Capítulo 1497: Chapter 92: No One Leans Beside Anymore
The mist in the sky shatters.
The Qin Army on the battlents sees Mu Shanxue descending, like a cloud settling in the most narrow area of the terrain around, standing in Dragon Gorge Valley. On the ground ahead, many cavalryn have fallen, but more cavalries are charging.
Wu Hua roars: “Stop, cease fire!”
Mu Shanxue carries the Tongchen Sword on his back, closes his eyes, and speaks leisurely.
“Little junior brother…”
His palm grips the sword hilt, the sword tassel knitted by his little junior brother hangs down, and the sunlight reflecting off the weapon casts a glow on his Taoist robe, resembling a cluster of snow. With closed eyes, he recalls the first ti he was led up the mountain, his patriarch’s hand caressing his forehead, and the voice from then resurfaces deep within his heart as he murmurs calmly.
“When attempting to relax it, one must first firmly stretch it; when attempting to weaken it, one must first strengthen it.”
“When attempting to ruin it, one must first promote it; when attempting to seize it, one must first give it.”
“Softness overcos hardness, weakness overcos strength.”
“Fish cannot be removed from the deep, a nation’s sharp weapon cannot be shown to others – This is the subtle light.”
The white sleeve of the Taoist’s robe slowly unfurls.
In the distance, the cavalry charges madly, while in the sky the Celestials pick up their bows and arrows.
Wu Hua on the battlents shouts: “Dipped in fire oil, archers raise three fingers, volley, volley!”
Under the gloomy sky, nurous sparks suddenly fly from the ground to the sky, like stars abruptly lighting up. These arrows, trailing bright crimson tails, sweep across the sky above Mu Shanxue.
He slowly draws the sword, facing the galloping steeds, the knight on horseback clad in heavy armor raises a long saber high. The knight’s face bears a fierce expression, while the Taoist’s robes flutter backward, and his long hair at the temples is lifted by the Qi chanism.
Yet, what he thinks of is the spring wind, the child he carried back to the mountain gate from the jaws of a tiger; that day, the spring wind broke through the river’s surface, and the sunlight from the sky warmly shone on his face, as he held the child, like embracing a soft cloud.
He steps forward.
“Made it prosper, then allow it to fade; made it prosper, then allow it to fall.”
“Made it strong, then extinguish it; made it existent, then seize it.”
“Softness overcos hardness, weakness overcos strength.”
“Subtle light, subtle light!”
This ti everyone hears the Taoist’s voice.
The longsword suddenly erges from the scabbard.
As the sword scabbard leaves the Tongchen Sword’s edge, it disintegrates into invisible ashes and dust. Mu Shanxue bites his finger, mixing his blood with Chong He’s blood together, his finger strokes over the sword edge.
The Taoist robe billows up, those drifting clouds driven by the Qi chanism constantly retreating backward.
The squealing warhorse abruptly halts, reluctant to move forward.
The Taoist’s aura becos grand.
“My uncle said I was indulging in foolish dreams.”
He murmurs to himself, “What’s wrong with indulging in foolish dreams? Always dreaming, this ti I will completely indulge in a grand dream of the Spring and Autumn, little junior brother, you’ve always given everything since young, this ti, can you give your life’s destiny?”
“I will exchange it with Jiangnan’s swallows, with winds and snow from the Northern Frontier, with Penglai’s whales, and the silver bells from the southern trees. I will count to three, and if you don’t speak, it ans you agree.”
“One,”
“Two,”
“Three.”
He lifts his head to look at the clouds in the sky, smiling.
“You shouldn’t have told , that is the Tao marker.”
Holding the sword, he raises the sword edge high, as if holding a part of the sky.
His Qi chanism bursts forth, almost instantaneously, and the cavalry forcibly charges, slashing their sabers at the horse’s rump, the warhorses, startled, throw their instincts aside, rushing forward like waves.
In the sky, the Celestials, using their elevated positions, scatter arrows densely like rain, which break through the air, dimming the light of the sky, as the sky suddenly darkens.
Wu Hua reaches for an arrow but grasps emptiness, as the quiver is already empty.
Everyone hears the Taoist’s voice, distant and ethereal, as if the entire Heaven and Earth are responding to him.
“Land Immortal, not my wish.”
“The subtle light approach ends here.”
So high enough that one day a person touching the Immortal Realm voluntarily abandoned the Taoist Foundation.
Since climbing the mountain at age six, never leaking a breath of Pure Qi cycling around, now dispersing.
Mu Shanxue’s temples instantly turn snow-white, holding the sword, calmly.
“I, Mu Shanxue, trade this body for my junior brother’s rit.”
“Mu Shanxue trades this body to pave the way for my junior brother.”
“Mu Shanxue trades this body to alter my junior brother’s destiny.”
Three voices project one louder than the other, surging toward the sky, the human emperor’s word promises by Nine Cauldron, a human Immortal’s word seals the mountain, the Dongfang Clan deceives Heaven and Earth to change Dongfang Ximing’s wellness, whereas Mu Shanxue trades the possibility of becoming a Land Immortal for these three sentences, utilizing his Tao Foundation to nourish Heaven and Earth, negotiating with the unfeeling Dao of Heaven and Earth.
Thunderous sounds grow louder.
He utters the last sentence.
“I bear the calamity of slaughter.”
A thunderous rumble responds within Heaven and Earth, connecting with Chong He’s fingernail blood, Mu Shanxue chuckles, suddenly charging towards the arrow storm, towards the galloping Iron Cavalry. The Iron Cavalry, like flowing steel, Mu Shanxue like snow descending from the mountain, piercingly ethereal, resembling a true Immortal descending to the mortal realm.
He collides into the Iron Cavalry and arrow rain, tearing apart the charging formation,
He alone tears through entire segnts of the foe, at the cost of severing a future as a Land Immortal, the Sword Qi soaring skyward, people in the sky falling one by one, the battle drums cleaved into fragnts by the Sword Qi of the mortal realm, the warhorses screaming as they fell, trampled by the following Iron Cavalry.
The Taoist’s white robe is stained red with blood, he has lost count of how many he has repelled, the sky has truly darkened, in the distance, light swirling like a fire dragon, countless torches resembling stars fallen upon the ground.
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