Joy of Life 716 There Are Snowy Swords And Frost At Cang Mountain 1

Goose-feather sized snowflakes floated down in the Royal Palace. Abruptly, four streaks of sword light lit up the darkness. Four unstable and strange tracks appeared in the air. Inside each streak was a terrifying sword light. It was impossible to tell which of the four strikes landed first and which landed last.

Unlike the killing intent contained within the four streaks of sword light, the power of the sword passed emotionlessly. It mixed with the wind and snow like an antelope hanging from its horns to avoid calamity. It was too wonderful for words. No one knew where it landed.

In an instant, Fan Xian appeared in front of the Emperor. The sleeve on his right arm fluttered. Every muscle beneath it exploded outward with shocking strength. In a flash, the sword flew in and out four continuous times.

The four strikes moved between heaven and earth. Each strike pierced through the falling snowflakes and struck at the Emperor's temple, by his sleeves, in front of his shoes, and outside of his dragon robe.

All four strikes missed. The last one was only an inch away from the Emperor's abdomen, yet this one inch of distance was like thousands of miles of mountain and water. The strength of the sword was all used up like a dried-up waterfall, unable to surge again or move closer.

The Emperor's wide sleeves shook slightly and danced casually without a care before the four strikes illuminating the dark and wintery Royal Palace. Easily but also wondrously, the Emperor avoided the four strikes that Fan Xian had prepared for a long time and released at lightning speed.

Fan Xian was not like Sigu Jian, who pushed ahead without considering the consequences. The four strikes Fan Xian sent out in an instant carried more of the intimate aura between Tianyi Dao and the world. Only with this was he able to strike like lightning. He used the power of the moving snowflakes and protection of the wind and snow to pierce as smoothly as floating snow toward the Qing Emperor's body, cornering the Emperor so he could not immediately make a lightning-like counterattack.

These four strikes did not carry a sliver of Dongyi's Sword Hut's cold-bloodedness and killing intent. On the contrary, it made one feel closer, giving Fan Xian the opportunity to get close. However, even these four strikes so deeply imbued with the aura of Tianyi Dao still could not hurt the Emperor. In fact, he did not even retreat a single step. He remained standing steadily and coldly where he was as if he had not moved earlier.

The realm of the Great Grandmaster's cultivation was indeed one that mortals could not touch. Even in front of such an attack that drew on the strength of the world, the Emperor was still able to easily neutralize it.

The tip of the Wei Emperor's sword groaned and trembled endlessly in front of the bright yellow dragon robe. It seemed like it had a kind of hopelessness and defeat, so only wanted to lower its head to accept its fate. But, it was also dissatisfied and struggled desperately. The four snowflakes pierced through by the sword began to show signs of disintegration.

Unlike the sword in his hand, there was not a trace of disappointment on Fan Xian's face. His expression remained calm, but the light in his eyes was abruptly restrained. It dissolved into a deathly stillness that was dim and void of heart and emotions. There was only a killing intent.

His eyes were like Sigu Jian's eyes that were filled with murderous intent and pierced through the large tree to the heavens. There was no mixing of emotions, only coldness. The sword in his hand instantly became a dead object, a weapon that could only be used by a saint. A deathly coldness made the four gradually dispersing snowflakes on the sword immediately turn into frost, freezing like a mirror.

The sleeve on his right shoulder suddenly split open as a series of clapping sounds rang out abruptly. The two circulations inside Fan Xian's body turned quickly, clashing and struggling against each other. They burst through the acupuncture point at the shoulder. The Meridians charged straight to the elbow and wrist, and then into the hilt of the sword.

His right arm seemed to swing out ferociously. He used the strength of the Coffin-Breaker technique to power the sword. The previously exhausted sword regained new strength and immediately grew a foot in length, piercing into the Qing Emperor's dragon robe.

This was the true attack, the final attack Sigu Jian conferred to Fan Xian before he died. It was motionless and heartless, harsh and final. One glance to bring down a city, another to destroy a nation, and a third to ruin one's heart. Sigu Jian sought to pacify the world and did not commit regicide for the world.

Wind and snow swirled ferociously in the Palace. The Wei Emperor's sword had already become a sword of snow, icy and decisive. Leaving no way to escape or to turn the situation around, it pressed inexorably forward.

A terrifying sound of friction rang out. It only sounded for a moment. To Fan Xian's ears, it seemed to ring for countless years. It dragged on slowly before finally coming to a stop.

Two well-maintained figures, like white jade sprouts, steadily and coldly caught the Wei Emperor's sword between them. The sound of friction had been produced by the friction between the icy body of the sword and two fingers. Half of the ice and frost on the body of the sword had been removed by the fingers. The two fingers rested at the center of the sword as faint steam rose from them.

Even though the Emperor was a Great Grandmaster, he would not underestimate Fan Xian's attack because it was overly cold and severe. The body of the sword had actually broken through his fingers and forcefully pressed forward half the length of the sword.

In the end, the Emperor did take a step back. However, there remained an inch of space between his body and the tip of the Wei Emperor's sword. Fan Xian still could not push past that one inch and truly come into contact with the Emperor's dragon robe.

The Emperor stared coldly at the son in front of him. Some frost had gathered on the beard on his chin. He appeared particularly scary. The joints of the two fingers holding the Wei Emperor's sword were slightly white and majestic. The Tyrannical zhenqi of a thousand lakes, rivers, and streams surged forward from these two fingers.

With a gentle twist, the extremely sharp sword of the Wei Emperor began to bend like a noodle between the Emperor's fingers. However, the Wei Emperor's sword had once been the treasure of the royal family, so it did not break even under such terrifying pressure by the Grandmaster.

Fan Xian was very close to the Emperor. He maintained his fencing posture. His right leg was to the back and slightly bent. His entire body maintained a perfect line, not revealing any flaws or giving one the sense of being impregnable.

He held the sword of the Wei Emperor in his hands. In the end, he was not Sigu Jian. This sword was not him. Rather, it was connected to his body. It was like a spread-eagled stick figure that suddenly sprouted an awkward limb.

Wild zhenqi surged from the Wei Emperor's sword like a giant river. Blood sprayed from between Fan Xian's thumb and forefinger. Still, he did not draw back the sword. He knew that it was a battle of resolution rather than a battle of willpower. He could not allow his enemy to steal his strength. The coldness in his eyes grew deeper and deeper as the zhenqi in his body began to surge out.

Fan Xian did not withdraw his sword, but the Emperor withdrew his fingers.

The very bent sword of the Wei Emperor bounced back like lightning. Like a snapped back horsewhip, it sliced toward Fan Xian's face. Fan Xian's eyes could clearly see the bright glimmer of sword light.

The ice and frost on the other half of the sword also flew off with this rebound and explode from the Wei Emperor's sword. It dissolved into countless icy shards that blew up between the Emperor and Fan Xian.

Fan Xian let out a sharp cry and quickly released his grip. His wrist dropped like lightning. He then grasped the hilt of the sword in a reverse grip. In the snow, his feet stumbled eight steps back as he slipped and retreated with his head tilted up.

With this head tilt, the defenses he had perfectly and ruthlessly woven earlier immediately melted like snow. His motions lost their flow.

The Emperor's body moved like a gust of wind and headed straight for Fan Xian's body. A common and simple punch flew out, landing directly on Fan Xian's chest.

With a muffled groan, Fan Xian's body flew out explosively from this seemingly light-handed punch. He became like a snowflake in the sky, tumbling miserably without an iota of strength. His figure flicked countless times in the air, made seven or eight flips, and swept passed dozens of feet of desolate courtyard before wretchedly landing on a patch of snowy ground far, far away.

Sending up a wave of snow and crushing dozens of dead roots, Fan Xian held his chest and vomited up a mouthful of fresh blood. However, he still determinedly climbed to his feet and stared intently at the Emperor in the distance.

No one could fly dozens of feet through the air with no reason, even when struck by the Emperor's Way of the Emperor's killing punch. That unopposable force could not make a person fly out dozens of feet.

After all, the human body had weight. It could not truly be like a snowflake. On Dong Mountain, even when Sigu Jian was sent flying by the Emperor's punch, he had rolled like a stone in the Qing Temple before wretchedly crashing into that bell.

Who could move as Fan Xian did earlier, flying so far in the air truly like a snowflake?

The Emperor glanced coldly at the shoe clenched in his hand and icy cold and reflective metal tip poking out from the tip of the show. He furrowed his brows slightly. When he had landed a punch on Fan Xian's chest, Fan Xian had the thought of exchanging a life for a life and had kicked out sinisterly from under his robe. The tip of his foot contained this metal point. It had clearly been coated in poison.

The Emperor threw the shoe into the snow and narrowed his eyes at Fan Xian, who was climbing to his feet with difficulty. "Little tricks cannot be used to accomplish great things."

Fan Xian coughed. Some blood came up. With some difficulty, he took out a thin sheet of metal from inside his shirt and tossed it into the snow by his feet. "But little tricks can save a life."

There was already a handprint on the thin sheet of metal. Strangely, it was not an imprint of the Emperor's punch. Instead, it was the imprint of the back of a horizontally held palm.

When the Emperor's punch was about to land on Fan Xian's chest, other than the sinister kick from under his robe, Fan Xian's left arm had slid naturally through the wind and snow and moved with startling speed to a stop in front of him, protecting him from the danger.

However, his Coffin-Breaker technique was no match for the Emperor's Great Grandmaster strength punch. The punch blew through his defense like dead leaves. The Emperor's fist had pressed against his palm. In the end, it had still struck heavily against his chest leaving a horizontal palm print of the back of the hand.

With a sheet of metal hidden in front of his chest, at the last moment, he had activated Tianyi Dao's zhenqi to shield his heart Meridian. With the additional buffer of his palm, it allowed Fan Xian to hold onto his life before such a horrifying punch.

The fight between the Qing Emperor and Fan Xian, father and son, had only just started, but they were already separated by dozens of feet looking at each other across wind and snow. Victory had already been decided. No matter how well-prepared Fan Xian was, the difference in strength was too large. The wondrous power of a Great Grandmaster could not be compensated for by hard work.

From the moment he drew his sword, Fan Xian had used methods of Tianyi Dao, Haitang's natural sword techniques he had taught himself. Then, he congealed snow into frost, combined these four Tianyi Dao strikes into one self-taught Sigu Sword attack, and delivered with the Ye Family's Coffin-Breaker technique.

The last sinister kick and the metal sheet in front of his chest were skills that had been beaten into him by Uncle Wu Zhu since he was young. They were Fan Xian's little tricks that he was famously dependent on. However, the foundation used to trigger these wondrous skills and link them all together was the Tyrannical zhenqi that Fan Xian had worked hard to cultivate for over 20 years and had long become part of his body.

In the world, there were four Great Grandmasters and a blind man. The best martial arts in the world could all be found in Fan Xian. In this world, only Fan Xian had such good luck as to learn so many wondrous skills. Since the dead or departed warriors had entrusted their last hope in opposing the Qing Emperor to Fan Xian, he was able to fight fairly with the Emperor.

Even with the three linked attacks that he had been building up to for a long time and the secrets of the Great Grandmasters that he learned himself, he still did not gain any advantage before the Emperor. From beginning to end, the Emperor only retreated one step, raised two fingers, and launched one punch to leave Fan Xian with serious injuries. How could such a difference be evened out through training and meditation?

A superior ninth-level ace was a rarely seen apex figure in this world. Given Fan Xian's present cultivation, he could go anywhere he wanted in the world. Faced with a Great Grandmaster, no one imagined that a superior ninth-level ace had any ability to challenge above their level.

For Fan Xian to be able to force the Emperor back one step in the wind and snow, as well as survive the Emperor's attack, was already a shocking matter and enough to make him proud.

Fan Xian coughed up blood and took off his other shoe to stand barefoot on the icy and snowy ground. Narrowing his eyes slightly, a never before seen pride and confidence appeared in his eyes. Such a startling emotion after a wretched defeat was not because he had forced the Emperor back or because he had survived. Instead, it was because, in his calm heart, he had a certainty toward his judgment: the Emperor was old.

…

…

During the seven days the Fan manor was shut up in seclusion, other than thinking about the psychological battle and how to preserve the lives of those he loved, what Fan Xian thought about the most was the matter of the Emperor's true condition. Just what kind of realm was the Great Grandmaster's realm? Fan Xian had seen Ye Liuyun and Sigu Jian attack, but this was not the same. Since Great Grandmasters were known to be unfathomable, how could he estimate the Emperor's true strength?

Fortunately, while he was in Dongyi before Sigu Jian died, this Great Grandmaster had analyzed with Fan Xian for a long time the matter of the Qing Emperor's realm and had come to a judgment that, while blurry, was very close to the truth.

The culmination of the Qing Emperor's cultivation had been during the Northern Expedition. The Tyrannical zhenqi in his body had surpassed the boundaries of the realm and destroyed all of his Meridians at once, turning him into a useless man. For some reason, in the end, not only did the Emperor recover to his previous state, he also became the fourth Great Grandmaster in the world.

The Meridians in Fan Xian's body had also exploded before. With Haitang Duoduo's help and the nursing of Tianyi Dao's natural technique, he had fortunately repaired his Meridians. But, how exactly had the Emperor survived back then?

Sigu Jian had crossed swords with the Qing Emperor on Dong Mountain and told Fan Xian the conclusion he had come to. There were no longer any of the Meridians that humans ought to have in their bodies in the Emperor's body. Instead, his entire physical body had become a channel. Zhenqi moved within his body without any obstacles, regardless of whether it was inhalation or exhalation. It happened at a startling speed. Without the restrictions of the Meridians, the Tyrannical zhenqi in the Emperor's body could accumulate without limit to a realm that humans would not dare dream about.

Each Great Grandmaster had their own way of breaking into the realm. Some relied on their closeness to the world, and some relied on cold-heartedness and seeing the world as nothing. However, the Qing Emperor had broken through to the realm without any introspection. Instead, he had valiantly and endlessly practiced and stored the Tyrannical zhenqi in his body like a sea. He used a quantitative change to bring about qualitative change.

This was the Qing Emperor's terrifying strength. He had relied on his endless zhenqi and unusually fast breathing technique to control so much power on Dong Mountain. He had been able to direct the bottomless zhenqi he had cultivated for dozens of years with a flick of his finger into Master Ku He's body, bursting through his flesh.

If one could truly confirm the truth of Qing Emperor's realm, then one matter was worth considering. Half of the Tyrannical zhenqi the Qing Emperor had accumulated for many years had been fed into Ku He's body. Naturally, such an expense was worth it to kill a Great Grandmaster. However, this half-depletion would probably take the Qing Emperor a number of years to make up again.

A common practitioner of the martial arts only needed a few days of meditation to fully refill their zhenqi. Even if they depleted half their zhenqi, they would, at most, need to recover for just a few days. But, the Emperor's path had never been the same as others. For everyone else, their zhenqi could, at most, fill a pond. The Great Grandmasters could, at most, fill a small lake. Their methods of using what was in the small lake were wondrous, such as making the lake water steam.

However, inside the Qing Emperor's body was an ocean. A mere three years was probably not enough to refill it after depleting half.

Half a sea was still unfathomable and something Fan Xian could not oppose. However, the Qing Emperor had suffered endless attacks these few years. With the Jingdou rebellion, heartache, and the death of his sons and mother, his heart had probably been damaged. Furthermore, the damage caused by the black wheelchair inside the royal study last autumn was also probably impossible to fully recover from. Even a Great Grandmaster was not completely immune to Chen Pingping's methods.

If the Emperor had still been the Emperor from before the Dong Mountain incident, even if he was the gently smiling, seemingly mediocre but actually cold and heartless Emperor from three years ago, Fan Xian would have no chance at all. When it came to the scene on Dong Mountain, Fan Xian understood it clearly. He knew what terrifying power was contained within the Emperor's Way of the Emperor's punch.

The Emperor's punch today was clearly not as powerful as the one on Dong Mountain. Regardless of how many life-saving techniques Fan Xian used and the fact that he had used the breathing techniques he had long hidden at the bottom of the chest, Fan Xian was still alive. If this was the previous Emperor, this one punch would probably have shattered Fan Xian's palm, the metal sheet beneath his shirt, and half of his body.

This was enough to prove that the Emperor had already come down from the altar. He was old and no longer as powerful as he once was.

Fan Xian narrowed his eyes and looked at the Emperor through the wind and snow. Fresh blood trickled out from the side of his lips, but he wore a bright smile on his face. It was a rare opportunity in his life to fight without the fear of death. Furthermore, he faintly scented a glimmer of victory. It was truly exhilarating.

The Emperor also looked at his son through the wind and snow. His eyes narrowed as a cold light flashed through them. He knew very well why Fan Xian was able to survive his attack. It was not because of his sinister kick, the palm he placed cleverly in front of his fist, or that absurd sheet of metal. It was because of Fan Xian's bodily motions, the one that allowed him to fly effortlessly dozens of feet back through the snowy air like a snowflake.

Since it was effortless, much of the zhenqi power in the Emperor's punch had been wasted on the snowy air and had not truly landed on Fan Xian's body. The question was, where had Fan Xian learned such a thing? No one in this world could float for dozens of feet and become so weightless.

The Emperor narrowed his eyes further. He realized that he no longer fully understood his son. He didn't know how many surprises Fan Xian had waiting for him.

"You are already at the level of Hong Siyang," the Emperor's voice rang through the wind and snow and landed clearly in Fan Xian's ears.

Fan Xian's expression grew slightly serious. He knew that this was the Emperor's ultimate recognition of him. Back in the day, other than the four Great Grandmasters, it was old Eunuch Hong's strength that was the most unfathomable. The Emperor had once said that if it were not for the fact that the Hong Siyang's body was strange, there would probably be one more Great Grandmaster in this world.

Now, the Emperor had placed him on par with Hong Si yang. Fan Xian felt a slight sense of pride. However, he also knew the Emperor had certainly noticed his technique in dissipating the Way of the Emperor's punch earlier. That was strange because it was the technique Master Ku He had asked Sigu Jian to pass onto Fan Xian before he died. Fan Xian's breathing amidst the wind and snow, as well as his intimate walk through the air like a bird, were all because he could sense the faint ripples between heaven and earth.

Chapter end