Sword Intent

Dazed and dizzy from the concussive blast, Wuzheng saw Zhou Wuji sweep his long sleeve forward to meet the incoming saber, and his heart sank instantly. *It's over...* Facing the goose-feather saber directly, Zhou Wuji bore immense psychological pressure. The strike's spiritual intent locked squarely onto him, carrying a domineering ferocity that seemed ready to slaughter gods if they stood in its way. Zhou Wuji knew very well that even if he unleashed the full brunt of his true qi, he could never withstand this blow—not even if he parried with his sword. Yet he had never intended to meet it head-on in the first place! The moment the five-foot goose-feather saber chopped down, Zhou Wuji twitched his hand hidden inside his sleeve, activating the Five Yin Pouch. The massive boulder stored within the pouch materialized out of thin air. A five-foot cube of solid rock stood squarely in the path of the sweeping blade. Chopping down with all his might, Wang Qi could never have imagined that a massive boulder would appear out of nowhere between them. With his momentum unstoppable, he had no way to pull his strike back, and could only hack down violently against the immense bluestone. With a resounding clang and a spray of sparks, the long blade carved a deep fissure into the rock—and snapped clean in two from the middle. Watching with wide eyes, Wuzheng beamed with pleasant surprise. His junior brother's use of the Five Yin Pouch was nothing short of exquisite! Though Wang Qi had strained to check his swing, the rebound from the boulder tore the skin between his thumbs and forefingers, leaving both hands numb. A shattered blade fragment grazed his cheek, carving a deep, bloody gouge. To Wang Qi, such flesh wounds meant nothing. The critical problem was that his saber had broken, and the explosive force of his strike had violently rebounded into him. He had held an overwhelming upper hand, yet a single misstep had instantly reversed the tide. A veteran of countless battles, Wang Qi pushed off the ground and shot backward without hesitation. Yet Zhou Wuji was already rounding the boulder. With a flick of his left sleeve, the Five Yin Pouch transformed into a shroud of black gauze, draping over Wang Qi. While the Five Yin Pouch possessed no direct lethal force, its five yin wraiths could shroud a person's six senses while relentlessly sapping their vitality. Wang Qi's vision plunged into darkness. Knowing disaster was at hand, he swept his broken saber in a wide arc, but the black gauze parted and closed seamlessly around the blade like smoke. Alarmed, Wang Qi ignited his blood and qi without a second thought, detonating the Blood Fiend Art once more. Biting the tip of his tongue, he pumped his lungs to unleash a thunderous roar. His tongue's blood shot forth like an arrow alongside the acoustic shockwave, riddling the black veil that obstructed his sight and hearing with hundreds of holes. Through those hundreds of perforations, Wang Qi saw Zhou Wuji thrusting straight forward with his sword, and heard the low, piercing whistle of the incoming blade. Wang Qi knew Zhou Wuji favored thrusting at the throat. The sword was blindingly fast, and obscured by the gauze, he could not discern its shifts clearly. Relying purely on experience and instinct, he held the broken blade across to guard his throat and face. His transition was exceedingly swift, yet he immediately sensed something was wrong—for the cold, sharp glint of the sword was aimed squarely at his chest. In the nick of time, Wang Qi inhaled sharply, caving in his chest as he retreated at top speed. His internal and external physical power were unified as one; with that single inhalation, his internal organs contracted to the extreme, flattening his chest like a sheet of paper as his entire body shot backward like an arrow. Yet Zhou Wuji's Descending Goose Sword had reached perfection, making it unimaginably swift. The instant Wang Qi moved, the tip of the sword struck his full-steel lamellar armor. The plates protecting the chest of this lamellar armor were extra thick, causing even the razor-sharp Seven Stars Sword to hitch slightly as it pierced through. That fleeting hesitation gave Wang Qi just enough time to contract his muscles again. He did not seek to clamp the blade; rather, he used his muscular contortions to wrench the position of his heart aside. Having tasted the terrifying speed of his opponent's sword, Wang Qi knew he could never fully dodge it. At the brink of death, Wang Qi reversed his retreat into a forward lunge, hurtling straight into the Seven Stars Sword. With a squelch, the thrusting blade impaled Wang Qi straight through from chest to back, yet his ferocious willingness to impale himself exceeded Zhou Wuji's expectations. The distance between them closed in an instant. Enduring the agony of a pierced chest, Wang Qi swung his broken saber savagely toward Zhou Wuji's neck. Zhou Wuji channeled true qi into the blade with his right hand. The metal hummed and vibrated violently, unleashing a thunderous eruption of true qi. Powerful as Wang Qi's physical body was, it could not suppress the true qi surging from the blade. The flesh of his chest instantly ruptured and tore apart, blowing open a gaping bloody hole from front to back. Although he had shifted his heart, it still failed to escape the detonating true qi. A Rank 7 martial artist's foundation of strength lay in blood and qi, and blood and qi were driven entirely by the heart. With his heart gravely damaged by the sword qi, Wang Qi lost the source of his might, and the force behind his broken blade dissipated. Wrapping his left sleeve around his palm, Zhou Wuji struck the broken saber. With the peerless dexterity of his Tianshu Hand, he avoided the sharp edge and slapped squarely against the flat of the blade, sending it flying. Yet the moment he struck, Zhou Wuji realized something was amiss: the saber had lacked all real force. It had clearly been a feint! Wang Qi seized that exact opening to thrust out a sudden palm. Normally, the blow would have fallen short, but his arm abruptly extended by half a foot, slamming directly into the right side of Zhou Wuji's chest. With a dull thud, shreds of cloth burst from Zhou Wuji's Daoist robe, and the ribs on the right side of his chest snapped completely. Only by instinctively flexing his muscles and circulating true qi did Zhou Wuji avoid having his torso blown apart by the strike. His throat tightened as blood rose into his mouth, nearly spraying out. Yet thanks to his powerful divine sense and the lingering blessing of the Pure Heart Divine Incantation, his mind remained remarkably calm. The instant the palm hit, Zhou Wuji ripped his sword free and slashed again. In one fluid retract-and-rise, Wang Qi's head flew into the air behind a flash of cold sword-light. First Snow Blankets the Province from the Evening Snow Sword. A single, crisp stroke severed the neck, slaying the formidable expert once and for all. Though their duel had been full of shifting tactics, the entire clash had unfolded in mere moments. The archers blasted by the dust explosion were still dizzy and disoriented, unable to climb to their feet. From the back door came the crash of a violent collapse as a horde of rogue soldiers rushed frantically inside. Enduring the excruciating pain in his chest, Zhou Wuji cast the Rejuvenation Technique on himself. A green light flashed, and the searing pain subsided immediately. Yet he knew that such severe injuries could not be cured by the Rejuvenation Technique alone. Using the Rank 7 tiger demon to convert Primordial Profound Essence would take time. Especially when physical remodeling was involved, there was no telling how long his body would take to adjust. Time was of the essence; even a momentary delay could cost him his life. Fortunately, the Rejuvenation Technique had restored his true qi and divine sense to their peak condition, temporarily keeping the agony and handicap of his wounds at bay. The enemy's bizarre dying palm strike had genuinely taken him off guard; he hadn't even had the chance to trigger the Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman. Flicking his wide sleeve, Zhou Wuji unleashed eight White Brow Needles from his left hand in rapid succession. At this moment, his perfected Tianshu Hand was displayed to its utmost. All eight White Brow Needles spun through the air, their two-inch silver bodies imbued with kinetic force rivaling that of a heavy crossbow. Dazzled by the earlier blinding flare, the eight archers and crossbowmen saw only washed-out whiteness, blind to the cold glints flying toward them. Even if they heard the sharp whistles cutting through the air in their panic, they had no time to react. Amid high-pitched whistling sounds, the White Brow Needles sank unerringly into the eyes of all eight men. Almost in unison, the eight rogue soldiers snapped their heads back and collapsed, without so much as a cry of pain. Having neutralized the archers posing the greatest threat, Zhou Wuji reached into his left sleeve, withdrew the Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman, and activated it directly with his true qi. Seven azure stars blazed to life, coalescing into an azure robe of light that draped over him from head to toe. The rogue soldiers breaching through the back door had already arrived. In the pitch-black hall, Zhou Wuji stood out like a beacon, enveloped in vibrant blue light. Even if the soldiers did not recognize Zhou Wuji, they could tell at a glance that he was extraordinary. Two heavy bows were drawn and released almost simultaneously, their arrows striking squarely against Zhou Wuji. Zhou Wuji did not dodge, letting the arrows hit his body, causing ripples to spread across the spiritual radiance formed by the Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper. He had activated the talisman precisely to draw the soldiers' attention. Wuzheng and the others had suffered repeated shocks and had virtually no fighting strength left; if the soldiers spotted them, they would surely perish. In his severely injured state, Zhou Wuji was also incapable of simply charging forward to slaughter the crowd of soldiers. Relying on the talisman's protection, Zhou Wuji opened the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment. *Rank 7 martial artist: destiny pattern three liang eight qian.* With no time to ponder, Zhou Wuji immediately converted the destiny pattern into primordial profound spirit and poured it into the Xiaoxiang Sword. Purple light unfurled, and within the pocket realm, Zhou Wuji trained relentlessly day and night in his swordcraft. Through decades of unremitting practice, he mastered the Xiaoxiang Sword completely, bringing it to supreme perfection. In the blink of an eye, Zhou Wuji's consciousness broke away from the cultivation trance. He had only one sensation now: the Seven Stars Sword in his hand seemed to have come alive. He could feel the spiritual power coursing through the runes within the sword, sense the minute nicks along the blade, and perceive the blade's unique, profound rhythm. In this state, the sword was no longer merely a magical artifact or a weapon; it had become a bridge connecting him to heaven and earth, to all things, and to all living beings. His formidable divine sense could now be channeled through the weapon, transforming into a far sharper and more profound power. Normally, divine sense was used to observe the world and govern true qi to weave spells. Yet at this moment, his divine sense genuinely merged with the sword, enabling him to unleash the quintessence of his swordsmanship on a mental and spiritual plane. When swordcraft reached this realm, it was what martial arts called "sword intent." Possessing sword intent elevated the sword beyond the constraints of a mere implement, ascending to a truly sublime realm. When Zhou Wuji looked again at the soldiers pouring through the back entrance—despite their varying appearances, physiques, martial skills, and emotional states... Through the Seven Stars Sword, he could perceive and dissect them with absolute clarity. Simply put, guided by his sword intent, his mind had already deduced the optimal path to eliminate every single soldier. Even the grievous wound in his chest was braced by true qi mobilized through his sword intent, leaving him temporarily unhindered. Slumped beneath the incense altar, Wuzheng struggled to chant an incantation under his breath. Pointing the Tianpeng ruler in his hand toward the surging soldiers, he unleashed Yin Thunder once more. Watery lightning detonated, washing over many of the soldiers and throwing their ranks into turmoil. Sword in hand, Zhou Wuji flashed into their midst. The cold, gleaming light of the Seven Stars Sword darted through the soldiers like a swimming fish, drifting with ethereal grace as it swept across the hall. The sharp, continuous hissing of sword whistles pierced the air, mingled with terrified gasps and dying shrieks. When the cold sword-light finally faded, the cries and shrieks cut off abruptly, leaving only the thread-like echoes of a low sword whistle whispering endlessly through the hall...