IS Chapter 6

Tonight, the weather is clear.

After the thunder tribulation, the night sky is washed clean, the stars and moon shining together.

The silvery moonlight spills onto the mountaintop clearing. Ten feet apart, Ye Zhuo and Li Yuan stand facing each other.

From the distant mountains comes the sound of a bell.

Li Yuan looks at Ye Zhuo.

The Second Palace Master Ye is dressed in a bright red outer robe, with a snow-white high-collared long garment underneath. His waist belt is embroidered with silver thread depicting the Green Mountains and flowing waters with exquisite craftsmanship. With a face of unparalleled beauty, he looks like a figure of the clear moon and frosty sun from afar.

If one didn’t already deeply understand this person’s nature, one would be deceived by this appearance again.

To this, Li Yuan can only sneer.

Ye Zhuo’s fingers brush over the sheath of “No Self.”

The Life-Bound Sword is connected to its master’s heart. With his movement, the sword emits a clear, lingering hum within its sheath.

Which sword cultivator doesn’t care about their sword?

Today, the divine sword is newly forged, so it’s only right to have a hearty battle.

As for the fact that the opponent in this battle is the sword’s main material… there’s no need to overthink it.

Ye Zhuo suddenly draws his sword.

A biting chill surges forth.

The dark, narrow blade reflects nothing of his eyes, his cold gaze fixed in Li Yuan’s direction.

At that moment, the night sky, distant mountains, autumn wind, and starry moon all vanish from his eyes. Between heaven and earth, there are only Li Yuan and Li Yuan’s sword.

The wind howls, Ye Zhuo’s figure soaring into the air as he unleashes a sword strike.

Logically, the first strike should be a probe.

However, since they are sworn enemies with life and death disregarded, what need is there for probing?

It’s not enough to simply decide victory and defeat; it’s best to decide life and death with a single strike, naturally resolving grudges and dissolving knots.

Ye Zhuo’s red-clad figure is like a fallen leaf startled by the autumn wind, suddenly leaping up in a flash of lightning.

Like a heaven-shattering, earth-splitting blow, the sword carries a fierce wind and thunder, cleaving towards Li Yuan like a ray of light separating chaos!

This sword carries boundless killing intent.

Li Yuan’s gaze is calm and focused, showing no sign of underestimation. His black robes billow with the force of the sword, and in an instant, he draws his own sword to meet the attack head-on!

The two blades collide violently.

Spiritual energy erupts, shaking heaven and earth.

The mountains tremble, birds startled by the autumn wind take flight, only to be shaken down by the sheer force of the impact.

One sword is Reverse Scale, the other is Dragon Bone. At the instant of their close-quarters engagement, it’s as if two majestic, ancient dragons bursting from the clouds, colliding fiercely with each other with overwhelming force!

In that instant, the sky collapses, the earth sinks, and the starry river inverts.

After one sword strike, the two stand with their backs to each other, the swords still humming incessantly, their blood surging like boiling water.

The sound of a dragon’s roar still lingers between heaven and earth.

This all-out strike is evenly matched, making it difficult to determine who is superior.

In sword technique and cultivation alike.

Ye Zhuo looks in the other man’s direction.

Li Yuan smiles.

Ye Zhuo’s swordsmanship is indeed the same as it was back then, full of reckless and merciless determination. Unfortunately, he has simulated and replayed this countless times over the past ten years, specifically targeting this kind of sword.

Now that things have come to this, there’s no point in saying more!

In the next instant, Li Yuan attacks Ye Zhuo with his sword.

Behind him is a crescent moon, before him is the dark white light of his sword.

The sword’s radiance is as vast as an icy river surging, its spiritual energy as boundless as a chaotic sea.

Seeing this, Ye Zhuo immediately leaps into the air, a frigid blade cleaving straight down at him! With a clang, the two swords collide again, spiritual energy churning. The mountains tremble once more.

In a single strike, the two become entangled. In the blink of an eye, the sounds of clashing metal are incessant, having exchanged over a hundred blows.

Ye Zhuo’s sword is like a frosty moon hooking through the sky, its sharp edge fully exposed. Seemingly only attacking and never defending, leaving no path for retreat, in reality, it is advancing without a single flaw. This is what it means to be a heaven-sent genius, peerless and magnificent.

Li Yuan’s sword is like the Cangming Northern Sea, deep and unwavering. Retreating slowly, advancing sharply, one can’t help but wonder how many years he has practiced swordsmanship, and why he possesses such a grand and open master’s demeanor.

Between heaven and earth, only the sounds of clashing swords are heard, spiritual energy surging like raging waves. If a cultivator were to step into it, they would likely be swept away immediately, their meridians disrupted and difficult to repair.

For a time, it is difficult to determine who will win.

Only continue.

Inside the Sword Casting Shed.

From afar, one can hear the wind singing.

Within the wind is the sound of weapons clashing.

The sword is the lord of all weapons.

The sound of a bell rings.

“Listen,” the Swordsmith sits idly before a bronze bell, lightly tapping the bell’s body with his knuckles, saying to his young disciple, “Only a battle between peerless figures produces such a wind sound. This wind sound, there hasn’t been one like it for a thousand years, and in the future, I’m afraid it will be difficult for anyone to take you to hear it.”

“Peerless?” the young disciple says. “But do they look even twenty? Are they more powerful than the old Sword Saint and old Sword God who come to talk about swords with you, Master?”

A gentle smile appears in the Swordsmith’s eyes.

“He, ah, he’s long past twenty…”

“One is a sword dao genius, the other a dragon realm prodigy. What’s the point of talking about age and seniority with these people? Tsk… they don’t play by the rules when they cultivate immortality.”

“Then who will win?”

The Swordsmith smiles, shaking his head: “I can’t hear it.”

Saying he can’t hear it, he’s still listening.

Listening to the grim, murderous wind, listening to the vibrating autumn sounds.

The rhythm of his knuckles tapping the bell seems to match the rhythm of the battle over there, sometimes slow, sometimes hurried, hurried like a sudden storm, slow like an icy river’s hidden current, eventually connecting into one piece, surging continuously without end.

The young disciple closes his eyes, listening to the bell sounds and wind sounds, only feeling his heart thumping, his body cold and murderous, as if he had taken a trip to the gates of hell.

After a long while, he only hears a soft sigh beside him: “The sword is complete. How wonderful… My life has finally been accounted for.”

The bell doesn’t ring again for a long time.

The scent of blood permeates the air.

“Master…?”

Between two mountains, in mid-air, two figures sometimes cross paths, sometimes separate, like butterflies flitting about, dazzling to any observer.

The two sword lights are like the bright moon and the northern sea. If there were no baleful aura and killing intent, they would be reflecting and enhancing each other’s splendor.

The ground is already crisscrossed with sword energy, deep ravines everywhere. There isn’t a single tree still standing on the entire mountaintop — or rather, this mountain has almost been turned into a flat plain. Only the two figures in the center are unscathed.

If they continue fighting, there probably won’t even be a place to stand.

Li Yuan is the first to withdraw his hand.

After a moment, Ye Zhuo also returns his sword to its sheath. The two still stand facing each other.

The reason for stopping is none other than that it is difficult to determine who is superior.

It is said that in martial arts, there is no second place. But with their cultivation levels matching, their swordsmanship equal, continuing would amount to nothing more than one catching the other with a flaw, seeking a chance for victory.

But since they began practicing swordsmanship, they have never allowed themselves to show a flaw.

Today, in cultivation, in swordsmanship, in attainment, they are evenly matched. Even if they were to continue fighting, it would merely result in a stalemate, exhausting each other’s strength.

More importantly, during the battle, they actually had some insights.

“Your swordsmanship is very good,” Li Yuan admits frankly. “Today, I cannot defeat you.”

Ye Zhuo nods: “Me neither.”

“But I have gained some understanding,” Li Yuan says. “Next time, I will surely defeat you.”

Ye Zhuo stares intently at him: “Me too.”

This sword duel, having brought out everything they have learned in their lives, is truly exhilarating. Returning to reflect, they are bound to achieve something.

And the other party must also be the same.

For a moment, neither of them says anything more, nor do they look at each other again. Instead, they each wander in their minds, recalling the battle under the moonlight in a devastated, chaotic mountain.

“Dong!”

Suddenly, a rapid, urgent sound of a bell striking comes from the distant mountains!

It is still from the direction of the Sword Casting Valley, but it is not the sound of the person gently tapping the bell earlier. It’s different – too heavy, too rushed, struck with force.

Before they can react, there’s another sound.

The bell tolls resound throughout the mountains.

Ye Zhuo still stands holding his sword, showing little reaction.

Li Yuan, however, discerns something.

Before coming to the human realm, he made thorough preparations, reading many texts related to the human realm, and also remembered many of humanity’s customs. This bell sound, after the initial rush, two short sounds, three long sounds, a pause after five, is a communication method of the immortal sects. It is a funeral.

Someone has passed away.

Who could it be?

The sound of the strike is childish, loud but lacking in weight. It must be that young disciple. In that case, the deceased must be none other than the Swordsmith.

Li Yuan can’t help but look at the sword in Ye Zhuo’s hand.

Putting aside the origin of this sword, it is truly a divine weapon. The humans of this realm were actually able to forge such a divine weapon. The swordsmith must be an unparalleled figure.

Why would this happen?

“Aren’t you going to take a look?” he asks Ye Zhuo.

“No.”

“Why? That was the person who forged your sword.”

“Death is in the right place, why should I go?” Ye Zhuo turns to leave.

“There are still things to do, farewell.”

Li Yuan frowns, watching his departing back, unable to understand this person.

After thinking for a moment, he heads towards the Sword Casting Valley.