign of fear and hesitation, a preparation to give up?
Uncle Master Li fought the urge to launch Flying Swords to skewer this fellow and feed him to the turtles and carp, feeling that this year’s Southwest doctrinal debates were really unlucky.
Not only had they lost the substance, but they had also lost face, turning into a joke in the eyes of nations across the southwest.
Once the word spread after the debates, how would Quanzhen Sword Cultivators walk the Continent?
But the order was given and could not be retracted; he hoped this fellow would die at the hands of Wei Kuiyang, saving him the trouble of dealing with him personally later.
Laughter now erupted from Lake Heart Island, mocking the so-called leader of the Demon Sect, Quanzhen Sect, for having resorted to such desperate, crowd-pleasing antics.
Such behavior was not at all in the spirit of Cultivation; even if intended as a joke, there was no such crass rationale!
…Hou Niao finally calmed down completely, returning to his usual state of cool composure, while a violent surge rose from within.
Amidst the tumult of his blood and Qi, even his underpants underwent a transformation.
This subtle change did not escape the sharp-eyed Cultivators on Lake Heart Island, who hissed in disbelief.
How could this man still arouse his own interest in swimming?
Spiritual Power began to circulate around his body; now that he had regained his composure, there was no need to soak any longer, and once he climbed ashore, lingering water might hinder his movement,
As he drew closer to the shore, he needed a Sacrificial Sword ritual, to clarify his intentions.
…Wei Kuiyang was also surprised; he had never expected to face such a preposterous opponent.
Too pretentious, that was his opinion.
Thus, not worth mentioning.
Yet he remained cautious.
His uninterrupted victories up to this point were due to this caution; he never underestimated an opponent.
With a slight movement of his hand, he sprinkled a layer of “Washing River Sand” in the air.
While it had no special offensive or defensive effects, it greatly expanded his perception, allowing him to understand his opponent’s movements instantly, which was particularly effective against close-combat professions like sword cultivation and body cultivation.
In higher realms like the Tongxuan Realm, such a technique would be considered a barrier.
Lacking the capability for a barrier, the “Washing River Sand” acted as his budget version.
Within this makeshift barrier, his perception knew no bounds.
Meanwhile, three talismans were secretly clenched in his left hand, and a spiritual artifact in his right, his foundational instant technique ready at his lips.
Even if unneeded, his preparations were never negligent.
The bare-chested sword cultivator emerged from the lake, his robust body shimmering with a longsword flickering with a cold gleam.
They were thirty zhang apart, and his technique’s attack range did not exceed ten zhang, while the sword cultivator’s effectiveness was within three zhang.
The key to victory often lay in how the sword cultivator closed this distance.
However, under his Floating Feather Escape Skill, no sword cultivator had managed to do so.
The sword cultivator reached the shore, the first surprise being his lack of haste to dress, perhaps revealing some exhibitionist tendency?
The second surprise came as the sword cultivator began to run, charging directly at him.
Desiring proximity was normal; abnormal was that all previous sword cultivators used escape techniques rather than running, making a significant difference in speed!
A strange person, arriving by swimming, not wearing clothes, running wildly—what was his intention?
…Hou Niao started running because, quite simply, his opponent’s escape art was superior.
Whether he used his escape technique or not, he would still be kited; the essence was just the shifting of relative positions.
The swift always had the initiative, and until sword cultivators learned to fly and control swords, they couldn’t alter this awkward reality.
More importantly, using an escape technique would hinder his swordplay, so normal running allowed him to use his full power on his sword.
The opponent didn’t move, clearly waiting for him to enter the range of his techniques before starting to kite, which was exactly what he wanted.
As the distance closed to fifteen zhang, Hou Niao ran, sidestepped, and lifted his sword above his head, then hurled it like a javelin.
…Wei Kuiyang was very cautious, vigilant against all oddities until the moment the sword was thrown, he finally let out a sigh of relief.
All the oddities, in the end, weren’t anything new.
Many sword cultivators chose to hurl a secondary sword close-up, holding the primary sword, hoping the secondary sword would delay the opponent, creating an opportunity for close quarters.
Just a small trick, one he had seen too many times.
With the Floating Feather Escape, he used it in a distinctive way: backward escape.
Facing the opponent, he retreated, maintaining his speed—this skill was not something ordinary people could learn; in realms above Tongxuan, everyone could do it with Divine Sense, but now, a stumble backward could lead to a tumble.
The sword cultivator’s distance control was good, still beyond ten zhang, so he decided to dodge this sword first.
His Washing River Sand gave him a clear feeling: this sword was just a simple throw, with no spiritual power driving it.
So, dodging it was straightforward.
He remained very careful, controlling his dodge to be no less than a foot away, but not so bold as to allow the sword to brush past him.
Some sword cultivators possessed sword consciousness, able to slightly redirect their swords.
He wasn’t about to fall for that trick.
His mind turned countless thoughts; really, the flying sword covered the distance in the blink of an eye.
When the sword neared, he sensed something strange.
The sword was incredibly heavy, not seeming to stall but rather, more like a desperate final blow?
But with the sword at close range, there was no time to react; he could only instinctively raise his hand, futilely lifting the spiritual artifact in his hand!
The sword completely defied common sense, suddenly dropping a foot and a half, its tremendous penetration power piercing through his spiritual artifact, stabbing through his palm, breaking his Qi shield, instantly penetrating his chest, and with momentum unabated, pinning him to the ground.
Wei Kuiyang let out a sigh.