Chapter 495 — The Broken Arm, the Blood Grudge
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 4 of 4
Ban Gongcuo laughed with a sneer. "Luo Wushuang? The Lingxiu Army? Never heard of them. Boy, you've got some skill—come up and die!"
The saber-bearing youth said calmly, "I admire you all. With nothing but two men and a pig, you killed so many masters. Killing them proves your skill is no small thing—but they were only scouts. The Lingxiu Army is raised from the finest and most gifted of the Heavenly Court's rising generation; it is not to be compared with such scouts. That bumpkins of Shanghuang should show such ability is worthy of respect, and so I asked your names, that you might leave a name behind when you die. Since you will not have it, then..."
He drew his saber without hesitation and brought it down upright into the wind. A single arc of saber light, like a bolt of white silk, fell with the wind, and then one became two, two became four, four became eight, eight became sixteen, splitting again and again—until, by the time it reached Shen Mu and the others, it had become a sky-blotting flood of saber light.
Ban Gongcuo roared and suddenly clasped his hands; the Blood Waterfall took the form of a blood Buddha that rose to meet the saber light, and was shattered within it the next instant. Yet the Buddha's impact left the saber light unsteady for the space of a breath.
Ban Gongcuo dropped to the ground, gasping, his mana spent.
Shen Mu flicked up a finger; the Carefree Sword shrieked out, ting-ting-ting piercing the net of saber light, and in an instant reached the youth's side.
He spent his last strength in sword strokes and could no longer defend himself. The Dragon Qilin bellowed in fury; the dragon scales on his body flew off all together, and each great scale became a shield among thousands blocking the way before Shen Mu.
The youth's movements were unfathomable, dodging the sword light, and he barred with his saber. His saber art was godlike in its mastery, with a grandeur all its own.
Shen Mu wielded his sword with the last of his strength and vital essence. The eighteen forms of his sword art shifted beyond prediction; when the final form was spent, the youth Luo Wushuang gave a stifled groan—the right arm that held his saber had been sheared off.
He raised a hand, caught the severed arm, and drew back, in an instant a li or so away.
"Who are you? Give your name!" he cried sharply.
Shen Mu reckoned his vital essence was nearly spent and that he could hardly cross a li to strike again, so he recalled his sword. The Carefree Sword circled him briskly, making him seem to have strength to spare.
"Shen Mu, Sect Master of the Heavenly Sage Sect."
Shen Mu smiled and said unhurriedly, "And the one beside me is the Great Venerable of Loulan's Golden Palace."
Ban Gongcuo's expression shifted slightly.