The Sword Dynasty

Chapter Forty: Pride

The old monk's wood staff became heavy. The heaviness came from his physical exhaustion, and the resolve of these death warriors.

These death warriors were far weaker than him. Their sword essences, made from igniting all the vital energy from their bodies, could only land on the old monk because he chose so.

For the old monk's body, the powers that just left marks on his body were the same as someone hitting his body with a spoon. In order to conserve energy, he controlled his consumption carefully. Sometimes, he was willing to suffer the spoon-like attacks in order to save up on the use of his vital energy.

But even the smallest of injuries were still injuries. More tiredness came from his focus.

Each cultivator who walked in did not have the goal of survival. They wanted their lives to be harvested by his staff. Their last attack before death did not care for their own deaths, and all they wanted to do was to create damage against him. If he was not focused, then these cultivators who were much weaker than him might create great damage to him just with their resolve.

As the wood staff became heavy, the old monk's skin started to heat, and his breathing became hot.

At the end of the darkness, the ghost-like army was becoming sparse. Yet the cultivators who were constantly walking towards the old monk still wore calm gazes. They were even incomprehensible in their indifference.

The only difference was the general who stood at the front. His gaze was full of confidence and flashed with a heated flame, like fire under ice. Blood was seeping through his teeth under the black cloth.

When his first vice general went to his death, his teeth had bitten through his lips, but he did not feel pain. For him, a bodily sensation like pain did not exist. He possessed sight that other cultivators could not rival. In this thick darkness, he could even clearly see every movement of this old monk.

He looked seriously at the old monk's attacks, and the paths the wood staff took in the darkness each time.

It did not take long. But the powerful resolve disappeared, and the lives died with the cold and incomprehensible resolve. And time seemed to stretch.

The general did not have many people behind him. There were just a few dozen left. But suddenly, his eyes seemed to see something, and his gray eyes lit up. His body started to move slightly. One of the soldiers that was going to walk out sensed the change in his energy and immediately stopped. Then this general started to walk.

The old monk's staff pulled out of a cultivator's chest. The blood flowing out of this cultivator's heart immediately froze under the extreme cold.

The old monk's wood staff, because of the violent movements of the primal energies of the universe and friction, was still very hot at the tip, so drops of blood were still sticking to the tip and had not fallen off.

The soldiers in front of him…., or maybe better described as cultivators and death warriors… when over two hundred corpses were piled together, even though it could not compare with the thousands of corpses piled together in that battle back in Changling, it still formed a small mountain on the ice.

The walking general quickly passed through the icy air. Before the blood on the tip of the wood staff could fall and congeal, the figure of this general appeared at the top of the mountain of corpses.

The old monk suddenly looked up.

The senses of energy between powerful people could not be described in words. Even though the presence of the general that was exuded at this time were not any different from the cultivators who had already been killed, he felt great danger. He did not hesitate though and took a step forwards.

This step spanned a distance that ordinary people needed dozens of steps to cover, and he appeared at the base of the corpse mountain.

He stepped out with his right foot. When his right foot landed, a burst of power cracked the deep ice surface. The hot steam of the lake underneath sprayed up. All of the corpses, including the snow hou corpses that had frozen, were shaken up into the air.

Borrowing the power of this step, a vast power surged up in the old monk's body. His staff tip roared, and stabbed towards the general who was falling down in the mountain of corpses. The wood staff moved quickly in the air, causing this scene to look like it was still.

But the general's figure flashed among the corpses, disappearing instantly, and appearing in front of the old monk. There was a piece of ice that suddenly sped up as he stretched out two of his fingers. It bore the power from him and the surrounding world, shooting towards the old monk's face.

The old monk's pupils suddenly shrank. His true cultivation was right below Yuanwu's right now, and he had received Ding Ning's teachings. Even if Yuanwu and he attacked with their swords at the same time, the other could not be as fast as him. But he was certain now that the ice sword made from this piece of ice was faster than his staff.

The urgent flow of energy around the two of them and the restlessness in his body told him that the enemy general was a true realm seven grandmaster, and no ordinary grandmaster at that. Even more importantly, the other could see through his movies, and could clearly see the state of his body with great accuracy. He had used up too much energy, and he was slower than when he started.

This general was not like those who came to their deaths. He was a rare grandmaster. Also, he had seen through his moves. All these factors added together was enough to defeat him and kill him.

Boom!

The old monk's left foot burst with incredible power, and the shattered ice surface shoot sprayed out.

The old monk's body retreated at an incredible speed, his staff changing where it was thrusting.

Two soft pops sounded.

Transparent sword wounds appeared under the old monk's neck and on his left shoulder. The general was protecting his forehead with his hand, and his left hand was pierced through.

Two bursts of blood sprayed through the air, turning to red powder by the cold, and falling down. The old monk's feet moved on the ice. He took dozens of steps back until he was in front of Ding Ning.

The general looked coldly at the old monk, Zhangsun Qianxue and Ding Ning from the air. His body flew backwards like a kite towards the few members of the ghost-like army left.

The old monk's wood staff fell to the ground, shaking. Heat and pieces of ice flew up, like the entire hot lake was going to take flight.

"Who is he?" Zhangsun Qianxue took a deep breath, and looked seriously at Ding Ning.

"Not of the Chu," Ding Ning said slowly.

Previously, he had been the one to say to Zhangsun Qianxue and the old monk that this was a Chu army. Now, he was the person who said that this person was not of the Chu.

But Zhangsun Qianxue was not confused by this. Any person's judgment would change because the other changed.

"Very strong." Ding Ning looked at her and added seriously.

The old monk coughed lightly, and coughed up some blood. He wanted to pull up the wood staff stuck in the ice. But Ding Ning looked at him and shook his head. "Do not fight, if you do, you will not be able to descend this glacier and return."

The old monk nodded, and did not persist. This was a very objective matter. Any cultivator who wanted to live had to consider whether their vital energy and endurance was enough to support them on their return, and if they could descend the glaciers before they started to fight. He looked up. Following the wind currents from the general's flight, he sensed the existence of that general.

That general was wounded. But the other's wound seemed to be a calculated price. The other still was able to fight. The blow just now was the result that the general wanted at the cost of so several deaths.

Zhangsun Qianxue looked up. She took a step forward and proudly stood in front of the old monk and Ding Ning. Her pride was not just because she was one of the strongest female cultivators in the world right now, but because she was living according to her own will, and never submitted to others.

This was true pride.

Noble.