A Blind Swordsman's Sword Coffin

Suddenly, Zhou Shiyu bit clean through his own tongue.

Lu Xingyuan’s eyes widened. His movements faltered for an instant, and Zhou Shiyu seized the opening, severing his hand with a single slash.

Zhou Shiyu’s face twisted into a deranged smile, mocking Lu Xingyuan’s lapse. But only Zhou Shiyu knew the truth. He feared death too. He feared losing too.

That was why he had bitten through his tongue, making certain he could never speak the words “I surrender.”

Every inch of Zhou Shiyu’s body was soaked in blood and covered in wounds, yet his eyes never wavered, hard and unyielding as iron.

His injuries were mounting, and he knew he was nearing his limit. Only by fighting to the very end did he stand any chance of surviving.

Lu Xingyuan was just as gravely wounded. He swung his long staff, unleashing a storm of attacks, yet Zhou Shiyu evaded every killing blow at the last possible moment.

The staff moved like a specter, impossible to predict, yet Zhou Shiyu always found the gap and struck back.

The two exchanged blow for blow, neither giving ground, each attack driven by an absolute will to win. Standing firm on the stone, neither man budged even half a step.

“Argh!”

“Die!”

The battle dragged on. Both fighters were spent, yet neither would yield. This was a fight to the death. Only by killing the other could either live.

Their clash was deeply moving to behold, and no one could say how much time had passed. The two men swung their weapons more slowly and more slowly.

Clatter!

The long staff hit the ground.

Zhou Shiyu barely looked human. His skull had caved in, leaving a deep depression, and his swollen eyes could barely open. His jaw had been smashed beyond recognition, yet he still smiled.

Zhou Shiyu raised his sword. At the very instant Lu Xingyuan cried out his surrender, he brought it crashing down.

Pfft!

Lu Xingyuan was split clean in two. As he died, his eyes met Zhou Shiyu’s with a look of admiration, and a faint voice drifted out.

“You... are... ruthless...”

Thud!

The corpse hit the ground. Lu Wuhen’s expression turned ashen, and Lu Hengtian could no longer restrain his killing intent.

Nangong Xuandu merely glanced into the distance. A hundred-zhang azure sword light descended from the sky.

Boom!

The Lu clan’s cloud boat shattered.

Nangong Xuandu looked at the battered Lu clan members and said coldly, “The Daxia Sword Sect wins the third round.”

Zhou Shiyu finally closed his eyes. They had become too heavy to keep open.

Li Guanqi reached out and caught Zhou Shiyu before he could fall. Zhou Shiyu strained to lift his head and looked at him, moving his mangled jaw soundlessly.

Li Guanqi held him gently, patting his back.

“Thank you,” Li Guanqi said quietly.

Boom!

A tide of auras surged into the sky. The cultivators of the Six Territories raised their arms in unison, cheering as the tension finally broke.

The ancient clan cultivators, who had been taunting them without end, fell into total silence.

“Dogs! Speak up! Keep barking! Where did your voices go?”

“Keep barking, you mongrels! What, gone mute now?!”

“The ancient clans are garbage! They’re not so invincible after all!”

The cultivators on the observation platforms had finally found an outlet for their pent-up resentment. One ugly insult after another rang out, each more vicious than the last, even worse than anything the ancient clans had hurled at them.

Even some sect masters and patriarchs joined in. Perhaps the frustration had simmered too long, or perhaps the third match had simply carried too much weight.

Not a cultivator present cared to keep their composure. They hurled every insult they could think of.

To the ancient clan cultivators, it all seemed laughable. The Daxia Sword Sect had only won a single bout, clawing back a sliver of the deficit. They couldn’t fathom why everyone was so worked up.

Still, the cultivators of the Six Territories knew how vicious their own words truly were.

One by one, the ancient clan members’ faces soured as though they’d swallowed a fly. However, none of them dared to make a move. Nangong Xuandu’s strength had far exceeded their expectations.

Many members of the Lu clan were wounded. Ancestor Lu Hengtian stared at the wreckage behind him with a dark expression, yet he did not dare utter a single word of complaint.

Nangong Xuandu glanced at the sky. “Rest for an hour. Then the last two matches will proceed.”

Lu Wuhen narrowed his eyes at him and said softly, “Isn’t that a bit biased? In the previous two matches, the rest period was no more than half an hour each time.”

Nangong Xuandu didn’t turn around. He simply tilted his head and shot Lu Wuhen a sidelong glance.

That razor-sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through Lu Wuhen’s heart. The color drained from his face. For an instant, he found himself standing amid a vast sea of corpses and rivers of blood.

Pfft!

He coughed up a mouthful of blood, and Nangong Xuandu’s ice-cold voice reached his ears. “I don’t owe you an explanation for anything I do. You have no right to question me, bastard.”

As Lu Wuhen doubled over, coughing up blood, a pair of feet stepped into his vision.

Lu Wuhen kept his head bowed, his eyes trembling as he murmured, “This... junior understands.”

Lu Hengtian remained frozen, standing rigidly behind Lu Wuhen. Nine azure sword qi floated silently behind Nangong Xuandu.

Cold sweat trickled down Lu Hengtian’s temples. He was certain that if he so much as twitched, Nangong Xuandu would cut him down without hesitation.

Even within the Mahayana Realm, there could be a world of difference between cultivators. The gap between him and Nangong Xuandu was so vast that calling it a chasm would be an understatement. Even Zhu Ying of the Zhu clan wouldn’t dare claim she could last half an hour against Nangong Xuandu.

Nangong Xuandu slowly turned around. He caught a glimpse of Li Guanqi rising into the air to leave, pondered for a moment, then vanished from the spot.

He passed straight through the Purple Spirit Paradise Realm’s barrier and appeared beside the medicine pool.

Peng Luo sensed him first. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he leaped up to clutch Li Guanqi’s head. “Someone’s coming! Someone’s coming!”

Li Guanqi turned and saw Nangong Xuandu leaning against the stone wall with his arms crossed, watching him.

Li Guanqi had just finished settling the gravely wounded Zhou Shiyu. He bowed. “Junior Li Guanqi pays his respects to Senior Nangong.”

The man shrugged and helped him up.

He untied the azure jade wine gourd from his waist and tossed it into the air. The thick liquid inside, dense as honey, streamed slowly into the medicine pool.

Peng Luo’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. Li Guanqi immediately realized the liquid was something extraordinary.

The instant the crystalline spirit liquid touched the pool, Cao Yan, Xiao Chen, and Zhou Shiyu all trembled faintly. Three small whirlpools formed in the vast medicine pool, and the trio began absorbing its essence.

“An hour is the most I can do,” Nangong Xuandu said softly. “And if I hadn’t come... that young man would most likely have spent the rest of his life paralyzed.”

He was referring to Zhou Shiyu. The battle with Lu Xingyuan had been far too savage; in the end, it had come down to sheer willpower.