From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 509 The Test of Dark Power

The clear, ringing sound of the two swords clashing still echoed in my ears. The thin slit on Nightshade Immortal Venerable's sword blade, like a small snake, was slowly crawling along the black iron pattern towards the hilt.

His eyes, which had been filled with ecstasy, suddenly drooped downwards, but the corners of his lips still curled into a smile, like a hunter watching his prey struggle in a net.

“The third sword was merely a test.” As he spoke, the black mist suddenly surged wildly as if its backbone had been removed. I smelled an even stronger stench of blood and rust, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end—what was wrapped in this black mist was probably not ordinary demonic energy, but the obsession of millions of vengeful spirits.

The putrid mist licked the wound on my left shoulder, making my knees tremble with pain. But the heart-protecting jade was burning hot against my chest, and Wen Chen's spiritual power was surging up my blood vessels, making my eyes sting.

“Three hundred years ago, I used this move to slaughter the seventy-two peaks of Cangwu Mountain,” he said, his wrist flicking slightly, and the cracked black sword suddenly emitted a buzzing sound, “Today I will show you what true—”

"The Path of Slaughter!"

The last two words struck my mind like a heavy hammer, the black mist exploded with a "boom," and everything went black before my eyes.

When I could see again, the barrier around the arena had turned black. Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable's whisk, which had been shining with golden light, was now riddled with holes by the black mist. Mingyue Fairy's skirt was covered in black mist and was hissing with smoke. Her hand holding the handkerchief was trembling, but her eyes were fixed on me without blinking. Elder Wu's jade slip containing the rules had a fine crack. His forehead was covered in sweat, but he was still struggling to maintain the balance of spiritual energy in the arena.

What calms my heart the most is Wen Chen.

He stood at the edge of the black mist, his white clothes long since stained gray-brown, but his back was straight, like a pine tree standing in the rainstorm.

His gaze pierced through the layers of black mist and locked onto me. His Adam's apple bobbed, and I guessed he wanted to call my name again, but fearing it would distract me, he swallowed the words back.

“Ah Yao, you’re not a good-for-nothing.” His words from last night suddenly came flooding back.

I gritted my teeth and pressed the wound on my left shoulder even tighter, the taste of blood spreading in my mouth—pain is better than fainting.

The figure of the Night Shadow Immortal Venerable appeared and disappeared in the black mist. I could hear his footsteps, each one heavier than the last, as if they were pounding on my heart.

When the dark figure got close enough to see the red lines at the corners of his eyes, I finally saw the sword in his hand—the crack had reached the tip of the sword, but the blade was emitting an even darker black light, as if poison was seeping from the wound.

"If you can't withstand this move, you'll end up like those useless trash from Cangwu Mountain." The moment he raised his sword, I felt the entire arena sink.

The black mist condensed into countless sharp spikes, whistling as they pierced my face. Without thinking, I swung my sword. The light barrier of the Cloud Shadow Technique had just risen half a zhang when I heard a "crack"—not the sound of the sword, but the cracking of the light barrier.

Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

I then realized that the third sword strike I had just received was not at full strength at all. Night Shadow Immortal Venerable was just toying with me, like a cat playing with a mouse, letting me taste a little sweetness first before withdrawing his claws.

Now that he was serious, the light barrier of the Cloud Shadow Technique couldn't even last three breaths. Cracks spread from left to right, and black mist leaked into each crack, causing a burning pain when it touched the skin.

"Young friend, if you can't hold on, then admit defeat!" Xuanfeng Immortal's voice trembled as he finally swung his whisk, but the golden light extinguished as soon as it touched the black mist, like a spark thrown into a pot of oil.

Suddenly, Fairy Mingyue burst into tears, clutching her handkerchief in a ball. "Ah Yao, Ah Yao, please hurry..."

"Shut up." I heard myself shout in a hoarse voice, my voice filled with the smell of blood and rust.

Wen Chen's spiritual power suddenly surged even faster, and the heart-protecting jade burned my chest with pain, but this pain made me sober up—I can't lose, I can't let Wen Chen's spiritual power go to waste, I can't let Fairy Mingyue's tears be shed in vain, and I can't let those who say I'm a good-for-nothing laugh at me.

The spikes in the black mist grew denser and denser, and the cracks in the light barrier became countless. I could see the mockery in Night Shadow Immortal's eyes; he must have thought I was about to fall.

But as the last spike pierced the light barrier, I suddenly remembered how Wen Chen taught me to observe sword techniques—he held my hand and drew trajectories on the sand table, the warmth of his fingertips seeping through his sleeves, “The Killing Sword seems fierce, but in reality, every move has a flaw, like a snake; no matter how strong the bite, the seven-inch mark is weak.”

Seven inches...where is the seven inches?

I stared at Nightshade Immortal's wrist.

There was an old scar on the back of his hand that held the sword. When he drew his sword just now, the scar rippled with the movement of his wrist—it would taut and turn white every time he exerted force.

The moment the light screen shattered into countless tiny stars with a "boom," I suddenly ducked down.

The black mist spikes grazed the top of his head and pierced the stone slab, sending up a shower of rubble.

Nightshade Immortal's pupils contracted sharply, clearly not expecting me to dodge, but his sword was already at my side, the tip aimed straight for my heart—too slow, half a beat slower than before.

I spun around to avoid it, and then used the back of my sword to strike his wrist.

The old scar struck the spine of my sword, and he cried out in pain, letting go as the black sword clattered to the ground.

Before I could even catch my breath, the black mist suddenly condensed into a giant hand and grabbed my ankle.

I was dragged along and staggered, and the wound on my left shoulder reopened, with blood splattering onto the black mist and making a sizzling sound.

Nightshade Immortal bent down to pick up the sword. His smile, once playful, was now cold and stern: "Interesting... but that's enough."

As he raised his sword again, I heard Wen Chen's spiritual energy resonate softly within the Heart-Protecting Jade.

I looked up at him. He was staring at Night Shadow Immortal's sword, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, and his fingertips trembling slightly, as if he had something to say.

The giant hand in the black mist clenched tighter and tighter, and I could hear the groans coming from my own bones.

But Wen Chen's gaze was so intense, it warmed my spine.

I gritted my teeth and raised my sword; the clang of the Cloud Shadow Sword drowned out the wails from within the black mist—

This battle is not over yet.

Wen Chen's voice suddenly pierced through the black mist, like a slender sword tempered with spiritual power piercing through my chaotic thoughts.

His voice was a bit hoarse than usual, carrying a slightly burnt smell from demonic energy, yet every word felt like a steel nail driven into my consciousness: "Don't fight head-on, find his weakness!"

My knees were still pressed against the stone slab corroded by the black mist, and blood was dripping from my left shoulder down my fingertips. But when I heard those words, the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end—it turned out that he had seen through the flaw in Night Shadow Immortal's killing move, but he had kept it to himself, afraid that I would be distracted.

I looked up at him. His white robes had turned so black that they were unrecognizable, but the corners of his eyes were tinged with a very faint red, a sign that he was forcibly suppressing the leakage of spiritual energy.

He nodded slightly to me, his Adam's apple bobbing, and said nothing more. But his gaze was like a rope, pulling my soul, which was floating in mid-air, back to my body with a "whoosh."

“Weakness…” I licked my salty lips as Nightshade Immortal’s footsteps drew closer.

This time, his sword didn't buzz; instead, it was unusually quiet, like the low-hanging clouds before a storm.

I stared at the back of his hand holding the sword. The old scar looked bluish-white in the black mist. Every time he raised his arm, his elbow would bend two inches more than a normal person's. Just now, when he swung his sword for the third time, this movement slowed down the sword's momentum by half a beat. Now that he was eager to finish, this habit was even more obvious.

"Trying to dodge?" Nightshade Immortal's sword slashed down with a whoosh, this time not with spikes, but with an entire black wave.

I gritted my teeth and rolled to the left, the Cloud Shadow Sword sparking as it scraped across the ground. My left shoulder slammed into the gravel, the pain making my vision go black.

But in the instant he rolled to the ground, I saw clearly his wrist holding the sword—every time he exerted force, the old scar would stretch into a white line, and the muscles of his entire arm would twitch slightly.

It turned out that it wasn't that his Killing Dao Sword was stiff, but that his body had old wounds that made it unable to withstand the ferocity of the Killing Dao.

"Little girl, you can't hide forever—"

Before he could finish speaking, I had already used the momentum from rolling on the ground to get up.

I twirled the Cloud Shadow Sword in my palm and deliberately feinted to his left. He fell for it and slashed horizontally with the black sword, making the old scar on his wrist even whiter.

This is exactly what I've been waiting for!

He leaped up, his toes barely touching the ground, and changed his thrusting sword technique to a flicking one, the spine of the sword striking the scar precisely.

"Crack!"

It wasn't the sound of bones breaking, it was the sound of his black sword.

The narrow crack that ran from the hilt to the tip of the sword finally gave way, and the entire sword broke in two.

Night Shadow Immortal's pupils shrank to pinpoints, and he crushed half a stone slab as he took two steps back.

The black mist seemed to have lost its backbone, retreating three feet in a rush. Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable's whisk finally rose with golden light, barely covering the edge of the arena. Mingyue Fairy's handkerchief fell to the ground, and she covered her mouth with both hands, tears streaming down her face. Elder Wu's jade slip cracked again with a "crack," and he staggered two steps before being gently supported by Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable's whisk.

The one who made my heart skip a beat was Wen Chen.

His previously tense shoulders and back suddenly relaxed a little, and his fingers unconsciously clenched his sleeves, his knuckles turning white—that was the gesture he would make every time he watched me practice swordsmanship until I was exhausted.

But the next moment, his gaze sharpened again, because Night Shadow Immortal Venerable smiled.

The laughter was like ice shards shattering in a hot oil pan. He threw away the broken sword, raised his hand to wipe his mouth, and said, "Interesting. No one has been able to force me to break my sword for three hundred years." His fingertips were stained with blood as he drew a strange symbol on his chest. Suddenly, black mist swirled back to him, enveloping his broken sword.

I saw the broken sword blade begin to writhe, and black blood seeped out along the cracks, etching small pits into the ground.

"You think this is the whole picture of the Path of Slaughter?" His voice changed, as if countless people were speaking at the same time. "The wronged souls of the seventy-two peaks of Cangwu Mountain are all in my sword at this moment." The moment he raised his hand, countless semi-transparent shadows floated out of the broken sword. There were cultivators in Taoist robes, Taoist boys with double buns, and a little girl holding a rabbit lantern—I had seen that lantern in an ancient painting of Cangwu Mountain. It was the youngest daughter of the mountain lord three hundred years ago.

My breath suddenly caught in my throat.

Wen Chen's spiritual power surged wildly within the Heart-Protecting Jade, scalding my chest with pain. Yet, when the gazes of those wronged spirits swept over me, they carried a hint of pleading.

With a "hum," the broken sword of Night Shadow Immortal Venerable pierced through the blade, and the black light became ten times brighter than before, even filling the cracks with blood-red light.

“The real test,” he said, gripping the newly forged black sword, its cracks now etched with crimson veins, “is only just beginning.”

His words hit me like a stone.

I gripped the Cloud Shadow Sword tightly, and could hear my own heartbeat.

Wen Chen moved outside the black mist, as if he was about to rush in, but was stopped by Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable's whisk - the barrier had not yet been restored, and his entry would only cause trouble.

Fairy Mingyue picked up her handkerchief, wiped her face vigorously, and gave me a "good luck" gesture, her fingertips still trembling; Elder Wu helped Immortal Xuanfeng stand up straight, and pale blue light spots seeped from the cracks in the rule jade slip, indicating that spiritual power was being re-gathered.

When Nightshade Immortal's sword pointed at me, I smelled jasmine mixed with the smell of rust—it was the scent of perfume that Wen Chen often used, and I don't know when it got on my clothes.

His spiritual energy climbed into my meridians through the heart-protecting jade, gently bumping into my sea of ​​consciousness, just like the force he used to use when he tapped the back of my neck with the scabbard when I was practicing swordsmanship.

"Don't be afraid, Ayao."

He didn't say anything, but I knew that was what he wanted to say.

I wiped the blood from my face and twirled the Cloud Shadow Sword in my palm.

The shadows of those wronged souls were still faintly visible in the black sword, but I could see clearly—every time the Night Shadow Immortal Venerable commanded a wronged soul, the red lines at the corners of his eyes faded a little.

It turns out he wasn't using his own spiritual power at all; he was overdrawing the obsessions of those departed souls.

"Come on." I licked the blood from the corner of my mouth and beckoned to Nightshade Immortal Venerable with my finger. "This time, let me see your weakness."