My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 710 - 458: Simply the Best in the World (Parts Combined)_3

What is he questioning the sword with?

Wu Buxu heard a swooshing, buzzing sound—that was the sound of a sword slicing through the air.

Chen Yi flickered in and out of sight for countless moments. Finally, the figure in dark robes vanished entirely, leaving only the sword edge behind. A vertical slash of a sword shadow descended suddenly, Wu Buxu halted abruptly, the glint of cold steel horizontal in his hand!

By now,

the two exchanged moves—just a single horizontal and vertical strike.

Ink shadows spread across the heavens and earth.

After the clash of blades, the old man saw the sword edge no more; suddenly, all was empty.

What is he questioning the sword with?

Faint traces of sword shadows still lingered, but Wu Buxu could no longer focus on discerning them. The sword momentum surged again. Unconsciously, his strikes grew increasingly understated, shedding their majestic grandeur—rising and falling, nothing more.

One strike, two strikes, hundreds and thousands of strikes, back and forth. The wind came from the west and swept toward the east, returning to its origin. Around him, the swooshing and buzzing sounds remained.

The clash of sword edges was invisible; only the shadows flickered back and forth. Shadows intertwined with each other silently—without sound.

A Heavenly Inquiry rose in Wu Buxu's heart, like the moon surging over the sea:

What am I questioning the sword with?!

By now, even the sword shadows had disappeared. All that remained were the swooshing and buzzing sounds at his side. Suddenly, the boundless heavens and earth unfolded like paper. Among the vast whiteness, he was but a solitary ink mark.

I am…

Questioning the sword with the heavens and earth?!

Wu Buxu's body had frozen in place. He still yearned to strike another blow, but where was the sword? The sword was gone. The other person's sword had scattered in all directions, becoming a gentle veil over the dying grasses in this grave of the heavens and earth.

And thus, the vast sky rose ever higher, the mountains at the horizon where heaven and earth met grew increasingly blurred and receded into the distance. Beneath the old man's feet, there was no place to stand; he was nine hundred thousand miles above the ground, seeing neither the height of heaven nor the depth of earth. Like falling onto the surface of a lake, he drifted lightly, a mayfly suspended in the great expanse.

The old man no longer spoke; even the swooshing and buzzing sounds of the sword had fallen silent. His heart grew quiet, merging with the stillness of the heavens and earth—a profound tranquility.

The contest was decided.

Merely the world's number one.

...

Blood drenched the ground, a figure coated in crimson stood there. Chen Yi's body was riddled with crisscrossing wounds, and the searing pain grew distant.

He resembled fragile porcelain, riddled with countless jagged cracks. At the slightest movement, blood droplets would spatter everywhere, and beneath his feet lay chaos—the forested hills all bowed low.

In comparison, the old man seemed somewhat more fortunate.

Only a single gnarled wound marred him.

But fate would have it—this wound was precisely at his chest.

The two stood with both feet planted firmly on the ground, though neither knew when it happened. Chen Yi took a deep breath, his knees weakened, and he intended to sheath his sword. Yet, he suddenly raised his head, hearing the hoarse voice:

"Can you still strike another blow?"

Wu Buxu had yet to breathe his last!

In the distant sky, a small ripple spread across the azure, like a door opening wide. Two pale-haired phantoms "pushed the door open" and entered, darting swiftly forward. Both were "Wu Buxu."

The Land of Swords, the Sword Tomb, the Sword Pool—three figures of Wu Buxu converged here.

Chen Yi took a deep breath and finally couldn't help but say, "Too shamelessly old."

Immediately, his gaze remained steady, and he remarked, "But all the same."

"Not the same."

Amidst the ethereal void, the two shadowy Wu Buxu figures merged toward the Wu Buxu with the shattered chest. The old man stood rooted to the spot, his gravelly voice stretching endlessly:

"I have never felt so good. Even Xu Qi's realm… is nothing more than this."

An ineffable aura spread outward; Chen Yi's gaze subtly trembled. He… had reached such a realm as well!

Wu Buxu's dim, aged eyes suddenly erupted with brilliance, his lips buzzing out a murmur:

"Strike another blow—you must watch carefully."

Before the words finished, Chen Yi raised his sword and stood up, the sword edge surging forward.

A streak of sword light outran its source—a slash descending slowly as though the old man had melded into the sword itself, transforming into a new realm that bore down upon him.

The sword became the heavens and earth.

"This sword was not brought forth by the heavens…" the old man exclaimed loudly, "I brought it forth, I brought it forth!"

The first words deep, the latter sharp, and they came to an abrupt stop.

Chen Yi's sword struck nothingness—there was no sound of metal colliding. When he raised his head again, Wu Buxu's figure was gone.

The heavens and earth were profoundly silent.

Only the sword had faded away within it...