Chapter 630 — No Blade in the Buddha Land
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 3 of 4
Four basic sword moves! Never mind four — let a single new basic sword move appear, and every sword art under heaven would have to be reshuffled; the variations it added alone would already be beyond counting!
And here were four?
"Which means that in his eyes, every sword art of mine is riddled with flaws!
" Terror rose in Prince Sunlight's heart, and swift as lightning he thought of a counter: "The sword arts of the lower realm have risen so far that the sword arts of the Heavenly Court can no longer stand against him — unless I do not use the sword at all. Any sword art I use will be all flaws to him; only saber arts or spells and divine powers can contend with him. Otherwise I would already be dead. . .
and indeed, why am I not dead. .
. " He saw Shen Mu's eight thousand swords like a dark cloud, the swords within the cloud swimming like fish, executing a hundred different moves, flying past him — and never striking him down.
Prince Sunlight stared blankly, then looked down, and saw his own body riddled like a broken sieve, pierced through and through with holes of blood, light shining clear from front to back.
His wits were muddled. He raised a hand to his brow, and a finger sank into his head.
He rubbed at the back of his skull; there was a small hole there, the mark of a flying sword that had passed through his brow and out the back of his head.
"So my primal spirit has already been slain.
.
.
" Prince Sunlight swayed and toppled to the ground. Shen Mu's figure stepped over the fallen corpse; he had no idea that Prince Sunlight had undergone so long a train of thought before dying.
"In this day's battle, no sword-cultivator remains in the Buddhist realm! " the youth of the Wasteland laughed aloud. Eight thousand swords pressed down like a dark cloud, and it was all but an assault upon every Buddha-son at once! In that instant almost every Buddha-son responded willy-nilly; Shen Mu's three eyes flashed like lightning, sweeping swiftly over those who blocked his sword art — some hundred-odd Buddha-sons brought out sword arts to oppose his.
The divine powers and primal weapons of the rest were all different, and not a few of the Buddha-sons were of very high cultivation indeed — such as the three Buddha-sons Dharma King Molun had named, Prince Makara, Princess Palong, and Prince Floating Cloud; or the Buddha-son Puzhao, who had once vomited blood fighting the demon-ape Xuanliao in a debate of the Dharma in the void; or the Buddha-son Kongxiang and others, all of them exceedingly formidable. More of the Buddha-sons cultivated the arts of the Heavenly Court and had no great attainment in the Buddhist arts; hence it was some hundred young masters who wielded swords.
Suddenly Yama, the King Buddha, could not bear it. He closed his eyes and said to the other Buddhas, "Let us go.
We can watch no more of this; another look and it will be a river of blood. " Sagara, the Dragon King Buddha, and the other Buddhas nodded one after another: "Truly, we cannot bear to look again.
" So saying, each took up the disciples of his seat and rose into the air, leaving this place and flying to the heavens of their own Buddhist realms. Jiankong, the Buddha-son, stole a look back, and stood stupefied: in the battlefield before that ruined temple, blood-light flashed out — a hundred-odd shafts of blood-light!
A hundred-odd sword-cultivating Buddha-sons had their sword arts broken in a single instant and were cut down in primal spirit or in body, done to death on the spot! Horror seized Jiankong, his hands and feet went cold, and he could not speak.
In that single hurried glance, Shen Mu had already gathered his swords into a pellet, kneaded the pellet into a blade, and split the long saber in two; his feet crossed and shifted, swift as lightning, his body flickering left and right, forward and back, the blade-light too fast for the eye to follow — the saber rose and heads fell, the saber fell and bodies parted!