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Master Lotus did not pay her any attention. He chewed the third mouthful of flesh and tried to regain his energy and vitality in the shortest time possible before Ning Que regained consciousness. He was the most terrifying and strongest person in that world decades ago. Today, there were three elite cultivators of the younger generation who had unleashed their powers before him.

They had finally seen a glimmer of hope and fought hard for a chance in the face of death. This dangerous process was filled with confidence and determination. Even Master Lotus who had witnessed several earth-shattering events felt his heart palpitate and treated it seriously in a show of respect. The crux of the matter was whether Master Lotus would regain his strength after using the Practice of Taotie to absorb the flesh and blood first, or would Ning Que comprehend the Haoran Sword method and emerge from his muddled state before that.

Ning Que did not know how dangerous the situation was. He did not know about the sacrifices and effort the Calligraphy Addict and the Tao Addict had made to stop Lotus from breaking him out of the cultivation state he had entered. He did not know what he was doing.

Neither did he know why he felt a sense of familiarity when he saw those sword marks and flames. His body and the aura in his blood wanted to move along with these sword marks subconsciously. He had even forgotten everything that had happened before and the world outside. This state was very dangerous. It was like a helpless naked baby walking in the wild forests. He might be attacked and eaten by wild beasts anytime. However, it was also because this state was filled with innocence and purity that it was able to accept the images imprinted on one's soul from the exoteric.

There were only stone walls and the four corners of the bluestone walls in his eyes. The sword marks on the stone walls looked as if they had come alive. They entered his soul through his eyes and turned into numerous things. The flow of the sword marks was like turning a page of a book. Each page was painted with a clear map that appeared to be some amazing steps, or like a formidable swordsmanship style.

It even seemed like an amazing exercise but was nothing at all but an attitude. He followed the sword marks in his eyes and began to imitate them. He waved his knife like a sword and began to think silently. He savored it with a smile and his pace became smoother and the way he waved his podao became more fluid. The sword marks that Youngest Uncle had left on the stone walls were originally a way of expressing his emotions. His pace was even smoother and his sword waving more fluid. In the end, it was even considered carefree.

For travelers to see more of the world, they had to forget the weariness and pain they have experienced in their journey and should dance and sing while they were at it. A great mountain standing alone on earth and having to ignore the worshiping of ordinary folks would, of course, become proud. The stream in the valley flowed and took every collision with rocks as a game. It flowed along with gravity, and every collision created beautiful splashes. This was called jumping for joy. The numerous stars littered in the sky stilled or moved according to their wishes as they smiled at the world.

And because of the nature of things, I would go when I want to even if there were thousands and millions of people before me. His injured sense of perception and the Psyche Power that he had gained from meditation over the past decade began to slowly move like the clouds, stars, and stream.

They towered like the large mountain and was as cheerful as the travelers. The sword style hidden in the scattered sword marks on the walls floated with the flames and gradually entered his body. The sword styles flooded into him as his soul became enlightened. And then, together with the flow of Psyche Power, it stopped the joy. It was unknown how these sword styles existed. It became a warm flow once it had entered his body and it repaired his sense of perception in a short time.

Then, it followed the flow from the middle of his forehead and pierced the Snow Mountain and Ocean of Qi. The reparation of his sense of perception felt great. Ning Que stood before the wall with his knife in his hands. He was in a muddled state and did not know what was happening in the world outside his mind. However, his brows relaxed subconsciously and then came together tightly. He could feel an intense pain radiating from his chest and stomach. The sword styles in the scattered sword marks flowed in his body brutally, as if there were tens of thousands of little swords ricocheting everywhere.

They tore through his organs that the naked eye cannot see and riddled them with holes. Then, thousands of small swords flew to his waist and abdomen where the snow mountain was and began to hit it without stopping. The sharp blade cut through the hard ice at the Snow-capped Peak easily.

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Mounds of snow flew up and the rate at which the sword style was hitting the mountain increased rapidly. It had already made hundreds and millions of cuts in the blink of an eye. The cuts between the edge of the sword and the ice began to heat up.

The Snow Mountain that had been silent for years began to melt and evaporate. Thousands of millions of small swords began to fly within his body or his consciousness. They flew towards a calm Ocean of Qi. And just like how they had hit the Snow Mountain, they began to focus on making hundreds of millions of cuts once more. The calm Ocean of Qi began to churn and a huge wave emerged as if the ocean itself was boiling. In the end, it began to boil and turned into a mist in the air.

Nightfall - Chapter 13 - Webnovel - Your Fictional Stories Hub

The Snow Mountain and Ocean of Qi melted and evaporated into mist as they continued to flow through a certain passageway in his body. The flow was neverending and permeated throughout his body. It would leave some mist everywhere it went and the mist would coagulate into a drop of dew and begin to moisten him. As the mist coagulated to become drops of dew that moistened him endlessly, his body began to deconstruct and rebuild, just like the disassembling and rebuilding of an old house. The rebuilt house was beautiful, sturdy and unafraid of the wind and rain. Ning Que felt the warmth flowing through his body as if energy was pouring through his muscles and bones.

This feeling was comfortable and strong and it made one feel intoxicated and reluctant to awake. The sword marks on the stone walls continued to spin. The deeply engraved sword style in the sword marks continued to enter his body endlessly, turning into numerous small swords that bombarded his Snow Mountain and Ocean of Qi, moisturizing and strengthening his body.

A sudden shadow flitted past Ning Que's soul, which was immersed in pain and intoxication. He had suddenly remembered something and he became greatly afraid. His body felt cold even though he was in a place filled with light. Would his Snow Mountain and Ocean of Qi be ruined if pounding of the sword style continued?

Could he still cultivate if his Qi orifices, that he had gone through several hardships to clear, disappeared? He looked at the sword marks on the wall uneasily.

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He was soaked in cold sweat and the air between his palm and the knife hilt was bone-piercingly cold. If he wanted to practice the Great Spirit, he had to turn his back against Haotian and even become enemies with Haotian. He had already comprehended the sword style of Haoran Sword. If he accepted the sword style and allowed it to enter his body, he would be following in Youngest Uncle's footsteps.

Following in Youngest Uncle's footsteps was something glorious and to be proud of.

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Even Youngest Uncle who was one of the strongest could not avoid death after he had joined the Devil. Lyu frowned looking at him and said, "You aren't getting better even after seventy-seven breaths. Your viscera probably have been broken and the Ocean of Qi has been ruined, the same as your Natal Sword. Now you even can't beat a normal soldier. Are you not even willing to find your inner peace before leaving this world? Some foolish villagers even believed that those cultivators with the strongest powers were able to control their lives.


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As a result, those badly injured barbarians and bodyguards dare not let their guards down, even though the middle-aged scholar was dying. Upon hearing Lyu Qingchen's words, they finally believed that the Great Sword Master was dying, as their pain and tiredness started to overwhelm them. Ning Que still remained alert, throughout the war hiding in fallen leaves just like a quail. He stared at the middle-aged scholar in a pool of blood, moving slowly with his bow and arrow in his hand, and looking for the best position to shoot. To them, even their enemy deserved respect according to his status when he was fighting to the death.

That was the reason why Lyu chose to talk with the Master to clear his doubts, so that he could give his last words before the Master's death.

He did value honor, but he had never thought of it as important as life. He didn't believe that there's something more valuable than life, and even if there was, it would never be an honor. This was the first time for him to see such an unbelievable battle. However, considering that the Great Sword Master was the enemy now, he would keep alert and be ready to put him down with any methods. Being homeless since youth, and fighting against barbarians in the frontier fortress for several years, the youngster had developed a deep-rooted awareness: The safest enemy was always the one who had already died, and only when the enemy was dead, might he take off his cap and salute with his eyes to show his respect to the enemy.

Several streams of blood were spurting out from all his facial orifices. All of this seemed like there was a horrible invisible power rushing into his body from those swirling leaves and from all directions, driving his power out through the blood coming out of his body. The battle went even more ferocious at the Northern Mountain Road, while you could see nothing special on this old man's face.

For the Tang, now that the battle had started off, death or failure were the most common things that could happen, with nothing to do with morality or justice. However, when he found that the middle-aged scholar ruined himself with Dark Methods, he finally couldn't help but get angry! The moment that he spoke the last word, one more stream of blood appeared suddenly at the bottom of the index finger of his right hand. The bones inside appeared, slightly, as well.

Containing the Qi of Heaven and Earth inside his body, molding his flesh and blood into flying swords, compressing energies throughout his life into one shot—those were the most typical Dark Methods! For the group escorting the princess, Lyu was their most reliable person, especially when all of the barbarians and guards were badly wounded and dead.

Yet, they fell down on the leaves after two steps. Their curved knives slipped out of their hands as well. There was a crossbow arrow left by a sacrificed guard nearby. Although he had struggled with his full strength, he still fell far behind. Even if he got the arrow, Lyu would be too weak to be struck by the broken finger. No one was prepared for this and could do nothing but watch him win the fight and see people die. In fact, he was carefully watching out for the party's movements as he gradually moved his body to look for a perfect spot to launch his attack.

The arrow on the string was shaking slightly and quickly turned calm, like a snake ready to jump out. When the broken finger flew towards the elder, Ning Que slightly released his index and middle finger. Then the bowstring bounced back quickly and the arrow shot out like lighting through falling leaves and went straight forward into his chest.

The black arrow flew like lighting and pierced through the falling leaves, tearing the night. Just before the Great Sword Master's broken finger hit Lyu with the Dark Method, it had shot into the scholar's chest! Especially Masters of Sword, Psyche, and Fu, due to meditation for years, they had become weaker and needed to pay closer attention to the environment around them, vigilant of attacks.

In addition to the loyal guards defending nearby, they would wear light armor inside their robes in case of assassins' attacking. With clear determination, at the last moment of his life, this great master did not hesitate to kill the strongest Psyche Master with the Dark Method. So he did nothing when he found that someone was attacking covertly. There was only a clear lake, which was formed by the Qi of Heaven and Earth, left in his psyche.