Chapter 31 — Lan River Sword Intent Shines with Cold Light
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 3
Shen Mu's heart pounded wildly.
He drew the Butcher's Knife from his back—this was the first time he had ever faced such a formation.
Ling Hanchuan's bearing pressed down on him without a touch.
Every move that old man had made since entering the village, every word and every gesture, radiated a boundless pressure.
When he had crossed blades with Senior Brother Chu of the Five Disciples of the Lan River, he had been driven to the very limit and left with no choice but to strike; but the array before him now made his nerve falter. "I've pissed on the stone statue at the village gate—what is there left to fear?
Sang E, the demon of the Palace of Averted Calamity—I've seen them both. I wasn't afraid then; can I be afraid now? However strong Ling Hanchuan is, he cannot be stronger than gods and demons!
" Shen Mu steadied himself, and his panicked mood slowly settled. He looked around, brows knitting slightly. The village was not large; with everyone standing here, himself included, there were twenty-two people, like so many wooden stakes, and each stood in a different spot, figures staggered, filling the little village to the brim.
The village head lay on a stretcher; the alchemist stood beside the stretcher; the butcher, with only his upper body, stood upright atop a wooden stake; Master Huo leaned sidelong against a stake; Granny Zhu held her basket; the mute craftsman stood in the doorway of the blacksmith's shop; the deaf old man held a brush that still dripped ink; and the lame old man leaned on his cane, standing on one leg. And the places where the men Ling Hanchuan had brought stood were each of them deliberate; every position was strange in its own way, making it very hard to move quickly through the village, let alone fight.
In such a setting, the demands on qi-controlled flying swords were extremely high!
To wield a flying sword here, one would have to be exceedingly careful lest one's blade touch another person or be thrown off by them; it demanded a sword art of incomparable fineness. Shen Mu practiced the butcher's Butcher's Knife Art, and the blade arts of the combat-technique school could never manage such a thing.
"We fight here?
" Shen Mu asked.
Yan Qing nodded.
"Here.
We fight here! " Shen Mu slid the Butcher's Knife back into the sheath on his back and freed both hands.
When Yan Qing saw Shen Mu return the Butcher's Knife to its sheath, a keen light flickered in his eyes; that Shen Mu would rather fight bare-handed was somewhat beyond his expectation. Before coming here, Ling Hanchuan had already taken them to examine the ruins in the hidden valley.
From Senior Brother Chu's corpse, gnawed down to bare bone, Ling Hanchuan had deduced that what Shen Mu used was a blade art. Shen Mu had picked up a stick from the ground and used it as a blade, striking Senior Brother Chu and leaving tiny marks of impact on his bones; where the marks fell, fine cracks had opened in the bone.
From this one could infer that Shen Mu's blade art was superb, and moreover that his footwork must be very fast; only with consummate leg techniques could he have kept moving and struck every corner of Senior Brother Chu's body.
Ling Hanchuan's skills were extraordinary; he was one of the finest masters under heaven.
Judging from the traces Shen Mu had left, what Shen Mu used must be a combat technique. The combat-technique school excelled at close quarters, but had little attainment or achievement in qi-controlled flying swords.