Wang Po's blade was very strong, strong in that it was sharp enough. With the density of his true essence at the upper level of Star Condensation, he was able to break through the seemingly weak but actually the toughest barrier of space. At the same time, strong in that his response was ingenious enough. Only by cutting through space could he transcend the abyss between the secular and the divine and resist Zhu Luo's moonlight-infused sword.
The clouds over Xunyang City were still gloomy and gloomy, their edges still as bright as silver. It was like night had come, and the storm that had filled the streets suddenly vanished. It became abnormally quiet, with only the faint sound of breathing. Those were the shocked sighs of the spectators in the distance. This battle had already surpassed the scope of many people's understanding, but they could feel that Zhu Luo's sword had actually been blocked by Wang Po. How had he done it?
This time, Su Li did not cheer. Instead, his expression turned serious. It was not because Wang Po's strike was not brilliant enough, but rather because he felt that this strike was too exquisite. It was as if in the blink of an eye, in the time between the two strikes, Wang Po had comprehended something through this battle with the strongest expert of the continent, and had actually taken another step on the path of the blade!
If this was true, then Wang Po's talent in cultivation could truly be said to be world-shaking. Moreover, this sort of opportunity could be said to be extremely rare. If he could survive this battle and completely absorb the precious experience from it, then perhaps he could break through to the peak of the Star Condensation realm in a very short amount of time, and even see the threshold of the Saint realm.
But would Wang Po be able to survive? Especially after his two saber strikes had amply proven that he could threaten Zhu Luo's position as one of the Storms of the Eight Directions in a few decades? Su Li did not hold any hope for this, so his expression grew even more solemn. He felt that it was such a pity.
The wind and rain rose again, and the sound of the rain falling was like a drum.
…
…
Zhu Luo's sword brought endless wind and rain. After the wind and rain, there would be a rainbow. Behind the wind and rain, in the distant northern sky, there would be a bright moon. There was light and there was darkness. Most of the light and darkness were swallowed by the spatial cracks on the street, and their power was greatly reduced. This was also the reason why Wang Po could still raise his blade in the heavy rain.
But in the end, the Storms of the Eight Directions were not ordinary cultivating experts. They were the strongest experts of the continent, possessing an unimaginable amount of true essence, an unimaginable intelligence and combat experience, and the most dazzling brilliance. In the end, Wang Po's blade was unable to restrain that light. It was just like how the dark clouds over Xunyang City were incapable of obscuring the moon. In the end, the edge of the clouds was plated with a silver edge. The rainy street was dark and gloomy like the night. The spatial crack cut open by the metal blade was so dark that it made one's heart palpitate. However, at some point, the edges of those pitch-black spatial cracks had lit up.
The light came from Zhu Luo's sword.
The sword glows, accompanied by the howling wind and torrential rain, arrived in front of Wang Po. At this moment, his metal blade needed to continue cleaving through the rainy street, maintaining a sufficient number of cracks in space so that Zhu Luo's Moon Reflection Sword could not break through to his front. When it reached Chen Changsheng and Su Li behind him, he had no way of paying attention to those sword glows.
Those sword lights were not very bright, and even appeared somewhat dim. Wang Po's so-called perfect Saber Domain could not block them at all. As the sword light descended, there was a ripping sound as Wang Po's clothes were torn to shreds. Several extremely clear sword scars appeared on his body that had undergone perfect Purification, and fresh blood slowly seeped out from these sword scars.
The sword light kept flashing past his iron saber and landed on his body. It seemed to be an understatement, but it was actually unforgettable.
Every sword glow would cut open a wound on his body, drawing out a stream of blood.
Wang Po's face grew even paler, without the slightest trace of blood. In the gloomy rainy street, it seemed especially hair-raising. His expression was still calm and resolute, but that pair of very special eyebrows drooped even more fiercely, making him seem rather dejected. He seemed even more bitter and bitter than usual. Yes, his current situation was truly very bitter.
Zhu Luo's sword glows were cutting into his body, almost like a death by a thousand cuts. How could he not be in pain? This pain was still in his mind, in his heart. As a genius of the path of the blade that had long since become famous, and he was even now a great hero of the south, he had still encountered Zhu Luo in his homeland, Tianliang County, and could only bitterly and miserably endure this torment. So what if his talent and willpower were powerful? In the end, it was impossible to change the difference in strength and cultivation. It was just like what the Wang clan had encountered many years ago in Tianliang County. It was so despairing, how could it not be bitter?
Only if he put away his blade, left the rainy street, and chose to avoid would he be able to escape this bitterness.
However, there were many bitterness in life that could not be avoided.
Wang Po had grown accustomed to these bitter days, so he was keenly aware of this. So he had no intention of avoiding at all. His eyebrows drooped, his expression distressed, his head slightly lowered, tightly gripping his blade as he stood in the torrential rain. He allowed those sword glows that passed through his blade intent to leave behind line after line of blood on his body, and allowed those blood to be washed clean by the increasingly heavy rain.
The blade intent on the rainy street was still straight, and the cracks in space it cut open were still straight. As a result, when the torrential rain fell into them, even Zhu Luo was temporarily unable to advance. The vast majority of his sword intent could not reach this side.
Wang Po also stood very straight. But how much longer could he stand? How much longer could he hold the blade in his hand?
The torrential rain was bitter and cold, and the fierce wind gradually grew stronger.
The beads on the abacus in the ruins of the inn began to move again, clattering as if they were beating a rhythm.
Further away on the side street, the musicians of the Liang Household had long since fled. All kinds of musical instruments were strewn across the ground, blown about by the wind. The gongs smashed against the walls, causing stones to fall from the walls, the stones landing on the drums, the flutes flying into the air, the air pouring into the holes of the flutes, whimpering. There was also a zither whose strings were breaking …
Clang clang clang clang.
It was a very hurried and chaotic piece of music.
When would the storm stop, when would the music end?
No one knew.
… …
… …
At the back of the rainy street, the crowd stood in a deathly stillness. Liang Zhen stood at the very front, his expression inexplicably calm. Liang Hongzhuang stood on the other side of the street, as if he did not want to stand together with the prince's distant cousin. For some reason, as he gazed at the distant Wang Po in the storm, his expression was rather strange. It seemed like he wanted to cry, but also seemed like he wanted to laugh. In short, it was very complicated.
No one knew what would happen next, and no one could even imagine what would happen next.
Dark clouds obscured the sky, making the day seem like night. The ordinary people of Xunyang City had their doors and windows tightly shut, either hiding under their beds or in their jars. None of them dared to come out. The people still on the street were all cultivators, and these cultivators had all come to kill Su Li. In normal times, when experts like Zhu Luo and Wang Po were fighting, they would absolutely not dare to make any strange movements. If they angered their opponents, who knew what sort of price they and the sects behind them would have to pay? But today, many people did not care about these things. When they stepped into Xunyang City, they were already prepared to pay with their lives.
Liang Wangsun, Liang Hongzhuang, and Xue He did not think much, but those people did.
At this moment, Su Li was riding on the back of that buckskin horse. In the storm, he was extremely striking. Everyone knew that he was already a cripple. Moreover, Lin Canghai had succeeded in forcing him to use his final attack. And Chen Changsheng had also paid a great price to block Xiao Zhang and Liang Wangsun's attacks, so he was probably very tired. As for Wang Po, he was currently being suppressed by Zhu Luo's sword to the point where it was difficult for him to move. Then, if they attacked Su Li now, who could save him? Who could still block Su Li's spear?
Many people thought so, and so they began to do so. Under the cover of the wind and rain, they walked out of the alley and walked toward the man on horseback on the rainy street. Liang Zhen and Liang Hongzhuang looked at those people walking past them, feeling the chill and killing intent from their bodies. They said nothing, did not stop them, nor did they make a sound.
The buckskin horse's reins hung in the rain. Perhaps it was because of the breed of the horse, or perhaps it was because of Su Li, but the phenomenon brought about by Zhu Luo's sword and the terrifying ripples of battle Qi ten-some zhang away did not frighten this steed. Instead, it obediently lowered its head.
Chen Changsheng also lowered his head, silently gazing at the ripples in the rain.
The Dragoncry dagger and the sheath had finally connected, and this was the first time since leaving Xining Village's old temple. Back in Xining Village, Senior Yu Ren had only chosen this method of combining swords when he went to the back of the mountain to hunt those powerful monsters. Today, he did this because he knew that the enemy he faced today was far too powerful, and also because he wanted to learn from Wang Po.
Suddenly, he raised his head and then turned around.
Those cultivators had not expected that he had always been watching behind them.
Chen Changsheng and these cultivators stared at each other in silence.
Not far away, that berserk and divine sword intent was already growing stronger and stronger.
Chen Changsheng did not pay attention to that side. Over there was Wang Po.
Right now, he only needed to pay attention to this side.
He had already thought through everything, so he was very calm.
His eyes were very calm. No matter how fiercely the rain falling on his face was, it was unable to disturb him.
A cultivator gave a roar, and his body suddenly split into three, attacking Su Li.
Chen Changsheng gripped his dagger with both hands and slashed down at the rainy sky.
The place where the sword fell was several zhang away. It was only one sword, but it simultaneously slashed at three figures in the rainy sky. Three people.
This was not the Intellectual Sword, nor was it the Blazing Sword. This was a move of the Mount Li Sword Style, the Three Strokes of the Plum Blossom.
Three days ago, Su Li had inadvertently told him about it.
Swish!
It was closely followed by another.
It seemed like three clangs of swords resounded in the rain at the same time. Those three figures simultaneously froze in the rainy sky. Then the two figures vanished. That cultivator gave a muffled grunt, clutched his chest, and collapsed onto the rainy street!
In his hand, the Dragoncry dagger seemed to come to life.
In just a few exchanges, those cultivators that had prepared to ambush Su Li had all collapsed.
Just at this moment, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Wang Po … also seemed about to collapse.
In an instant, he made a decision.
… …
… …
Zhu Luo attacks, Chen Changsheng attacks, the spectators attack. Next, who will attack?
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