Chapter 469 — The Crafty Old Ghost
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 4
Xiong Xiyu smiled, reached out and covered her small hand with her own, and together they laid them upon the Azure Mystic Water Dragon Pearl.
"The blood debt of the Xiong family must be repaid in blood! " she whispered.
Boundless azure light surged from the Azure Mystic Water Dragon Pearl and became an Azure Dragon that charged at the thundercloud; at once the fury of the thunder swelled. Seeing this, the Palace Lord of the True Heaven Palace despaired in her heart: "The Yu family.
.
. it is finished.
.
.
" The Black Tortoise Divine Shield burst apart, and the boundless thunderstorm drowned her and the Yu family disciples behind her.
At that very moment, a flash of sword light pierced through the boundless thunderstorm; Bagou broke through the thunder, his sword aimed straight at Xiong Xiyu and her daughter. The sword light was like a bolt of white silk, invincible, cleaving even the thunderstorm!
His swordsmanship and sword dao were so transcendent that even charging out from the thunderstorm he was not wounded in the slightest.
The sword light was swift beyond measure, as though flown in from beyond the heavens; where it shook, countless bolts of thunder were ground to powder, and even the blinding thunder could not conceal the radiance bursting from that single sword!
Just as the sword was about to reach Xiong Xiyu and her daughter, another sword light came from nowhere and, with a clang, blocked it.
"Imperial Preceptor Jingping? " Bagou smiled.
"I knew long ago that you had come to the Western Lands; it is only that by nature you are a sneaking wretch who always hides in the shadows.
But you never found a chance to strike at me, did you? This time, I have forced you out.
" Imperial Preceptor Jingping strode forward, treading the air as though on level ground.
This middle-aged man's face was as placid as an ancient well; in a green robe, with a single sword, his left hand clasped behind his back, fingers forming the sword seal, he held his blade to intercept.
Bagou wore white, likewise one hand behind his back, fingers forming the sword seal. The two figures wove up and down through the thunderstorm; though the thunder roared loud enough to shake heaven and earth, it could not drown out the sound of their swords clashing—clang, clang, clang—like pearls falling on a jade plate, ringing without cease.
Beneath the Five Thunder Pot, Shen Mu was drawn up by the violent power of the lightning; the force pulled him and the Dragon Qilin toward the thunder. Even a creature as fat as the Dragon Qilin now seemed to weigh no more than a sheet of paper, sucked in by the dreadful current, its four limbs flailing helplessly at nothing.
Shen Mu too felt himself become impossibly light; every hair on his head stood on end, bristling straight in all directions, and among the strands lightning crisscrossed, wandering, darting wildly, crackling and snapping back and forth!
He even felt that every fine hair on his body was filled with tiny thunderbolts, dreadful power hammering at his flesh. It was as though he had been pierced all over by the White Immortal's silver needles; there was no part of him that did not ache with agony.
Shen Mu strained to channel the Nine Heavens Far-Sight Art; his pupils too were filled with the light of lightning, crackling and buzzing. With difficulty he could make out the Dragon Qilin: every bristle of its mane stood erect, even its dragon scales lifted, and between scale and scale lightning flashed and thunder rolled, striking back and forth, making the scales clang, the lightning bouncing to and fro. Shen Mu took out the True Dragon Nest; the weight of the nest pressed down and wrung a stifled groan from him, but at last it suppressed the lightning's pull.
His body fell from the air and landed on the Dragon Qilin, pressing it downward. Both hands clutching the Dragon Nest, using its weight to break free of the pull into the thunder, he raised his head and looked at the sky.