Yun Yao and those beside her froze at his words. The other cultivators erupted in curses. None of them had imagined a mere mortal could be so ruthless.
Yun Yao couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t you afraid the sects and independent cultivators will come after you for revenge?”
“I’d have to survive first. Otherwise, all they can do is flog my corpse.”
Song Liang calmly put away the city lord’s token and raised his voice.
“The Yaoshang disciples and Immortal Venerable Shuanghua are here today. If none of us make it out alive, so be it. But if the Immortal Venerable slays the Demon King and we live through this, then whether you belong to a great sect or cultivate on your own in the wilds, expect to be hounded like rats in the street!”
That hit a nerve. The independent cultivators who had been cursing him fell silent. The only reason they hadn’t rushed him and forced him to open the city’s defensive array was that all three major sects were still present.
Never mind the Tianluo Dharma Sect or the Taixuan Sect. The Yaoshang Sect alone was enough. An immortal venerable had entrusted his own life-bound spirit sword to this young lord. Who knew what the two of them were to each other? And the Yaoshang disciples would surely side with this mortal as well.
As Song Liang had said, even if they escaped today, the Yaoshang Sect would hold them to account later. And if they couldn’t escape, killing him would do them no good.
His scheme was plain for all to see, and there was nothing they could do about it but grit their teeth.
Yun Yao gave him a cold look, then swept down toward the city, her sleeves billowing. The Tianluo Dharma Sect disciples followed. Seeing this, the other sect disciples and independent cultivators brought out their artifacts and descended on the demon thralls below.
Some still resented him enough to shoot him a glare on their way down. Song Liang paid them no mind. Standing on the Shuanghua Sword with his hands behind his back, he called after them at his leisure:
“The more people die, the more thralls there’ll be, and the stronger the Demon King gets. Better hurry.”
One man spat viciously in his direction.
“Zhong Yue, I won’t forget you!”
Song Liang didn’t care. His name was Song Liang, after all.
One by one, they left. Only Jing Feishuang stayed behind. She stared at the Shuanghua Sword beneath his feet, her gaze unsteady, then looked up at Song Liang as if she wanted to ask him something. But she knew this was no time for questions. She turned and flew down toward Xiushui City.
Countless cultivators streaked downward on their swords, leaving demon thralls silently destroyed in their wake. Song Liang watched from atop the Shuanghua Sword for a moment, then leapt down.
3085 cried out in alarm: 【Host!】
The instant he landed, demon thralls surged toward him like wolves catching the scent of blood. Someone cried out, but Song Liang seemed not to hear. He simply took hold of the sword hilt and swept the blade lightly forward.
A single flash of sword light, imbued with supreme sword intent, split into thousands upon thousands of streams of sword energy and flooded the entire street. Countless thralls vanished into the light. Within a single breath, every thrall on the street had been cut in two. The people who had narrowly escaped their jaws stared at him, still shaken.
“The spiritual energy is strong enough, but the sword intent still falls short.” Song Liang examined the Shuanghua Sword in his hand. “Maybe I’m not suited to wielding a sword?”
3085 was utterly speechless. He had caught one fleeting glimpse of the foremost cultivator in the Nine Provinces unleashing an earth-shaking strike and had already reproduced it almost exactly. If someone like that wasn’t suited to wielding a sword, who in the world was?
The cultivators nearby had seen that strike too. They were stunned, with a bitterness they could hardly put into words.
Talent and insight were both indispensable on the path of cultivation. They had spiritual roots, but they lacked the talent and insight. After decades of arduous cultivation, only one Immortal Venerable Shuanghua had emerged among them. Yet this mortal before them, without a single spiritual root, had needed only one look to deliver a strike nearly equal to that of the foremost cultivator in the Nine Provinces.
That was what it meant to be worlds apart.
Whatever anyone else might think, Jing Feishuang and Chen You knew that this truly was the first time the young lord had ever held a sword.
Both found themselves remembering what Song Liang had said to them that day at the city lord’s residence:
[I’m only nineteen this year. I have another eighty-one years before I turn a hundred. Who’s to say I can’t become a prodigy? Or even surpass Immortal Venerable Shuanghua himself?]
At the time, neither of them had taken him seriously. They had thought him a brash youth who knew no more of the vast world than a short-lived cicada. Now all they could think was what a pity it was that someone so gifted had no spiritual roots.
“Young Lord! It’s the young lord!”
“The young lord has come to save us!”
“Young Lord!”
“…”
Once the demon thralls on the street had been slain, the survivors rushed to Song Liang as though he were their last hope. Some begged him to save their daughters or wives. Others pleaded with him to find their loved ones, put an end to the disaster, and give them back their homes.
Song Liang said nothing. He listened to each of them in turn.
“What good will begging him do?”
Suspended high above them on the wind, Yun Yao looked down and spoke.
“The father of the young lord standing before you is the one who brought this disaster upon you. What the Zhong clan has done is unforgivable.”
Everyone froze. The street fell silent. A long while passed before someone asked in a trembling voice:
“Young Lord… is what she says true?”
“It is,” Song Liang said.
The man stood dumbstruck, tears slipping down his face. He stared blankly at his young lord, then at the immortals riding swords and wind overhead. Behind him lay the wreckage of their homes. Not far away, he could still hear the desperate cries of family and friends.
For a moment, he had no idea whom to beg.
“I’ll go save your families and friends, and I’ll save Xiushui City. But I can’t stay here to protect you, so you’d better find somewhere safe to hide.”
Song Liang tipped his chin toward Holy Maiden Yun Yao, who hovered behind them with the Tianluo Parasol above her head.
“See that fairy with the parasol?”
The townspeople paused, then turned to look.
Yun Yao froze too, wondering what he was up to.
Then Song Liang went on:
“She’s from a great sect, and she’s as kind as she is beautiful. Go ahead and shelter under her parasol. If she says no, get down on your knees and beg. Call her ‘Your Ladyship, Fairy Yun Yao.’ Understood?”
The cultivators: “…”
Yun Yao’s expression changed. She snapped at once:
“Absurd! I have demon thralls to slay. How am I supposed to protect all these people as well?”
Song Liang looked at the people kneeling on the ground and raised an eyebrow in signal.
They took the hint immediately. Turning, they surged toward Yun Yao, calling over one another:
“Your Ladyship, Fairy Yun Yao!”
“Please save us, Your Ladyship!”
“Have mercy, Fairy Yun Yao!”
Within moments, dozens of people had crowded beneath the Tianluo Parasol. Yun Yao’s face went pale, then flushed, but she could hardly drive these mortals away in front of all the other cultivators. She glared at Song Liang, then formed a seal with both hands and channeled her spiritual energy. In an instant, the parasol above her grew ten times larger. Wherever its radiance fell, neither water nor fire could penetrate, and no demon thrall could enter.
They all called out to Fairy Yun Yao, their voices rising in a chorus of thanks.
Yun Yao’s pale face remained cold.
“I am the Holy Maiden of the Tianluo Dharma Sect. Holy Maiden will suffice.”
So they cried in unison, “Thank you, Your Ladyship, Fairy Yun Yao, Holy Maiden of the Tianluo Dharma Sect!”
Yun Yao: “…”
The cultivators: “…”
Yun Yao shot Song Liang an icy glare. He smiled faintly.
“Thank you, Holy Maiden Yun Yao, for what you’ve done for Xiushui City.”
Then he looked up at the other sect disciples and independent cultivators overhead and said calmly:
“My thanks to all of you as well for coming to Xiushui City’s aid today. Whether we manage to hold the city or not, I, Zhong Yue, will remember what I owe you.”
Holding his sword behind his back in one hand, he inclined his head to the cultivators above him.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Yun Yao looked at him impassively for a while, then raised a hand and conjured a longsword. Leaving the Tianluo Parasol where it was, she flew with her sword toward another street overrun by demon thralls.
The remaining cultivators followed in silence. Before long, only Song Liang and the townspeople sheltering beneath the parasol remained on the street.
Song Liang told them to stay under its cover, then turned to leave, sword in hand. Someone called after him, seemingly worried about sending a mortal out into such danger. Another person quickly pointed out that one look at his sword strike was enough to tell he’d had some extraordinary encounter and was no longer a mortal. At that, the first person looked as though it had all clicked into place and called after Song Liang to be careful.
Song Liang offered no explanation. He took his sword to the next street, cutting down demon thralls along the way. Whenever he rescued a group of people, he directed them toward the enormous Tianluo Parasol overhead, then moved on to the next place.
Six hours later, daylight began to fade. The sun sank westward, and night slowly closed over Xiushui City. The onslaught of demon thralls had already begun to falter, but now they suddenly attacked with renewed ferocity, as though they’d been given a stimulant.
3085: 【Demons are aligned with yin. Their power grows stronger after nightfall.】
Song Liang had no time to answer. The thrall before him should have lost its head to his sword, but it suddenly doubled in size and lunged at him with a roar. Its claws, wreathed in demonic aura, tore across his shoulder and left a wound that gave off black wisps.
Song Liang pressed forward. An upward cut severed the thrall’s arm at the shoulder. He spun and struck again, cleaving it in two.
Firelight rose from somewhere, illuminating the city swallowed by night. The crimson glow and the countless screams of despair made for a grotesque tableau.
And this was only the untold beginning of a story.
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