995 The Last Strike (2/2)

A bout of unimaginably and indescribably strong psyche power came to the sedan.

Is it Haotian's will? Liu Yiqing thought and smiled slightly. Under the glory of Haotian's Divine Flame his smile seemed to be a complex of mockery and self-mockery.

His left hand was holding his right hand. And his right hand was holding the burned sword. The sword was burned by the Divine Flame into ashes, like a powerless candle. And his broken right hand was burned to the bones. The white bones were darkened and sharpened in the flame.

Liu Yiqing raised his hand and the burned dark finger bones floated to in front of Hengmu Liren eyes like a sword.

Normally a sword would not float. Only the lightest object would. But Liu Yiqing's last strike with his sword-like finger bones did float.

While he swayed his sword, willows along the moat around the imperial city swung in the night breeze. The tip of the willows touched and rippled the water. The white cloth on Liu Yiqing's face drifted away and wiped off Haotian's Divine Flame on the slasher.

Hengmu Liren became solemn for the first time. Liu Yiqing's strike was intangible like the breeze. He was indeed the most powerful in the Sword Garret. Hengmu Liren became solemn and then excited.

Liu Yiqing was too seriously wounded to recover and could never defeat him tonight. But this strike was a serious test for him. He wanted to beat this strike perfectly and leave him in anguish and humiliation.

Hengmu Liren shouted out while countless bouts of flaming white lights spurted from between his hands. The blade of his slasher carried the magnificent will and darted forward.

If your sword could float like breeze, I will chop the breeze! Confronting the breeze, he chopped it.

...

...

It was all silent.

The breeze was chopped silently.

Countless willows by the moat were chopped and fell into the water, drifting like duckweed.

The white cloth on Liu Yiqing's eyes were chopped and fell down. It stopped in front of his chest because there was a sword in his chest. His right hand was sword-like. Blood gushed from the wound. There were b.l.o.o.d.y wounds all over his body. Most of them were made by Hengmu Liren.

But the final fatal one was caused by his own sword.

”Why?” Hengmu Liren looked pale and asked him, ”Why wasn't your last strike against me?”

Liu Yiqing answered, ”I told you. You are not worthy of it.” He coughed blood while he spoke and he smiled. That was a smile of mockery. A pitying smile.

Hengmu Liren shouted with anger, ”Why am I not worthy of it?!”

Liu Yiqing said, ”There's no need for me to repeat.”

Hengmu Liren became quiet.

Liu Yiqing said with a smile, ”Isn't it upsetting to not to be able to kill me tonight?”

There were many powerful cultivators from West-Hill tonight. Liu Yiqing came by himself and knew clearly there was no escape. But he still came. It was because there had to be someone from the South Jin to declare their stand.

He knew that the Divine Halls of West-Hill wanted to showcase the power of Taoism on this stage in front of the imperial city of South Jin. He came to stage to be play a leading role.

He killed the emperor of South Jin and then himself. Therefore, no one else could ever kill him. Hengmu Liren could do nothing on such a stage. How could he be qualified to be a hero?

He, Liu yiqing, was the one bound to be remembered in history. Therefore he should claim all the glory on the stage at the last moment of his life. That was his last strike to the Divine Halls of West-Hill.

Hengmu Liren seemed desolate.

It should have been his first fight to become a powerful cultivator tonight. But he did not know that the end of the story had already been planned without him.

At that moment, he realized why the Abbey Dean said that before he left the Peach Mountain, and why the Abbey Dean had sent that person in the darkness to follow him.

It was indeed a tough journey to become powerful. And he was not ready to reconcile.

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