Chapter 31 — Lanjiang Sword Intent Shines with a Cold Gleam

Shen Mu's heart hammered wildly as he drew the pig-sticker from his back. It was the first time he had ever faced such an array. Mu Beilan's presence bore down on him invisibly. Every move, every word of this old man since he entered the village gave off boundless pressure. When he fought Senior Brother Qu of the Lanjiang Five, he had been pushed to the limit and forced to strike, but the formation before him now made him flinch. "I pissed on the stone statue at the village entrance—what else is there to fear? I've seen the girl Wu, that demon from Zhenyang Palace. I wasn't afraid then, so can I be afraid now? No matter how strong Mu Beilan is, he can't be stronger than gods and demons!" Shen Mu pulled himself together, and his flustered heart gradually steadied. He looked around and frowned slightly. The village was small. Counting himself, twenty-two people stood here like so many wooden posts, every one in a different position, bodies staggered, cramming the tiny village to the brim. The village head lay on a stretcher, the pill master stood beside it, the Butcher, who had only the upper half of his body, stood bolt upright on a wooden post, Master Ma leaned slantwise against another post, Granny Zhu carried a basket, the mute stood at the blacksmith shop's door, the hard-of-hearing old man held a writing brush still dripping ink, and the lame old man stood on one leg, leaning on his cane. The men Mu Beilan had brought also held positions chosen with care—each one so strange that it was hard to move quickly through the village, let alone fight. Such a place demanded supremely high skill in qi-guided flying swords. If one drove a flying sword by vital qi, one had to be extremely careful that one's sword did not touch the other people or be affected by them; it required an incomparably delicate sword technique. What Shen Mu practiced was the Butcher's Slaughtering Blade Art, a blade art of the battle-technique school, and such an art could never accomplish that. "Fight here?" Shen Mu asked. Qianxun nodded. "Right here!" Shen Mu thrust the pig-sticker back into the knife pouch on his back and left both hands empty. Seeing him put the pig-sticker back into its scabbard, Qianxun's eyes glittered. It was somewhat beyond his expectation that Shen Mu would rather fight empty-handed. Before coming, Mu Beilan had already taken them to inspect the ruins in the canyon. From Senior Brother Qu's remains, which had been gnawed to bare bones, Mu Beilan had deduced that Shen Mu used a blade art. At the time, Shen Mu had picked up a wooden stick from the ground and used it as a blade, striking Senior Brother Qu's body again and again. It had left tiny dents on his bones, and around each dent the bone showed hairline cracks. From this one could tell that Shen Mu's blade art was superb, and that his footwork must be very fast as well; only with outstanding legwork could he have kept moving and struck every corner of Senior Brother Qu's body. Mu Beilan's abilities were extraordinary, and he was one of the foremost experts under heaven. From the traces Shen Mu left, Mu Beilan could tell that Shen Mu had used battle techniques. The battle-technique school excelled at close combat, but it had little proficiency or accomplishment in qi-guided flying swords. From that moment, Mu Beilan had settled on a method of killing Shen Mu. After his people entered the village, each took a different position, laying out the Li River Water Dragon Formation and deliberately leaving nine formation eyes, with Mu Beilan at the dragon-head position. Apart from Qianxun, the others were all the most elite masters of the Lanjiang Sect. To keep the Li River Water Dragon Formation from unleashing its combined-attack might, the villagers of Hidden Remnant Village had to block the formation eyes one after another: the village head and the pill master blocked the dragon eyes, the blind old man blocked the heart-eye, the lame old man, Granny Zhu, Master Ma, and the Butcher stood at the joints of the Water Dragon Formation's four limbs, the blacksmith pinned down the dragon body, and the hard-of-hearing old man pinned down the dragon tail. That created exactly the situation now in the village: everyone stood in a different place, bodies staggered, making it difficult to move quickly and difficult to guide a flying sword with qi, unless one had supreme attainment in qi-guided flying swords. Clearly, Shen Mu was not such a man. But Qianxun, his disciple, was exactly such a man. Though Qianxun was still only a martial artist at the Spirit Embryo realm, his mastery of qi-guided flying swords was extraordinary. He had refined his vital-qi threads to incomparable fineness, and his sword-control technique had reached a terrifying level. Once he had controlled a brush with vital qi and painted a lady's portrait from thirty zhang away; in that painting, every strand of the lady's hair was distinct, not one strand out of place. So long as Shen Mu answered with his blade, defeat was certain. But Shen Mu put his knife back and chose to fight empty-handed, which was somewhat unexpected to Qianxun. Still, bare hands against precious swords were a disadvantage any way one looked at it. And the swords he had brought this time were not ordinary swords but spirit swords—swords bred in the spirit treasury of a supernatural adept at the Six Harmonies realm. In sharpness, resilience, hardness, and spirit, spirit swords were far superior to ordinary blades and weapons. Shen Mu bowed. "Senior Brother, please." Qianxun returned the bow. The sword in the bag at his back rang out as he said, "Junior Brother, please." Shen Mu lifted his foot, and at that very moment the sword in the bag at Qianxun's back clanged out of its sheath. A vital-qi thread drove it; a biting chill pressed forward, points of sword light stabbing at Shen Mu. The vital-qi thread was so fine that the naked eye could barely see it. A slight quiver, and the sword shook out blossom after blossom of sword light, thrusting at Shen Mu from every tricky angle, so fast that the eye was dazzled. For a martial artist to have cultivated qi-guided flying swords to such a level was already a rare achievement. Shen Mu moved with incomparable agility, threading between the motionless figures, but Qianxun's sword was faster still, its swordplay so fine it was breathtaking. To the others standing still, the sword posed no threat at all, but to Shen Mu, every stroke was lethal. The sword light was impossible to defend against. Even if he unleashed the Lame Elder's Heaven-Stealing Leg, he could not escape it. There were simply too many obstacles; every motionless person hemmed in his speed and made it impossible for him to give it full rein. Whoosh! Shen Mu called on Fire-Gazing, and his vital qi suddenly turned incomparably fierce and explosive. A faint dragon's roar sounded, and around his arm a fire dragon faintly appeared and coiled. The fire dragon was hazy and indistinct, now its head merging with his fist, now its claws merging with his fingers and palm, changing without cease. The sword light stabbed at him. Shen Mu met it with a punch, and at the instant his fist was about to crash into the spirit sword, he suddenly flung his five fingers open. The air inside his palm exploded with a roar, shaking the stabbing sword tip until it wavered. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Shen Mu's fingers flicked out in turn, striking the tip, the blade, and the hilt of the sword one after another. Each flick let out a great clang, as if a massive iron hammer had smashed down upon the sword. When his fifth finger flicked out, he sent the spirit sword flying, and Qianxun's vital-qi thread was broken clean through by the force. Shen Mu moved fast, his body twisting through the crowd, closing rapidly on Qianxun. When only a little more than a zhang separated them, Qianxun's face remained wooden; another sword cry rang from the bag at his back, and a second spirit sword flew out and