Chapter 31 — Lan River Sword Intent Shines with Cold Light
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 3
From that moment, Ling Hanchuan had settled on a way to kill Shen Mu. After these men entered the village, each took a different position, laying out the Lan River Water Dragon Formation and deliberately leaving nine formation eyes; Ling Hanchuan stood at the dragon's head. And the rest, all but Yan Qing, were the finest masters of the Lan River Sect. To keep the Lan River Water Dragon Formation from unleashing the power of its combined strike, the villagers of Hidden Remnant Village had to block the formation eyes one after another: the village head and the alchemist blocked the dragon's eyes, the blind old man blocked the heart's eye, the lame old man, Granny Zhu, Master Huo, and the butcher stood at the joints of the water dragon's four limbs, the blacksmith anchored the dragon's body, and the deaf old man anchored the dragon's tail.
That would produce the situation now seen in the village: everyone standing in a different place, figures staggered, making it very hard to move quickly here, very hard to wield a flying sword—unless one had extremely high attainment in qi-controlled flying swords. Clearly, Shen Mu was not such a man.
But his disciple Yan Qing was exactly such a man.
Though he was still a martial artist of the Spirit Fetus realm, his attainment in qi-controlled flying swords was extremely high; his primal-qi threads were refined to incomparable fineness, and his sword-control art had reached an astonishing level.
He had once controlled a brush with primal qi and painted a portrait of a beauty from thirty zhang away, and in that painting every strand of hair was distinct, not one thread out of place. So long as Shen Mu answered with his blade, he would certainly lose. That Shen Mu sheathed his blade and fought bare-handed was somewhat beyond Yan Qing's expectation, but bare hands against a precious sword looked like a losing bargain no matter how one reckoned it.
And what he had brought this time was no ordinary sword, but a primal spirit sword—a sword gestated and born in the divine treasury of a man of supernatural powers at the Six Harmonies realm.
In sharpness, toughness, strength, and spirit, a primal spirit sword far surpassed any common blade. Shen Mu bowed slightly. "Senior Brother, please.
" Yan Qing returned the courtesy; from the sword sheath behind him came a ringing note.
"Junior Brother, please.
" Shen Mu lifted his foot, and at that very moment the sword in the sheath behind Yan Qing rang out and left its scabbard.
Primal-qi threads drove the blade, cold air pressing in, points of sword light stabbing toward Shen Mu! The primal-qi threads were so fine they could scarcely be seen by the naked eye; at the slightest quiver, the sword threw out blossom after blossom of sword light, stabbing at Shen Mu from every tricky angle, so fast it dazzled the eye!
For a martial artist, to have cultivated qi-controlled flying swords to such a level was already a rare and admirable achievement! Shen Mu moved with his footwork, nimble beyond measure, weaving among the motionless figures, while Yan Qing's sword flew faster still, its sword art so fine it made the tongue click.
To the others standing motionless, his sword posed no threat at all; but to Shen Mu, every stroke was a killing stroke!
That sword light was impossible to guard against; even if Shen Mu unleashed the lame old man's Steal Heaven Leg Art, he could not escape it. There were simply too many obstacles here—every motionless person standing there limited his speed, making it impossible for him to bring his swiftness fully into play! Whoosh— Shen Mu contemplated fire, and his primal qi abruptly turned violent and savage.
A faint dragon's cry came, and a fire dragon seemed to coil around his arm. The fire dragon was hazy and indistinct; now its head merged with his fist, now its claws merged with his fingers and palm, shifting without cease. The sword light stabbed in; Shen Mu met it with a punch.