Chapter 221: Sword Bones |
Chapter 221: Sword Bones
Boom!
Three spiritual swords cried out in agony at the same time.
Their respective swordmasters coughed up blood.
"Hold on!" Xu An roared, pushing upward with both hands as if to hold up the sky.
Zhen He remained silent, his black hair gradually turning white.
Duan Feng, his blood-red eyes locked onto the demonic cultivator remains, gritted his teeth. "Break—!"
The three combined their sword intents.
The sword barrier collapsed into a three-zhang-long sword aura, carrying their life essence and slashing the Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains away.
Crack!
The once unshakable demonic formation finally cracked open.
Everything had happened too fast. From the moment Xu An activated the formation to the moment the Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains retaliated, only two or three breaths had passed.
Only now did the disciples of the Sword Pavilion realize what their three senior brothers had been doing.
As soon as the demonic barrier split open, guided by the sword formation, the swords of a hundred Sword Pavilion disciples simultaneously unsheathed and hovered in the air.
The surging demonic tide at the opening was forcefully cleaved apart by the flying swords, creating a passage.
Duan Feng, blood dripping from his mouth, shouted, "Go!"
The demonic cultivator remains charged forward again, condensing boundless demonic flames into a fist that smashed against the sword formation.
Boom!
The Ice Soul Sword cracked from the tip, fine fractures spreading across its surface—mirroring the bleeding wounds on Duan Feng's body.
Zhen He had already fallen to one knee, but his spine remained rigid, supporting the collapsing formation core.
A gray-robed disciple suddenly knelt and bowed deeply. "If Senior Brother does not leave, how can we survive alone?"
Before he could finish speaking, Xu An lashed him with sword energy, sending him flying out of the breach. "Fool! Do you want our blood to be spilled in vain?"
At the edge of the formation, disciples from other sects were already fleeing through the opening carved out by the Three Talents Sword Formation.
Yet, the Sword Pavilion disciples stood rooted in place, unmoving.
A disciple from the Ruthless Cliff grasped Duan Feng’s blood-soaked sleeve tightly. "When our ancestor founded the Sword Pavilion, he made a rule—Sword Pavilion cultivators never abandon their comrades and flee! Senior Brother, have you forgotten what the ancestor told us that day?"
Behind her, the Sword Pavilion disciples unsheathed their swords in unison, the cold gleam halting the surrounding demonic energy for a moment.
Duan Feng swallowed the blood rising in his throat. His left eye had already been crushed to pulp by the formation's pressure.
He pressed his fingers against the disciple’s pressure points, instantly sealing her meridians with his true energy. "The one breaking the rule today is me, not you!"
A disciple suddenly leaped toward the formation core, attempting to merge himself with sword intent to strengthen the Three Talents Sword Formation.
Zhen He struck him on the nape with the hilt of his sword—his trembling sword, Cang Yun, looked like a withered leaf in the wind.
"Go!"
Seeing the demonic cultivator remains charging again, Xu An quickly formed a hand seal, activating runes beneath the surrounding disciples.
Before they could react, the Sword Pavilion disciples were teleported out of the demonic formation.
Transforming a killing formation into a teleportation array—though only shifting his own position, Xu An had to take the full brunt of the demonic cultivator remains' next attack.
Zhen He waved his sleeve, summoning a ten-zhang gale, forcibly flinging the last few stubborn disciples out of the formation.
"Duan Senior Brother!"
Duan Feng glanced down at the junior sister clutching his sleeve, her fingers bloodied yet refusing to let go.
For the first time, a gentle smile tugged at his lips.
He brushed his fingers against her tear-streaked face, let his hand slide down, then pushed her out of the demonic formation with force.
In the void, his final words rang out sharply.
"If anyone dares to turn back today, they are unworthy to call me Senior Brother!"
As the last disciple vanished from sight, Zhen He collapsed to his knees, his sword, Cang Yun, snapping in two at his side.
Duan Feng’s Ice Soul Sword shattered into fragments, and he sat motionless, drenched in blood as if dredged up from a river of carnage.
Xu An gazed at the now-empty formation core and chuckled softly, his trembling fingers still gripping the array disk.
The Three Talents Sword Formation was barely holding together.
Outside the formation, not just one but two Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains now stood.
Monk Huikong had originally intended to awaken the third, saber-wielding demonic cultivator remains.
But for some reason, that one remained motionless.
Fortunately, dealing with the three Sword Pavilion prodigies, two Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains were more than enough.
"Senior Brother," Xu An smiled bitterly, lifting his shattered Lingxian Sword to support his failing body. "A swordsman lives by his sword. When the sword breaks, so do we... Our swords have broken."
"You are mistaken, Junior Brother Xu," Zhen He rose to his feet, his cold gaze fixed on the two hovering demonic cultivator remains. "Do you remember what our ancestor said?"
Duan Feng let out a hoarse, guttural roar.
"If one day, our swords shatter... Then we shall forge swords from our bones, hone blades with our blood, and ignite our souls as fire!"
The three of them stood side by side.
Behind them, the sect disciples—terrified by the Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains—scrambled away in fear.
Behind them, the demonic formation slowly began to close.
Beyond the breach, countless Sword Pavilion disciples watched with grief-stricken eyes, pouring their energy into keeping the gap open, throwing ancestor-bestowed Thunderfire Talismans and self-refined sword orbs at it, all in vain.
The demonic formation, strengthened by the energy wave outside the secret realm, had become unbreakably resilient, especially on the outer layers.
Anyone below Nascent Soul couldn't shatter it from the outside.
They could only watch as the breach sealed shut.
"Sword Pavilion has endured for ten thousand years not because of a peerless sword," Xu An declared.
"But because of the unyielding bones of swordsmen!"
"Today, I, Zhen He, chief disciple of the Hidden Sword Peak—become the sword!"
"Today, I, Duan Feng, chief disciple of the Ruthless Cliff—become the sword!"
"Today, I, Xu An, chief disciple of the Soaring Cloud Peak—become the sword!"
"Three swords as one!"
Facing the two charging Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains, the three of them burned with fearless resolve.
Their voices merged, ringing like swords.
"Sword Formation—"
"Open!"
…
Qin Luofeng died.
Not at the hands of the two Nascent Soul demonic cultivator remains.
But under the divine ability of Monk Huikong—the Great Sun Vajra Seal.
That enormous palm, shimmering with gentle Buddhist light, was meant to strike the demonic cultivator remains.
Yet it viciously smashed into Qin Luofeng’s chest instead.
The surrounding disciples stared in shock and horror.
Huikong merely clasped his hands together. His delicate, almost feminine face displayed sorrow and regret.
"Amitabha… This humble monk only wished to liberate the demonic cultivator remains. But alas, Daoist Qin chose to step into my path. This humble monk… has sinned."
His gaze swept across the scattered sect disciples.
They were the elites of their respective sects—among them, geniuses with single spiritual roots, special physiques, and exceptionally powerful dantians.
Of course, none of them could compare to him or Song Chiyue.
But ten years ago, he and Song Chiyue hadn’t been any more talented than some of these so-called geniuses.
Geniuses could be harvested—just as he and Song Chiyue had been.
In truth, he was not Huikong.
And Song Chiyue was not Song Chiyue.
They bore these names to remain hidden.
To act as the Holy Land’s prodigies.
To become the guiding stars for other sects to chase after.
And now—it was time to reap the harvest.
"For the sake of atonement," Huikong declared, "I shall personally ensure you all escape!"
He began his work.
Some he knocked unconscious and stored inside his space-warping Sumeru Ring.
The rest—those deemed useless—were left to the demonic cultivator remains.
Near the demonic formation, Song Chiyue sneered at the unconscious Sword Pavilion prodigies.
"Good, good, good. Three of them—each with supreme-grade dantians and sword roots..."
"Shame Yue Qianchi isn’t among them."
Huikong frowned.
Something was wrong.
"Wait... Where is the saber-wielding demonic cultivator remains?"
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