Chapter Sixty-Four: You Have Lost

Xu Xing lifted his head as raindrops pattered against his shoulders. He tilted his head slightly, eyes lingering on the swordsman collapsed on the ground—yet he knew the swordsman was not dead.

“The rain falls heavier now, no, perhaps it is the swords that have grown sharper.”

The rain drummed upon the dark tiles of the eaves, making a rustling sound, while the flowers, grasses, and trees standing tall along the streets were battered and left scarred and desolate.

This was the Sword Rain—the power belonging to the Banner of Swords.

Staring at the swordsman, Xu Xing was astonished to see that his body was shrouded in Daoist resonance, musical notes swirling about him, and as waves of Daoist sound echoed around him, a wondrous melody formed.

With his body as the seed, a sapling began to grow from his temple. In the blink of an eye, the Spiritual Root Tree shot up from his crown, reaching toward the sky.

A hundred zhang, two hundred, then three hundred...

At five hundred zhang tall, the Spiritual Root Tree made Xu Xing’s brow furrow. As he had expected, this was the swordsman’s true strength.

“Come, let me see your real power,” Xu Xing said, shutting his eyes tightly and reciting a sacred scripture. The resonance of the Dao flowed into the sword formation, which expanded in the air until it stretched twenty zhang across. Within the formation, a golden rain began to fall.

“Sword Rain!”

With Xu Xing’s thunderous shout, the formation unleashed a deluge of crimson-gold sword rain, cascading down like a volcanic eruption, shaking heaven and earth, making the very ground tremble.

The sword rain coalesced into a massive sword, emanating an awe-inspiring sword intent as it stabbed toward the fallen swordsman.

With a deafening crash, a wave of water exploded on the ground, obscuring all sight of the swordsman’s fate.

In the distance, the crowd murmured:

“Could it be... has the Swordsman of Azure Sun lost?”

“Since he entered Lantern City, he’s never tasted defeat. Who would have thought his first loss would be to an unknown youth?”

“An unknown youth? He slew the Nine Swordsmen—can he still be called unknown?”

“Not necessarily. He has already summoned his Spiritual Root Tree; perhaps there is still hope.”

As everyone believed the swordsman had lost, a figure slowly emerged from the midst of the watery haze.

Seeing the sturdy figure, Xu Xing was momentarily dazed. Scratching his head, he muttered to himself,

“So, he really isn’t so easy to kill.”

The swordsman stepped forward, the Spiritual Root Tree behind him growing even more radiant, its brilliant glow mesmerizing all who beheld it. He glanced at Xu Xing and smiled faintly.

“As I thought, I was careless. You are indeed a worthy opponent.”

The swordsman then raised his hand in imitation of Xu Xing, catching raindrops in the storm, as if seeking to comprehend the rain and condense a sword from it.

Witnessing this, Xu Xing trembled slightly, doubts gnawing at him.

“Could it be? Did he, by chance, break through to the Realm of Extremity under my attack? That... should not be possible.”

As Xu Xing marveled, a sword five zhang long slowly formed in the swordsman’s hand. Indeed, what he feared most had come to pass.

“Heaven has not forsaken me. All my life I’ve lived in glory and freedom; who would have thought I would find opportunity in the hands of an unknown junior, and break through to the Realm of Extremity in one stroke.”

The swordsman spoke coldly, the rain-forged sword in his hand aimed at Xu Xing.

Xu Xing tried to attune himself, but unlike the swordsman, his foundation was yet unsettled—how could he shape a sword with mere form? Now, all hope rested with the Banner of Swords.

Within the sword formation, golden light burst forth. Xu Xing poured all his spirit into it, making the formation shine resplendently, the sword rain falling even more fiercely.

The swordsman’s left hand conjured a massive sword aimed at Xu Xing, while his right reached toward the sky. With a quiet breath, the great sword shot forth—and astonishingly, the falling sword rain in the sky halted, as if forgotten by time.

The swordsman’s sword of rain flew at Xu Xing, who dodged frantically, but the sword pursued him relentlessly. Unable to evade completely, he seized a discarded staff from the street and brought it down in a clash, meeting sword with staff.

Meanwhile, the swordsman began to ascend slowly, attempting to refine the Banner of Swords as the formation started to collapse. Its runes dimmed, and Xu Xing’s connection to the formation in his mind grew faint.

“Damn it, what should I do? If this continues, I will surely lose! And if I lose, not only I, but Senior Sister Ziyan will also die here!”

In despair, Xu Xing lamented his fate. Was there any other way?

He was not in the same league as the swordsman; his own enlightenment was pure chance, while the swordsman had honed his craft for untold years.

Techniques? Unrealistic—he had only mastered the first stance of the Scorching Method, the second was beyond his grasp. Sword skills? He had just used the Nine Lonely Sword Technique, but it was useless.

Even the sword formation, in which he had set his hopes, was losing effect against the swordsman. What else could he do?

Should he awaken the blood of the Clan of Sin? Use its power to strengthen himself? But so many people were watching—if he revealed it, he would be hunted for life. Yet now, faced with life and death, what did it matter?

At that moment, all the swords at everyone’s waists began to hum and tremble. Astonishingly, they flew into the sky toward the dark heavens. Many were confused.

“What’s happening? These are our swords—why can’t we control them?”

“No, it must be some great sword cultivator about to descend upon us, causing such a phenomenon. But who could it be?”

A vast number of swords soared skyward, vanished for a moment, then returned. To everyone’s amazement, they had flown out only to escort the arrival of another sword.

From the heavens, a dragon-scale sword ablaze with fiery sparks tore through the clouds, flanked by the people’s swords as it crossed the black night and stabbed straight at the swordsman.

With a single thrust, the swordsman was sent crashing to the ground, rolling and dragged for hundreds of meters. Strangely, the street remained unbroken, yet his treasured armor was shattered.

The dragon-scale sword then flew toward Xu Xing, smashing the sword the swordsman had just conjured with a single strike.

Its arrival lit up the silent night, prompting some to open their windows to witness the battle.

At Xu Xing’s brow, a golden sigil bearing the word “Sin” appeared. He grasped the dragon-scale sword and smiled faintly.

“So, you have come after all...”

From the distant crowd came more exclamations:

“That’s... the Clan of Sin?”

“Yes, it’s him! Quick, kill him! The Clan of Sin deserves a thousand deaths—come, brothers, now!”

“Let’s go, brothers! Slay the sinner, and the reward from the Zhuoding Sect won’t be all—we’ll gain titles and honor!”

In an instant, all eyes turned to Xu Xing with greed and murderous intent.

Xu Xing stood, wielding the Dragon-Scale Sword, rising slowly above the rain with an air of invincibility, gazing down upon the crowd. The oppressive aura made everyone bow their heads, unable to meet his gaze.

The swordsman, having recovered, screamed,

“With the bounty on the Clan of Sin and the reward from Zhuoding Sect, who wouldn’t want it? Join me—let’s take his life!”

Xu Xing, ablaze like a raging fire in the rain, glanced at the unconscious Ziyan and smiled gently.

“Look well upon this city tonight—no one shall survive.”

Hundreds surged forward, eyes wild with greed and desire. The battle began.

With the dragon-scale sword and the awakening of the Clan of Sin’s bloodline, Xu Xing’s power became unparalleled—a massacre unfolded.

That night, the city was filled with countless screams. The rain that fell was not mere rain, but a deluge of blood.

Streets and alleys were littered with broken weapons of all kinds; even the indestructible streets were left battered and scarred. Xu Xing was victorious. It was his second time invoking his bloodline’s power. When all was done and the people had fled, his eyes reddened as he gazed at the dying swordsman.

“You are Wu Si? Heartless, Speechless, Thoughtless? Unfortunately, your final name rests with me, for I am Invincible!”

“You have lost!”

From the heavens, the dragon-scale sword descended...

A man, holding a woman, vanished into the rain beneath a bamboo umbrella.

And in the shadows, an elderly fortune-teller quietly watched the battle unfold, smiling to himself...