Chapter 32 — First Glimpse of the World-Suppressing Spear in the Desolate City

Shen Mu's hair stood on end; without a second thought he reached out to seize the spirit sword, and at once a stab of pain shot through his palm as the blade bit him.

"Mu—"

Granny Zhu could not help crying out, but the headman silenced her with a glare, and she said no more.

Shen Mu held fast to the spirit sword. It thrashed in his palm, opening wound after wound until his hand was a blur of blood and flesh. Yet his primal qi surged thick and strong, shielding his hand from being severed by the blade.

But the very next moment, a third spirit sword broke from the column of swords, then a fourth, a fifth!

Qianxun's gaze flickered. The victory was already decided. Shen Mu was younger than he was; to have cultivated this far at his age was no small feat. But when all was said and done, Shen Mu had only two hands. How many swords could he catch?

Abruptly, Qianxun's pupils shrank. Shen Mu's hands shot out again and again, as though he had grown dozens of extra arms, catching his spirit swords one after another!

Before a single sword could even be thrust forth, Shen Mu had seized them by the hilt!

The eighth form of the Thunder Cry Eight Secrets — the Ten-Thousand-Armed Vajra!

Qianxun's expression shifted slightly. His primal-qi threads trembled. The spirit swords in Shen Mu's hands leaped and struggled wildly, almost wrenching themselves free from his grip, even as the remaining swords stabbed at Shen Mu's eyes and throat!

Shen Mu had caught the hilts of five swords with his two hands; seven swords remained. The seven shot toward him in a cluster, spinning through the air with a sharp hiss, like tops, bent on boring through his skull and drilling a great hole in his throat!

Granny Zhu could not bear to look. Suddenly Shen Mu let out a violent roar. An immense column of primal qi burst from his body, swept up the butcher knife at his back, and brought it down in one stroke.

Clang—

The seven swords were cut through almost at once and clattered to the ground together!

"Such thick primal-qi threads!"

Qianxun's heart lurched. Shen Mu's slash had come out of nowhere; he'd had no warning at all. And Shen Mu's primal-qi threads defied all reason—shockingly thick, and the power stored in that blade was monstrously great!

And that butcher knife—it was absurdly sharp as well, sharper and tougher than any primal-refined divine weapon.

With such prodigious strength joined to an incomparably sharp butcher knife, severing his seven spirit swords was a trivial matter!

Before the shock in his heart had faded, Shen Mu suddenly flicked his wrists and hurled the five spirit swords in his hands back at him. The swords tore through the air, hissing, at an almost unimaginable speed.

Qianxun, however, broke into a smile. He raised his hand, primal-qi threads howling out to coil around the five incoming swords, while several more spirit swords flew out from his sword pouch.

His sword pouch looked small; by all rights it should not have held much. Yet sword after sword flew out of it—a most unnatural sight.

Unexpectedly, the very moment Qianxun's primal-qi threads wrapped around the five flying swords, his expression changed drastically. Shen Mu's terrifying primal qi was hidden within the sword bodies, surging and swelling, and his primal-qi threads were shattered before they could even take hold!

Qianxun was quick to react; the swords from his pouch shot forward to block the five incoming swords.

At the same time, Shen Mu charged forward. Qianxun reached a hand behind himself and pointed, and another spirit sword flew out to meet Shen Mu!

From Shen Mu's mouth came a strange sound—very short, gone in a flash, yet carrying with it an inexplicable cadence: bizarre, uncanny, sinister. With the sound came the young man's hand seal. His fingers pinched as though plucking a flower, and though he was still more than a zhang away from Qianxun, he struck out with the seal!

"Samaya!"

Qianxun felt the palm wind against his face, yet it had no force behind it. He was about to focus on blocking the five spirit swords when, all of a sudden, his soul flew out of his body, sucked into Shen Mu's palm. He was so frightened his spirit scattered to the winds.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Five dull impacts sounded in quick succession. With no one to control them, the five spirit swords pierced into his body one after another, lifting him high and carrying him backward.

Thump—

The pillar at the village center, hung with the butcher shop's banner, swayed. Qianxun's corpse hung upon it, his head lolling forward, motionless.

Shen Mu's palm was still bleeding. Abruptly he clenched his fist hard; blood squelched between his fingers, and Qianxun's soul in his hand was crushed to nothing.

The Nether Demon Freedom Seal is adept at annihilating souls.

Shen Mu turned his head and smiled: "Grandmother, I won."

Granny Zhu was relieved, then flared up in a rage: "You little wretch, you've cut your hand! I'll beat you to death when we get back! And don't you dare wipe that blood on your clothes—the new ones are stained and can't be washed clean, and I'll beat you to death for that too!"

The headman's gaze was dim and profound. He looked at Mu Beilan, who sat across from him, and said: "Brother Mu, your disciple has lost. Shall we take him down, dress him in burial clothes, and put him in a coffin?"

Mu Beilan raised his head, saw Qianxun's corpse hanging from the pillar, and shook his head: "I will take his body back and give him a proper burial. As for this young friend—he clearly has deep and profound cultivation, yet he fought with demonic arts and demonic sounds. I find such base methods contemptible."

He was speaking of the move Shen Mu had used to kill Qianxun: the Nether Demon Freedom Seal. Though he had never seen such a seal technique, what came from Shen Mu's mouth was plainly a demonic sound, and so the art Shen Mu used must be a demonic art.

He could see that Shen Mu's cultivation was vast and profound—far deeper than Qianxun's—but it seemed he had not been tempered by many life-and-death trials; he was somewhat constrained, unable to fully unleash his strength.

Winning by demonic arts, to his mind, was merely a cheap trick—contemptible.

The headman's gaze flickered. He had no idea where Shen Mu had learned an art that pulled an opponent's soul from their body and refined it to death—truly a sinister skill.

In the village, the only person of orthodox demonic lineage was Granny Zhu. Had she taught Shen Mu?

The headman said softly: "Mu'er, destroying a man's soul wounds the harmony of Heaven. Use such means as little as possible."

Shen Mu nodded hurriedly.

The headman looked at Mu Beilan across from him and said: "There are still eleven coffins empty."

Mu Beilan lowered his brows: "Since the coffins and burial clothes are made, by all means let them be put to use."

The headman: "Please."

Mu Beilan rose: "Please."

The Li River Water Dragon Formation roared into motion. The ten experts of the Billowing River Sect behind him erupted with their momentum, linking as one with Mu Beilan's.

Splash—

The river rolled on, water vapor filled the air, and in the tiny Hidden Remnant Village there suddenly appeared a great river with waves crashing to the heavens!

This flowing water was, in fact, the Li River of the southern Wasteland!

Mu Beilan and the ten Billowing River Sect experts stood upon this small but surging Li River. Within the river, countless flying swords darted back and forth, flashing silver, like tiny silver fish.

The Billowing River Sect was famous for its sword arts; its swordsmanship was the pinnacle of the southern frontier. When the ten Li River experts, joined by the sect master Mu Beilan, deployed the Li River Water Dragon Formation, the number of flying swords set in motion was beyond imagining!