Chapter 85: The Battle to the Death

This was a death trap, set up for the sole purpose of killing him. The terrifying thought flashed through Nan Luo’s mind like lightning. He had decided to come to the Azure Python Cliff on a sudden impulse; no one else had suggested it. Yet these two had managed to track him here, which made Nan Luo suspect that the entire situation had been carefully orchestrated.

When Nan Luo left Buzhou Mountain, it never crossed his mind that someone might be following him from afar, so he hadn’t bothered to check his trail. In this primordial world, countless secret arts existed that could tail a person without making a sound—perhaps not even Di Jun could name them all.

They hadn’t made their move until now, only after he’d ventured far from Buzhou Mountain. Nan Luo guessed it was because they feared he might escape back to the Heavenly Court or that someone from the court might intervene. So, they’d waited to act until he was this far out.

There was no time for further thought—the overwhelming, mountain-crushing aura of Xing Tian surged forth, his massive battle axe cleaving straight down at Nan Luo’s head.

Wherever the giant axe passed, the void shattered inch by inch.

Nan Luo’s figure floated back, as light as willow catkins in the wind. Though his movement seemed leisurely, he evaded Xing Tian’s strike by the narrowest of margins, his sword flashing forth as he retreated.

The Cyan Visage Sword became a dazzling streak of white, stabbing straight for Xing Tian’s throat. Xing Tian’s axe technique, though at first glance wild and overpowering, suddenly turned agile and ethereal. His body, propelled forward by the charge, did not falter in the face of Nan Luo’s sword. The giant axe in his hand blocked Nan Luo’s swift thrust, pressing hard against the sword’s tip with savage force.

He stepped through the void as if treading solid ground, space quaking beneath his feet. The other massive axe in his left hand swept down with the speed of lightning. Nan Luo, tapping his sword on the axe’s surface, seemed to be sent flying by the impact.

Xing Tian pressed on relentlessly, his twin axes swirling around Nan Luo, sometimes swift and fierce, sometimes heavy as a falling mountain, never straying more than three inches from his body. Nan Luo, seemingly ensnared and unable to break free, danced between the axes, his own sword stabbing faster and faster.

From a distance, the two figures flickered about the clouds, elemental energies swirling chaotically around them, never stopping for an instant. One moment they fought in midair, the next, in the blink of an eye, they appeared atop a distant peak. Then, with a loud, thunderous crash, they both emerged from the shattered void, grappling anew.

The elemental energy of heaven and earth, as calm as a lake, was now stirred into wild turbulence by their battle.

Standing quietly atop a mountain below, Hou Yi watched the fierce combat in the sky. Inwardly, he mused: “Xing Tian’s talent for close combat is unrivaled, yet this Nan Luo can fight him to a standstill. I underestimated him—his abilities aren’t limited to his mysterious escape techniques; his close-quarters skills are equally formidable…”

Hou Yi was a born hunter, waiting patiently at the base of Buzhou Mountain for Nan Luo to appear. He had cultivated the Celestial Eye, a legendary art among the Wu Tribe said to pierce all concealment. At first, upon spotting Nan Luo, he’d wanted to strike immediately, but realized that Nan Luo’s power and aura had grown tremendously, and his unintentional display of evasion techniques hinted at unfathomable mastery. So, Hou Yi restrained the eager Xing Tian, waiting until Nan Luo had ventured far from Buzhou Mountain to the Azure Python Cliff before launching their assault, so that Nan Luo could not easily flee back.

He had expected Xing Tian to quickly overpower Nan Luo, forcing him to flee, and that he himself only needed to prevent Nan Luo’s escape. What he hadn’t anticipated was that Nan Luo could hold his own in close combat against Xing Tian. Hou Yi reflected on this as the fight raged on.

Xing Tian, lost in the thrill of battle, wielded his axes sometimes like a mountain collapsing, sometimes unpredictably light, their blades slicing through the air like the wind.

Hou Yi was in no rush. They had two men: one active, one passive. Xing Tian hunted, and few could last even a few days in a prolonged fight with him. The Wu Tribe’s battle techniques were unique, and Xing Tian grew stronger as the fight dragged on—battle was cultivation for him, and the longer it continued, the sharper his power became, rising without end.

For Nan Luo, the most terrifying threat was not Xing Tian, but the white-robed figure standing silently nearby. That man's eyes pierced him like arrows, keeping his nerves taut, always ready to flee.

Fearing Hou Yi’s arrows, Nan Luo kept close to Xing Tian, never allowing himself to present a clear target.

He realized that this couldn’t go on. After several days and nights of fighting, nothing would change. He never expected to defeat Xing Tian under Hou Yi’s threat. He had to escape—and the sooner, the better.

He knew how unwelcome he was in the Heavenly Court; there, everyone was eager to make trouble for him. He had slain many demons on his journey, and by now they surely knew his identity. If nothing else happened, he had little to fear. But if he fought here for days, suffered serious wounds, and attracted too much attention, he could be in grave danger if an old enemy appeared.

With this in mind, Nan Luo began retreating as he fought, not aiming to break away in a single move. Ever since Hou Yi had shattered his escape technique, he realized that fleeing outright was impossible. He could only fight and withdraw, waiting for an opening.

Nan Luo darted through the air with Xing Tian close behind, axes pressing close. Xing Tian didn’t notice that Nan Luo was subtly leading him into another space. Yet Nan Luo’s heart sank, for the white-robed man below still followed at the same angle, standing atop another peak, his cold gaze as if seeing through Nan Luo’s every thought.

What chilled him wasn’t just the white-robed man’s pursuit. At some point, more and more cultivators had gathered atop distant peaks or in the void, watching. This was the scenario Nan Luo feared most.

Yet if he could provoke chaos, perhaps he could escape. He was plotting just that when the white-robed man’s clear, cold voice rang out: “The Wu Tribe acts, borrowing heaven and earth to kill our enemy. Gentlemen…please…make way.”

Though the word “please” was used, the tone was imperious and cold, brimming with unyielding arrogance.

Hearing Hou Yi’s voice, Nan Luo realized at last the white-robed man's name. At first startled, he then felt a surge of joy. He thought, “In this world, who isn’t proud and self-important, especially those who claim dominion over mountains? Speaking thus, he’s bound to provoke their anger.”

But just as he expected an angry confrontation, he saw that many of those standing nearby quietly retreated, and others shifted their positions as well, clearly making way in deference to Hou Yi’s words.

Nan Luo hadn’t realized the Wu Tribe commanded such awe throughout the land, that even these self-proclaimed lords of the mountains feared them so deeply.

His heart grew colder still. Suddenly, Xing Tian’s strength seemed to surge. Where before Nan Luo could freely advance and retreat beneath the swinging axes, now the space itself felt sticky and oppressive, his movements constrained. The space carved by Xing Tian’s axes had changed.

It was as if Xing Tian had discerned Nan Luo’s patterns of evasion. The axes now always seemed to follow some hidden thread of intent, and no matter how Nan Luo twisted and turned, he could no longer dodge as freely as before, often forced to meet brute force with brute force.

Clang—clang—after several forced parries with his sword, Nan Luo felt deeply the terror of Xing Tian’s power. It was a relentless, unflagging onslaught, each axe strike heavier than the last, each one doubling in force, requiring no pause or preparation.

More and more onlookers gathered, thousands now revealing themselves, high and low in cultivation, all watching the battle unfold in the sky. The powerful recognized Nan Luo’s human form and laughed quietly with their companions, speculating how many rounds he could last against Xing Tian’s axes. The less knowledgeable, unable to discern his race, wondered who this man was to have provoked the wrath of the Wu Tribe and brought down the pursuit of two of their most fearsome warriors.

A misty radiance now enveloped Nan Luo, shrouding his body. This was his counter to Xing Tian’s axes, which seemed able to lock onto his aura. As he hoped, the axes were no longer so terrifying, and soon, sword-light shimmered, the glow swirling, and Nan Luo pressed the attack, wrapping Xing Tian in a storm of sword flashes.

The sword-light was ethereal as immortal clouds, hidden killing intent swirling in the surging energy.

“Well struck! Watch as I take your head to avenge Zhaomian!” came Xing Tian’s thunderous voice from the endless storm of sword-light.

Nan Luo’s heart turned to ice. Unknowingly, he had been drawn into a battle to the death.