332 Old Swords and the Teenager Part Three

When that sword intent had first appeared, and when the metal sword had cometo Chen Changsheng's side, the ocean of monsters surrounding the mausoleum hadresponded. Whether it was with fear or anger, they had grown restless, albeitsuppressed by Nanke shortly after. Now, along with the dazzling radiance of theSoul Wood, this restriction suddenly disappeared. The myriad monsters in theplains could no longer endure. One by one, they began to madly rush towards themausoleum. The earth shook for a moment, and then the torrential downpour thatfell from the gloomy lightless sky seemed to carry a bloody and foul smell. Only that dreadful shadow maintained its silence. Although it had descendedslightly, it neither revealed its divine might nor acted upon this impetus.Perhaps because of the great peng's actions, the high-class monsters deepwithin the plains at the peak of Star Condensation had not joined the monstertide in surrounding the mausoleum. It was not that they were opposing thesummons of the Soul Wood, nor were they resisting Nanke's will, but it wassimply that they were highly intelligent and could faintly sense that somethingvery serious lay in store, growing extremely wary as a result. Of course, thisserious matter had something to do with the Garden of Zhou. Countless monsters transformed into black waves that, one after the other,rushed towards the mausoleum. The sky above the usually silent Plains of theUnsetting Sun had long turned into an unbearable cacophony. The pools of waterbeneath the weeds parted as they were sliced into countless pieces by sharpmonster claws, subsequently crushed flat by scaly stomachs. The mud wasconstantly sent flying, and the clear water turned incomparably turbid. Suchgrandeur and forcefulness was truly terrifying to behold. Just as was saidbefore, even if a Saint was present, they would still be unable to completelykill off that unending stream of monsters rushing towards the mausoleum. Theycould only escape. As Chen Changsheng stood in the downpour and saw this scene,he naturally wanted to run away, but he had no avenue of escape from them. Around his body, a bit more than ten famous swords calmly floated around himin the rain. These swords had caused a great many changes in the human world,yet now they were subject to the same such change, marked by spots ofintermittent rust on their bodies of metal. When they first emerged, they didso with great fanfare and astounding power, but in the end, they could nolonger recover their past grandeur and magnificence. Crucially, those peerlessexperts who once wielded these swords had passed away long ago. With just these swords, it was impossible to oppose the attacks of thesemonsters. If he wanted to become an unyielding boulder in the face of thisocean, he required even more swords. Through those heavy curtains of rain, Chen Changsheng's gaze looked all aroundhim to the plains around the mausoleum, examining that terrifying monster tidewhile unyieldingly searching for even more swords. Those swords should be inthe Sword Pool. For some reason or another, they did not appear like theMountain Sea Sword. They were still waiting for his summons, or perhaps theywanted to be persuaded. However, where was the Sword Pool? "If you are here, please come out and approach me, because I need you." These were his thoughts, which he imbued into the handle of the tremblingYellow Paper Umbrella. Through the canvas of the umbrella, it spread outtowards that boundless plain. He looked at the distant plains that were dreary and blurred from the rain;then he looked at the nearby groaning plains that had been diced apart by themonster claws and crushed flat by the dragon serpents. In his heart, hesilently called out to the Sword Pool somewhere out there, "I will take you outof this abandoned old garden. Perhaps you might continue to sleep, but atleast… it won't be in these plains in which there is never night and in whichyou can never sleep peacefully." The monster tide grew closer and closer. They were already on the divine pathin front of the mausoleum, only several li away. Standing at the edge of thestone platform, Chen Changsheng could even clearly make out that foremostPurple Lightning Leopard's blood-red mouth and the saliva dripping from thecorner of its lips, catching a whiff of the stink being emitted by that saliva. At this moment, he abruptly felt a vibration. This vibration had nothing to do with the monster tide, nor anything to dowith the torrential rain. This vibration came from deep within the sea of grass. It was deep within theearth, extremely subtle and somewhat weak, yet it was just that clear. The Purple Lightning Leopard was like a real bolt of purple lightning,breaking through the dense grass and lunging at the mausoleum. Its blood-redeyes were filled with a bloodthirsty, frenzied Qi. Suddenly, a hint of wariness appeared in its eyes, and then they split open. Soon after, the corner of its mouth also split open, its dripping salivamixing with the blood and turning the area into a smear of bloody red. It sensed danger and madly increased its speed, attempting to escape thatvibration. The vibration was truly very feeble. Its movement through the earth seemedunhurried. Yet the bolt of lightning that was the Purple Lightning Leopard could notthrow off that vibration. In the falling rain, there was a light tearing sound. Rip! The Purple Lightning Leopard's body was torn into pieces, turning into morethan a dozen bloody chunks, splitting apart as it ran. Yet each chunk stillmaintained velocity, falling to the ground only after several dozen zhang. This picture was extremely strange and terrifying. In a pawprint left behind by the Purple Lightning Leopard, the soft mud wasincessantly roiling. A sword slowly appeared. This was only half a sword, its hilt deeply scored with rust, the half-bladecovered in mud. It presented an extremely miserable sight, not much differentfrom a piece of scrap metal. This half blade calmly rested amidst the mud and stirred up the grass. The rain continued to fall. In the shower of rain, the mud on the sword’s bodywas slowly washed off, but it could not wipe away the rust. It remained as drabas ever without a single semblance of a shining edge. Yet it was still a littlecleaner in the end. This half sword incessantly trembled, struggling,attempting to leave the ground… it was like a heavily wounded soldier supportedby crutches that still wanted to stand up once more and slay the enemy. After some time, the broken sword took off from the ground and crookedly flewtowards the mausoleum. It seemed like it could fall back to the ground at anytime. In the Plains of the Unsetting Sun, the monster with a speed that was onlysecond to the Purple Lightning Leopard was the Wind Wolf. These monsters wereborn from a cross between the wolf packs of the snowy plains and the DemonWolves of the Great Western Continent. They innately possessed an unimaginablespeed. It was said that they were the only monsters capable of successfullycatching a Red Falcon. Of course, this was mostly attributable to thecollective battle power and persevering patience of the Wind Wolves. The bizarre death of the Purple Lightning Leopard in front of them did notcause that pack of Wind Wolves to slow down in the slightest. As the mostdevoted and most bloodthirsty guardian of the Mausoleum of Zhou, when the headof the pack received the orders from the Soul Wood, it wanted to rip to shredsthose intruders that had dared to enter the mausoleum. Most importantly, evenif several of the Wind Wolves that made up this pack of several hundred were tofall at the hands of that shabby sword, there would always be more Wind Wolvesready to rush on over and assault the enemy. The wolf pack was extremely intelligent in terms of hunting. Previously, whenthey had been waiting, the head of the pack had taken his subordinates andnoiselessly pushed through the crowd of monsters, arriving on the White GrassPath. This was because the ground here was the firmest and the distance to themausoleum's front door was closest. It was the ground best suited for charging. The cold white grass on the White Grass Path was smashed to bits and the wolfpack plunged across like the wind. Because their speed was too fast and theirnumbers too great, they brought with them an ear-piercing whistle. Yet in thenext moment, that wind-shattering whistle was supplanted by anotherwind-shattering sound. That sound was even more shrill, or so to say, even moresharp. That was the sound of sword intent tearing through the air. The strand of white hair at the tip of the Wind Wolf pack leader's head wassevered by the wind. This strand of white hair was the defining characteristic of the Wind Wolvesthat separated them from all other wolves. It was also this strand of whitehair that contained the divine soul of the Wind Wolf, allowing them to travelwith the speed of the wind. Now, this white hair had been severed. The Wind Wolf pack leader gave a furious and unwilling howl, but before thishowl had completely come out of its mouth, it stopped, as if it had been cutdown by a sword. Countless cracks appeared on the White Grass Path, each of them parallel tothe direction of the mausoleum. They were like countless straight linesobstructing the charge of the Wind Wolves. As long as a Wind Wolf crossed one of these straight lines, they would besliced open by an unseen force. The wolf claws that treaded on the firm ground were severed. The wolf shoulders that carried bits of white grass were severed. The wolf tail was severed, and the wolf waist was severed. The several hundred Wind Wolves that made up the wolf pack, in the instantthose cracks appeared, were all severed. As if someone had dumped a big basket of rocks on the floor, the White Grasspath resounded with rumbling and tumbling. The countless corpses of the Wind Wolves were chopped into chunks and rolledaround the White Grass Path. Some of them rolled right off into the pools ofwater by the side of the path, while others were chopped into an even finerpowder by the sword intent. The path to the mausoleum was filled with severed limbs and dissected corpses.Filthy blood spurted all over the place, turning the White Grass Path into abloody path. The scent of blood assaulted the nostrils to the extreme. As the scent of blood drifted into the sky, those cracks of sword intent alsowent against the rain and soared up into the sky. Several thousand demon vultures were flying high up in the sky in craftysilence. These monsters were powerful and sinister. At the beginning, even XuYourong had to burn up the last of her Heavenly Phoenix true blood to kill thatflock of demon vultures. Unlike the other monsters, they didn't crazily cryout, instead stealthily flying towards the mausoleum. It seemed like all that separated them from the mausoleum was empty sky. Therewas nothing obstructing their path, making it all the easier to launch a sneakattack. Yet those lines of sword intent had also arrived in the sky. The cracks of the plain seemed as though they wanted to tear asunder the sky. With a sudden burst of countless wretched cries, their severed wings slowlydrifted down to the ground in equal quantity to the rain. What fell even fasterdown to the plains was their beautiful blood. The several thousand demon vultures fell one by one. For a moment, they seemedto fall even more densely than the torrential rain. Those countless monsters that charged the mausoleum were all chopped topieces, turning into indistinct chunks of blood and flesh. The surface of the plains was covered with countless cracks. The weeds werechopped into bits and the mud was chopped into tiny chunks. Countless lines ofsword intent horizontally ascended upwards into the sky. Even that rain cloud high up in the sky was sliced apart, transforming intocountless puffs that could only float off in frustration. The downpour, just like this, ended. The setting sun that was not at all like a sun at the edge of the plainsfinally had the opportunity to spill its warm light onto the mausoleum. Monster corpses were strewn across every inch of the ground. Occasionally,there would be a heavily injured monster that had not yet died, constantlygiving off mournful and miserable cries in its death throes. The monster tide that was initially rushing towards the mausoleum paused. Theyno longer dared to continue forward and slowly bobbed up and down. This was a blood-red world. The black monster tide was also gradually turning into a calm red sea. After that mausoleum in the center of the monster tide had been soaked in therain, its color had become extremely dark. Right now, it looked just like ablack boulder in the middle of a red sea. No matter how swift the wind and waves or how violent the rainstorm, it couldnot be moved in the slightest. Compared to this blood-red world and the black mausoleum, the truly shockingscene could be found in the plains around the mausoleum. A broken sword strenuously flew into the sky, brightly whistling. An old sword broke through the water, carrying with it the sound of muddywater spattering off. An ancient sword split through a rock, grinding against the stone. Several dozen swords. Several hundred swords. Several thousand swords. Perhaps strenuously, perhaps hesitantly, perhaps joyously breaking through theswamp and once again appearing in this world. Countless swords appeared in the sky around the mausoleum. These plains were covered with pools of water. It seemed very much like awetland, or even a swamp. For several hundred years, countless people had sought out the Sword Pool, yetnone of them had found it. They had not even found the slightest clue on theSword Pool. Because no one had ever thought that the Sword Pool… was actually this big. The Sword Pool was not a mountain pool, nor was it a cold pool. Those swords had always been in these plains. These boundless and incomparably vast plains themselves were the Sword Pool. No, how could this be a pool? This was obviously a sea. A Sword Sea. The plains were deathly silent. Chen Changsheng silently stood at the edge of the stone platform and gazed atthis scene before him. Previously, he had already faintly guessed at the Sword Pool's trueappearance, but now that he personally saw these myriad swords appear, he wasstill shocked to the extreme. Nanke stood on the divine path and viewed this scene, her face expressionlessas she thought about something. Ning Qiu held her mouth shut so that she wouldnot give any cries of alarm while her companion Hua Cui had collapsed onto thewet ground. The zither-playing old man's face was exceptionally pale, thezither in front of him covered in blood. It seemed like he did not even dare toglance behind him. Teng Xiaoming and Liu Wan'er withdrew their gazes and glanced into eachother's eyes and saw each other's apology and determination. No one said anything, and nobody moved. Even that monster tide in the plains had also slowly calmed down. Because those swords were flying towards the mausoleum. Countless swords flew through the warm light of the sun, seeming to obscurethe sky. As they got close to the mausoleum, those countless swords that had beenwashed in the rain began to reflect a glorious light, making them seem like asky full of stars. This scene was truly very beautiful. But those swords flew very slowly, not at all like just a few moments ago whenthey had burst forth with pride and power. The innumerable swords flew towards the mausoleum and slowly dispersed, as ifthey were soldiers getting into formation. The space between heaven and earth was filled with sword intent. The sword intents were once incomparably strong, but they were now weak. Whenthey interweaved with each other, it was somewhat chaotic. The sword intents did not have intelligence, but they had emotions, each andevery sort of complex emotion. To this mausoleum, the sword intents were cold and aggressive. To that youth standing on the mausoleum, it was like they were seeing an oldfriend, as though they were saying, he has called us to take us away from thisplace. That blade had been very heartless in their time, but the passage of time waseven more heartless. Some swords had slept within the sea of grass for centuries and had long beendamaged to an irrevocable extent. In the instant they were about to leave the plains, these swords had alreadyexploded with their greatest power. Yes, these swords were already old, covered in rust, and about to rot away. These swords were heavily injured soldiers, elderly men who could only walkforward with walking sticks. They should have long left the battlefield and returned to their fields. Itwas a pity that the fields here were no good, and this was not their home. Itwas just a cage. For several hundred years, they had never thought about leaving these plains.Ultimately, one of their companions succeeded and carried with it their desires. Yet this companion never returned. Until today, just as those swords were about to lose all hope, their oldfriend had finally returned. A youth had come back to these plains with their desires. These swords were old, but this youth was in his spring. Chen Changsheng's thirst for freedom, his adoration for life; it was so pureand resolute. It was like a clear wind that stirred them awake. They had heard his call, believed in his will, and thus heroically appearedonce more. An old sword still had some power, a broken edge could still kill the enemy. Their will subsumed these thousand li. They wanted to go further than those thousand li.