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Translated by: Hypersheep325
Edited by: Michyrr
The first blade Wang Po had struck out at Zhu Luo with was the most powerful strike he had made in his entire life, but Su Li had given no response. Now when Wang Po retrieved his blade, Su Li's acclamation pierced through the downpour and landed in everyone's ear. Because besides Zhu Luo, only Su Li was an expert that walked through the divine domain, and only Su Li could understand just how arduous of a task it was for Wang Po to retrieve his blade.
In addition, what did the destruction of the wet leaf at the hands of this blade indicate? It indicated that Wang Po had seen through the sky-spanning storm that Zhu Luo had used to hold him!
For an upper level Star Condensation expert to surpass the threshold and see the laws and operations of that world, just how inconceivable of an idea was it? Seeing through it was already an extremely onerous task, let alone breaking through it. Wang Po's comprehension of his sole path of the blade was truly too profound, not like someone who had cultivated for several decades but like someone who had immersed himself in a long life of several centuries!
In his life, Su Li had met countless cultivating geniuses and had personally instructed Qiushan Jun, Qi Jian, and Chen Changsheng. But he had still been shocked by the talent concealed in this blade.
The blade edge washed cold by the rain and the soaked fallen leaf met in the air. Anything, once soaked, would get heavier, and this fallen leaf was as weighty as a great mountain, yet even so, it could not resist the cleaving of the blade. With a muffled bang, that wet leaf turned into countless bits and drifted in every direction. It was like a suddenly expanding ball had appeared in the gloomy and rainy street.
Berserk true essence accompanied the countless fallen leaves that drifted around like cotton threads. Countless densely packed holes had been scored into the hard gray stone of the ground. The walls of the street had long since been covered by countless blade slashes, but were now chopped into piles of sand.
Wang Po once again held his blade horizontally and his Blade Domain covered him once more.
His body, as well as the bodies of Chen Changsheng holding the reins and Su Li on the horse further back, were all protected by his blade.
There was an intense clattering sound like countless needles simultaneously landing on a glossy metal surface, unbroken and unending.
The wind accompanying the torrential rain also blew more swiftly, gusting up everything. Several li away in the ruins of the inn, an elaborate abacus sat in the filthy water. As the wind blew against the beads of the abacus, they crisply clacked together, sounding just like a song.
The storm gradually died down, the long street gradually grew still, and the beads of the abacus gradually ceased to move.
Wang Po still stood at his original position, not giving a single step. His metal blade was still in his hands without any intention of being put down. But his face was extremely pale and his plain clothes were scored with tears and streaks of blood.
The street was quiet, water dripping from the remaining eaves. Drip drop drip drop. But no one would be bothered by these things, because no one would care about them.
Chen Changsheng's hands no longer grasped the reins. His two hands were grasping his dagger while he seriously and attentively looked forward, looking over Wang Po's shoulder at the godlike and unchallengeable expert. Wang Po had already suffered severe injuries, yet at this point, Zhu Luo had not truly attacked. No matter from which angle it was looked at, Wang Po had already lost, but for him to obstruct Zhu Luo for a few moments was still very amazing.
Next, it was naturally his turn to obstruct Zhu Luo.
Zhu Luo did not pay any attention to Chen Changsheng's movements. His expression a little peculiar, he looked at Wang Po and said, "I didn't expect that even though you hadn't even cultivated to the peak of Star Condensation and were even further from being half a step from the Saint realm, you would still manage to pry into a few laws of the Divine Domain?"
Wang Po replied, "The ten thousand things share the same principle, so there are naturally places where the mortal world and the divine intersect."
Zhu Luo said, "Such talent, such perception, no wonder you would dare strike at me…but just what meaning is there to it?"
Yes, in the general scheme of things, Wang Po's talent and unswerving determination were absolutely meaningless.
Because it was impossible for him to defeat Zhu Luo.
Zhu Luo's sword was still in its sheath, but Zhu Luo could still drench the number one ranked expert of the Proclamation of Liberation in blood, could still inflict heavy injuries upon his body.
A name moves the eight directions, a storm darkens the skies. As expected, they were strong beyond belief.
The gap between the two with regards to age, cultivation, and the abyss that separated the divine from the ordinary, was simply impossible to bridge with things like talent and willpower. How could Wang Po have a justification for why he hadn't been defeated?
But there were some people that thought differently.
"You lost," Su Li said.
When the distant crowd of spectators heard this statement, they were filled with confusion. How could this be? Wang Po is covered in blood and is clearly severely wounded; just where can you find a single chance of winning on him?
Sitting on the horse, Su Li looked at Zhu Luo and said, "To lose against this sort of junior, don't you feel a little ashamed?"
Zhu Luo's hair that spilled onto his shoulders was gently lifted up by the breeze, and his two brows similarly rose up. Yet just as he was about to say something, he suddenly stopped himself. He lowered his head and looked over himself. There were no wounds, no blood, only a corner of his sleeve slowly drifting to the ground.
A tiny piece of his left sleeve had been cut off.
Whether it was Zhu Luo or any other cultivator at any sort of realm, none of them would have their strength affected by this in the slightest. But when he saw that piece of cloth gently drift down into the puddle in front of him, Zhu Luo said nothing for a very long time. As the crowd looked on, they made no sound. They all thought to themselves, could it be that he actually lost? But where did he lose?
No one understood Su Li's words or Zhu Luo's silence. Chen Changsheng also did not understand while Liang Wangsun vaguely understood a little. Wang Po understood, but he did not accept it.
Victory or defeat. Win or lose. From a literal aspect, they both had completely identical meanings. It was only at certain moments, in certain special circumstances, that defeat did not mean you had lost. For instance, if some hooligan dressed in black and white dashed his head against cement but still managed to gently tap the head of some exceptional villain with a piece of wood, although it was meaningless, he had still won. Su Li would naturally use this sort of worth to judge Wang Po and Zhu Luo's first exchange. Of course Wang Po had been defeated. It was uncontroversial, right and inevitable, in accord with the laws of heaven and the principles of the earth that he had been defeated, but Su Li still thought that it was Zhu Luo who had lost.
Zhu Luo's reactions indicated that to some degree, he acknowledged Su Li's words.
‘When Zhou Dufu was three years old, could he possibly have had the ability to defeat the world and be without adversary? When the Tianhai Empress first entered the palace, just who could she beat? If you were as old as Wang Po right now, could you beat him?’ These were the words Su Li said to Zhu Luo. This reasoning seemed somewhat fallacious, but it was actually very reasonable. It was just that this argument had to involve the supreme experts of the continent before it could be understood.
Chen Changsheng understood. With a rather vacant look on his face, he began to think, if we compare in terms of people who are the same age as me, then I...ah, there's still Xu Yourong and lady Chen Chujian; how could I be the strongest? Su Li did not know what Chen Changsheng was thinking about, or else he would definitely tease him a little. He continued to say to Zhu Luo, "There's still another problem: you retreated too fiercely."
Zhu Luo said nothing. The fine rain fell down, but it did not dare to touch the cape over his body and floated away to avoid it.
"Back then, with your one sword reflecting the moon, you could kill the second Demon General in one blow. But now, how could you possibly be Hai Di's opponent? Once you were a confident youth who could write poems and kill his enemies, but now you've already gotten old, lacking any of the drive. If that were all, fine. But contrary to expectations, your manner is not at all imposing, not even comparable to that woman Tianhai. In the past several hundred years, you didn't even dare to take a single step into the capital. Today, you want to take an opportunity to kill a junior that might threaten your position. Tsk, tsk, you really have grown up."
Su Li continued, "Why? You're old—almost a thousand years old—and should have died a long time ago. To be old and not die, what is that? It's a thief, an old thief. Ah, people. They're just like trees. When they're at their healthiest and sturdiest, they should do their best to brag in the spring wind. When they grow too old and still cling desperately to their lives, their bodies will grow old and their wood will rot, until finally a lightning bolt cleaves down and turns them into burnt ash. Just what meaning is there in that?"
Zhu Luo finally opened his mouth and said to Su Li, "Are you done speaking?"
Su Li replied, "I'm done scolding."
Zhu Luo replied, "What you say is reasonable."
Su Li's sword-like brows perked upwards and he said with some interest, "How about it?"
Zhu Luo responded, "This is your second sword."
Every word condemning, every phrase like a sword—although Su Li was so wounded that he couldn't fight, he still had his sword heart. His spoken words also had the ability to wound others.
Su Li calmly looked at him and confirmed that this old fellow truly had the qualification to be absolutely arrogant. He actually hadn't been the least bit affected.
"I've received two of your swords. Then, it should be my turn to take out my sword."
With these words, Zhu Luo's right hand descended like a dragon breaking through the clouds. It came to his waist and gripped the hilt of his sword.
The dark clouds grew heavier, the dense rain fell, the skies grew darker, and the leaves fell layer upon layer, dancing in between the droplets of rain as they filled the sky.
Zhu Luo extracted his sword from its sheath. This sword was not very bright and didn't seem very unusual. Yet the edges of the dark clouds that shrouded Xunyang City abruptly grew brighter, as if they had been plated with silver. Was it a halo of light? What was behind the layer of clouds? Was it the sun? No, it was that which should never have appeared in the world of humans: the Moon of the demons.
In Zhu Luo's past, this had been his greatest glory.
Many years ago, on the snowy plains, he saw the bright moon, recited a very beautiful poem, and slew a very powerful opponent. Just like that, he became one of the supreme experts of the continent and obtained the title of Solitary Drunk Under the Moon.
At last, this expert displayed to Xunyang City the true sight of the Saint Realm.
Separated by layers and layers of heavy rain and innumerable fallen leaves, Chen Changsheng still sensed the boundless and dignified strength of that light. He felt his body become more rigid, so much that he subconsciously wanted to flee. Was this the Saint Realm? Originally, ‘domain’ here had not referred to the Star Domain of the Star Condensation Realm. A light enveloped all with no boundary of any sort. Then how could one attack it? He had studied the Daoist Canon since he was a child, and in terms of experience and learning, he wouldn't lose to anyone. Yet he could not understand the light at the edge of the dark clouds and the light brought by that sword, because the laws and operations of the Divine Domain had already surpassed his ability to understand.
The pitch-black rain, the shining sword, the leaden clouds which seemed ready to ignite.
Before such a spectacular backdrop, Wang Po's figure seemed all the more insignificant, as if it could be swallowed up at any moment.
"Forget it!" Chen Changsheng yelled at him.
Wang Po did not turn around. "I still want to try. It's not easy to get this sort of experience."
The downpour washed his face that was without fear and without joy. Just like his voice, it was so calm that it would make the heart tremble and feel respect.
It was a true calm, a calm like hearing the Dao in the morning and being willing to die in the evening. (TN: This is a reference to the line in the Analects of Confucius, "If I hear the Way in the morning, I am content even to die that evening".)
Chen Changsheng said no more. He knew that he had once again learned a few more things.
Zhu Luo's sword had come.
The world was maybe bright, or maybe dark. As the sword came, the dark storm came holding the light. No matter how vast the world was, there would still be no place to hide. Wang Po also had no way to hide.
He once again struck out with his blade. He brandished his blade in the same old, straightforward style, but the place where the blade energy landed was completely different.
He did not cleave at the sword glow, not at the sky of dancing leaves, not at Zhu Luo ten-odd zhang away, but at the storm.
At the path which the storm traveled through the air.
Wang Po's metal blade fell straightforwardly, chopping apart the pillars of rain, ripping apart the threads of wind, and tearing apart the air.
With a screech, a gloomy hole appeared in the rainy street.
As long as one was in this world, there was no way to avoid Zhu Luo's sword?
Then he would cleave open a new road and go together to a new world!