Chapter 153: The Descent of the Nine Heavens Sword

“What gives you the audacity to strike me?” The deathly stillness in Shebi’s eyes deepened, his voice growing colder and colder, like icy spikes piercing directly into Nan Luo’s heart.

Nan Luo said nothing, yet his gaze did not waver an inch. Whether from an inability to flinch or fear that any retreat might shatter his resolute spirit in an instant, he held his ground.

“Human, what gives you the courage to attack me?”

The deathly stillness in his eyes was like a pitch-black night sky, capable of swallowing all light. With his words, the oppressive chill radiating from the Azure Face Sword surged into Nan Luo’s heart, growing ever more terrifying as if the silence itself was compounding. If even a sliver of this deathly stillness were to spill onto a soul of lesser strength, that person’s vitality would be instantly extinguished…

In the art of swordsmanship, the state of mind is paramount. Without a steadfast heart, one cannot manifest a sword intent that soars with lethal energy. Especially for Nan Luo—each trial he endured only strengthened his sword intent, each hardship refining his spirit to a clearer, more polished brilliance.

Shebi’s deathly stillness, borne since the dawn of the world, surged wave after wave against Nan Luo’s increasingly resolute heart. Yet Nan Luo stood like a jade stone beneath a monstrous tide, unmoved. Like a solitary cliff between heaven and earth, weathered by the relentless passage of time, yet towering still, exuding an aura both ancient and vast.

“What gives you the audacity to strike me?” Shebi suddenly roared, his deathly aura surging skyward, scattering the clouds above. Even the raging, blood-soaked fury of the nearby Blood River could not mask it. Those watching from afar or spying through arcane means all felt the suffocating deathly stillness emanating outward, their hearts gripped by terror. They thought silently: the ancestral shaman of the Witch Clan truly possesses boundless power. Nan Luo likely does not choose to draw his sword—it is that he cannot.

“The progenitor of the Witch Clan would never allow his throat to be pierced so easily. How could a mere human transcend such a being?” In everyone’s mind, Nan Luo was but a weak man of human descent. Though they had witnessed his ruthless prowess before, deep down they could never accept it… To them, humans were always feeble, easily slaughtered at will. To see one who could end their lives so effortlessly was inconceivable.

Nan Luo remained silent, a swirl of multicolored mist flickering like candlelight upon him. Beneath the boundless deathly stillness, he flickered like a flame in the wind, perpetually on the verge of being snuffed out.

All eyes were fixed on him—on the trembling, colorful smoke, on his clenched jaw, on the unwavering gaze that refused to flinch. They waited for the moment when his vitality would be extinguished beneath the infinite stillness…

At some unknown moment, Xuan Ming turned her gaze this way. Seeing Nan Luo, a flicker of surprise crossed her eyes before vanishing into her usual cold, aloof demeanor. A faint chill circled her like a mist. Yet, she shifted her attention from the raging Blood River and the battle of the Reincarnation Brush to Nan Luo. She remembered this powerless human who once cowered in shame beneath her gaze years ago, when dissecting the corpse of the Devouring Toad.

In the blink of an eye, he had grown to such a level. What had fueled such rapid growth? The unique secret arts of the heavens and earth? The subtly superior human constitution? Or an extraordinary innate talent?

“What gives you the audacity to strike me… What gives you the audacity to strike me…” The endless void of deathly stillness enveloped Nan Luo, his silhouette blurring as if dissolving slowly into the overwhelming silence, vanishing without sound or trace, as naturally and inevitably as dust scattered by the wind.

The Blood River churned violently; blood corpses howled, as if to awaken Nan Luo from his looming disappearance.

“What gives you the audacity to strike me…”

Suddenly, as if emerging from that deathly stillness, a voice rang out: “Because I choose to.”

The words were cool and clear. As the voice fell, a white flash cut through the void—the Azure Face Sword drawn from Shebi’s throat.

“Therefore, my sword strikes…”

As the words sounded, countless rays of light burst forth in the void, instantly enveloping Shebi in brilliance. The sword’s gleam flared, and Nan Luo’s figure sharpened from the endless deathly stillness.

The sword moves with the heart—but what stirs the heart? No one sought to understand. They only saw Nan Luo, now clear and resolute in the void, his face stern and eyes as sharp and cold as the swordlight itself.

Drawing from the sword intent of the four innate killing swords of the Supreme Daoist, forged and honed through endless days and nights, Nan Luo had wrought the sword intent of his heart—an intent that grew infinitely more potent with the strengthening of his will.

A roar erupted.

Amid Nan Luo’s boundless swordlight, a dark blue-black fist surged forward, crashing toward him. Where the fist passed, space itself seemed to collapse, and a powerful deathly chill accompanied the blow.

Threads of swordlight entwined the massive fist, and in an instant, the sleeve was shredded, flesh torn asunder.

Yet the fist did not falter; even as the swordlight reduced it to a bare skeleton, the terrifying deathly aura remained undiminished. The flesh and blood cut away by the Azure Face Sword did not fall but vanished into the void, seemingly consumed by the heavens and earth.

Nan Luo’s figure flickered and vanished beneath the skeletal fist, reemerging behind Shebi.

“Mountain Splitter—”

The Azure Face Sword unleashed a blinding sword light, cleaving toward Shebi’s back with the force to sever mountains and cliffs.

Shebi snorted in fury, turning to strike with the same hand. But now, flesh and blood had regrown over the bare bones, covered by a layer of azure scales.

The moment his fist struck, Shebi’s body billowed like a rising cloud… the dark blue-black fist swelled to countless times its size, a single blow threatening to shatter the very heavens.

Boom—

Sand and dust whipped into a swirling storm.

Nan Luo, wielding a giant sword capable of cleaving mountains, soared upward, ascending into the ninth heaven amid the clouds.

Shebi’s legs sank deep into the sand, but with a furious roar, he leapt free, howling toward the sky. His voice shook the vast wilderness, and the deathly stillness rolled wildly through the heavens. Watching from afar, many fled in terror.

They had only heard tales of the Witch Clan’s ancestral shaman’s feats, never seen him in action. Today, seeing him firsthand, they realized the mighty sorcerers they once admired would crumble to dust before this ancestor even lifted a finger.

As the onlookers fled, Nan Luo descended from the ninth heaven, his Azure Face Sword stretching dozens of feet, his body unchanged.

The sword’s tip pointed downward, plunging vertically toward Shebi, with Nan Luo following the blade, hand forming a sword seal resting on the hilt.

It mirrored the moment Xuan Ming descended from the ninth heaven, piercing the devouring giant toad and cleaving the mountain in one stroke.

The sky churned with swirling, multicolored auspicious clouds, thickening with Nan Luo’s descent and spreading through the void. In moments, they blotted out the sun and moon, pressing down upon the earth. At that moment, even the Blood River’s overwhelming bloodlust and the Reincarnation Brush’s terrifying aura were obscured.

Shebi roared skyward, mouth wide, clouds swirling in all directions. He absorbed the primal energy of the boundless world into his mouth. Instantly, his aura surged manyfold, saturating him with deathly stillness and a dim, grayish aura.

He became like a towering mountain, his breath bound to the infinite earth itself. With a mere turn, a slight movement, the entire space seemed to tremble.

“Roar!” Shebi bellowed in fury. In all his years, no one had ever harmed him even slightly. Yet just moments ago, due to a moment’s carelessness, a mere human pierced his throat and escaped. Since then, that same human had repeatedly attacked and wounded his physical form—how could he bear this?

Shebi lifted his gaze toward Nan Luo, descending amid a cascade of multicolored clouds from the ninth heaven, and howled with rage, “When I roamed the heavens and earth, all humanity cowered trembling beneath my feet. Today, I shall nail you to the ninth heaven itself, where you will endure endless thunder and lightning strikes, your divine soul seared by the celestial flames of tribulation—”

Shebi’s voice echoed across the wilderness. Even those far away could hear him. From vantage points with clear sightlines, many looked up toward the western sky, witnessing the multicolored clouds spreading across the heavens, a colossal sword, and a figure clad in azure robes descending from the ninth heaven.