Chapter 165: Gone Like a Bubble Burst Before His Eyes

Before Yan Bei’an could respond.

“Get back!”

Chen Changsheng was momentarily stunned, then quickly flicked his sleeve. A gust of wind swirled up and swept Yan Bei’an away into the distance.

Yan Bei’an hadn’t even fully regained his senses before being carried far off by that wind.

Looking back towards where he had stood,

He saw a streak of Sword Qi slash explosively down onto the very spot.

Chen Changsheng leapt lightly backwards, putting several yards between himself and the impact.

“BOOM…”

Another thunderous crash echoed.

The ground where he had just stood was now carved open by the Sword Qi, leaving a trench several yards wide.

Chen Changsheng looked up. Zhao Yuqing of Yunfu Mountain descended lightly, as light as a feather, landing before Chen Changsheng.

Zhao Yuqing held a Wooden Sword. He looked at Chen Changsheng and said, “Didn’t I tell you last time? Next time we meet, I will definitely cut you down. And you still dared to come?”

Chen Changsheng looked at him. “Then why are you holding back?”

Zhao Yuqing replied, “I fear death would come too easily for you.”

“I suppose I should say thank you?”

“Chen Changsheng, I did not come here just to trade words with you.”

Chen Changsheng watched him. “Can’t we sit down calmly and talk?”

Zhao Yuqing stared at him, fresh anger stirring inside. Thoughts of Yu Xuan and Hu Yu flashed through his mind. His hand, gripping the sword, lashed out uncontrollably.

“WHOOSH!”

Chen Changsheng sidestepped the attack. The Sword Qi grazed past his cheek, the wind from the blade ruffling his hair, but not harming him at all.

Zhao Yuqing was impulsive, quick to draw his sword when displeased. Yet, reason remained within him. He had still pulled his strike. If he hadn’t, Chen Changsheng couldn’t have dodged it so easily.

Zhao Yuqing’s hand tightened around the Wooden Sword. The anger in his eyes gradually subsided.

Ultimately, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The grip on the Wooden Sword slowly loosened.

Zhao Yuqing sheathed the Wooden Sword. He looked at Chen Changsheng. “I really do want to cut you down.”

Hearing these words, Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but sigh in relief. The blunter Zhao Yuqing’s words, the less likely he was to truly act.

Chen Changsheng regarded him calmly. “I came this time to learn what you didn’t finish saying that day.”

Zhao Yuqing became still. He looked at Chen Changsheng, then suddenly gave a short, sharp laugh. “Aren’t you Chen Changsheng? Is there anything you don’t know?”

Chen Changsheng met his gaze. “I believe you understand why I am here.”

That statement clearly hit home.

Zhao Yuqing naturally knew what Chen Changsheng sought.

Ever since learning everything from Yu Xuan, Zhao Yuqing knew Chen Changsheng would relentlessly pursue this answer.

He might even seek Zhao Yuqing out here, beneath Yunfu Mountain.

Deep down, Chen Changsheng also understood that in a contest of strength and arts, he was no match for Zhao Yuqing.

That night at West Bridge in Autumn Moon Market, Chen Changsheng saw the gap between them clearly.

He possessed a vast sea of Magical Power, but in Daoist Arts, swordsmanship… he couldn’t surpass Zhao Yuqing in any of those realms.

Still, he had come.

And Zhao Yuqing’s reply was:

Zhao Yuqing said, “I know what you want to ask.”

“But what I can tell you is: it’s not that I cannot say it. It’s that you cannot know it.”

Chen Changsheng had anticipated such an answer.

Yet, Zhao Yuqing’s words stirred deep reflection within him.

Chen Changsheng looked at him and questioned, “What difference does that make?”

Zhao Yuqing looked back at him. “Because… it was never your fault.”

“It was never my fault?”

Chen Changsheng’s brow furrowed. He stared at Zhao Yuqing. “What do you mean, ‘never my fault’? Is this whole affair a mistake, then?”

Zhao Yuqing looked at him but said nothing.

Clearly, he could not answer these questions.

Chen Changsheng grasped this. “There must be something I can ask?”

Zhao Yuqing replied, “You can ask what is unimportant.”

Chen Changsheng asked, “What is the relationship between you, me, and Yu Xuan?”

At these words, Zhao Yuqing’s form visibly wavered.

Seeing his silence, Chen Changsheng asked, “That too, is unspeakable?”

Zhao Yuqing lifted his head. He looked straight at Chen Changsheng. “Yu Xuan and I… we hail from the same source.”

“Our Teacher-Master…”

Zhao Yuqing’s gaze was distant as he slowly uttered the name.

“Chen Changsheng.”

Chen Changsheng froze in place.

He felt dazed and asked, slightly unsteadily, “…Who?”

“Your former self.”

Beyond that, Zhao Yuqing offered nothing more.

A look of impatience suddenly crossed Zhao Yuqing’s face. He raised his hand and sent a palm strike forward.

Chen Changsheng, still lost in bewilderment, utterly failed to dodge.

The force of the palm strike sent him hurtling backwards.

Zhao Yuqing refused to say more. This matter wasn’t forbidden knowledge; he himself refused to speak of it.

“Don’t come back here.”

That was Zhao Yuqing’s parting sentence. With a light leap, he ascended back into Yunfu Mountain.

The force of that palm wind blasted Chen Changsheng out from the Immortal Island.

For a long time, he couldn’t snap out of his shocked daze. He floated limply through the air, losing all track of time.

Finally, consciousness returned. He halted his drifting motion.

By then, he had already flown hundreds of miles away. Below him now was the watery expanse of the Desolate Sea.

He lifted his hand again, turning to look back. Mist and mountains blended together as the last golden sliver of the setting sun slipped beneath the peaks.

Chen Changsheng still held many questions he yearned to ask. But suddenly, his form grew hazy and transparent. The world around him began to fade and dim.

Everything before him became as insubstantial as a dream.

In the blink of an eye…

It all faded like a bubble’s burst.

…

Below Yunfu Mountain.

Yan Bei’an staggered back to his feet. His hearing was still a numb, dull roar.

Not only his hearing; his entire being felt numb and struck dumb.

In his mind, nothing compared to the sheer, shivering awe carved into him by those two fearsome sword strokes.

People talked of Cultivators wielding power that cleaved earth and sky. But only now, having witnessed it firsthand, did he truly understand.

He stumbled, staggering towards the place where he had last seen the fight.

When he reached it, a deep, ragged sword scar gouged the earth. His cherished Sword Case lay cleaved into scattered pieces. Three of the eight precious swords within had been snapped in two.

Yan Bei’an lifted his gaze slowly. That Immortal Island, after those two sword strikes, was irrevocably scarred.

Mountainsides flattened. Trees and grasses ripped away – all leveled by the wild arcs of Sword Qi.

Yan Bei’an was breathing hard. He stood rooted beneath the drifting mountain mists, confusion clouding his vision.

Within his mind, the terrifying, awesome spectacle of those two swords clashing played over and over.

He stood transfixed there for a long, long time.

Finally, something suddenly stirred around him. A sharp, poignant Sword Intent radiated from him.

Shimmering streaks of Sword Qi materialized in the air, sharp enough, it seemed, to effortlessly slice apart everything nearby.

Yan Bei’an raised his hand. One of his remaining swords flew into his grasp.

He raised it and slashed downward.

Something like a fleeting miracle, a flash of stunning radiance, rippled across the ruined landscape.

That single sword stroke… already held three tenths of that otherworldly power he had witnessed.

“SHING!”

The sword cried as it moved, sweeping its energy across the flattened ground, sound alone felling countless imagined stalks of grass in its wake.

Yan Bei’an lowered the sword. He looked at it in his hand for a moment. Then, abruptly, he let it fall to his side. Solemnly, profoundly, he bent at the waist and bowed deeply in the direction of the mountain.

“Yan Bei’an of Sword Mountain offers humble gratitude to you, Seniors, for endowing this sword!”

His voice rang out, echoing powerfully across the breadth of the Immortal Island.

However, Zhao Yuqing paid these words no heed. And Chen Changsheng… by now, was too far away to hear them at all.

After offering this bow of deep thanks, Yan Bei’an gathered the shattered pieces of his Sword Case and strapped it once more to his back.

Then, stepping firmly, Yan Bei’an left the Immortal Island behind.

He had failed to wait a full ten years. He had learned nothing directly from Zhao Yuqing’s sword technique.

But now, it no longer mattered which specific ‘that one sword’ he had ostensibly come for.

The raw power, the existence of that level of swordsmanship… had been profoundly impressed upon his spirit and gaze forever.