391 The Song Ends, the Blade Appears

All the people in the streets of Xunyang City were shocked by Su Li's onestrike. Even the insane Xiao Zhang was forced to express his admiration. Chen Changsheng did not think this way. On the contrary, he felt somewhatsaddened. In the eyes of everyone else, Su Li's hand held the Yellow Paper Umbrella, andthen with a single strike that flew through the rain, it had easily andsilently slain a Star Condensation expert. This was truly a level ofcultivation on the path of the sword that could shock the entire world. But when he had gone from the Garden of Zhou to the snowy plains, he had onceseen Su Li's true strike. The Su Li of that time had similarly been holding the Yellow Paper Umbrella,the handle not fully pulled out. The sword intent flew through the stone,traveling dozens of li. A Demon General at the edge of the snowy plaincollapsed from this strike, the black shadow of his mountainous figure suddenlybeing cut in two. Compared to that Demon General, what did a rat like Lin Canghai amount to? Compared to the strike from back then, what did this strike that flew throughthe rain-soaked Xunyang City amount to? As they had journeyed south over these past few weeks, Su Li had finallymanaged to save up enough for one strike. It fell short of even one-tenth ofhis power at his peak, and yet it still shook the heavens with its might. If hecould return to his peak, no, even if he were just a little less injured, whocould kill him? Who would even dare to come and kill him? It was a pity that the human world only possessed cold, hard facts. There werenever any 'if's. After this strike, everything truly had come to an end. "Has no one come?"  Su Li looked through the rain at Xunyang City, examining all the guests thathad come to attend this feast. He was quiet for a very long time, and then heshook his head. He calmly said, "From the looks of it, no one else will becoming." He had asked the question, and then answered it himself. Within this onequestion and one answer, there was an indescribable sense of frustration, asense of someone who had lived through the many changes of the world. His expression was still indifferent as usual. He said to Chen Changsheng,"You see, the facts have finally proved that I am right." Chen Changsheng maintained his silence as he thought to himself, what's thepoint in continuing to argue about it? Su Li's expression suddenly became more solemn, his tone very ponderous."Besides an idiot—or maybe ‘imbecile’ would be better—like you, who would justrandomly go help other people? Just where in the world can you find such peopleso deserving of trust?" Even at this time, the Mount Li Sword Sect had still not sent anybody, noreven a message. The sects and monasteries of the Longevity Sect and the HolyMaiden Peak had also not said anything. True, the Southern Heaven was very faraway, but words and attitudes should have been able to reach Xunyang City intime and appear before the common people. Somewhat sorrowfully, those words andattitudes did not appear. Or perhaps this represented the entire human world's attitude towards Su Li. That the world was not divided into north and south; that people were notdivided into the virtuous and the foolish; that they all wanted him dead. Watching the silent figure of Su Li in the rain, Chen Changsheng suddenly feltvery sad. His nose felt somewhat sour, his eyes seemed to sting, and his voicewas a little tense. "Maybe…maybe something happened at Mount Li." For those people called legends, when the curtain finally fell, they wouldoften be alone. Yet Chen Changsheng could not stand to see this curtain.Whether in the folk stories or the annals of the Orthodoxy, he had neverenjoyed reading the sentences about the breaking up of a feast. He did not wantto see Su Li leave in such a miserable fashion. Su Li smiled at him. "You idiot, is this supposed to comfort me?" The rain-soaked Xunyang City was silent and chilly, and seemed to be gettingcolder. From far away abruptly rose the sound of a zither. No one knew who wasplaying the zither. Perhaps it was the house musicians of the Liang Household,or maybe it was Liang Hongzhuang's bosom friend. The zither sobbed and thevoice was hoarse. One could faintly hear something like 'old soul' and 'oldcity' in there, but it wasn't all too clear. Upon hearing this song, Liang Hongzhuang became silent. His torn dancing dressfloated up in the wind and rain as he clasped his sleeves behind him and left. Leading away his Red Cloud Qilin, Xue He silently bowed to the second floor ofthe inn, and then turned to leave. The sound of the zither gradually faded away, the voice of the singer slowlydisappeared, and then… "Eeyah!" Xiao Zhang roared! The white paper obscuring his face whooshed! The metal spear thrust straight at Su Li! Liang Wangsun grasped the Vajra Pestle in his hand, his steps as heavy as alotus and his spirit complete like jade. His Qi enveloped the entire inn. With a sudden gale, Chen Changsheng was flipped over and found it hard to getup. This song was about to end. That would be the time of Su Li's death. And yet, there was someone who was not willing to let this song end. It was not Liang Hongzhuang in his torn dress who had turned to leave. It was not Divine General Xue He in his damaged old armor, leading his Qilinaway. It wasn't the Liang Household's musicians that wanted to keep playing, nor wasit that bosom friend who wanted the song to reach to the ends of the world. That zither, that voice, had already ceased. Yet within the inn, or moreprecisely the first floor of the inn, there was a crisp clack. It was like thesound of wood striking or a bamboo zither. In brief, it continued this zithersong. These crisp clacks were in abundance, beating out a fast tempo as if theywere giving new life to this song. At both ends of the long street, Liang Hongzhuang and Xue He simultaneouslyhalted their steps. They swiftly turned their bodies to the inn, their facespale from shock. Clack! Clackclack! Clackclackclack! Just what object was making this noise? The counter on the first floor of the inn was very old, its paint peeling off.Atop it was an abacus. The beads of the abacus were at this very moment ramming against each other. Yet the person who had been moving these beads around to calculate was nolonger there. With a sharp clack, dozens of white and turbulent streams of air appeared inthe ruins of the inn. Seeing these streams of turbulent air, Liang Wangsun's face grew solemn. Hisprincely robe whistled upwards and his two eyes glowed like stars. Xiao Zhang'sexpression instantly became incomparably shocked, and then turned into violence. With a rip, the floorboards between the first and second floor were torn apartlike a fragile piece of paper. A blade slashed through the floorboards, flyingthrough those dozens of masses of air. With a terrifying screech, it slashed atXiao Zhang! Xiao Zhang had appeared in an unbridled manner, but this blade was even moreunbridled than he had been. Because this blade had no intention of blockingthat spear, but was aimed at the person behind the spear. This clearly said toXiao Zhang,my blade is definitely faster, heavier, and crueler than your spear.Before your spear can kill Su Li, my blade will definitely cut your head off! Seeing this metal blade that was slashing at him head-on, Xiao Zhang wasshocked, and then furious. He knew this blade. He knew that this blade had been personally forged by theOld Master of the Wenshui Tangs, and then gifted free of charge. He knewespecially that although this blade looked ordinary, it possessed a might whicheven spirits and ghosts would find hard to resist. The blade sobbed like the weeping of a poverty-stricken scholar, like thewailing of a child in the wreckage of its home. This blade was very angry. Xiao Zhang had exchanged countless blows with this blade. After Xun Meientered the Mausoleum of Books, the person that had battled this metal bladethe most times was him. Of course, he had also lost to it the most times. Buthe had never seen the blade this terrifying. A hole also seemed to be cut open in the dark clouds above Xunyang City, andone could faintly make out the blue sky.  Xiao Zhang knew he absolutely could not retreat, or else he would definitelylose to this blade. This angry blade might even cut his Dao heart and battleintent into pieces, turning him into a cripple for the rest of his life. Histwo hands tightly gripped his spear, and then swung it horizontally towards theblade. Boom! The white paper floated up into the air. Some blood had spattered upon thepaper. Xiao Zhang flew backwards, spitting blood. He crashed into the courtyardacross from the inn. From the clouds of dust and shattered stone came a furious and unwilling roar.