Chapter 129: You Just Think You’re About to Die!

The smile vanished from the Laughing Buddha’s face.

But when he sensed that the sword cultivator before him was only at the early Fusion Realm, his smile returned.

"Amitabha." He clasped his hands together, his expression benevolent as he lowered his gaze. "It seems you must be—"

Clang—!

A sword light flashed.

The monk’s head flew high into the air.

Chen Huai’an straightened, sword in hand, as the Blackscale Sword, drawn only half an inch from its sheath, slowly slid back in.

The Laughing Buddha’s body flickered, and his severed head reattached itself. His smile remained, but there was now a cold edge to it.

Chen Huai’an took a step forward, the Blackscale Sword sliding half an inch from its sheath once more.

Clang—!

Leng Chanshin reacted instantly. He barely raised his hand—

And his body was sliced cleanly in half.

His form reassembled again, but now his expression darkened. "Sir, don’t go too far!"

Clang—!

The Blackscale Sword came out three inches.

A dense flurry of sword Qi shredded the monk into countless tiny pieces.

When he reformed again, the Laughing Buddha was no longer laughing.

Chen Huai’an stood half a meter away from him, smirking.

"Try moving again. See what happens?"

Leng Chanshin’s face twitched. His once benevolent expression twisted into rage, his eyes widening in fury, his face darkening like ink. Fiery red hair erupted from his scalp as he bellowed, "Wrath!"

Boom—!

A massive Dharma manifestation erupted from the ground.

Three heads, six arms. Each face bore a different expression—anger, sorrow, joy. Blackened fangs jutted from its jaws.

Each of its six hands held a steel trident, its golden armor gleaming under the radiance of the Buddha’s light.

Unlike Zhou Xuanzi’s Heaven and Earth Form, Leng Chanshin didn’t merely summon his Dharma manifestation—he became it.

He was the Dharma form.

The Dharma form was him.

This technique not only amplified his strength but also eliminated the common weakness of such forms—leaving the main body vulnerable to attack.

This was the true pinnacle of Heaven and Earth Form.

A power only Fusion Realm experts could wield.

"You forced this upon me!" Leng Chanshin roared. "A mere early Fusion Realm, and you think you’re something special?!"

With that, he swung all six of his steel tridents, stirring up a hurricane. They tore through the air like shattered celestial pillars, crashing down upon Chen Huai’an with the force of a collapsing sky.

Meanwhile, Zhou Xuanzi, who had just regained consciousness on the ground, turned deathly pale upon seeing the monstrous Black Sky Dharma Form.

Panicked, he sent a voice transmission to the Laughing Buddha.

"Senior! Luoyan Manor is the foundation of my Pill Sect! Please, do not—!"

The Black Sky Dharma Form twisted its three furious faces toward Zhou Xuanzi.

Flames blazed in its eyes.

"You are nothing. Do you dare tell me what to do? Begone—!"

The crushing aura of a Fusion Realm master slammed into Zhou Xuanzi like a tidal wave, adding to his already grievous injuries. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed to his knees.

In a rented apartment, Chen Huai’an sneered as he topped up ¥88,000.

Then another ¥188,000.

Above the clouds, a pair of cold, sword-gleaming eyes snapped open, locking onto the six tridents.

He took a step forward—Fusion Realm, mid-stage.

Another step—Fusion Realm, late-stage.

Clang—!

The Blackscale Sword was fully drawn, resting in his palm.

"My dear disciple," Chen Huai’an murmured, "your master is in the mood today. Watch closely."

Aboard the flying boat, Li Qingran’s eyes sparkled. She didn’t blink, staring fixedly at the lone swordsman facing the monstrous Dharma form.

To her—

That solitary figure was the heavens.

The invincible heavens.

"The snow blankets the mountains of May, no flowers bloom, only cold remains!"

Chen Huai’an gripped his sword with both hands, angling the blade toward the sky.

His aura soared, spiritual energy surging into the Blackscale Sword, making its edge glow ever brighter.

Above Luoyan Manor, snow filled the sky.

Yet there was no chill in the air.

"Snow…?"

"But it’s not even the season for snow…?"

The spectating cultivators were stunned.

On the flying boat, Liu Yuanqing caught a snowflake.

Pain stabbed his fingers. His pupils contracted, his voice trembling.

"This… This isn’t snow. This is sword intent—manifested as snow!"

He gazed up at the heavens, unable to make out Chen Huai’an’s silhouette.

All he heard was the swordsman’s solemn recitation:

"From my flute, I hear the willow break, yet spring has never come."

The sword rose.

Clang—!

A streak of sword light sliced through the sky.

Wherever it passed, the fabric of space twisted, the force of the sword Qi tearing apart every cloud within a thousand miles—

And with them, the six descending tridents.

"You…"

Leng Chanshin’s face twisted in horror.

For the first time, he felt it—

A lethal threat from this seemingly insignificant swordsman.

Late Fusion Realm.

This swordsman was at the late Fusion Realm?!

Since when?

His divine abilities should have allowed him to see through any concealed cultivation.

So why couldn’t he see through this man?!

"Drums sound as the battle dawns, by night I rest upon my saddle."

Before the Black Sky Dharma Form, a lone swordsman in white danced with his sword.

Each movement left behind a phantom afterimage, frozen in place—

Some standing, some sitting, some reclining, some leaning, some gripping their blades, some soaring forward.

Within moments, a spectral army had gathered.

One final strike.

Chen Huai’an’s gaze locked onto Leng Chanshin.

Their eyes met—

Leng Chanshin turned and fled.

"Running now? Too late."

Green Lotus Sword Manual – Ninth Form: Severing Loulan.

The final strike—absolute in its power.

But to unleash it, he had to complete two preparatory strikes first.

In gaming terms, it was a three-phase ultimate with a long cast time.

Leng Chanshin had failed to block the first phase.

He had failed to interrupt the second.

And now—he was dead.

Chen Huai’an lifted his Blackscale Sword, pointing it at the monk’s Dharma form.

Behind him, an army of phantoms stood ready. Sword intent soared.

"I offer my sword at my waist, only to sever… Loulan!"

Clang—!

Ten thousand swords were drawn.

Sword Qi surged skyward.

The gathered sword energy merged into a single white arc, piercing through the Black Sky Dharma Form.

Explosions of sword Qi erupted.

The Black Sky Dharma Form was torn asunder.

Leng Chanshin plummeted, his body riddled with sword wounds, blood pouring from him as he crashed before Zhou Xuanzi.

Chen Huai’an descended from the air, sword in hand.

"Spare me, senior! Spare me!" Leng Chanshin, barely clinging to life, trembled in terror.

"It was a mistake! A moment of blindness! I meant no offense…!"

His body shivered as Chen Huai’an drew closer.

When had the Sword Pavilion gained such a terrifying sword cultivator?

One strike had destroyed his Dharma form’s weapon.

Another had obliterated the Dharma form itself.

This power… was monstrous!

"What’s wrong, little monk? Are you afraid?"

"Y-Yes! I’m afraid…!"

"No, you’re not afraid."

Chen Huai’an stepped past him, scoffing.

"You just think you’re about to die."

Clack—!

The Blackscale Sword slid into its sheath.

A gentle breeze passed by.

Leng Chanshin stiffened. Agonizing pain wracked his body. The light faded from his eyes.

A second later—

His body crumbled into dust.

Nearby, Zhou Xuanzi knelt in a pool of blood, trembling as Chen Huai’an approached step by step.

He hesitantly looked up.

The white-haired swordmaster smiled.

A kind, almost benevolent smile.

"Sect Master Zhou, you and I… are fated to meet."

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