Chapter 157
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Chapter 157: The Big Dipper
The young woman clad in black let out a soft chuckle, her lips curving into a profound arc. Her face was smeared with blood, obscuring her features, yet her posture remained upright, though it couldn’t conceal the deep weariness emanating from her soul.
Amidst the endless darkness of the churning sea of blood and the encroaching alien races, she had no idea how long she had held her ground.
Yet, at this moment, her gaze upon Ming He was luminous, bright enough to pierce through the darkness, with confidence, starlight, and a wild spirit burning in her eyes.
She stared intently at Ming He, her right hand tightening around the flagpole of the fluttering black array flag, her sharp eyes scanning the hellish battlefield around them, her voice hoarse yet resolute:
"I need your help."
"I need you to protect me."
"Protect me from the Tian Yan Tribe, ensure I remain unscathed."
"I am about to do something."
"Something of great importance to the human race."
Nineteen spoke each word deliberately, her tone firm, and as she raised an eyebrow in response to Ming He’s contemplative gaze, she continued, "Originally, we planned to use the formation seal left by the Soul Ancestor and the ancient emperors to suppress the rampant bloodlust of the alien races, thereby weakening the influence of the black fog on the human race."
"Our initial goal was to prevent the Tian Yan Tribe from destroying the formation seal of the central pavilion, holding our ground here for the future."
"But now that you are here, perhaps we can do much more."
"We can achieve greater things."
A mix of madness and determination ignited in her clear eyes, sharp as an eagle soaring in the sky, flaring with blazing heat, as if fire was about to erupt.
"I have an idea."
Ming He remained silent, her brow furrowed in thought.
With a casual flick of the Xuanyuan Sword, more heads fell to the ground, vanishing into the swirling black fog.
She stood enveloped in the black fog, her face slightly pale, clad in Heavy Armor, listening intently to Nineteen’s words.
Because what she said was crucial.
Nineteen watched her, aware that Ming He was not skilled in formation mastery, and knowing the urgency of the situation, she did not elaborate further. Seeing Ming He’s lack of rebuttal, she naturally took it as agreement.
Tightly gripping the black array flag, Nineteen’s toes grazed the ground, propelling her into the air. In a graceful descent, she planted the flag in the center of the battlefield outside the central pavilion. The moment she turned back with a smile, a surge of golden light shot up into the sky, illuminating the entire battlefield.
The darkness retreated, and the black fog momentarily dared not approach the brilliance. The advancing footsteps of the Tian Yan Tribe faltered, and the captain of the human race’s guard let out a breath, a spark of battle intention and light igniting in his eyes.
The hundreds of Earth Emperor Realm experts seated cross-legged in the central pavilion opened their eyes in confusion, glancing at the woman standing triumphantly atop the array flag. As they saw her rise in the golden light, they noticed her forming intricate hand seals, stepping into the air with that radiance, landing atop the ancient pavilion.
"What is she trying to do?" murmured an Earth Emperor Realm expert, furrowing his brow.
"The golden light, this is…" exclaimed another expert, wide-eyed, feeling a change in the atmosphere.
"The Ancient Formation of Heaven!" chuckled a young man in white, his eyes filled with admiration.
"Nonsense!" growled an elder with hair and beard all white, shaking his head in disapproval.
Nineteen continued her actions.
Her complex hand seals transformed in manifold ways, weaving the profound essence of the Great Path to enhance herself, her complexion growing paler, blood droplets forming at the corners of her lips.
That golden light slowly expanded, enveloping the ancient pavilion, climbing steadily and firmly, seemingly reaching toward the very top of the pavilion.
Beneath the radiance, the bloodlust of the Tian Yan Tribe raged, mist swirling around them as they roared, creating a thunderous momentum, their eyes filled with fury and malice.
No trace of clarity or wisdom remained.
Ming He, clad in Heavy Armor, rose from the ground, her right hand gripping the Xuanyuan Sword, unleashing a radiant sword light as she followed closely behind Nineteen. The Star Lock vibrated rhythmically, sending out ripples of starlight in harmony with its master’s will, weaving a dazzling tapestry of stars intertwined with golden light.
The battlefield of the heavens, shrouded in darkness for thousands of years, suddenly blazed with the fiery brilliance of the sun and moon. The golden light and starlight merged, casting a luminous curtain over the battlefield, igniting clusters of scorching flames that consumed the Tian Yan Tribe and the churning sea of blood below.
Nineteen’s hand trembled uncontrollably as she clutched the array flag.
The sharp tip of the Xuanyuan Sword traced a diagonal arc, piercing through the chests of the Tian Yan Tribe.
It seemed as though they were on the verge of collapse.
Yet the light barely reached the railing of the ancient pavilion, still separated from the swirling black fog above by an insurmountable distance.
Hope felt distant, the brilliance veiled behind an impenetrable haze.
Even so, their eyes burned with an extraordinary brightness, their gazes sharp and resolute, unwavering in their determination.
The heir of a renowned swordsmanship lineage was a formation master.
The humble young leader of the human race was a sword cultivator.
This was the union of formation master and sword cultivator.
The white-haired youth in white robes watched them, blood trickling from the corner of his lips, staining his pristine garment. Yet he smiled faintly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "With mere Human King stage cultivation, you dare to challenge the heavens—"
"The future of the human race!"
He wiped the blood from his lips, stood tall, and laughed heartily as he surveyed the scene. "How could my courage and ambition in the Earth Emperor Realm be lesser than yours, you two young ones?"
"Dear friends, today, why not join me in this gamble and see if the heavens are truly unbreakable?"
The rules of the battlefield of the heavens.
The unspoken, accepted conventions.
Yet no one had ever questioned where these rules came from or whether they could be shattered.
Nineteen was the first in thousands of years.
A formation master who had forsaken the path of swordsmanship.
Perhaps the most fitting practitioner of formation mastery.
For the first time, her chosen path was acknowledged and affirmed by others.
Could the heavens truly be broken?
The white-haired elder paused, his spiritual energy faltering as he narrowed his eyes, instinctively wanting to refute. How could it be?
The heavens were unbreakable, of course.
Above the battlefield of the heavens, they could not see the heavens—only the thick, ink-like black fog that enveloped everything.
Thus, the fog was the heavens.
It barred the spiritual energy of the world and the forces of nature from the battlefield, trapping them within.
But it had been this way for thousands of years.
The fog was endless, and with each fallen member of the Tian Yan Tribe, it grew denser.
This was an unsolvable, paradoxical dilemma.
After all, they could not avoid the slaughter of the Tian Yan Tribe.
Thus, the heavens remain unbreakable!
This was his thought, and he yearned to voice it aloud.
At that very moment, Ming He let out a clear shout, her toes barely grazing the ground as she propelled herself into the air, her body twisting gracefully. Mid-flight, she thrust the Xuanyuan Sword forward.
The sword technique she employed was the Luoheng Sword, a revered art of the Floating Cloud Sect from Luoheng Peak.
The descent of "fall" and the equilibrium of "balance."
The natural order of all things in the universe is balance.
If the heavens bestow imbalance upon the human race, why should they accept it?
To conform to adversity, merely because it bears the celestial name?
Why should they?
The battlefield of the heavens, forged by the Sword Master’s ultimate sacrifice to the earth and sky, stands as the Tianwu Continent’s bulwark against the Myriad Races.
This battlefield is the domain of the human race; the visage of the heavens should be shaped by human hands.
The black long sword shimmered like a swift river, exuding an ancient and formidable aura. With a mere flick of its wielder’s wrist, it unleashed a thousand waves of sword energy.
The blood sea churned as the sword’s tip pierced through, unleashing an unstoppable and overwhelming force that enveloped the battlefield, sweeping across all directions with the power to obliterate all in its path.
Its momentum was akin to rolling up a mat, moving mountains and overturning seas.
The Tian Yan Tribe’s forces suffered grievous losses under this sword strike that could shake the very foundations of heaven and earth.
Ming He’s spiritual energy was nearly depleted; the Star Lock burned fiercely, having exhausted all its Star Power.
Her right hand trembled uncontrollably from the pain, forcing her to secure it with torn fabric, much like Ye Ke.
The blood-soaked Heavy Armor weighed heavily upon her, nearly crushing her spine.
Yet, her body stood as straight and unyielding as a pine tree.
Having faced adversaries from all corners, endured the depths of despair, and suffered through hellish trials, what could possibly shatter her resolve?
Ming He gripped the Xuanyuan Sword tightly, continuing to strike down her enemies.
The ferocity and unyielding spirit in her eyes, illuminated by the starlight, caught the elder’s gaze.
He paused, struck not only by her recognition as the young leader but also by the memory of the fearless prodigy of yesteryears.
He too had once been reckless in his youth.
Thus, why not embrace recklessness once more?
The elder, with hair and beard as white as snow, rose to his feet and laughed heartily. Without uttering a word, he nodded at the young man clad in white. The light that kindled in his eyes mirrored that of every human cultivator engaged in battle outside the pavilion at that moment.
Other powerful allies in the Earth Emperor Realm stood up, their voices soft yet imbued with the unshakable resolve of mountains and seas: "This is our will."
They withdrew their surging spiritual energy, closed their eyes once more, and a robust aura, reminiscent of the primordial wilderness, emanated from them. Their hands formed seals, distinct from Nineteen’s gestures, yet equally majestic, surging forth to elevate that golden light.
Their pale lips, stained with blood, flickered with breaths of varying strength, and even their hands trembled as they formed the seals in the air.
Yet they paid no heed to anything else, their eyes fixated solely on that golden light bathed in a sea of blood.
The vast spiritual energy surged forth, half enveloping the light and half embracing Nineteen.
Like splitting bamboo, the golden light soared over Ming He and Nineteen, hanging high like countless stars, visibly ascending toward the heavens, as if seeking the sun and moon.
A flicker of joy danced in Nineteen’s eyes.
She nodded to the powerful allies, stepping into the void and ascending, her body moving in harmony with the light’s guidance, as if riding the wind into the clear skies.
The black array flags shimmered with golden starlight, swaying rhythmically with the howling winds.
Nineteen turned to Ming He, her gaze serious, "Can you still go on?"
Ming He’s lips curled into a bitter smile. Just as she was about to speak, she felt her once-depleted spiritual ocean suddenly brimming with energy, spiritual power coursing through her entire body, transforming the blood energy that had seeped into her bones into her own strength. A pure, sharp energy radiated around her, repelling the foreign blood energy and violent winds.
"I can," Ming He replied softly.
She lowered her gaze to the two figures hidden in the shadows, her eyes darkening slightly. When she looked up again, her expression was resolute and bright, even as blood dripped from the Xuanyuan Sword.
Her right hand still trembled.
Though her spiritual energy had replenished her spiritual ocean, it could not dispel her exhaustion.
She was utterly spent.
Nineteen watched her for a moment, then suddenly drew the sword she had been carrying and tossed it to her with a solemn expression. "Its name is North Star, the North Star of the Big Dipper."
"From this moment on, the North Star Sword is yours."
With that, she turned and began to wield the array flags once more, her intricate and ancient gestures summoning an even more magnificent surge of golden light.
Ming He stood momentarily stunned, her left hand gripping the North Star Sword. It was a breathtakingly beautiful weapon.
Both the blade and hilt were etched with intricate, enigmatic patterns, adorned with starry motifs. The blade, thin as a cicada’s wing, gleamed with a faint, icy light—a sword that appeared cold and unyielding.
Yet in her hand, it felt warm, like the touch of sunlight.
The moment her fingers closed around the hilt, the previously silent Star Lock began to resonate once more, as if rejoicing in celebration.
Ming He’s mind drifted as she heard a woman’s voice, cold and sharp, echoing from above. "Do you remember the bone book I gave you?"
The bone book.
Of course, Ming He remembered. It still lay within her storage ring.
That bone book was no ordinary tome—it was a sword technique.
The Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Technique, the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Array.
The sword array.
Ming He’s gaze swept over the black array flags fluttering in the wind around her and the golden light enveloping the heavens above. A spark of understanding lit her eyes. She raised her left hand, slashing at the Tian Yan Tribe members who had surged toward her in waves.
The moment her sword moved, astonishment flickered in her eyes once more.
This strike—it was effortless!
It felt as though she were slicing through tofu, requiring almost no strength at all.
Was it the sword?
Ming He glanced at the Xuanyuan Sword, her thoughts racing. In the next instant, she gathered her energy, focusing it into a single point. With the North Star Sword, she summoned the stars from within her heart, cleaving through the myriad obstacles before her. It was the first move of the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Array—Yang Light.
The sword flashed from its sheath, filling the sky with radiant brilliance.
Following closely was the second stance of the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Technique, Kai Yang!
With my sword, I cleave the blazing sun, fierce as a furnace.
Yu Heng!
Tian Quan!
Tian Ji!
Tian Shu!
One stance after another of the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Technique erupted from Ming He as she wielded the North Star Sword in her left hand. The winds howled, splitting the heavens, lifting veils of mist and fog, while starlight danced and shimmered, illuminating the darkness brighter than daylight.
The Tian Yan Tribe army shattered under the vast expanse of starlight; the black fog, not yet fully formed, was scattered into nothingness.
Countless heads tumbled to the ground.
Yet the army was endless, relentless, undeterred by death.
Ming He hung upside down, her body clinging to the railing, golden light rising above her, and formation master Nineteen by her side. Around her, black fog coiled and writhed, while below, the Tian Yan Tribe surged like an unyielding tide.
The rest of the human race was trapped at the battlefield’s edge, too far to offer aid.
In this moment, she could rely only on the sword in her hand.
But she was not limited to just these two swords.
Facing the roars and countless snarling visages, Ming He smiled faintly. As her eyes closed, her aura shifted—oppressive, ancient, and vast.
“Form the array,” she said lightly.
The ethereal white Ghostly Sword took the lead, claiming the position of Tian Shu. The Xuanyuan Sword followed, settling at Tian Quan, then the Longquan Sword, the Blue Sea Sword, and the Bamboo Sword.
With a forceful throw, Ming He sent the North Star Sword soaring, its starlight trailing as it landed at Tian Xuan.
The six swords cast six shadows, hovering and spinning in the air, their sword energy slicing through the Tian Yan Tribe and cleaving the black fog that sought to engulf.
Ming He maintained her inverted stance, legs wrapped around the railing, her gaze piercing through the gaps in the Tian Yan Tribe’s encirclement to the blood-soaked ground below.
Amid the churning sea of blood lay a sword.
A three-foot-long sword, once pure white and crystal clear.
Her life spirit sword, named Jing Ying.
The "Jing" of raging waves, the "Ying" of blade light and shadow.
Ming He looked at it and spoke a single word: “Come.”
The sword rose, cutting through the bloodied darkness, flying to Ming He’s outstretched hand. She grasped it firmly, its blade gleaming with clarity.
She stepped away from the railing, walking through the void to stand at the center of the six swords. Her left hand formed a seal, her right gripped the sword, her brow lifted, her gaze defiant as she faced the crushing force of the million-strong Tian Yan Tribe.
The spiritual energy within her spiritual ocean seemed boundless.
But Ming He knew better.
The Jing Ying Sword stirred fierce winds and towering waves, and the sword domain of the seven swords enveloped the heavens and earth.
Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Array!
A sword array mighty enough to shake the very foundations of the world.
Using my body as the formation.
I am here; thus, the mountains and rivers endure!
Ming He fixed her gaze on the shadows encroaching through the darkness.
After the black Heavy Armor was shattered, she detached it and hung it on the sword tip.
With a flick of her wrist, the sword unleashed a formidable sword force, and the discarded armor scattered, crashing down upon the Tian Yan Tribe.
Amidst the carnage, the Sword Cultivator in Blue moved with effortless grace.
…
Behind the black fog, a clear voice rang out, its owner’s gaze hidden in the mist, looking down upon the Sword Cultivator in Blue.
"Is that Ming He?" inquired the young leader of the human race.
"Yes," replied a slightly older woman, bowing respectfully.
Had Ming He been able to pierce the black fog, she would have recognized her.
Royalty of the Tian Yan Tribe, the head of the Alien Race Hunting Hall on Tianwu Continent, Wei Rou.
"Truly a prodigious talent," the voice mused. "Otherwise, how could Yóu Lìng have perished?"
The voice from behind the fog was icy, "That young leader of the demon race, did she ascend to power by slaying her father?"
"Your Highness—" Wei Rou hesitated, then bowed lower under the weight of the piercing gaze, "Yes."
"Then do you believe this path is one I could replicate?"
Replicating the path taken by the young leader of the demon race?
Wei Rou’s breath hitched, her gaze downcast, offering no reply.
Yet the voice pressed on, now tinged with a mix of amusement and madness. "Killing one’s father to ascend to power—I’ve pondered it for quite some time."
She murmured to herself, her gaze suddenly fierce and dark. A hand emerged from the fog—bony, cold, and long—caressing Wei Rou’s face, a gesture both admiring and destructive.
"Aunt, you’ve already repaid Qu Lingyun’s saving a life."
"And what of my saving a life? Will you repay that?"
She stared at Wei Rou, enunciating each word, "I can only tolerate one betrayal."
After all, not everyone remains eternally loyal.
"For A Ling’s sake, I’ve spared your life once more."
"Now, there will be no third chance."
She withdrew her hand, her voice from behind the black fog carrying a smile, "Aunt, think carefully before you answer me."
"I will… I will obey Your Highness’s commands," Wei Rou replied, her expression resolute.
On the battlefield, Nineteen ascended step by step along the golden light, nearly reaching the apex of the ancient pavilion.
At the center, hundreds of Earth Emperor Realm experts held their breath, scarcely believing their eyes, which shimmered like stars.
Ming He wielded the Jing Ying Sword to command the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Array, the bloodthirsty aura beneath her intensifying, yet her brow and eyes remained clear and bright.
Her blue attire was now stained with blood, yet it remained intact.
She moved with ease.
Her lips turned pale.
Ming He sensed she was nearing her limit but felt she could still endure.
Her spiritual ocean was not depleted, though her soul was exhausted to the extreme.
After all, she had fought to this point.
Now, she was on the verge of greeting the daylight.
Just then, a blue flame streaked across the sky like an arrow, bursting forth in brilliant waves of blue that no one could ignore.
The blue flame signaled peril for Tianwu East City!
