Chapter Sixty-Five: The Enchanting Moon, Murderous Intent Soaring

This cloud seemed to rise from nowhere, drifting and unpredictable, ignoring all distance as it suddenly descended overhead.

It was different from the dark cloud that had previously enveloped Nan Luo. That earlier cloud had been silent and stealthy, akin to a sneak attack, which was why Nan Luo had been caught off guard and trapped within. This time, however, it carried a dense, murderous aura, and even before it fell, a nauseating stench flooded in, making one want to retch.

Having once suffered greatly and narrowly escaped with his life from within this black cloud, Nan Luo would not allow himself to be ensnared again. His heart tightened, and he transformed into a wisp of smoke and mist, drifting away on the wind.

Magical techniques have no fixed form; the same spell, wielded by different hands, brings forth unique subtleties. This is not a matter of power, but of understanding and ingenuity. Nan Luo had inherited the innate Earth Escape Art from Master Yangli, yet he had already surpassed his predecessor by far.

Escaping by following the earth’s aura was only one method; now, as Nan Luo turned his body into smoke and mist, he employed an even deeper usage.

The swift, uncanny sweep of the black cloud overhead caught nothing but air. It seemed to sense Nan Luo, who had already become smoke and slipped into the void, and without a moment’s pause, it spun within the emptiness, transforming into a long black spike that shot straight into the sky.

The high clouds were once clusters of white, but wherever that black spike passed, they dissolved instantly into nothingness.

A wisp of yellow smoke seeped from the void high above, thin as willow catkins, yet swelling with the wind, and in an instant becoming a mass of yellow cloud.

This yellow cloud was Nan Luo attuning himself to the Earth energy among the five elements, borrowing that power to strengthen himself. Since the battle with Xing Tian, his mastery of this move had grown deeper; if he were to face Xing Tian again now, he would not have his smoke and mist so easily scattered by a single axe blow.

The sword light remained as sharp and cold as frost and snow. On his journey toward Mount Buzhou, Nan Luo had spent months slaying the monsters that hunted and devoured men, his heart filled with killing intent, which had unconsciously infused itself into the innate sword he wielded—once merely sharp and hard, but now tinged with murderous energy.

The sword’s song echoed endlessly, trailing a long ribbon of yellow mist like a rainbow spanning the heavens, cutting through the void.

The Qingyan Sword transformed into a giant blade, several fathoms tall, wielding the might of heaven and earth as it cleaved downward.

A savage wind roared, the void trembled.

The black, ghostly cloud spike surged skyward, colliding instantly with the Qingyan Sword.

This grand clash, however, ended in utter silence. The black cloud did not withstand even a moment before the massive Qingyan Sword split it asunder.

As the sword light churned, the Qingyan Sword shredded the black cloud into countless fragments. Yet, from afar, one would see that these fragments did not scatter, but instead, arranged themselves in an orderly fashion, forming a vast net of cloud.

Nan Luo was startled. This boded ill—was he to be trapped within this strange cloud once more?

Just as he was about to withdraw, a sinister, cold laugh echoed from the void: “Heh heh, only now do you wish to flee? Far too late. When I fought for my life in battle, you had not even emerged yet!”

Nan Luo’s expression turned icy as he revealed himself, yellow smoke coiling around his form. With a flick of the Qingyan Sword in his hand, it moved like winter plum blossoming or snowflakes dancing, blooming within the black cloud.

His current situation was not as before. From a distance, one could not clearly see his body, but yellow mist and black cloud intertwined, neither side overwhelming the other.

Nan Luo was a man of few words, serene and reserved, even somewhat cold. Yet it was not that he lacked feeling—simply that he saw more clearly than most. But when he resolved to kill, he was equally resolute.

In his mind there was only one thought: to slay this foe. This pure killing intent flowed into the Qingyan Sword, which instantly emitted a chilling, soul-shaking murderous aura.

Resolute, cold, and pure killing intent surged skyward, and not even the black cloud could conceal it.

A startled voice came from within the black cloud: “So it’s an innate sword… Good… Good… Heh heh, truly my fortune is great. Today, not only will I obtain the blood of the Wu clan, but also this innate sword. Heh heh…”

Nan Luo answered not, his killing aura fierce, seeking the source of the voice and attacking. Wherever the sword light passed, it left a white line, and in no time, the black cloud was scattered, no longer able to engulf its prey.

“Heh heh…” The laughter faded, and the black cloud vanished, dispersing without a trace. Nan Luo was surprised, thinking that the speaker’s tone hardly sounded like he intended to retreat.

Despite his suspicion, the Demon Moon Mirror was already shining forth.

To Nan Luo, the man’s skills were formidable, but it was his cunning and treachery that left a lasting unease.

The mirror’s clear light rippled, revealing the surrounding void with perfect clarity. Over the years, Nan Luo had not discovered any groundbreaking new uses for the Demon Moon Mirror, but he had developed a few insights. For example, if he pictured someone’s visage and aura in his mind, the mirror could seek that aura and shine upon it—though it did have a limited range.

Nan Luo frowned slightly. This man was not one to flee—the greed in his eyes made it clear he would not give up so easily. Yet the Demon Moon Mirror could not reveal him.

He must possess some secret art to conceal all traces of himself, escaping the Demon Moon Mirror’s gaze.

Thinking thus, the Demon Moon Mirror vanished from his hand, and ripples spread through the high void. The mirror slowly emerged once more from within those ripples.

A hazy halo shrouded the Demon Moon Mirror, making it seem almost illusory, like a miniature crescent moon. The light was not intense, but soft, gently spilling silver radiance over an area of several miles, leaving no place to hide.

Though nothing seemed to change in this space, Nan Luo sensed a difference. Wherever the light reached, all was revealed in his mind without the need for sight.

A ringing note—sword light soared skyward.

As the sword light flashed, Nan Luo’s body vanished, and when the sword fell, he stood more than ten meters away.

There, a dim phantom stared in surprise at the Demon Moon Mirror in the sky—it was the shrouded black-robed figure, who had not fled at all, but had instead drawn this close.

The sword light sliced through the void like silver thread, in an instant slashing across the phantom’s neck.

Nan Luo did not pause; the sword flashed again, striking in another direction. The phantom whose neck had just been cut slowly dissipated like smoke and mist.

Beneath the hazy radiance of the Demon Moon Mirror, Nan Luo’s figure also split into shifting phantoms, moving beneath the gentle light. The sword light wove through the void like strands of silver, or like drifting willow catkins, seemingly chaotic yet exuding extreme peril.

Each phantom was cut by the sword light, only to reappear elsewhere, moving even faster than Nan Luo’s own innate Earth Escape technique.

All these phantoms maintained the same posture, gazing up at the Demon Moon Mirror, as if pondering something.

“I did not expect that, in addition to an innate sword, you would also have such an innate spiritual treasure. Heh heh, now all of it will be mine…”

He had barely finished speaking when a sword light split him apart, but this time, instead of vanishing, the cleaved phantom surged with countless black mosquitoes, which instantly scattered in all directions.

Each mosquito was jet black, with a needle-like stinger on its head and two wings on its back. With a slight quiver, they seemed to traverse space, appearing dozens of meters away in a blink. Nan Luo’s heart leapt—his sword blossomed like a lotus, the Qingyan Sword in his hand killing swathes of black mosquitoes, yet it felt as if he were striking metal, producing a clanging sound. Still more black mosquitoes now filled the space.

Looking up, Nan Luo saw a swarm of black mosquitoes pouring toward the Demon Moon Mirror overhead, its light already obscured by their mass, like a dark cloud.

As Nan Luo looked up in shock, a tiny black stinger silently darted toward him. At the same time, a small mosquito slipped through the yellow mist that shielded him, landing on the collar at the back of his neck. Its tiny eyes glowed with a faint red light, and the needle on its brow aimed straight at Nan Luo’s nape.