Volume Two: The Mortal Realm Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Thousand-Pound Sword Qi
Ye Mingke, drained of strength after unleashing that fierce sword strike, half-kneeling in the biting wind and snow, leaned heavily on his sword. He struggled to loosen his grip on the heavy blade and, with great effort, lifted the unconscious Aru into his arms once more.
No sooner had he done so than a tremendous roar erupted, and the snow before him surged like a tumultuous ocean wave, crashing down and knocking him to the ground.
It was a colossal snow giant’s foot that had raised this overwhelming wave of snow.
Lying on his back, Ye Mingke looked up and at last truly saw the terrifying form of the snow golem towering dozens of meters high, its featureless face illuminated only by a pair of blazing golden eyes.
With a thunderous crash, another figure was hurled by the snow giant, slamming heavily into the snowy ground beside Ye Mingke. As the snow dust slowly settled, it revealed the battered body of the old beggar, covered in snowflakes and blood, his vacant eyes staring blankly up at the ink-black night sky.
Amidst the falling snow, Ye Mingke, struggling to breathe in the snowdrift, faintly heard a hoarse voice whispering.
“Am I a sinner, or a hero?”
“Heh, still one step too late.”
Above, the Immortal Lingchen, clad in flowing white robes, gazed down from atop the snow giant’s head. His eyes swept over the bloodstains left by Yi Er’s death, then fixed intently on Aru, cradled in Ye Mingke’s arms.
“Truly a cursed body by birth. In some ways, even rarer than the Emperor’s own physique. And you, boy, your constitution is no ordinary one either—besides those golden eyes, you do resemble the Emperor’s form.”
“Pity it’s not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have failed to even lift the human heavy sword. Haha, Brother Liu, the person you found with the Emperor’s physique is really accurate.”
Lingchen’s harsh words echoed through the blizzard, yet no one answered. The old beggar lay motionless in the snow pit, eyes void of life.
Ye Mingke fell silent, hoisting Aru onto his back again. He struggled to stand and grasp the heavy sword once more, but his weakened body could not even lift the great blade this time.
“Why can’t you lift this sword? Why aren’t you the one?”
Hearing Ye Mingke’s labored breath as he tried to raise the sword, the old beggar slowly turned his head and looked upward at Ye Mingke, his voice hoarse as he asked.
Ye Mingke’s futile effort suddenly ceased. He turned his gaze toward the old man in the snow pit beside him and felt the hope burning in those clouded, aged eyes.
It was the last faint glimmer drifting on a dark lake.
But he was not the one the old man awaited.
Lowering his head, Ye Mingke looked at the ebony greatsword in his hands, which felt heavier than a thousand weights. Blood from his severed palm trickled down the black blade in winding streams.
In his senses, this mighty sword, towering like a mountain, held an immensely powerful and alluring force—but it was a power he could not wield.
“This game should be over.”
The Immortal Lingchen looked down coldly at the two who had lost all strength to resist and spoke calmly.
The enormous snow golem slowly raised its giant palm, stirring the swirling snow into a frenzy, preparing to strike down on the spot.
“Wait, your opponent still has one more—me.”
A weary, hoarse voice suddenly rang out through the blizzard. At the same time, the sound of thunderous footsteps crossed the snowstorm from afar.
The storm was abruptly torn apart as a figure, swift as a thunderbolt, burst forth, meeting the snow giant’s unrelenting massive fist head-on.
A muffled roar like thunder exploded in the sky.
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Though tiny compared to the snow golem, the figure was forced backward, crashing into the snow with a long, deep scar trailing behind. Slowly, she lifted her face, revealing a pale and delicate beauty beneath disheveled hair.
This faltering woman spoke no word, silently wiping the copious blood from the corner of her mouth. Before the towering giant, she rose again with steady posture, her back straight and unyielding as a green pine.
“Is it you? Where is my eldest disciple?”
The snow golem adjusted its stance, stepping forward twice more, raising a cloud of snow as it returned to its original spot. The Immortal Lingchen’s cold gaze fixed sharply on the small figure standing in the snow and asked icily.
“Kill her.”
The woman, with tangled hair, spoke briefly and hoarsely but with decisive calm.
Lingchen looked toward the place where the woman had fiercely battled Yi Yi and found no trace of his aura. His eyes widened with surprise as he looked back at her.
“You really killed him. One after another—those who broke through the ninth level of martial arts and could kill in Lunhai.”
“Even more incredible is your youth. Your talent surpasses even your father’s over there.”
Lingchen’s gaze shifted, now filled with deep fear, jealousy, and icy determination.
“He is not my father,” the woman said coldly, lowering her face.
Her clear words drifted through the snowstorm.
“My father is the martial swordsman who dared to strike down the Immortal from the clouds, the chivalrous hero who dared to challenge the Heavenly Court on earth, a man who traveled far to practice swordsmanship for twenty years to protect his loved ones… my father.”
“Not a drunkard, a beggar, or a coward with a broken sword heart.”
Hearing her cold voice echo through the snow, the old beggar lying in the snow pit slowly closed his vacant eyes.
Ye Mingke gripped his heavy sword tightly again, trying to lift the weighty blade one more time.
The woman slowly raised her head and looked at the immortal standing atop the giant snowman, speaking coldly and steadily.
“My father is gone, so I will do what he could not.”
This woman, blood-stained on her pale face and with disheveled hair, met the towering snow giant’s gaze with the gentlest yet most resolute pupils. She stepped forward, one step, then another—each step shaking the snow around, her footfalls thunderous as lightning.
She spoke with deliberate clarity.
“Liu Xi of Nanyang County, Great Xia.”
“Eldest daughter of Liu Yi, head of the Liu family, Liu Xi.”
“For the human realm, I raise a fist to challenge the Heavenly Court.”
She stared directly at the immortal in the sky, clenched her right fist gently, and with each thunderous step, her voice whispered like rolling thunder, shaking heaven and earth.
With every step, the dormant aura within her rose sharply, sharp as a sword piercing the sky.
---
Ye Mingke suddenly recalled the words of Sword Uncle during their final battle at the small town of Dreambreak, facing the vast Lord of the Heavenly Court.
“Pseudo eleventh level of martial arts, still rising. No wonder you could slay my Lunhai disciple.”
“Is this the legendary Emperor’s secret technique, ‘Emperor’s Overlapping Steps’? How could you have learned it? How can your body withstand the pressure of forcibly breaking through realms?”
Lingchen, watching the woman whose aura and realm continued to rise, was shocked and bewildered.
Yet, standing on the shoulder of the mountain-like giant golem, he barely regarded the small figure before coldly declaring.
“Pseudo eleventh level? How many more steps must you take before your body shatters? Even if you forcibly reach the twelfth level of martial arts, my golem technique is complete—what harm can the twelfth level do to me?”
“Humans are but ants and termites.”
Liu Xi said nothing further, silently stepping forward, each stride crossing ten zhangs of blizzard.
Her pace quickened, until finally, her entire body was enveloped in a hazy crimson mist. Above the mist, a fierce azure energy ignited, like a brilliant meteor crashing toward the towering snow giant.
Yet her tiny frame was laughably insignificant compared to the giant.
Ye Mingke lowered his head, blood from his palm wound still seeping. The black greatsword was stained with hot crimson, blood snaking along the blade’s surface.
“Give it to me.”
In Ye Mingke’s perception, the black greatsword, completely covered in his blood, suddenly trembled violently.
He stared intently. His mind filled only with the image of the resolute woman’s decisive punch and one thought—he wanted power. Power to strike as she did, to shatter the dark heavens.
“Give it to me.”
He fixed his gaze on the trembling sword, silently commanding it again and again. In his spiritual eye, the towering mountain of the sword began to melt and transform.
He finally saw what composed that mountain: blocks of stone formed from strands of sword energy.
Sword energy weighing thousands of jun.
“Ants shaking a tree, courting death—a laughable path.”
Lingchen’s scornful laugh tore through the blizzard. The giant snowman, which had stood motionless, suddenly moved with earth-shattering steps, fist clenched and lunging forward.
Its fifty-zhang-tall colossal form exuded a terrifying aura capable of destroying heaven and earth. Each step stirred half the snowy plain, blotting out the sky and earth, and in an instant, engulfed the brilliant light around the woman.
But she did not flinch.
The overwhelming snow wave from the giant surged toward Ye Mingke and the old beggar.
Ye Mingke did not retreat either. The greatsword in his hand emitted a fierce roar like a dragon’s cry. A vast radiance burst forth from the blade, enveloping the heavens and earth.
He bellowed, summoning all his strength to finally lift the unbearably heavy human greatsword, which contained sword energy powerful enough to fell an immortal from the clouds.
Like a mountain towering high, the sword energy shot skyward, fierce and blazing.
The surging snowstorm swept across the land, burying the snow pit where the old beggar had lain. Yet when the snow settled, the old beggar, who had never dared to face the world with open eyes, was nowhere to be seen.