Chapter 110 (1/2)

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Chapter 110

In the border town, along the journey, at the Old Brush Pen Shop and many other places, Ning Que told Sangsang for many times that even if he could not practice cultivation, he, her young master, could still break the enemies with his skillful way of using knives. However, at least in the present, this seemingly sonorous and powerful declaration could only be a spiritual comfort or mental masturbation to a larger extent.

He understood what incredible abilities those mighty ones in the world of cultivation had, and he never expected to be able to beat a cultivator in a face-to-face battle, not to mention that this one in front of him was obviously a swordsman who had at least stepped into the No Doubts State.

In this first fight with a cultivator, what he could rely on was only some indirect experience, so he did not hold much hope, and yet also did not sink into despair. He has always believed that only dead people need to despair.

On the charcoal furnace, the gradually boiling water was emitting steam and hot water was poured into the teacup. Carefully looking at this picture, Ning Que watched each movement of Yan Suqing, including his shoulder and his hand, thus neglecting the utterances from his adversary which might weaken his will to fight. His eyes suddenly brightened when he saw this person pouring tea.

He used all his fingers to hold the teacup, thus leaving no others to form the Sword Formula. The legs of Ning Que that were nailed firmly into the ground now tightened to push his body forward. With the long podao in his hand, he collected all his power to form an attack like a tiger pouncing ahead!

Feeling the gust of air rus.h.i.+ng towards his face and watching the juvenile soldier dragging the podao behind with no means of retreat, Yan Suqinga showed a mixed look of pity and ridicule in his eyes. He stretched his right hand out of the cuff, spreading fingers to gently make a brush in the night wind.

Wuthering wind was heard in the small lakeside house, which was not the torrent rolled up by Ning Que's attack, but the sound of tearing by some power in the deep night. That dim shadow of sword which somehow disappeared in the darkness behind him suddenly made fierce buzzing, unpredictably darting from the front to the back, and in a flash, it directly stabbed through the darkness towards the back of Ning Que!

After a sudden stillness, the bamboo leaves rolled by the torrent at the bamboo wall scattered around with great panic and after a sudden condensation, the hot mist around the charcoal furnace gradually settled down the ground. Time on the lawn inside the courtyard seemed to be slowed down to a larger degree.

Was that the strength of a Sword Master with a full attack?

Feeling the absolute cold from behind his back and the sharpness that had made him heartbroken even without touching him, Ning Que lamented that the hands of death would soon reach his back.

But he did not look back or dodge. He continued to violently attack like a tiger and run forward, because he knew that there was no retreat back, and dodges would also be meaningless within such a close distance. At this moment all he could do was to run on and on, which was his last hope for survival.

Rus.h.i.+ng to two steps before Yan Suqing, Ning Que gazed at his eyes and stared at his neck, and concentrated all his strength on his podao with hands crossed he chopped down hard, regardless of the sense of death breathing down the back of his neck!

Facing the swift and fierce chop head-on, Yan Suqing was just about to sip the tea in the teacup he just lifted with his left hand, without the slightest expression on his face. In the sea of Breath of Nature, he had clearly perceived that the hiltless mini-sword under the control of his own Psyche Power had flashed to the back of Ning Que, and this lad would die when the blade fell.

There were three feet between Ning Que's podao and Yan Suqing's neck.

And there was one feet between Yan Suqing's flying sword and Ning Que's back.

The flying sword controlled by cultivators moved faster than

any knives under the control of even the most skillful knifeman in this world.

No matter under what manner of calculation, Ning Que had to lose his life pitifully even if he had struggled bravely for a chance of survival, which, however, would do no harm to Yan Suqing.

Then, Ning Que should have died, but actually he did not.

Using the momentum of that attack, he secretly loosened his left hand, which naturally stretched to his back to hold a length of a hard object popping out from its cloth cover.

That was the handle of that big black umbrella.

His slender fingers held the handle crossed with a force, and the coa.r.s.e cloth wrapping the umbrella suddenly twisted. Its solid hard-woven cloth arched and was then torn apart in the twinkling of an eye, revealing a few strokes of black inside. Those strokes of black rotated to tear the cloth apart, like a black dragon violently raised his head from under the ground after a long time of dormant. More and more coa.r.s.e cloth was split, thus increasingly exposing black, which gradually aggregated to roll into a black umbrella.

Along with the rotation, the black umbrella unfolded with an increase of its size, which just a.s.sembled a big black flower blossoming in an instant with condensed spring breeze. ”Bang!”, it opened to cover the back of Ning Que, which also helped to ward off that dim shadow of sword buzzing towards him.

Yan Suqing had collected all his Psyche Power to make a fatal shadow of sword, which carried with it incredible power. However, when the hiltless mini-sword stabbed the surface of the big black umbrella that seemed to be greasy with nothing special, unimaginable things happened.

Neither sound of tearing nor bangs of fierce crashes was heard from the surface of the umbrella.

The incomparably sharp flying sword that had stabbed the black surface dropped like a fallen leaf sunken into a boundless dark swamp, or an exhausted mosquito resting quietly on an old black plaque.

The buzzing flying sword with high vibrations looked as if it were stuck to the surface of the big black umbrella, which suddenly ended in an absolute quiet.

After a moment, the fallen leaf slowly sank into the boundless black swamp leaving not a trace, and the exhausted mosquito resting on the old black plaque slumped to the ground, or to the end of its life.

The formerly agile and sharp hiltless mini-sword seemed to be deprived of all its vigor and slowly fell down from the big black umbrella toward the ground.

In the Qi of Heaven and Earth, it seemed a string was broken.

Failing to interact with his own Natal Sword, Yan Suqing's expression suddenly changed, a sharp whistle bursting out from between his lips. He released the coa.r.s.e teacup in the left hand, thus folding his palms to catch the blade hacked towards him by a single hand of Ning Que!

The distance between his palms and the blade of Ning Que was as short as the width of a hair, which still allowed a gap to exist between them. But within that very subtle s.p.a.ce, some power seemed to fill the gap, which was as tight as cotton.

The whistle echoed in the quiet lakeside small house. At the sound of the whistling, the flying sword that had just fallen onto the ground made several attempts to

to bounce up, which proved to be a failure. The attempts looked so miserable and futile, like an old mosquito fallen to the frosted ground, whose thin wings were frozen into gla.s.sy ice. The so-called struggle was more like a twitch before death.

Yan Suqing's eyes were suddenly filled with intentions of killing. With another sharp whistle, he crossed his palms to pat off the icy cold blade and stretched out his right hand from his sleeve, tilting his body to bounce up from the chair and holding his fingers to form a sword that directly targeted at Ning Que's throat.

It was not until this moment did the coa.r.s.e and clumsy teacup heavily flop to the ground, scattering dark-red gravel pieces all over the ground. The hot water mixed with tea leaves splashed in all directions, with white heat mist struggling for their way out in great horror.

Attempting to stab straight into Ning Que's throat, Yan Suqing, however, pointed his figures slightly to the left to draw an arch, making it a bit further than a direct line, thus giving Ning Que more time to react at such a fatal moment.

He had to do so, because he wanted to avoid the big black umbrella. Subconsciously he was unwilling to have any contact, even not an inch, with it. The greasy and dirty surface of the umbrella at this time looked even darker than the darkness in the small lakeside house before dawn.

Yan Suqing did not know what the big black umbrella was. However, as an experienced cultivator who had retreated from the Military Ministry for nearly a decade and had while in seclusion with clay pottery and tea made progress in cultivation all the time. He could vaguely feel the terror brought by this big black umbrella. It was the instinct of a cultivator.

It was precisely because of this deepest fear in his heart that Yan Suqing's sword moved a little slower than its normal level. Taking advantage of this very short time, Ning Que moved the black umbrella to the left of his body.