Chapter 34: You Know Too Much

The swordsmanship grew ever more exquisite. Two streams of yin and yang energy shone forth—one as agile and ethereal as a celestial dragon soaring the heavens, the other as forceful and unyielding as a tiger pouncing or an elephant charging. Truly, the spectacle was magnificent and overwhelming, dazzling to the eye.

Yang the Invincible was indeed formidable; not only could he faintly sense the killing intent within Chen Yang’s swordplay, but his physical body, honed to an unparalleled degree, was no less resilient than a magic treasure. Coupled with his superior protective arts, he could withstand blows that would easily shatter lesser artifacts. Yet, even with all his prowess, facing such masterful swordplay, he found himself drenched in cold sweat, forced wholly onto the defensive, unable to mount a counterattack.

With the slightest misstep, the twin sword-lights would seize the opening, working in perfect concert to pierce through his protective spells, leaving wounds deep enough to lay bare the bone. After seventy or eighty exchanges, Yang the Invincible was already faltering, his robe stained with golden blood, cut a figure most wretched. Had he not enjoyed the favor of heaven, granting him some precognition, his head would have long since fallen to Chen Yang’s blade.

Doubt gnawed at his once-unshakeable conviction of invincibility. Though his mystical power remained strong, his morale had collapsed, leaving him ever more vulnerable to Chen Yang’s superior swordsmanship. A sweep of white light shattered his golden runes; black light seized the chance to strike, boring a fist-sized bloody hole in his left flank. Pain flashed across his face and vanished. Golden runes surged to seal the wound, but strands of sword energy, dragging fragments of flesh, churned within, preventing the runes from closing and rendering the injury impossible to heal.

At this moment, Yang "the Invincible" dared not claim that title. Confronted by such transcendent sword arts, had he not enjoyed the world’s favor—had Chen Yang’s mystical power not been borrowed and thus far inferior, and had Chen Yang not been using only the energy of yin and yang instead of a true flying sword—he would never have lasted this long. Even among the so-called orthodox schools in Shushan, few could claim the advantage against him in a duel.

“You are not of this world—who are you, truly?” he demanded. Though Chen Yang, limited by power constraints, could only unleash a fraction of the Five-Terrace Swordsmanship’s might, its sheer refinement far exceeded Yang’s wildest imagination. Being privy to the secrets of ascension, Yang naturally suspected some presence from the Upper Realm.

Unaware of these conjectures, Chen Yang misunderstood, believing that Yang had seen through his identity as an outsider demon. His eyes turned cold and fierce. “I hadn’t intended to kill you, but alas, you know too much.”

Once content to spar with a worthy opponent after such a long hiatus from true swordplay, Chen Yang now held nothing back. He unleashed all his skills; the golden-armored war god, forged from the fusion of twelve skeletal demon kings, extended four heads, firing eight beams of golden light to seal the eight directions.

Unceasingly, he employed all manner of secret demon arts, assailing Yang’s mind and spirit. Even the “Great Liberation Immortal Radiance,” still being cultivated in the pill furnace, burst forth, transforming into a celestial river of divine sand that swept toward Yang.

“I’ll die!” Yang cried in terror, his heart pounding with alarm. He hastily summoned the supreme spiritual treasure passed down in the Celestial Origin Sect—the Celestial Seal of the Capital.

The seal swelled with the wind, pushing the multicolored mists enveloping the courtyard into violent upheaval, which rippled outward toward the sky. At the same time, the grand formation at the very heart of Celestial Origin City began to activate, augmenting the power of the seal. The city itself had been constructed by the sect’s forebears, and the Celestial Seal was the key to its core.

Outside the courtyard, members of the Four Seas Trading Association and the Celestial Origin Sect had gathered, their expressions varied as they watched the shifting mists. The Celestial Origin disciples, faces brimming with confidence, even sneered, “This so-called Demon Lord is truly ignorant. Now that he’s provoked the True Master’s wrath, he deserves what’s coming.”

Yang’s personal disciple, more reserved, raised his hand to silence the others and addressed Sima Changfeng and his companions: “That elder can hold his own against my master for so long—he is indeed extraordinary. But now my master is truly angry and has resorted to the Celestial Seal. Things will not end well for the elder; he cannot escape his fate. You should focus on how to answer to my master afterwards.”

Though his words sounded kindly, they carried a veiled threat. Sima Changfeng, who knew Chen Yang best, remained calm, but the others were less assured. After all, Yang the Invincible had lived up to his name for over two centuries, his reputation firmly rooted in the hearts of all on Baohua Continent.

Shangguan Yun’s expression darkened as he produced a jade box, within which lay a small bronze arrow—just three inches long, green with verdigris and cracked, appearing wholly unremarkable. This was the supreme spiritual treasure Yu Guo had brought from the Sea Eye Immortal Abode.

Shangguan Yun had no intention of fighting the Celestial Origin Sect to the death—the Four Seas Trading Association lacked the courage. The display was a calculated gesture, meant to show that they would not simply submit to their fate.

If Chen Yang were truly defeated and the Celestial Origin Sect pressed their advantage, most present would yield as they had before. Once one knelt, it became easier to do so again and again. Sima Changfeng, all too aware of this, gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “It hasn’t come to that,” he murmured.

Shangguan Yun nodded, closing the jade box but keeping it in hand. The Celestial Origin disciples, who had only moments before been mocking, fell silent at the sight of the treasure. It might be useless against Yang the Invincible, but against them, a single shot would be fatal.

Just then, the swirling mists gradually stilled and began to descend, finally settling into calm. All assumed the contest had reached its conclusion and, each for their own reasons, felt relief. The Celestial Origin Sect, unsurprisingly, never doubted Yang the Invincible’s supremacy. The Four Seas Trading Association, seeing the mist undispersed, also breathed easier: though they had not won, at least they hadn’t lost utterly or forfeited their lives. With Chen Yang present and Yu Guo’s treasure in hand, the Celestial Origin Sect could not go too far. The crisis seemed averted.

Only Sima Changfeng, with his deep understanding of Chen Yang, felt a secret shock. “Even Yang the Invincible is no match for the elder?”

Within the courtyard, Yang’s magical defenses had been broken; even the Celestial Seal was now firmly in the grasp of the golden-armored war god. His body was battered and bloody, his mind teetering between clarity and madness within a demonic illusion. Only the world’s favor kept him from being utterly lost, but for Chen Yang to kill him now would require but a single stroke.

He had not done so yet, only because he was curious how Yang had discerned his identity as an “outsider demon.” After all, back in Shushan, even Li Jingxu—the foremost Taoist of his age, a Golden Immortal—had failed to see through his origins. How had this man, with his meager cultivation, guessed that he was not of this world? Did he possess some fatal flaw? Or did the Celestial Origin Sect harbor some ultimate secret technique capable of discerning past and future?

Unbeknownst to him, Chen Yang had wholly misunderstood Yang’s words, falling prey to the blindness of those closest to the truth. He had not realized that his own mystical arts were simply too profound and wondrous.