Chapter Twenty-Seven: Jiang Xuanyi

“Jiang Xuan Yi!”

From the distant banks of the Liang River, a figure strode forth upon the stars.

The night was as dark as ink, with only a sliver of starlight remaining.

A flying sword, visible to the naked eye, sped through the air.

A middle-aged man caught it in his hand. With a slight tightening of his grip, he crushed the sword.

Fragments of the blade fell to the ground, each shimmering with starlight.

Xu Zhong gradually saw the newcomer.

He wore robes of pure white, embroidered with drifting clouds and rivers that began at his left shoulder and ended at his right sleeve. His long, black hair cascaded over both shoulders, and behind him surged a host of flying swords.

A sword’s cry echoed in the air.

The flying swords could not unleash their full brilliance or sword energy, forcibly suppressed. Thus, a wave of discontent resonated within the sword case, transforming into a chorus of sword howls.

“Li Daoxuan, I have no wish to fight you today.” Jiang Xuan Yi glanced at the wooden sword he carried, knowing full well it was this very blade that suppressed Li Daoxuan’s thirteen flying swords—a treasure of inestimable worth. “So, before I change my mind, leave my sight.”

Xu Zhong seemed to recall who Jiang Xuan Yi was.

Jiang was the imperial surname of Yu, and Jiang Xuan Yi was the founding emperor of Yu.

After the fall of the ancient Yue kingdom, chaos and warfare reigned across the land. Jiang Xuan Yi, wielding only two broadswords, fought his way from beggar to emperor—his rise nothing short of legendary.

But Jiang Xuan Yi had died at Yu’s very founding.

It was unlikely to be a mere namesake, for such names were taboo.

Li Daoxuan controlled his flying swords, pressing back against the wooden blade.

The wooden sword slipped into Xu Zhong’s hand, while the flying swords burst forth in full splendor.

With a clang, a massive coffin flew out from Li Daoxuan’s sleeve.

It was forged entirely of solid gold, edged with purple.

Jiang Xuan Yi glanced at the coffin before him and smiled wryly. “Prepared for me?”

“For you—and for your Yu kingdom,” Li Daoxuan replied. Thirteen flying swords shimmered, their energies interwoven in a vast sword formation.

“Do you truly want to die today?”

Jiang Xuan Yi let out a low laugh, his tone tinged with anger. He reached out, seizing Xu Zhong’s wooden sword. “Let me borrow this.”

With a whistling sound, he moved with incredible speed, but Li Daoxuan drew a massive sword seemingly from nowhere.

Their blades clashed with a sound that shattered the darkness; twin flashes of swordlight froze the wind.

Both men retreated several steps.

“Your sword is excellent,” said Jiang Xuan Yi.

“My swordsmanship is better,” Li Daoxuan replied, and with a swing, his great sword stirred the clouds, which coalesced into a white dragon that spiraled toward Jiang Xuan Yi.

The wind howled; sword cries rang out in unison.

Thunder rolled, echoing across heaven and earth.

The dragon roared, scattering the gloom, and once again the stars gleamed. Starlight poured down like a vast sea, transforming into a torrent of sword energy that blanketed three thousand miles, inciting the azure dragon’s ire.

Suddenly, the entire world was bathed in light, as if day had broken.

The swordlight swept for three thousand miles, but up close it was only a wisp of wind.

“Is that so?” Jiang Xuan Yi smiled faintly.

He thrust his sword forward—a plain sword, a plain strike, nothing remarkable—until it was swallowed by the dragon, swept away by the breeze.

Then, the dragon faltered and scattered, the wind ceased abruptly, and Jiang Xuan Yi walked out unscathed.

“Today, you will die,” Li Daoxuan declared.

A fissure opened at the center of his brow.

His body split along the crack, flesh, blood, and bone pulverized to dust, leaving behind only a human skin.

From the empty skin, a pure energy rose, coalescing into a spiritual apparition.

This spirit showed no fear; blood and flesh reformed anew.

He pointed a finger, and the thirteen flying swords shifted endlessly, weaving into a net. Sword energy formed a formation, sealing off the spiritual currents of heaven and earth, severing the essence of swordsmanship.

“Your swordplay has indeed improved,” Jiang Xuan Yi observed, feeling the slight tremor in the sword and sensing a profound suppression in the sword’s cry.

“But do you really think this formation can kill me?” Jiang Xuan Yi’s expression did not change as he ran his fingers along the sword’s guard, seemingly appraising it.

Each flying sword was marked with intricate silver tadpole-like runes, shimmering with a mystical glow. Upon closer inspection, it was as if every sword technique had been compressed into the blade.

“These are not your methods,” Jiang Xuan Yi realized, perceiving the secret by which the formation suppressed his sword intent and moves.

Each flying sword matched one of his techniques.

Whenever he attempted a strike, the swords would, as if by fate, counter it instantly, destroying his intent before it could leave the sheath.

With Li Daoxuan’s talent, it was impossible that such a stratagem had come from him.

“This isn’t my doing, but does it matter?” Li Daoxuan steadied his breath, his great sword howling forth as sword energy filled the sky like snow, surging like thunder, spiraling down at Jiang Xuan Yi’s head.

Jiang Xuan Yi struck.

His swordlight became the only color in all creation.

Yet, it was quickly devoured by the flying swords.

Li Daoxuan’s sword energy was also consumed.

“Turning my strength against me? It’s useless—in this formation, your power drains at ten times my rate. I can wear you down to death.” He’d never imagined it could be so easy to kill the man before him.

Jiang Xuan Yi already stood atop the world; five centuries ago, with only two broadswords, he’d reduced Yong’s Most Sacred Emperor to nothing.

That Most Sacred Emperor was Li Daoxuan’s own father.

It was a blood feud.

Li Daoxuan noticed Jiang Xuan Yi’s gaze fixed on the thirteenth sword.

A rune, freshly inscribed by his own hand, adorned it.

Compared to the others, this sword was dim.

“The first twelve flying swords are exquisite, every move a killing blow. But the thirteenth sword is utterly ordinary,” Jiang Xuan Yi shook his head. As he spoke, Li Daoxuan’s eyes widened in horror, sensing a suppressed sword intent surging upward. Suddenly, a dazzling swordlight burst forth, and the thirteen flying swords, under immense pressure, shattered in succession and fell to the ground as Jiang Xuan Yi shot forward like thunder.

“Still not going to act?” Li Daoxuan roared.

Suddenly, a lotus-shaped treasure appeared.

Each petal of the lotus was itself another lotus, a multitude of lotuses clustered around a golden lamp at the center. Upon the lamp, a magnificent canopy shimmered.

To Xu Zhong, that canopy was strikingly familiar.

The golden lotus hovered above the coffin, slowly spinning, streams of light cascading down to protect Li Daoxuan atop the coffin.

“Useless fool,” the Emperor of Yue sneered.

He was now a different man from the one Xu Zhong had met in the cave-heaven. No longer a clay idol, but of flesh and blood, his soul nailed into his body with seven iron spikes.

Now, he looked more human than before.

Li Daoxuan hid behind him.

“So, you’re the creator of this sword formation,” Jiang Xuan Yi smiled faintly, as if recognizing his true opponent at last. “Your swordsmanship is interesting indeed.” He caught the canopy in his hand, then struck with full force.

“Stellar Sword Qi, arise!”

The canopy in his hand folded, transforming into a sword’s blade and point. In an instant, thirty-four streams of swordlight burst from the tip. Among them, the most fearsome were the five elemental sword energies: a verdant serpent, a jet-black tortoise, a pure white tiger radiating murderous intent, a fiery azure phoenix, and a mighty deity trailing a heavy tail.

The five sword energies were terrifying beyond compare. The thirty-four swordlights formed a sword formation, intent on suppressing Jiang Xuan Yi.

Jiang Xuan Yi regarded the Daoist with cold eyes. Suddenly, four divine towers appeared around him, each filled with unspeakable terror, their surfaces dense with runes, evolving into thirty-six different spells—each embodying every conceivable transformation, as if containing all the wonders of the world.

In that moment, the Emperor of Yue’s swordlights were dim before the four divine towers.

He formed a seal, and the golden lamp spewed forth true fire, which rushed into Jiang Xuan Yi’s mind, rampaging within. Yet Jiang Xuan Yi’s spirit opened its eyes, raised a single finger, runes flashing upon it, and subdued the true fire.

Now, Jiang Xuan Yi’s power seemed boundless. The Emperor of Yue was no different; behind him appeared a lunar disc, the Way forming a circle, its radiance pouring forth. He stood poised in midair, the moon waxing and waning behind him, myriad mystical arts swirling in a halo at his back.

Jiang Xuan Yi stood unmoved, extending one finger—an utterly ordinary gesture, yet it carried the might to suppress all heaven and earth. The sky itself shattered under that finger.

But the Emperor of Yue simply swept the canopy, swallowing the force of that strike.

At the same time, he struck again with his sword.

Jiang Xuan Yi frowned, reaching out to suppress the swordlight, but the sword energy could not be contained. It surged into his heart, breached his spiritual gate, rushed through his crown and pierced his jade pillow, threatening to split him in two from the mind outward.

Jiang Xuan Yi raised his wooden sword, unleashing a blazing sword intent that filled and pressed down upon all the realms.

His swordsmanship was straightforward and grand.

It was mountains, rivers, land, cities, and people.

Within his sword, a nation was hidden.

A ripple of swordlight surged forth.

Within that light, Xu Zhong glimpsed all the cities of Yu, and countless citizens.

The Emperor of Yue felt terror rise within.

He could not withstand this sword.

For it was not wielded by Jiang Xuan Yi alone, but by the entire Yu kingdom.

So long as he remained within Yu’s borders, no matter where he fled, he could not escape this sword.

He braced himself to meet the blow.

There were only two outcomes: live or die.

Boom!

Everything shattered; the very world seemed to break apart.

Xu Zhong saw a world, suppressing a single man.

The Emperor of Yue was struck, spat blood, and staggered back. His entire body fractured, the essence and flesh driven from his form, even his soul.

Only the seven iron spikes anchored his soul to his flesh, preventing it from being expelled.

At that moment, the Emperor of Yue resembled a gaunt monkey. He seized Li Daoxuan, raised the canopy, shielded them both, and fled in disarray.

“Your speed far surpasses your swordsmanship,” Jiang Xuan Yi remarked, making no move to pursue. Instead, he returned the wooden sword to Xu Zhong.

“Are you the founding emperor of Yu?” Xu Zhong asked.

Jiang Xuan Yi neither confirmed nor denied.

Xu Zhong then pressed, “But if you are the emperor of Yu, why are you collecting the dragon veins of the ancient Yue kingdom?”