The Demon Lords-Chapter 699 - 143: Destiny!_1

As the saying goes, the times create heroes, but in truth, it is also heroes who move the times forward.

To cut off the head of an enemy general in an army of thousands seems like a tall tale. However, there is a crucial difference between reality and the stories spun by storytellers in teahouses: the storytellers have to make sense in their tales. Otherwise, the audience would not hesitate to greet them with teacups and fruit plates, illustrating the dire consequences of trying to fool them with an illogical story.

Yet reality does not need logic.

For Geremu, he had done nothing wrong. When Snow Sea Pass was captured by the Yan people, he tried to talk to the enemy's main general, using the time the army spent building siege weaponry. It was certainly a proactive gesture, considering Snow Sea Pass was truly of utmost importance to the wild people.

It was like a dispute with the occupants of the next dormitory room. Geremu brought the son of their local dormitory's head, expecting the situation to be almost guaranteed. But in the end, standing alongside the person in the next dormitory room was the director himself... in person.

That such a thing could actually happen to him could only be interpreted as a cruel twist of fate.

If there were a chance, Geremu would like to go back and have a serious talk with the Sword Saint. He would admit he was actually a Jin person too. If the Sword Saint sheathed his sword at this moment, he would be willing to defect and contribute to driving out the wild people.

In this life-or-death situation, he was willing to swear any oath, make any promise, whether staking it on Heaven or his own ancestors.

But at this moment, any pause, any hesitation, could prove fatal.

Geremu could not afford to stop, nor did he dare to. If he were facing an army of thousands, honestly, he would not be so fearful. Even if surrounded by thousands of soldiers, in the ensuing chaos, he would only need to directly face twenty or thirty at most. With his abilities as a Martial Cultivator, although his chances of survival would still be slim, he would not be instantly slaughtered.

However, the person behind him possessed the ability to end his life with a single sword thrust, and no one would question that capability.

The drama of pursuit, chase, and interception continued.

A scene from a year ago surfaced in the Sword Saint's mind. Situ Lei had led him into the heavily guarded inner sanctum of the Situ Family. Then, he had drawn his sword, killed two Imperial Censorate Officers of the Situ Family, and thrust the Longyuan sword into the chest of the old head of the Situ Family.

Half a year later, he found his Ah Brother in the capital city of the Jin State and, as an elder brother, persuaded his Ah Brother to give up on Emperor Jin.

Later, Situ Lei's personally led campaign failed, and the wild people breached the borders. His Ah Brother died in battle, and the Royal Family of the Jin State was moved to Yanjing.

As for him, he was defeated by the Southern Marquis of Yan, fled in disarray, and abandoned his sword.

At one point, the Sword Saint was very confused. It seemed that whatever he did was wrong. Bearing the title of Sword Saint, it appeared the only thing he could rely on in this life was, truly, just his sword. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

I can only kill people. I am only fit to kill people. And I only know... how to use a sword to kill people.

There were things the Sword Saint had never told Zheng Fan. For instance, he had genuinely enjoyed his time serving as a city guard in Shengle. The Yu Clan had been in decline for several generations. Despite bearing the surname Yu, he came from an impoverished family.

He originated from among the common folk but had not returned to their world for a long time.

During those few months in Shengle, he felt as if he had returned. The atmosphere of Shengle made him instinctively uneasy; he always felt that the General's Manor controlling everything was deeply oppressive. As a person of the street, what he disliked most was restraint. However, from the perspective of an ordinary person, at least the children there could attend private schools, the elderly could get medicine from clinics, and no one would starve to death. Even widows could support their mothers-in-law and children by working in the workshops.

In fact, he did not particularly like that fellow surnamed Zheng; he always felt he was hypocritical. The admiration the soldiers and civilians in Shengle, especially the common soldiers, had for General Zheng was almost branded into their very bones. But he knew that these were two entirely different General Zhengs. However, it was undeniable that Zheng was meticulous and genuine in his actions. As a Yan person who had risen through military merit, to shepherd the people of a region, ensuring they suffered no hunger or cold, was truly no easy feat.

Thus, when Zheng Fan said he should kill this Geremu, he came to do it.

Since, since, since whatever he initiated always seemed to bring about negative results, he might as well follow Zheng Fan's orders. At least Zheng Fan had proven that he did things well.

The thundering of hooves grew more intense in his ears. More and more wild people's cavalry were surging this way, attempting to block him with their bodies and brandished weapons.

But these people, what did they amount to? They amounted to nothing.

The Sword Saint had always believed his sword was the foremost in the world.

He had said as much to his apprentice.

His apprentice asked him, "Then who has the second-best sword in the world?"

The Sword Saint answered, "Yuan Zhenxing."

The sword maid was very pleased. She believed her master had named Yuan Zhenxing, her own deceased master's disciple, as the second-best swordsman in the world merely to make her happy, not that he was truly the second-best in the Qian State.

But in fact, the Sword Saint was speaking his true thoughts.

Li Liangshen had joined the army, dedicating himself to the Earl of North Border and obeying his commands. Now, he even guarded Yanjing, following the Yan Emperor's Imperial Edict. Like the heavy ancient sword in his hand, he embodied rigidity and rules.

The Swordsmith of Chu State was obsessed with sword-making his entire life. Yet his sword furnace was adorned with gold, silver, and jade, and he himself was a hereditary noble of Chu State, now busy running errands for a prince. It was said that traces of him were also seen by the Wang River when the Chu people and wild people allied. He was made by the sword furnace, confined by the sword furnace, and constrained by the sword furnace. A world unto itself, he was locked within—this is 'imprisonment'.

Baili Sword served as the martial arts tutor for the Crown Prince of Qian State, sharing the glory of both the literary and martial paths with Yao Zizhan. Outside Yanjing's walls, while guarding Master Zang as he severed Yan's draconic ley line, Baili Sword did not draw his sword. Beneath the walls of the imperial capital, as countless citizens of Qian State were driven by Li Fusheng to attack the city, he did not draw his sword once, choosing instead to retreat directly. His sword, no matter how swift, was ultimately as fragile as jade, fearing even the slightest imperfection.

In contrast, that man named Yuan Zhenxing, on the banks of the Bian River, had met his death with heroic abandon. His death, though ignoble and futile, embodied the true spirit of a sword-wielder.

The sword, a sacred artifact of ancient times, was supremely noble, revered by humans and gods alike. It embodies righteous integrity, never straying to heretical paths. Throughout history, the street has birthed countless famed swords, but once a sword leaves the street, it often gathers dust, its original spirit lost.

That boy surnamed Zheng had once said that after this battle, he would "package" him. Before Fengxin's walls, a single sword to seize the gate; before Snow Sea Pass, to slay the enemy chief. Tales in the street, bars, and teahouses would rely on his stories for the next ten years or so to accompany their wine and tea. However, what the boy surnamed Zheng did not know was that this fame, he no longer valued it.

The hundred-odd sunrises and sunsets at the South Gate of Shengle City had made him reflect on many things and had changed him greatly. At the widow's doorway, every time she returned from work, her gaze upon him was as clear and piercing as water freshly drawn from a well. Many things, once let go, are let go for good. But one thing, he kept always at his waist.

Tian Wujing, you once said the street is too small, so small you find it laughable. Indeed, the street is small. Being in this tiny street, all I can do now is vent an ordinary man's fury. People of the street do street things. This massive influx of wild people into the lands of Three Jin is something you, Lord Jingnan, will have to completely deal with.

「In a flash!」

The Sword Saint's aura suddenly intensified!

Today, I, Yu Huaping, for the sword-wielders of this age: I establish their Destiny! I unleash their true Edge! I illuminate the Way!

「In an instant!」

A terrifying Sword Energy burst forth. Geremu, fleeing for his life, widened his eyes. This formidable aura was something he had never felt before; a sense of despair immediately filled his heart.

From behind, Hasi, who was rushing towards them, wore an expression mixed with elation and terror. Because he sensed it. This was not the aura of a Third Rank swordsman. At this moment, the Sword Saint was exuding a terrifying Sword Intent that transcended the Third Rank!

All paths, laws, and arts in the world ultimately converge. The pinnacle of the Third Rank is known, yet the First and Second Ranks are left as if intentionally blank. Practitioners of the First and Second Rank are almost never seen in the world. Records might contain traces of them, and legends might tell of an ancestor of a certain house reaching such heights, but they have never truly been witnessed by the masses. Western practices are similar; though not classified by rank, beyond their apex lie "Transcendent" and "Saintly" levels, almost equivalent to the East's "Second Rank" and "First Rank."

If they truly do not exist, then why are these two ranks left vacant? If they do exist, why have they not been seen for hundreds of years?

Hasi's heart nearly stopped. He had witnessed it. He had truly witnessed it.

「In the blink of an eye!」

The Sword Saint appeared directly behind Geremu. The wild people's cavalry had been utterly unable to block his path; in fact, his speed was such that they could not intercept him even if they wanted to.

Where the sword body moved, it was the sword commanding the man, not the man commanding the sword. When human strength reaches its limit, the sword transcends such shackles.

A terrifying pressure descended. Geremu turned his head in despair, looking at the Sword Saint beside him. He could see blood flowing from the Sword Saint's eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. Evidently, to wield such power and speed beyond ordinary limits, even the Sword Saint had to pay an extremely heavy price! Yet he had actually forced himself to elevate his realm just to kill him!

For a moment, Geremu did not know whether to continue being terrified or to feel somewhat flattered. He was a Martial Cultivator, a high-rank Martial Cultivator, and naturally understood the immense terror and profound opportunity this state represented. To die by this sword, for a Martial Cultivator, should be an honor.

But soon, he let out a roar, "I don't want to die!"

This face, no different from that of an ordinary Jin person, began to twist with the desperate will to survive. He still had so many things he had not done. He did not want to die, did not want to die!

However, the Sword Saint did not deign to waste words on him.

His fingertip pointed downwards. Longyuan instantly pierced Geremu's back. The robust physique Martial Cultivators prided themselves on was as fragile as paper at this moment.

The Sword Saint's fingertip flicked upwards. Longyuan thrust out from the top of Geremu's head.

In an instant, Geremu's body was split in two!

Then, the Sword Saint's voice erupted like a great bell, "Those who betray their ancestral temples shall be executed!"