Chapter 207 – The Battle amidst the Snowstorm (2/2)

No one could see this wall, but they all knew that it was there, sitting upon the Divine path.

Xun Mei’s steps ceased. For a long time, wet footprints did not appear on the Divine Path.

Then, his gaze pierced through that pavilion and the monstrous figure sitting under it. It landed upon the Mausoleum of Books, just like a match to a fuse, which began to burn fiercely with a crackle.

His gaze began to burn. His vision began to burn. His eyes began to burn.

His eyes began to shine, as if they were newborn stars.

His body began to slowly lean forward.

A wet footprint once again appeared on the Divine Path.

If Han Qing’s sword was a city wall, then he wanted to directly smash this city wall to pieces.

On the Divine Path, traces of water became more and more defined as the footprints marched forward. This was the path he would take.

He was going to walk the Divine Path, walk under the pavilion, and proceed directly to the summit of the Mausoleum.

After each step he took, his face grew paler and paler. Each step was more and more painful, but his eyes were filled with joy.

Life is only real when there is pain.

What he wanted to face was reality.

As time passed, the footprints on the Divine Path continued to press forward, until they had almost reached the pavilion.

Xun Mei was still separated from the pavilion by about one hundred yards, but he could already see that pair of eyes in the shadows of that armor.

Two powerful Qis silently clashed south of the Mausoleum.

The clear water in the canals seemed to boil in alarm, and then it began to overflow in all directions. The supple and formless water slowly began to take a form.

Even the firm and hard black rock plateau began to change. Under the pressure of their powerful Qi, it began to sink down and form a depression.

It was as if an unfathomably huge, heavy, and invisible boulder had landed on it.

Stone fragments flew about, and the edges of the canals produced a tooth-aching and distorted sound.

Only by rapidly retreating did Chen Changsheng and the others avoid the shockwave. After observing the cracked and sunken surface, their eyes were filled with awe while looking at the two figures upon the Divine Path.

The clash of their Qi did not last for too long.

Xun Mei stared at the pavilion, and then he whistled.

The whistle was like that of a stage manager’s who ordered someone to begin spreading paper pieces all over the stage. These paper pieces represented fake snow, but at this moment, real snow came falling down.

No, it was not snow, but starlight that had been split into numerous pieces.

The scattered starlight that drifted down was in no way different from snow.

Xun Mei stood in the snow, as if he had gone back to the old days.

In those days, he had been a teenager. He had stood before his teacher’s door for three days and three nights until the snow had piled up to his knees.

What year was that? It was a year even earlier than from thirty-seven years ago.

After almost fifty years of bitter cultivation and thirty-seven years of viewing monoliths, he had long ago ceased to be that frail child who had fallen badly sick from the cold of the storms.

He was a cultivator that had almost reached the level of Saint Realm.

Only until now did those youths who were viewing the battle realized that Xun Mei’s cultivation had reached such a level. They could not help but be shocked into silence.

At this time, the Mausoleum Guard under the pavilion lifted his head.

The features which had been obscured in the armor’s shadow finally saw light.

It was an elderly and apathetic face.

His shout cut through the air.

Countless motes of dust spilled out of the countless cracks in his armor.

He had sat before the Divine Path for several hundreds of years.

This was several hundreds of years’ worth of dust.

Several hundred years ago, the war between humanity and demons had entered its final stage.

He had been the last general appointed by Wang Zhice.

When he finally lifted his head and looked at Xun Mei, his gaze served as the sharpest sword.

In addition, his sword had truly left its sheath.

The scattered starlight slowly drifted down to the ground.

Divine General Han Qing’s sword was steadfast in the wind and snow, like a golden spear or armored horse.

In front of the pavilion, it had already become a snowy plain.

From Xun Mei’s perspective, this shredded starlight was the snow from the days when he had stood before his teacher’s door.

From Han Qing’s perspective, this shredded starlight was the snow that fell on the battlefield from all those years ago.

Two different snows represented two different wills. They each had their own wills.

Although they were separated by over one hundred yards, Xun Mei looked at that elderly face as if it was up close.

This battle had finally entered its climax, the moment in which victory and defeat were decided. The two experts had both unleashed their strongest techniques. The teenagers viewing the battle from the edge of the rock plateau were incapable of withstanding it anymore. Even if they took steps after steps backwards, they still were blown every which way by the violent snowstorm, and could fall over at any time.

At this moment, Gou Hanshi suddenly grasped Chen Changsheng’s left arm. Chen Changsheng understood his intention and forcefully grabbed onto Liang Banhu’s arm. They held onto each other tightly, like tender trees amidst a snowstorm. They were lined up in a row, steadily resisting the full force of nature.

If the conditions far away from the battle were so bitter, then it could imagine what those two in the center were undergoing at the moment.

The battle between a general of one hundred battles and a poor, humble scholar amidst the snowstorm. In the end, who would obtain victory, and who would suffer defeat?