No demons in all realms

Chapter 39 Sparring

The two walked to an open space at the foot of the mountain.

The open space was not large, about twenty feet in circumference, and was covered with wild grass that was more than a foot tall. When the wind blew, the green waves rolled. The open space was surrounded by a dense forest of tall trees that blocked out half the sky.

Qian Jiuri stood on the east side of the open space and drew a sword from his waist. The sword was not long, a little over two feet, and was completely black without any luster.

Su Yang had never seen this sword before, but he could sense that it was imbued with celestial energy. This sword was a celestial artifact, and of a high grade.

"This sword is called Chenyuan." Qian Jiuri stroked the sword, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "It's been with me for over forty years. I brought it from the Zhengyang Sect back then. Now that the Zhengyang Sect is gone, all that's left is this sword."

Su Yang did not speak.

Qian Jiuri gripped the hilt of his sword, the tip pointing at Su Yang. "Come on, let me see just how strong this genius really is."

Su Yang held the Thousand-Pound Fan in his hand, the fan closed, like a short stick. He did not make the first move, but stood there, sensing Qian Jiuri's every move.

Qian Jiuri moved first; his movements were so fast that Su Yang's senses couldn't keep up.

It wasn't speed that was fast, but change that was fast. His footsteps were erratic, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, his movements were sometimes forward, sometimes backward. Every step he took landed on the weakest spot in Su Yang's perception, and every sword strike was aimed at the position Su Yang was least able to defend.

In his hand, the Abyss Sword was like a black venomous snake, silent, fast, and ruthless. Before the blade even arrived, the sword energy preceded it. That sharp sword intent was like invisible needles, piercing Su Yang's vital points.

Su Yang remained calm.

He stood still, his feet not moving, but he slightly turned his body to dodge the first sword.

Qian Jiuri's second sword followed immediately, this time aimed at his back, at a tricky angle, as if a hand had grown out from behind him.

Su Yang's body swayed like a leaf in the wind, drifting slightly with the trajectory of the sword wind before dodging it again.

Qian Jiuri's third, fourth, and fifth sword strikes were all faster and more ruthless than the last.

The Abyss Sword drew black arcs in the air, its sword energy cutting the surrounding weeds to pieces.

Su Yang dodged left and right amidst the sword light, each time avoiding the blade perfectly, no more, no less, without showing any expression on his face, remaining calm as if he were doing something very ordinary.

Qian Jiuri sheathed his sword, took two steps back, and frowned. "Why didn't you fight back?"

"I'd like to see your swordplay style first," Su Yang said.

"Have you finished watching?"

"I've finished watching it."

"Then show us your true skills."

Qian Jiuri drew his sword again, this time without testing the waters, and immediately launched a killing move.

The Abyss Sword emitted a deep clang in his hand, and the black light on its blade intensified, like a black dragon leaping out of the abyss and lunging at Su Yang with its mouth wide open.

Su Yang moved. He did not retreat, but instead walked towards the sword.

The Thousand-Pound Fan unfolded in his hand, and the dark red light on its surface rose like a blood moon, colliding with the black dragon.

With a loud bang.

The shockwaves from the collision of the two forces caused the surrounding trees to sway and fall with a rustling sound.

Qian Jiuri's arm jerked, and the Abyss Sword almost slipped from his grasp. He took a step back to steady himself, and his expression changed.

This fan felt incredibly heavy to him!

Su Yang gave him no chance to catch his breath.

The Thousand-Pound Fan danced in his hands, sometimes closing and sometimes opening. When closed, the Thousand-Pound Fan would strike the Abyss Sword with each blow as heavy as a thousand pounds, making Qian Jiu Ri's hands numb. When opened, the baleful aura on the fan surface burst forth, like an invisible wall, blocking Qian Jiu Ri's sword from the outside.

Qian Jiuri's sword was so fast that most people couldn't even see its shadow. But Su Yang's perception was even faster. He didn't need to use his eyes to see; he only needed to use his senses to capture every subtle movement of Qian Jiuri—the contraction of his muscles, the change in his breath, the deflection of the sword's edge—all of which he could clearly see without the slightest error.

Qian Jiuri stabbed fifty-seven times, and Su Yang blocked thirty-seven of them without missing a single one.

Qian Jiuri's breathing became erratic, not because he was physically exhausted, but because his mind was in turmoil.

He cultivated for over sixty years, from the Zhengyang Sect to the human realm, from the True Immortal Realm to the Tribulation Transcending Realm, and then from the Tribulation Transcending Realm back to the True Immortal Realm. His swordsmanship was honed in the face of life and death; every sword strike was a killing move, and every move was deadly.

But Su Yang caught it all, he caught it all, even though this person had only been cultivating for ten years.

Qian Jiuri took a deep breath, twirled the Chenyuan Sword in his hand, and the sword's momentum suddenly changed, from sharp to heavy, from fast to slow. Each sword strike was like pushing a mountain forward, slow but unstoppable.

This is the Zhengyang Sword Technique of the Zhengyang Sect, the final move: Zhengyang Dangkong (The Sun Shines Brightly).

When Su Yang sensed that sword strike, his heart skipped a beat.

That sword wasn't aimed at any part of his body, but at his spirit, his momentum, and his very soul.

The sword's intent arrived before the sword itself, like a blazing sun shining down, making even his righteous spirit feel hot.

Su Yang did not back down.

He held the Thousand-Pound Fan to his chest, its surface closed, and infused it with righteous energy. He did not use any evil energy or the restrictive power of the Thousand-Pound Fan, only his righteous energy.

The Thousand-Pound Fan emitted a clear, ringing sound in his hand. It was not the sound of metal, but the sound of pages turning, the sound of scholars reciting, and the sound of hundreds of children reading together.

He unfurled the Thousand-Pound Fan and threw it in Qian Jiuri's direction; the force of this fan was even greater than a smash.

A surge of righteous energy emanated from the fan, like a gust of wind, scattering Qian Jiuri's sword intent and shattering his sword momentum.

The Abyss Sword paused in mid-air for a moment, then was pushed back by that force, its hilt striking Qian Jiuri's chest.

Qian Jiuri took three steps back, each step leaving a deep footprint in the ground. On the third step, his back slammed into a large tree, and the trunk cracked with a snap.

Qian Jiuri stood there, his chest aching and his hand still buzzing with the sound of the Shenyuan Sword.

Su Yang stood in the middle of the open space, his Thousand-Pound Fan clasped in his hand, his robes fluttering in the wind. His face showed no pride, no arrogance, and not even any expression.

Qian Jiuri looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

Then he laughed, a laugh that was somewhat bitter, somewhat relieved, and somewhat indescribable.

"I can't deny getting old." Qian Jiuri sheathed the Chenyuan Sword at his waist, sat down against the tree trunk, looked up at Su Yang, his eyes full of emotion, "I've been cultivating for over sixty years, and you've been cultivating for ten. I thought I could at least last a hundred moves against you, but I didn't even last fifty."

Su Yang walked over and sat down next to him.

"You didn't use your full strength," Su Yang said.

Qian Jiuri shook his head: "And what about you? You didn't use your full strength either, did you?"

Su Yang paused for a moment, then did not answer.

"You're useless," Qian Jiuri said for him. "You didn't use any of the evil energy of the Thousand-Pound Fan, nor did you use any of the restrictive power on the fan. You just used a broken fan and your righteous aura to defeat me."

Su Yang did not deny it.

"Truly a genius." Qian Jiuri looked at the sky and sighed deeply. "Old Jin is right, you really can do it."

Su Yang did not speak.

The wind blew, blowing the two people and the fallen leaves all over the ground.

"Old Qian," Su Yang suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

"You can also wait until I unlock the third restriction on the Thousand-Pound Fan. Once my cultivation reaches the Great Perfection of the True Immortal Realm, I will go to the Immortal Sect with you. I will collect what Xu Ritian owes you."

Qian Jiuri did not respond.

He stared at Su Yang's profile, at his unseen eyes, at the scars and weathered face on his face, for a long time.

"Okay." It was just one word, but there was a force in his voice, a force that had been waiting for more than forty years.