Chapter 12 — A Clash of Legs Decides the Victor
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 4
Shen Mu's pupils contracted sharply. This Senior Brother Chu's sword-control far surpassed Senior Sister Liu's. When Senior Sister Liu controlled her sword, the blade could fly out dozens of zhang and kill an enemy dozens of zhang away; but when Senior Brother Chu controlled his, the sword never strayed more than three chi from his own body.
That was truly terrifying—and exceedingly dangerous.
To wield a sword to kill in close combat, where the slightest carelessness would wound oneself, demanded an extremely high level of sword-control. It also showed the formidable, fearsome nature of his swordsmanship, and his absolute confidence in it!
Without a minute, exquisite control of primal qi, one would never dare to wield a sword this way!
"Grandpa Tu and the others never taught me how to rouse my primal qi, and Grandpa Village Headman never spoke of how to use the primal qi of a tyrant body. In a case like this, I fear I will come off the worse."
His foot suddenly struck a tree branch—it must have been trampled and broken by the herd. Without thinking, Shen Mu tapped it with his toe; the branch fell into his hand. It was a willow wand six or seven chi long, as thick as a thumb.
The youth gripped the willow branch, his steps moving with flying speed, his gaze fixed dead on the tip of Senior Brother Chu's sword, paying no heed at all to his hands.
He tried to drive his primal qi into the willow branch, but once the qi entered the branch, at the point of one chi and three cun he lost all sense of it.
One chi and three cun—far too short. To pit that against the other's flying sword was truly too perilous.
Senior Brother Chu charged in, his precious sword whirling up and down around him—thrusting, slicing, wiping, flicking, chopping, shaking, cutting—as though an invisible swordsman gripped that blade and killed at Shen Mu from every vicious, tricky angle.
Chi, chi, chi, chi—a few soft sounds, and only one chi and three cun of the willow branch remained in Shen Mu's hand. The precious sword chopped down again and clashed with the willow branch, giving off a light ding, as though it had struck steel.
Seeing that the primal qi he poured into the willow branch could actually hold off the other's precious sword, Shen Mu set his heart completely at ease. Only the sword tip existed in his eyes, and the willow branch of one chi and three cun in his hand he treated as the Butcher's Blade. The saber art the Butcher had taught him was displayed upon that one chi and three cun of willow!
Night Slays a Thousand Cities, Wind and Rain!
Shen Mu's heart held nothing else; he unleashed to the fullest, with the little willow branch, the saber art the Butcher had taught him.
Fast! Fast! Fast!
The Butcher called his saber art the Livestock-Slaughtering Saber Art, and it had but one secret: speed!
So fast it was a fleeting gleam and a passing shadow; so fast the blade rose and the pig's head fell!
Shen Mu threw himself wholly into the swinging of his blade, swinging with abandon and delight. The clang and clatter of heavy blows came without cease. The two moved with flying steps beneath the running herd, killing their way from under the belly of one giant beast to under the belly of another. The giant beasts' thick legs and feet came down like pillars smashed down from the heavens; one careless step and a man would be trampled to powder!
Their steps seemed chaotic, yet in truth both followed a wondrous rhythm, and each time a giant beast was about to tread on them, they always managed to evade.
Senior Brother Chu was both shocked and furious. He was being beaten!
He, of all people, was being thrashed by this "little spawn of evil" with a little stick!
The willow branch in Shen Mu's hand was very short, a chi or so long—was that not indeed a little stick?