Chapter 122: Swordplay of Gossamer Silk

Nan Luo, of course, recognized the fan at once and could easily deduce that this plantain fan must have been secretly given by the Golden Horn and Silver Horn brothers. However, without the tacit approval of their master, it would have been impossible for them to steal the fan and pass it to Qingqing.

Nan Luo had witnessed the fan’s power once before in the Tai Chi Palace. With a single wave, the woman in jade green robes—whose magical prowess far surpassed that of the Golden Horn—vanished instantly. Even now, Nan Luo was uncertain whether she had been blown away or had evaded the attack.

Later, Zhao Gongming, whose name he only learned afterward, had been flung a great distance. At that time, Zhao Gongming was already capable of cloud-riding, a novice immortal, yet he was still struck away repeatedly by the Golden Horn’s fan. This only illustrated the staggering might of the plantain fan.

The colors of heaven and earth seemed to shift as this delicate wave stirred the mountain’s spiritual energy...

The plantain fan required only a minimal amount of magical power to wield; if one knew the incantation, even the usual ritual refinement was unnecessary.

The gusts it unleashed could not be described as mere evil winds or violent gales. If the Black Wind wielded by the Great Wind Marshal was tangible yet insidious and intangible in its harm, then the wind from this plantain fan was an overwhelming tempest sweeping across the skies. Fierce and wild, it could carry away any material, whether visible or invisible, thousands of miles away.

The Eagle King was one of the earliest born beings in the world, with vast divine powers and formidable magic. He was a peak existence in the divine realm, only a step away from ascending into the Dao realm. Yet, despite years of dedicated cultivation, he had not crossed that threshold.

His escape was a manifestation of the eagle clan’s innate divine ability—the Nine Heavens Soaring Escape Technique—so swift that only a few prehistoric creatures like the Golden-winged Roc could surpass it.

He had believed that Nan Luo’s Azure Sword was besieging Xingtian and Hou Yi. Though he was unsure whether the Demon Moon Mirror had really fallen into the hands of the Green Spirit, it was certainly lost at this point. That was why he fled straight toward the Luo Spirit Cave Heaven; like Xingtian, he sought to find Nan Luo’s physical body. He did not believe that Nan Luo could truly abandon the physical form and ascend directly to the supreme realm.

Although many secret techniques in the primal world allowed one to transcend the physical body and duel through spirit, once the body was left behind, further cultivation became difficult. Therefore, he surmised that attacking Nan Luo’s physical form would force him to save himself. He guessed that Nan Luo must be immobilized by some secret art binding him to the mountain’s spiritual veins.

In a mere thought, he soared above Luo Spirit Cave Heaven. Instantly, a silver serpent-shaped spear appeared in his hand, its shaft enveloped in dazzling radiance, mesmerizing and captivating the soul.

Before his eyes stood a young girl, clad in tattered garments devoid of any spiritual aura. Yet the enormous fan in her hand, shaped like a plantain leaf, radiated a palpable sense of danger.

The Eagle King certainly recognized this girl. While Nan Luo remained unmoved by the curses from the surrounding demons, this girl appeared and struck down the demon kings scattered across the mountain with a single sword.

Though these demon kings were not formidable foes in the Eagle King’s eyes, the serene and deadly killing intent revealed when the Azure Sword was unleashed sent a chill even through him.

Before he could plan his next move, Qingqing’s plantain fan had already swept through the air.

In an instant, a sinister wind that seemed to tear the very sky apart surged forth—formless, colorless, yet unmistakably present. The divine sense that touched it was shredded instantly. Though he had intended to evade head-on, he did not even have time to dodge.

The Eagle King immediately summoned all his magical power and thrust the silver serpent spear forward. Space tore open a small black hole, and his speed increased manifold in a flash. He seemed determined to pierce through this gale capable of uprooting mountains.

Bathed in a clear light, the spear plunged boldly into the raging wind.

Though invisible, the wind howled through the void.

Like a streak of black lightning, the Eagle King plunged toward Qingqing, who stood before Luo Spirit Mountain’s cave heaven. Upon entering the wind, he faltered slightly, his heart gripped with terror. He knew the fan’s power was immense and had anticipated much, but never to this magnitude...

No sooner had he entered the gust than he was helplessly tossed upward, soaring into the Nine Heavens. As he was swept aloft, he revealed his true form—a colossal black eagle blotting out the sky. Its wings flapped wildly as it lifted its head and let out a piercing scream, only to be shredded by the wind into fragmented echoes.

Desperately, the Eagle King pushed his divine power, beating his wings to break free from the wind’s grasp. But just then, Qingqing waved the fan once more. Like a kite caught in a tempest, the Eagle King was flung higher and higher, beyond the clouds, disappearing from sight in an instant.

Watching the Eagle King vanish into the clouds, Qingqing chuckled softly. With a gentle tremor, the plantain fan in her hand shrank back into a small azure fan.

“Master, rest assured, Qingqing will not allow anyone to enter this Luo Spirit Cave Heaven,” she said joyfully. Without waiting for Nan Luo’s reply, she sat on the cliff edge before the cave. She knew her master had been trapped by the Heavenly Emperor’s schemes and was immobilized. Yet she was unaware of Nan Luo’s Azure Sword fighting outside, or what remained of the Demon Moon Mirror’s power. Determined, she stood guard at the cave’s entrance, embodying the spirit of one man holding the pass against ten thousand.

A hundred li away, the colorful smoke thickened.

Xingtian’s roar rumbled like distant thunder, his towering form looming faintly through the mist. His black giant axe, capable of splitting heaven and earth, could not sever the swirling multicolored clouds.

With his martial skill, each movement felt as though it shattered the void—but now, he could not break free from the colorful mist no matter how hard he tried.

Hou Yi, dressed in white, darted within the clouds, wielding a black arrow in one hand and a bow in the other. He seemed intent on piercing the mist with arrows but had no opportunity. For a sword light, as if omnipresent, enveloped him entirely, as it did Xingtian.

Within the multicolored mist, the Azure Sword multiplied into countless blades, each striking precisely at vital points, radiating chilling killing intent. Even these top-tier shaman warriors dared not confront the blades with their bodies.

Were these ordinary men, they would not only fail to trap Xingtian and Hou Yi but would be shredded by the sword’s spirit. Yet they dared not allow themselves to be touched. Regardless of whether they could capture this innate sword artifact, the faint, elusive white threads of killing intent drifting through the void were enough to dissuade them.

They found themselves unable to distinguish whether the sword’s main body was present or if these were manifestations of sword energy. Attempts to block with axe or arrow only produced the clanging of metal against metal. This bewildered them, for while parrying one thread, another flickered elsewhere.

“What kind of technique is this? What divine power?” Hou Yi muttered, perplexed. Without these elusive sword threads, they might have already broken free.

This was neither a spell nor a divine ability but swordsmanship—Nan Luo’s own creation, born from years of integrating the sword intent of the Four Killing Swords of Tongtian.

When he first saw the Azure Sword transform into such a colossal blade before Xuanming, he was struck with awe. This opened a new path for sword mastery.

A sword of such size wielded power multiplied many times over. The giant toad that could swallow the heavens had not even escaped before being pierced by the giant blade, splitting the mountain itself.

From that moment, Nan Luo pondered the sword’s application, later incorporating the Dao of the Five Elements and grasping the sword technique once used by Xuanming. He named this technique “Mountain Severing,” inspired by that scene when Xuanming’s sword pierced the giant toad and cleaved through the mountain. The name was well-deserved.

He then conceived that if the sword could grow so large, why not shrink to minuscule size or even divide? Thus was born today’s mystifying and elusive sword technique—

“Silken Threads,” which transform into countless light strands, unpredictable and difficult to defend against.

Sometimes, these magical arts are not exceptionally profound, nor as elusive as the great Dao. A single spark of insight is enough to create a new spell or sword technique.

Whether spell or swordsmanship, all are applications of the Dao. They might be called divine powers or magical arts. One who comprehends the Dao without thorough study will hardly develop formidable divine powers.

Understanding the Dao is the foundation; from there, mastery of spells and divine powers becomes the means to contend with others. Hence, battles between those of the same realm vary greatly—some unleash powers capable of upheaving mountains and seas, others only flee at the first sign of danger.

Nan Luo was unaware of how many watched him now—perhaps many, perhaps none. But this time, he was resolute to slay these two here.

Even if he could not kill them quickly, he would wear them down to death. Within the multicolored clouds, neither could replenish their spiritual energy nor draw from the world’s primordial energy.

If trapped like this, any other divine realm cultivator would likely be dead already. But as shamans, with powerful essence and practiced battle techniques, how long they could endure was uncertain.

Nan Luo sought their deaths; they knew this well. Yet trapped in the sword’s net, they could only defend. The multicolored mist not only blocked their use of spiritual and worldly energy but also interfered with their divine senses. Fortunately, they possessed their own divine powers. Hou Yi could track the elusive sword strands with his eyes alone, while Xingtian’s extraordinary combat instinct and danger awareness allowed him to narrowly block attacks whenever the threads closed in.

The Golden Light Patriarch observed all this, murmuring, “He possesses such swordsmanship—truly unpredictable and inscrutable. Could it be that Xingtian and Hou Yi will perish here today?”

He swallowed deeply, caressing the golden-sheathed sword in his hand. Calmly, he said, “You have your sword technique; I have my sword skill. This time, you shall be my test. Kill you, and then I will seek him.”

His gaze turned to the east of the continent, where an endless sea stretched out.

In that instant, man and sword seemed to become one, boundless battle intent surging toward the heavens.