Chapter 81: The Fading of Azure Beauty

Those unfamiliar with Nanluo, seeing him now so cold and grim, exuding a murderous aura, would only think he had always been such a person. But the surviving people of the Yangping tribe knew well that in the past, though Nanluo spoke little, he never once wore a cold expression toward anyone; he would greet every person with a gentle smile.

Yet at this moment, he was so chillingly severe that a fierce surge of pride welled up within their hearts.

The man clad in a blood-red robe turned pale in an instant. His face, previously only brooding and oppressive with murderous intent, suddenly twisted into a hideous snarl. “If that is so, then—”

A metallic ring echoed.

The sword at Nanluo’s waist was already unsheathed, its blade flashing with a cold wave of energy that swept by in an instant.

When the crowd regained their senses and looked again, the man in red was already lying in two pieces on the ground. The blood-colored sword he had gripped in his hand was also severed.

Such a sudden outcome plunged the entire space into silence. No one had expected the fight to end so swiftly.

“That blow was for Sister Luoshui... That blow...” After a brief pause, Little Tiger grew even more frenzied. Each stroke of his blade was heavy, the sound of steel scraping bone mingling with his wild cries, echoing through the void.

At that moment, White Wolf suddenly began to wail in agony, his screams rending the air. It was impossible to tell whether his pain came from Little Tiger’s blade or the death of his second brother.

Nanluo did not know the name of the man he had slain with a single stroke; he only knew this was the second brother of the wolf demon who hung from the gallows, and that there was an elder brother who served in the celestial court. Judging from the aura he emanated, his power was only slightly weaker than Nanluo’s, but before Nanluo, he had not a shred of resistance.

In that moment, Nanluo had given no thought to the outcome of the battle. After telling his opponent to leave and receiving only threats in response, he acted on impulse, driven by the energy that surged within him. His killing intent burst forth through the blade of the Azure Beauty Sword, and the power that erupted was so overwhelming that even an opponent nearly his equal could not withstand it for an instant.

When that sword was unleashed, Nanluo felt as if anyone standing before him would be cut down—there was only a single-minded intent to kill, a determination that multiplied the force of his blade many times over.

Yet, after that stroke, he suddenly realized that more than half of his own spiritual power had been consumed, and a wave of weakness washed over him. Composing himself, he was startled to find that his divine consciousness had been entirely expended in that single strike.

Standing quietly beneath the setting sun, Nanluo pondered for a long while before finally understanding. That sword had drawn not a trace of energy from heaven and earth, but relied solely on his own power, infused with his entire soul and driven by the killing intent in his heart, erupting in an instant with such force. Looking again at the wolf’s corpse on the ground, he could not help but feel as if he had used a broadsword to kill a chicken.

He could not precisely gauge the true might of that sword, but he understood its flaw: if the enemy survived the blow, he himself would be left in grave danger. Yet, this technique could only be brought to such a level when the strength of his intent reached an extreme. Even if he returned to his peak and attempted the strike again, its power would be much diminished. Nonetheless, this experience had elevated his understanding of swordsmanship, and for the first time he truly set foot upon his own unique path.

To wield the sword with the heart, to wield the sword with the spirit—the blade became an extension of one’s own will. That will might be as fragile as a blossom in spring, yet sometimes more terrifying than any cosmic law.

Nanluo departed once more, leaving the white wolf demon to be skinned and flayed.

That Little Tiger was the very boy who had once asked Nanluo if he was an immortal in the Yangping clan; no one had expected that after all these years, he too would enter the path of cultivation. Nanluo imparted to him two more layers of the foundational teachings, and told him that if he ever reached the level of refining spirit and returning to the void, and if Nanluo had not returned, he should seek him in the celestial court. Little Tiger, eyes red with tears, nodded; in that moment, he was a child again, all traces of his earlier frenzy gone. In daily life, he was fiercely competitive and now the strongest among the Yangping tribe.

As Nanluo departed, a cloud of five-colored auspicious mist formed beneath his feet, lifting him slowly into the air. Even he could not say why he did so, only that he felt it was what they longed to see—so he did it.

He flew on until the distant green mountains overlapped in layers, and only then did he conceal himself and slip into the void. He was returning to the celestial court, not so swiftly as when he returned to the Yangping clan, and along the way he pondered the application of the Azure Beauty Sword. Only now did he truly sense the power of an innate spiritual treasure.

A streak of white light tore through the void, shearing a towering tree down to a bare trunk in a blink. The white light flashed from the sky to the mountainside, swifter than the eye could follow; should anyone have witnessed it, all they would have seen was a white flash in the air, never catching sight of the tree that had been stripped to a stump in that instant.

In the mountains, where many wild beasts had gained a measure of spiritual awareness, a wild boar lying in the woods suddenly turned to a hedgehog beside him and cried out, “Look! There’s someone over there—eh? He’s gone already.”

The hedgehog looked up but saw nothing at all, and grumbled loudly, “You oaf, trying to fool me again! Next time I won’t take you to play with Butterfly Girl in South Mountain.”

“Hey, I’m an honest pig—never tricked anyone. Don’t wrong me. I know you just want an excuse not to take me to see Butterfly Girl.”

“You’re the sly one, always tricking me. You say there’s someone, but where is he?”

“I really did see someone—wearing blue robes, more handsome than the South Mountain King. You could tell at a glance he was a great immortal. If he hadn’t left so quickly, I’d have rushed out to ask him to take me as his disciple.” The wild boar lay among the leaves, gazing skyward with longing.

The hedgehog shook his head dismissively and suddenly said, “When did that old locust hag turn into a tree trunk?”

“You’re just trying to copy my tricks and fool me. That old hag’s power is almost as great as the South Mountain King’s. How could she turn into a tree trunk? Lying is a skill—you’re not convincing at all. I can hear the lies with my ears.” The boar lowered his head, speaking without even looking up.

“I’m not lying! Look quick, or I’ll poke you!” The hedgehog shouted excitedly.

Whether it was the tone or the threat of being poked, the wild boar got up and looked.

“Butterfly Girl! She really became a tree trunk!”

The boar and the hedgehog raced over to the tree that had been stripped to a bare trunk and shouted, “Granny Locust, how did you end up like this?”

The trunk trembled slightly and a tearful voice came from within: “How should I know? I just saw a streak of white light fall from the sky, and the next thing I knew, I’d become a tree trunk. Heaven curse it! I wasn’t bothering anyone, just standing on the hill enjoying the view—and I got cut down... oh, woe is me...”

Nanluo, of course, had no idea that a sword stroke, guided by a sudden impulse, had inadvertently shorn a tree spirit who had awakened to consciousness.

He knew that if one reached the highest levels of the Yellow Court scripture, one could make the world obey one’s words—but that required endless time and spiritual insight, perhaps never to be achieved in a lifetime. Yet with this Azure Beauty Sword, he suddenly found himself able to act upon a whim, and the power was considerable.

He had always lacked any particularly potent offensive techniques. Kong Xuan had never taught him, nor had he learned any in the Palace of the Supreme Ultimate. Only from Zhu Rong had he inherited the “Manifestation of Heaven and Earth” technique, but after his encounter with the tribes of Houtu, when he was nearly shot by Houyi’s sneak attack, he had grown reluctant to use it.

Instead, the sword intent passed to him by the enigmatic Tongtian Daoist had become his favorite. But what belonged to others was still theirs; only true personal insight could make it one’s own. Otherwise, like the laws of nature themselves—present everywhere, yet useless if not mastered—it would be in vain.

Now, at last, he had something truly his own, though all of it had been learned from various sources, each now transformed into something unique to him.

“When I unleash that sword, it means I have accumulated boundless resentment and killing intent, and something utterly intolerable has occurred... May I never have cause to use it; may it bring peace to my heart when I do... Let this sword be named ‘Withering’—withering of my heart, or of another’s life.” So Nanluo thought, and the entire sword method that had begun to take shape in his mind because of it, he named the Azure Beauty Sword Technique.