425 Bright Vermilion Phoenix
Luo Qingyang barely finished saying the two words before he unsheathed his Nine Songs sword.
In the face of twelve flying swords, Luo Qingyang's swordsmanship was no longer as simple as one sword move facing another. His swordsmanship became numerous and complex, and his footwork became especially sporadic and swift. Except, there was something odd about it…
His initial sword power was surging and turbulent, then became ethereal and elegant, and then soft and sentimental…
"This is… a sword dance?" Lei Wujie saw through some of it but he wasn't sure.
"It is indeed a sword dance." Li Fansong nodded.
"But which sword dance is this?" Lei Wujie asked again.
Li Fansong thought for a long time and shook his head. "I've never seen it."
So, everyone's eyes turned to Xie Xuan.
Xie Xuan shook his head helplessly. "There are two divine immortals fighting below, and I'm up here telling a story. Fine, I do know the answer. Luo Qingyang's sword dance has eleven forms and it was created by him. From beginning to end, the whole sequence takes about an hour. The full name of this sword dance is Nine Songs, the same name as his sword. The first nine forms have the same name as the gods in ancient myths, and the temperament of the sword dance varies according to the characteristics of the gods. They are The Great Unity Emperor of the East, The Lord within the Clouds, The God of the Xiang, The Lady of the Xiang, The Greater Master of Fate, The Lesser Master of Fate, The Lord of the East, The River Earl, and The Mountain Spirit. Right now, he should be performing The God of the Xiang form. The last two forms are the peerless Hymn to the Fallen, which contains a sorrowful grandeur and a boundless sword power, and Honouring the Dead, which gathers all his sword aura into one sword move."
"Mister is knowledgeable," Mu Chunfeng said with emotion.
The others followed and cupped their fists in admiration. "Mister is knowledgeable."
Xie Xuan sighed, but there was a hint of worry in his expression. He greatly admired the young man downstairs but how many forms would this young man be able to endure?
Wushuang's flying swords were repelled and they shot out again. The twelve flying swords packed close together to form a powerful offensive, but they were easily beaten back again and again by Luo Qingyang's sword dance. And, Luo Qingyang was coming closer and closer to him.
"He's already reached the fifth form, The Greater Master of Fate." Xie Xuan exhaled a sigh.
Li Fansong asked in confusion, "Why are you sighing, Mister?"
"Because starting from this form, they're all killing sword moves," Xie Xuan said slowly, his hand gradually moving to rest on the hilt of his sword.
In the crowd, Su Muyu, who had hidden himself again, pressed down on his umbrella's handle. He and Wushuang had only known each other for a few days, but this ruthless killer started to feel a strange fondness for him, so he didn't want him to die.
But how much stronger could the Umbrella Ghost's eighteen-blade array be, compared to the twelve flying swords of the Unrivaled Sword Casket?
"Da-shifu, how much longer can Wushuang last?" Xiao Chong could also tell that Wushuang was completely at a disadvantage.
"He's very strong. He can last, at least, until The Lord of the East," Yan Zhantian replied.
"Can you save him?" Xiao Chong asked openly.
Yan Zhantian shook his head. "I'm injured and I can't save him. The only person here who can save him is Xie Xuan."
Xiao Chong raised his head and looked at Xiao Se, who happened to be looking at him.
"Mister Xie," Xiao Se began.
"I know," Xie Xuan said solemnly.
"The flying sword arts is indeed a set of remarkable sword arts. But, when a swordsman uses his blood to cultivate his sword, he's relying on an improper way. If you cannot hold a proper sword in your hand, you'll always be a little short at the crucial moment." Luo Qingyang had already danced to the sixth form, The Lesser Master of Fate. He added mildly, "Perhaps if you had borrowed your shifu's Broken Water sword to come here, you would be able to last longer."
"A sword to hold in my hand? I have one." Wushuang forced out a laugh.
"Oh?" Luo Qingyang's brows furrowed in a slight frown.
"Go!" Wushuang waved his long sleeves, and the twelve swords poured downwards, preventing Luo Qingyang from approaching further.
Luo Qingyang's sword dance was actually stilled for a moment!
At this moment, Wushuang lifted a foot and kicked the thirteenth sword out of the Unrivaled Sword Casket.
It was a fiery red long sword, and on its pommel was carved a phoenix soaring up from its ashes—
Bright Vermilion Phoenix!
Lei Wujie was shocked. "Why does this sword look so similar to Lei Hong shifu's Murderous Dread sword!"
"Yes, Lei Hong's Murderous Dread sword was forged using this sword as a model. This is the Bright Vermilion Phoenix, ranked second under Heaven on the Register of Swords!" Xie Xuan announced loudly.
Wushuang grabbed the Bright Vermilion Phoenix with his right hand, then reached out with his left hand and ran it across the edge of the blade. Immediately, his blood flowed and stained onto the surface of the blade.
"What's he doing?" Li Fansong asked.
"The Bright Vermilion Phoenix and those twelve flying swords were all forged by the Ghost Sword Master and they must be fed with blood. Moreover, each sword has its own spirit, but unlike the sword hearts of your Sword Heart Tomb, the sword hearts of these swords are demonic and uncanny, and have an extremely strong murderous aura! So, the Bright Vermilion Phoenix has another name," Xie Xuan said solemnly.
Xiao Se couldn't resist coming forward and interjecting, "Demon Sword!"
The Red Prince Xiao Yu's eyes widened with a gleaming light. "That's the Bright Vermilion Phoenix, ranked second under Heaven. That's a really good sword. Kill Wushuang, I want this sword. Help me grab him!"
Su Changhe shook his head and sighed. "I would advise Your Highness to give up any notion of possessing this sword. Even if it's me, I wouldn't want to come anywhere near it. That is, after all, the… Demon Sword."
The moment Wushuang grasped the Bright Vermilion Phoenix, his eyes instantly turned a fiery red. He felt as if his mind had been instantly pulled away, and he seemed to be slowly… slowly floating into a state of illusory emptiness.
Of the thirteen swords in the sword casket, the one that was easiest to pick up was this Bright Vermilion Phoenix. Wushuang had always understood this, but the moment one picked up the Bright Vermilion Phoenix, whether it was the human who controlled the sword, or the sword who controlled the human, would depend on the mind of the sword bearer.
"The Lord of the East." Luo Qingyang slashed the twelve flying swords to the ground with one sword move and attacked Wushuang.
Wushuang sneered, waved his long sleeves, and the twelve flying swords leaped up. Together with the last sword, Bright Vermilion Phoenix, they pointed straight at Luo Qingyang and attacked!
Luo Qingyang sighed softly. Right now, Wushuang was undoubtedly stronger than he was a moment ago, but a swordsman who was controlled by his sword, even if his skills improved drastically, would be powerless in the end. He was no longer a threat.
"It's over." Luo Qingyang swung a sword. This sword was very beautiful and very warm, like the setting sun of winter, a clear spring in the desert, and the curling smoke rising in the twilight.
This was The Lord of the East, the noble, graceful, majestic and heroic god of spring.
The fiery redness in Wushuang's eyes faded in an instant and the sneer at the corner of his mouth turned into a wide grin that was pure and clean. The twelve flying swords whizzed past Luo Qingyang, while the Bright Vermilion Phoenix clashed heavily against the Nine Songs sword.
The two brushed past each other. A piece of Luo Qingyang's left sleeve was slashed by a sword and dropped onto the ground.
Everyone was shocked.
Wushuang was only one step away from causing an injury to this peerless sword immortal, Luo Qingyang.
Wushuang hooked his fingers and his twelve flying swords hovered in front of him. He raised his Bright Vermilion Phoenix and used it to graze over the twelve flying swords, making a crisp tinkling sound.
"How could I, Wushuang, be controlled by a sword?"