Chapter 22
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“Why?” Feng Yun Wuji inquired once the ne’er-do-wells had made their exit.
“What do you mean, why?” Ximen Chui Xue lifted his gaze to Feng Yun Wuji, his movements imbued with an effortless elegance and a casual flair.
“Why would you assist someone like me, a stranger?” Feng Yun Wuji couldn’t fathom receiving aid from someone without a clear motive.
With a flick, Ximen Chui Xue sent the Xuanming Scroll, the object of the villains’ violent contention, flying towards Feng Yun Wuji. Then, he turned on his heel and began to stride through the void, ambling off into the distance.
“Because you are also a swordsman,” Ximen Chui Xue’s voice drifted back, carrying a note of inexpressible solitude.
“Because I am a swordsman?” Feng Yun Wuji pondered these words, rolling them over in his mind. When he looked up again, the mysterious swordsman had already vanished from sight.
“Henceforth, this young man at Youming Peak shall be under my protection. Whoever dares to harm him shall face the same fate as this peak,” Ximen Chui Xue’s voice echoed like a specter above Youming Peak, though Feng Yun Wuji knew it was but a residual sound he had left behind.
As the echo faded, a flash of sword light streaked across the horizon, appearing and disappearing in an instant. A profound silence ensued, the quiet broken only by the soft whisper of the wind.
One move, one sword.
To reach such a zenith in the sword’s path is indeed a formidable feat. Feng Yun Wuji stood quietly in the air, gazing in the direction Ximen Chui Xue had taken his leave, and a sudden realization struck him. This individual had ventured down a divergent path in swordsmanship, pushing it to its pinnacle. At this level, the notions of right and wrong no longer applied. Claiming mastery over a single move, a solitary strike, this one sword—what soul could withstand it?
Once unleashed, once delivered, the adversary must fall or I shall meet my demise; such is the sword of the way of slaughter!
Feng Yun Wuji contemplated facing that sword: a gleam of the sword cuts across the sky…
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead; facing this sword, Feng Yun Wuji acknowledged his certain demise. This sword had reached a level of strength that utterly disregarded the opponent’s techniques, attaining a state of decisive lethality with a single strike.
“Who is this person, to have refined the sword to such a terrifying realm?” Feng Yun Wuji murmured, gazing upward, lost in a daze for a time.
After a lengthy while, Feng Yun Wuji let out a sigh and headed southward; this world of ice and snow was ill-suited for his stay…
Passing by countless peaks, numerous divine consciousnesses scanned him, only to recede like the tide upon sensing the lingering might of Ximen Chui Xue.
Half a day later, Feng Yun Wuji finally emerged from the icy expanse, standing at the edge of the snowy realm. One side was frost and snow, the other the vast, desolate earth. Between the snow and the land stood a solitary, grey figure, proud and resolute.
The figure turned, grey hair billowing, revealing eyes completely devoid of black, a stark white. With a smile, the man looked upon Feng Yun Wuji approaching through the air and said, “We meet again.”
At the sight of this person turning, Feng Yun Wuji’s heart trembled violently: “It’s you… the Right Guardian of the Palace of Ruined Void.”
The grey-robed man nodded, slowly extending his right foot to step into the void, vanishing in the blink of an eye, only to reappear less than ten zhang in front of Feng Yun Wuji. This abrupt shift from stillness to motion was jarring to witness.
“You survived, and the Dao Master is most displeased,” the Right Guardian’s voice was monotonous, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, like a mindless, emotionless corpse.
Feng Yun Wuji snorted coldly, “You were wise to wait until now. Why not strike earlier, when I was still within your grasp? Could it be that you fear Ximen Chui Xue?”
The grey-robed man nodded frankly, indifferently stating, “His way with the sword is too extreme. I have no wish to fight him to the death. It is unnecessary.”
“Then make your move,” Feng Yun Wuji was disinclined to bandy words further, recognizing the other’s resolve was unyielding, he prepared to counter any attack at a moment’s notice.
The grey-robed man lifted his head, regarding Feng Yun Wuji with indifference, drawing his long sword from the right, voluminous sleeve. Though the sword remained sheathed, Feng Yun Wuji could hear a crisp, clear ringing of the sword.
A grey sword sheath leaped from the air, and the Right Guardian of the Palace of Ruined Void disappeared on the spot.
Without a second look, Feng Yun Wuji sensed a sharp sword light approaching his body. He took a deep breath, his body immediately becoming as light as a sheet of paper, and then swayed backward.
Where Feng Yun Wuji had stood but an instant before, the Right Guardian materialized, gripping the hilt of his sword in an odd posture.
The Guardian raised his head, a peculiar gleam flashing in his eyes, then with a slight bow, another Guardian appeared beside Feng Yun Wuji, sweeping his sword upward, sending a hazy grey sword energy slicing through the air.
But Feng Yun Wuji’s “Willow Catkin with the Wind” technique was now fully realized, a mere wisp of wind enough to carry him away, causing the sword energy to miss its mark.
The Guardian retracted his sword, sweeping it around him, standing still, yet Feng Yun Wuji could sense that it was but an afterimage, the true person already elsewhere.
A sword energy stealthily approached from behind, yet it too passed beneath Feng Yun Wuji.
Strike after strike, relentless, the strange fog emanating from his sword carried a corrosive scent. In the void, more than a dozen grey-robed figures appeared, each maintaining a unique sword-wielding posture.
Yet even more bizarre was Feng Yun Wuji’s movements. No longer confined to human limitations, his body twisted and swayed, bending at impossible angles like a sheet of paper. Despite the Guardian’s myriad strikes, none found their target.
“What kind of martial art is this?” The Guardian’s voice echoed, each word uttered from a different direction.
For the first time, Feng Yun Wuji detected a ripple of emotion in the man’s tone—a profound sense of frustration and helplessness.
“Willow Catkin with the Wind,” Feng Yun Wuji replied offhandedly.
Suddenly, all illusions in the sky dissipated. Not far from Feng Yun Wuji, the grey-robed man materialized, his loose grey robes fluttering in the wind.
“With such a peerless technique, you are untouchable. No matter how powerful my sword, it cannot harm you,” he declared, before lifting his hand to catch the sheath that flew up from the ground, disappearing into his grasp.With a clang, the long sword was sheathed, and without looking back, the grey-robed man strode deeper into Youming Peak.”When I have fully contained my sword energy, and not a single breath of wind escapes, I will seek you out again!”His voice faded into the distance, but the man was already gone…