Chapter 960 — You Are Indeed a Somebody
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
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.