Chapter 122
**Chapter 129: You Just Think You're Dying! (Sponsored by QC.Z)**
The smile faded from the face of the Smiling Buddha.
Yet, sensing that the sword cultivator before him was only at the early stage of the Fusion Realm, a smile returned to his face.
“Amitabha.” He pressed his palms together, his expression kind and gentle, lowering his gaze as he said, “You must be…”
Clang—!
A flash of sword light sliced through the air, and the monk's head flew high.
Chen Huai'an stood upright, holding his sword, the black-scaled blade sliding back into its sheath with a half-inch unsheathing.
The Smiling Buddha flickered backward, his head reattaching to his body, the smile still on his face, now tinged with a hint of coldness.
He took a deep breath, bowing politely, and finished his unfinished sentence: “You must be a certain ancestor from the Sword Pavilion? This humble monk, Leng Chanshin, has not heard your name.”
Chen Huai'an stepped forward, the black-scaled sword unsheathing half an inch once more.
Clang—!
Leng Chanshin reacted, but as he raised his hand, his body was sliced cleanly in half.
His body reformed, and anger rose on the Smiling Buddha's face: “You are going too far!”
Clang—!
The black-scaled sword unsheathed three inches.
A dense wave of sword energy cut the monk into countless pieces.
Once again, he reformed, but the Smiling Buddha was no longer smiling.
Chen Huai'an stood before the monk, less than half a meter apart, and sneered, “Want to move again? Go ahead, try it.”
Leng Chanshin's face twitched, the kind expression twisting into rage, his eyes bulging, his face dark as ink, fiery red hair erupting from his head as he shouted, “Wrath!”
Boom—! A massive dharma form rose from the ground.
Three heads and six arms, each face expressing anger, sorrow, and joy, with a black visage and sharp fangs.
Each of the six arms wielded a steel fork, clad in golden battle armor, a radiant light of Buddha shining behind him.
Unlike Zhou Xuanzizi's celestial manifestation, Leng Chanshin's true form had merged with his dharma form; he was the dharma form, and the dharma form was him, embodying his path. This immense power not only surpassed the norm but also compensated for the vulnerability of the true body being attacked after the dharma form was activated.
At this moment, the celestial manifestation was truly perfect.
This was also one of the characteristics of a Fusion Realm expert.
“It is you who has forced this humble monk to unleash a massacre! Just an early-stage Fusion Realm cultivator, do you really think you’re something special?!”
With that, he raised the six steel forks, stirring up a tempest, like six shattered pillars of heaven crashing down toward Chen Huai'an.
At this moment, Zhou Xuanzizi, who had just regained consciousness in front of the Falling Goose Mountain Manor, turned pale at the sight of the massive dark celestial manifestation. He quickly sent a message to the Smiling Buddha:
“Senior, Falling Goose Mountain Manor is the foundation of our Dan Sect. Please do not cause a ruckus here!”
The dark celestial manifestation turned its furious gaze one hundred eighty degrees toward Zhou Xuanzizi, flames erupting from its eyes as it roared, “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? Get lost—!”
The pressure of the Fusion Realm bore down on Zhou Xuanzizi with the roar, compounding his injuries. He spat out a mouthful of blood and fell to his knees.
In his rented room, Chen Huai'an coldly laughed as he recharged eighty-eight thousand, then added another one hundred eighty-eight thousand. Above the clouds, he opened his eyes, filled with sword light and indifference, locking onto the six steel forks.
One step forward, mid-Fusion Realm.
Another step, late-Fusion Realm.
Clang—!
The black-scaled sword was in his hand.
“Disciple, today your master is in high spirits. Watch closely as I wield my sword!”
In the flying boat, Li Qingran, concerned for her master, brightened at the sight of the unparalleled swordsman facing the dark celestial manifestation.
In her heart, that tall figure was like the heavens.
Invincible!
“May snow fall on the Mayday Mountains, with no flowers, only cold!”
Chen Huai'an gripped his sword, the blade facing the heavens, his momentum rising steadily, spiritual energy converging toward the black-scaled sword, the blade growing ever brighter.
In front of Falling Goose Mountain Manor, snow fell from the sky, yet there was no chill in the air.
“Is it snowing?”
“It’s not even the season for snow…”
The gathered cultivators looked up in astonishment at the snowflakes drifting down.
On the flying boat, Liu Yuanqing caught a snowflake, feeling a sharp pain in his finger. His pupils constricted, his voice trembling, “This… this isn’t snow; it’s sword intent… transformed into snow!”
He gazed up at the sky, unable to see Chen Huai'an's figure.
All he could hear was the swordsman’s long chant from above:
“In the flute, I hear the weeping willow, spring colors yet unseen.”
The sword rose.
Clang—!
A beam of sword light pierced through the entire sky.
Wherever it passed, the void above and below twisted and distorted, the violent sword intent shredding the clouds for a thousand miles, along with the six steel forks that fell apart.
“You…”
Leng Chanshin was taken aback.
He felt a deadly threat emanating from that tiny figure.
Late-Fusion Realm!
This sword cultivator was actually at the late stage of the Fusion Realm?!
When did this happen?
His divine abilities could clearly see through any cultivator's hidden realm.
But why could he not see through this person?
“Dawn battles follow the golden drums, night sleeps cradling the jade saddle.”
Before the dark celestial manifestation, a figure in white danced with the sword.
With each movement, a white shadow holding a sword remained in place, standing, sitting, lying, leaning, or advancing with the sword.
In the blink of an eye, it was as if a thousand troops had assembled!
The final sword.
Chen Huai'an's gaze locked onto Leng Chanshin.
Meeting that sharp gaze, Leng Chanshin turned to flee.
“Running now? Too late!”
Ninth style of the Qinglian Sword Classic - Slashing Loulan.
The final sword was unparalleled in power.
But to unleash the last sword required a lengthy preparation. According to game mechanics, the skill's third stage had too long a wind-up, needing the successful release of the first two stages to activate.
Leng Chanshin couldn’t withstand the first stage and failed to block the second.
Thus, he was doomed.
Chen Huai'an held the black-scaled sword, pointing it at Leng Chanshin's dharma form.
Behind him was an army of thousands, sword intent soaring.
“I wish to wield the sword at my waist, solely to… slash, Loulan!”
Clang—!
Thousands drew their swords, sword energy soaring to the heavens.
Countless sword energies merged, forming a white rainbow that instantly caught up to the dark celestial manifestation, piercing through it. The sword energy exploded outward, and the dark celestial manifestation was torn to shreds.
Leng Chanshin fell from the sky, his body covered in sword wounds, drenched in blood, crashing down right in front of the Dan Sect's leader, Zhou Xuanzizi.
Chen Huai'an descended through the air, walking toward Leng Chanshin with his sword in hand.
“Senior, spare me! Please spare me! This humble monk was just momentarily blind, I didn’t mean to offend…” Leng Chanshin, with his last breath, looked at the approaching Chen Huai'an, feeling a chill run through him.
When did the Sword Pavilion have such a powerful sword ancestor?
He had never even heard of him.
One sword shattered his dharma form's weapon.
Another sword tore his dharma form to pieces.
Such strength… was terrifying!
“What’s wrong, little monk? Are you scared?”
“Scared, I’m scared…”
“You’re not scared.” Chen Huai'an brushed past Leng Chanshin, sneering, “No, you’ve just realized you’re about to die.”
Crack—!
The black-scaled sword returned to its sheath.
A gust of wind blew by.
Leng Chanshin stood dazed, a tearing pain coursing through his body, the light in his eyes gradually fading.
In the next moment, his body turned to dust.
Tap, tap, tap—
Zhou Xuanzizi knelt in a pool of blood, each step Chen Huai'an took made his body tremble, but no matter how much he wished to avoid it, that figure still approached.
Zhou Xuanzizi lifted his gaze.
Before him, the white-haired sword master smiled gently, looking almost benevolent.
“Zhou Sect Leader, I am fated to meet you!”
---
**Chapter 130: Fate, All About Opportunity!**
“Senior, this is the best medicinal wine from our Dan Sect, Longquan Brew. Drinking a jar is equivalent to activating a mid-level gathering spirit array for half a day.”
“Indeed, I have a connection with this item.”
“Senior, this is a freshly refined Golden Core Pill. If any disciples are stuck in the Foundation Establishment stage and unable to break through their bottleneck, they can take this pill to help them. Our Golden Core Pill is a unique recipe with minimal side effects.”
“Very well, this item is also connected to me.”
“Senior, this is a millennium-old Xuanbing bed I stumbled upon. It aids in calming the mind and is quite beneficial for cultivation. If used in alchemy, it can reduce the pain from the fire and help expel toxins. I originally intended to give it to my useless direct disciple…”
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