Chapter Forty-Eight: Advancement!
“What’s happening? Why is the earth starting to split open?” Mo Yi looked around in panic, his voice trembling.
The sword was aimed squarely at Mo Yi. Unlike before, all its icy gleam was now unleashed. In an instant, that ancient pressure swept in every direction, leaving everyone in awe at such a presence—perhaps this was but a drop in the ocean of this sword’s true power.
“This sword is drawn for the self that has died,” Xu Xing said, gazing at his reflection in the blade—one part handsome, two parts cold.
Beneath his feet, the Bagua Field cracked open. Brambles as thick as a man’s waist shot from the earth, lashing toward Xu Xing. Calm and unhurried, Xu Xing gripped his sword, closed his eyes, and listened to the world around him. Sensing the strange movement, he slashed vertically and struck horizontally, leaving a trail of radiant, iridescent light in his sword’s wake.
When blade met bramble, Xu Xing felt a heaviness in his hand. With a mighty shout, the long-contained power within him exploded forth. The sword sliced through the brambles as though through mud, severing them in two, and green blood stained the blade.
“What! My summoned Wood Spirit—how could you cut it down so easily? Still, it makes no difference,” Mo Yi muttered doubtfully.
More and more brambles sprang up at Xu Xing’s feet, encasing him. Mo Yi was not idle either—one hand drew a square, the other a circle, and within this space countless fireballs erupted.
“Fusion of Wood and Fire!” Mo Yi cried.
Xu Xing’s blade rose and fell, cutting through the brambles as though they were nothing. Yet soon, he realized the problem—he could not close in on Mo Yi, trapped as he was by the Wood Spirit. Fireballs shot out, igniting the brambles, making the air stiflingly hot.
It was nearly impossible for Xu Xing to escape; these brambles were too troublesome, impossible to clear away, like trying to stem a river with a blade—cutting the water only makes it flow faster.
Gradually, Xu Xing grew weary. His sword no longer danced like a storm wind. Even though the blade was incomparably sharp, unmatched in its force, the brambles grew too quickly for him to keep up. This could not go on.
Gripping the sword with both hands, he poured his spiritual energy into it. The blade shone with seven radiant hues. Dazzling lights shot out, the battlefield became as resplendent as a starry night.
The sword rose, brambles fell. One upward slash, and the bramble thicket was cut down. Sword energy crisscrossed the domain, spiritual power mingling with the blazing wind. Even as the brambles kept growing, it seemed Xu Xing had grasped something new—he entered a state of transcendence, his entire being radiating seven-colored starlight.
In that moment, he outshone even the crimson sun hanging on the horizon.
“What is happening?” Mo Yi stared, wide-eyed, at the sword in Xu Xing’s hand, deep in thought.
Soon, the brambles could no longer keep up with Xu Xing’s sword. Now he crouched, sword angled at Mo Yi.
“Not good, he’s going all out—intending to ambush me? To kill with one blow? I won’t let you succeed.”
The brambles ceased their assault, and Mo Yi crouched on the ruined ground, drawing the symbol for earth. A stone wall surged from the earth, ten stories tall, solid and seamless.
“What? Mo Xi possesses a third spiritual root—the Earth Root that forms this stone wall! How terrifying!”
Many gasped in astonishment, then turned to Xu Xing, bewildered—why did he stand motionless?
“You fools,” someone explained, “Xu Xing is gathering all his remaining power for one final strike. He’s poured all his energy into that sword for an all-or-nothing blow. Mo Yi has done the same, using everything he has to defend. They’re gambling—on whether attack or defense will prevail!”
Just as realization dawned, Xu Xing moved—he moved!
“Huh? Where did this wind come from?” someone wondered as the breeze tossed their hair, though no one could say from whence it blew.
They looked up at the blue sky, saw distant clouds gathering. When they returned to themselves, they were stunned:
“Where is Xu Xing?”
A thunderous crash resounded. Someone stood, sword in hand, laughing toward the heavens, his blade planted amidst the rubble.
Within the domain, Xu Xing lay fallen.
“Ridiculous. How could you hope to match someone with three spiritual roots?” came a faint, mocking voice.
Xu Xing lay at the foot of the impregnable stone wall, now reduced to ruins. Mo Yi too had collapsed, his enormous form shrinking back to its normal shape. Within the domain, only shattered debris separated the two.
A gust of wind swept through, yellow dust billowing. Xu Xing was buried beneath slabs of stone, his sword left standing atop the wreckage, swaying in the wind.
Laboriously, Mo Yi forced himself up, swallowing a handful of pills from his cosmic pouch. Radiant light burst from his body. Soon enough, Mo Yi stood, gazing at the ruins, his expression still unsettled after a long pause.
This battle had been too arduous, too perilous; the fear lingered in Mo Yi’s heart.
“I cannot deny your strength,” he admitted. “Without drawing on the power of the Root Tree or using a mythical weapon, you still forced me to this point. You are worthy of respect. But remember—I am stronger!”
“This time, it’s not just you who will die. That girl, Zi Yan, must also perish! Everyone around you will die!”
“I will seal your bones in the forbidden zone of Ocean City, so you may never see the light of day again.”
The Bagua Field was deathly silent.
From the west came the sound of weeping, lingering across the heavens, haunting and unending.
This place seemed to have sunk into an endless cataclysm, so quiet it was terrifying.
Mo Yi turned to the field, shouting, “Cheer for me! I won! Where is my applause—hurry!”
No one answered, not even Li Chunyin, who looked dispirited. After years of scheming, was Xu Xing truly dead?
For a moment, Li Chunyin was at a loss, but he forced a smile and shouted, “Young Master Mo is the greatest! Xu Xing deserved to die!”
His was the only voice on the square, quickly swept away by the wind, returning silence.
“Is Xu Xing really gone? He’s of the Guilty Clan—how could he just die?”
“No, impossible, Xu Xing is not gone! He is of the Guilty Clan—he cannot be so fragile.”
“Xu Xing cannot be dead. The earth may cover his body, but his will forever soars above the soil!”
A mournful song arose, singing the praises of the Guilty Clan, its voice soaring through the clouds.
The elegy lingered beneath the sky, bringing with it clouds of dark omen.
Rain began to fall.
The rain was gentle, moistening the softest places in every heart.
No one wished for the last scion of the Guilty Clan to die.
Mo Yi looked up at the aged elder and shouted, “Old man, I won! Let me out, release the domain!”
The old man replied calmly, “Victory has not yet been decided.”
A storm of gossip erupted.
The song for the Guilty Clan’s dead grew louder, spreading farther, until it vanished at the farthest edge of the sky.
Rain fell, wetting the collapsed ruins, turning the broken stones into golden mud.
The stones began to tremble. From beneath them, a sapling sprouted.
Beneath the rain and the mournful song, the sapling grew into a bodhi tree three stories tall.
The sword planted in the ground shot toward the edge of the domain, as if it would pierce the very sky.
But that was not to be—the sword flew back beneath the fallen stones, and a pair of mud-streaked hands parted the rubble, grasping the hilt!
A young man climbed from the ruins!
Outside the domain, some wept and embraced, some smiled through tears, not knowing why they felt such emotion.
Perhaps it was because Xu Xing was the last of the Guilty Clan. Perhaps it was his spirit that moved them all.
In the arena, everyone—even Li Chunyin—shouted a single name:
“Xu Xing!”
Mo Yi stared in terror at the crowd outside the domain—even Li Chunyin had betrayed him! Gritting his teeth, he snarled, “Li Chunyin, you traitorous cur. So be it.”
When Mo Yi turned, Xu Xing was already soaring in the sky, standing alone beneath the crimson sun.
Mo Yi sliced his wrist, his blood flowing into his broken blade, and swallowed three crimson-brown skull-shaped pills from his pouch. His form swelled to thirty stories high. Before him, an impregnable stone wall rose again, bristling with brambles. Li Chunyin shouted, “Come on!”
“I’ll tear you apart, snap your ribs, grind your bones to dust!”
Xu Xing opened his mouth; his voice thundered across the arena like a storm:
“My history is mine to write!”
“In days past, blessed with six innate talents, I stood at the summit from the moment I emerged. But persecuted by Li Chunyin, I was forced to seek power through forbidden means, and was cast out by the Three Sects, stripped of recognition.”
“In bitter hatred, I struck down Li Chunyin, leaving him near death. The Li family hunted me relentlessly, severed my cultivation, and only by a master’s grace did I survive in obscurity until now.”
“Today, I am reborn in the ashes. The master has rebuilt my bones, opened my meridians, restored my spiritual roots, and allowed me to break through once more—to reach Foundation Establishment.”
“Let all filth be swept away! Begone, insects! Repent in hell!”
With that, Xu Xing pressed his palms together. Behind him, the bodhi tree burst into a radiance more dazzling than the brightest star.
From the bodhi tree, a liquid golden core transformed into five leaves, spiraling together—crimson, azure, luminous green, blazing gold, and deep orange. Within those five vibrant leaves, a longsword took shape.
“Blade returns to its sheath; every soul finds its way home. Oblivion!” Xu Xing roared.
The sword pierced the stone wall from afar, as if rending space and halting time itself.
The wall exploded in an instant; within the domain, a giant fell.
Looking within, yellow dust swirled—nothing but chaos and confusion.
The aftershocks of the battle battered the domain like some outerworldly force, plunging it into darkness.
And then, astonishingly, the domain vanished.
All eyes turned—yet Xu Xing was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is Xu Xing?”
“Above the blue sky, beneath the crimson sun.”
Looking up, they saw Xu Xing, riding his sword, alone beneath the blazing sun.