Chapter 341 - 340: Rampant Sword Qi

Chapter 341: Chapter 340: Rampant Sword Qi

The sword was drawn!

Unlike the saber’s flash back at Yixiang Building, this glint of sword light was less eerie and swift, carrying instead the weight of a mountain and the dominance of a great peak.

Faint phantoms of a dragon and a tiger coiled around the blade’s edge, and a pale golden, bell-shaped Powerful Qi flowed along it. The essence of the Dragon and Tiger Fighting Technique and the Golden Bell Prison-Suppression Fist had been integrated into his casual strike—and into his Swordsmanship, no less.

This was the prowess of the creator; after all, he was the one who had created these two High Level Spiritual Techniques.

The sword light first slashed toward the thin old monk on the left. The old monk was, after all, a Super Grade Celestial Human. Though his Heart Spirit was wounded, at this life-or-death moment, he still managed an astonishing reaction. Moreover, Xia Wuyang was currently only using the Cultivation Power equivalent to the Super Grade Perfection realm, having suppressed his true strength by more than a hundredfold.

The old monk on the left let out a furious roar and crossed his arms to block. His arms instantly swelled, taking on a metallic, bronze-like luster. It was none other than the Vajra Sect’s ultimate technique, the Vajra Arm—a Top Level Mortal Technique.

CLANG...

A deafening clash of metal exploded within the stone grotto. Shockwaves rolled out, and Powerful Qi scattered in all directions, shaking dust and small pebbles loose from the stone walls.

However, the expected stalemate did not occur.

In the thin old monk’s utterly horrified gaze, his Vajra Arm—strong enough to clash head-on with Divine Weapons and having blocked countless Top Level Mortal Artifacts—made contact with the seemingly ordinary sword’s edge. At that moment, the sickening sound of bone cracking under unbearable pressure echoed out.

A stream of Sword Qi—icy, tyrannical, and incomparably sharp, carrying a strange, vibrating force—tore through his Protective Qi Blood and sturdy arm bones with devastating ease. It surged up the meridians in his arm, meeting almost no resistance.

SPURT...

The thin old monk spat out a large mouthful of blood mixed with fragments of his internal organs. His arms hung limply at his sides, the light in his eyes rapidly faded, and he fell backward, utterly silent.

One sword strike. A Super Grade Initial Stage Celestial Human, dead just like that. And Xia Wuyang had only used about one percent of his true strength.

The fleshy-faced old monk on the right was scared out of his wits. How could he possibly dare to block that sharp sword head-on?

Letting out a strange cry, his figure retreated explosively. At the same time, his hands waved in a blur of afterimages. Dozens of gleaming gold, sharp-edged, swastika-shaped darts shot like a torrential rain toward Xia Wuyang’s vital points.

This was his signature technique, the Vajra Demon-subduing Dart, which he had practiced painstakingly for over a hundred years. It had extreme penetrating power and was coated in a deadly poison.

Xia Wuyang didn’t even turn his head. The longsword in his hand traced a perfect arc, and the pale, bell-shaped Powerful Qi on its blade suddenly swelled.

TING TING TANG TANG...

A dense flurry of impacts, like rain hitting banana leaves, rang out, continuous and surprisingly melodious.

The swastika-shaped darts, each powerful enough to pierce a steel plate, struck the pale, bell-shaped Powerful Qi as if hitting a wall of bronze and iron. They were all deflected and shattered, not a single one managing to harm Xia Wuyang in the slightest.

The few that came from tricky angles with exceptional force were casually batted away by a flick of Xia Wuyang’s sword, unable to get anywhere near his body.

The defensive principles of the Golden Bell Prison-Suppression Fist, now executed with a sword, remained incomparably formidable, far beyond what an ordinary person could imagine.

And just as the fleshy-faced monk, having exhausted his darts, was about to retreat, Xia Wuyang’s figure appeared beside him like a phantom. The sword light swept past like a cold moon, carrying an indescribable chill.

The fleshy-faced monk only had time to jerk his head to the side; he couldn’t manage any other movement.

Blood sprayed as a scream erupted.

An arm, severed at the shoulder, flew into the air. The old monk let out a bloodcurdling scream. Pain and terror finally overwhelmed everything else. He could no longer care about the dignity of an Elder or the glory of the Sect. He turned and fled desperately toward the cave entrance, not daring to remain a moment longer.

"Thinking of leaving? Did you ask me?"

A cold whisper, devoid of any emotion, came from beneath the black Cloak.

With no visible preparation, Xia Wuyang flicked a finger on his left hand.

A pale stream of finger-generated Powerful Qi, so condensed it seemed solid and faintly carrying the sound of a Dragon Tiger Roar, shot through the air. Though launched second, it arrived first, sinking into the fleshy-faced monk’s back with incredible precision.

Urk...

The fleshy-faced monk’s forward momentum came to an abrupt halt. He looked down at the sudden, bowl-sized bloody hole in his chest, his eyes filled with despair and disbelief. Then he collapsed to the ground, silent.

From the moment Xia Wuyang appeared to the death of the two Super Grade Initial Stage Guardian Elders, only three breaths of time had passed, though the description might make it seem long.

At this moment, the withered old monk on the Warm Jade Lotus Seat in the center of the grotto—the First Supreme Elder of the Vajra Sect—finally managed to forcibly suppress the chaos in his mind and the roiling of his Qi Blood caused by the Spiritual Shock. He snapped his eyes open.

What kind of eyes were those?

They were cloudy with the vicissitudes of age, yet they hid a monstrous greed.

Right now, they were filled with shock, fury, and a sliver of fear that even he was unwilling to admit. ’It was too fast. Far too fast.’

"Who exactly are you? What grudge do you have against my Vajra Sect? Why strike such a fatal blow? How have we offended you?" the withered old monk’s voice was hoarse and dry, like grinding stones, yet he still forced himself to maintain the imposing aura of a Super Grade Perfection Powerhouse, attempting to negotiate.

He could sense that the strength of this Cloaked Guest was unfathomable. This was no one to be trifled with. He feared that the slightest misstep would bring about utter annihilation.

Xia Wuyang slowly turned to face the withered old monk.

From the shadows of his hood, his icy eyes looked upon the monk as if he were already a dead man, devoid of any emotion.

His voice was flat and calm, yet it carried a bone-chilling cold. "A grudge, you ask? Have you forgotten all the things you did to help Xia Wushang? Have you forgotten how you forcibly enslaved the members of the Eastern Palace Old Guard? And have you also forgotten all your corruption, your perversion of justice, and the filth you’ve harbored?"

With every sentence, the withered old monk’s face grew a shade paler, and the chill in his heart intensified.

"As for who I am," Xia Wuyang paused, then gave a cold sneer. "I am merely the one who has come to take back *my* Dragon Blood Fruit."

The moment his words fell, he gave the old monk no further chance to speak or explain. His figure abruptly vanished from the spot.

The next moment, he reappeared above the withered old monk’s head, his longsword descending with the force to split mountains and sunder peaks.

Before the blade even arrived, the incomparably sharp Sword Intent and immense pressure had already caused cracks to spread across the Warm Jade Lotus Seat beneath the withered old monk. Such was the power of this single strike.

"Vajra Unbreakable Body!"

The withered old monk roared hoarsely, knowing there was no room for negotiation. He pushed his lifelong Power to its absolute limit!

The faint luster around his body instantly became dazzling, and he seemed to transform into a true Vajra Buddha Statue as he thrust a fist upward.

The force of the punch was incredibly fierce, accompanied by the sound of Sanskrit chants. It was none other than the Vajra Sect’s ultimate, Sect-guarding technique, the Great Vajra Fist—and a Spiritual Technique at that, which he had actually managed to master.

Fist and sword collided with peerless might.