Chapter 960 — You Are Indeed a Somebody

Above Luo Wushuang, swords and divine arts collided; a thousand kinds of power battled over his head, each erupting with its own might and pounding the sky above him to powder.

Wave after wave of dreadful force came crashing down. The silver needles on Luo Wushuang's skin had already been melted away by the searing heat; fortunately, though he could not use his magic power, his own cultivation was there to speak for itself.

Strong as Shen Mu and An Qingyu both were, set beside him — a great master of the Lingxiao realm — they were still far inferior. The afterwaves of their arts could not wound him.

He looked up. The two men's arts were trading win for loss: some of Shen Mu's flying swords were parried, and others pierced through An Qingyu's arts one after another, shooting straight at An Qingyu, tens of li away.

An Qingyu's arts were like tremendous waves, each higher than the last, drowning the streams of swords that came flying at him — while he too surged toward Shen Mu.

Now the two steadied themselves and ceased their retreat. Each set his feet and charged up the mountain to meet the other's swords and arts, running like thunder, swift as lightning.

An Qingyu met Shen Mu's flying swords head-on, then shook his pair of wings; countless blue-gold feather-swords whirled madly about him and clashed with the swords flying at his face!

"Flying Feathers Shroud the Blue Sky!"

He shrieked and drove forward into the flying swords, neither dodging nor evading Shen Mu's sword moves; instead he gathered his momentum, resolved that in the instant he reached the summit he would bring it to its peak and slay Shen Mu with a single blow!

On the far side of the mountain, primal qi rushed from the crown of Shen Mu's head and took the form of a heavenly bell, overturning and descending to cover him.

Dang, dang, dang —

The heavenly bell pealed on without cease, holding off An Qingyu's arts. The bell soon shattered, but in the same breath new bells took shape.

He ran on without pause, the bells ringing unbroken, his momentum mounting higher and higher — plainly cherishing the very same thought as An Qingyu.

When brave men meet on a narrow road, the brave man wins. This was no narrow road, and yet only the fiercer and more valiant of the two could carry off the victory.

More and more flying swords flew at An Qingyu; swords clashed with feather-swords in a dense, ceaseless din of clanging, and all at once a flying sword broke through the art of Flying Feathers Shroud the Blue Sky and stabbed at him.

Flying Feathers Shroud the Blue Sky was a sword art of his own founding, but the Heavenly Court had never undergone the Reform; for An Qingyu, his own sword art held no flaw to be found — yet for Shen Mu, his sword art was riddled with flaws.

An Qingyu still ran madly forward, the halo behind his head quivering — that was the blessing of Heavenly Venerable Hao — and the halo blocked the flying swords.

But more and more flying swords broke through Flying Feathers Shroud the Blue Sky, stabbing in from every angle; the sword art grew ever more exquisite, until even the blessing of Heavenly Venerable Hao could not hold it back.

An Qingyu swung his hands to block, unleashing art after art, his steps still flying, his momentum still hurtling toward its peak.

He could not abandon the gathering of momentum, nor could he halt his steps — so that his arts could not be as flawless, as mighty, as in ordinary days.

Chi — a flying sword leapt and drove into his body.

An Qingyu clenched his teeth; in the heavenly palace behind his head his primal spirit still bombarded Shen Mu. The heavenly bell rang on and on, collapsing again and again, and in the instant the bell broke and had not yet had time to re-form, his art smote Shen Mu and dealt him a grievous wound.

Chi.

An Qingyu took another sword, and then another pierced his chest.

Chi, chi, chi — in the blink of an eye a dozen more flying swords had sprouted from his chest. Blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, yet he grinned wide, his steps never faltering, his momentum savage beyond measure!

The summit was already within reach; opposite him, Shen Mu was not far either.

But the swords planted in him burst with the arts hidden within, wrecking the workings of his flesh, wrecking his divine treasury — one sword even flared with sword-light and chopped at his spirit bridge!

Had that sword fallen, Shen Mu need not have lifted a hand: his own heavenly palace would have crushed him dead!

An Qingyu had already seen the hour of his death!

"By the Supreme One's command!"

He charged at Shen Mu, grinning broadly, his white teeth stained red with blood, his momentum blazing without peer: "I must bring Heavenly Venerable Mu's head back to him! I cannot carry off Heavenly Venerable Mu's head, but I can carry off Heavenly Venerable Mu's life! Slay-Mu Art!"

"Wilds of Heavenly Feathers!"

His tragic, savage momentum reached its utmost in that instant; behind him the flying feathers stretched vast and dim, and in that moment his flesh and his primal spirit feathered into being, transforming into an incomparably mighty art that hurled itself upon Shen Mu.

Luo Wushuang looked up and saw the two collide in that single instant. The dreadful force was transmitted into midair, sweeping the cosmos clean and flattening every cloud in the sky.

The force came crashing down, and this mighty mountain split asunder; the waterfall parted in two like two snow-white ribbons a hundred li long lifted by a hurricane, streaming and fluttering in the wind.

Shen Mu's muffled groan came through. This Wilds of Heavenly Feathers art was aimed precisely at one of his few weaknesses; the power of the art passed into his body and twisted his flesh.

He heard the sound of his finger bones breaking, and then the breaking passed from finger bones to hand bones, from hand bones to arm bones, then to his neck, his skull.

From his chest came a clear, ringing sound, like two strings of firecrackers popping off, travelling all the way from his chest to the soles of his feet!

Dong, dong.

Shen Mu and An Qingyu came down, one to the left and one to the right, upon the two peaks of this mountain — the mountain had been split clean in two by their collision.

Suddenly a blood-hole burst open on Shen Mu's skin with a pop, blood spurting out; a blood-stained feather drifted lightly forth, floating, drifting.

Pop, pop, pop, pop — the skin all over his body burst open one after another, and green feathers flew out, dancing around Shen Mu as though to bury him in feathers.

Opposite him, An Qingyu showed a trace of a smile, his body swaying, and said with a grin: "Heavenly Venerable Mu is indeed worthy of the name of Heavenly Venerable. With only the dao arts I have comprehended, I could do nothing to you; my arts have been defeated. But the Supreme One's arts are not defeated. I have carried you off with me at last..."

"An Qingyu, you are very good."

Shen Mu's body shook. At the wounds all over him flesh grew anew, broken bones rejoined, shattered bones regrew, ruined blood revived and turned to fresh blood — in an instant he seemed reborn.

He raised his palm and drew the water of the waterfall to him, washing the blood and filth from his body and steaming the water from his skin; his momentum still stood at its peak. "You made me bleed. That Heavenly Venerable Hao should have a disciple like you under his gate — he ought to be well pleased."

An Qingyu stared at him blankly. Suddenly a great rumbling boom came from within him, and the heavenly palace behind his head collapsed.

"Worthy indeed of a Heavenly Venerable..."

His flesh burst apart, his primal spirit scattered, his soul and spirit fled — his life ended on the spot.

Shen Mu spat out a breath of foul air: "This An Qingyu is very good. His strength is great, and he had grace besides."