Chapter 53: Swordsmanship

Everything happened so quickly that nobody seemed to grasp the full scope of what had transpired. The onlookers, who had been fervently discussing moments ago, fell into an eerie silence. The power Dao Wei had demonstrated was overwhelming, dominating the atmosphere with an intensity that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

"Indeed, he is the Death God of Lower Asura," the middle-aged man in the green robe murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and respect. He had harbored doubts, but now that they were confirmed, the grim reality dawned on everyone: the Death Zen Sect stood little chance of survival.

Hearing the man's words, a cold chill ran down the spines of those present. The tales of the Death God of Lower Asura were infamous—wherever he tread, rivers of blood followed. Now that he had descended into the Mortal World, the future appeared bleak and uncertain, filled with foreboding dread.

Amid the half-destroyed sect grounds stood two towering pagoda-shaped buildings, each over a thousand feet tall, separated by a hundred meters of open air. These pagoda-shaped buildings were incredibly steep, like twin blades thrust into the earth by ancient gods. Their sides were smooth and sheer, offering no visible paths to the summits.

At the very peaks of these colossal structures, a dense fog obscured the view, creating a surreal and almost otherworldly atmosphere. Despite the haze, two figures could be discerned standing at the very top of the peaks, unmoving as if carved from stone. Their clothes fluttered wildly in the fierce winds that howled across the sky.

One of these figures was a youth, no older than sixteen, whose appearance was nothing short of extraordinary. His features were flawless, his face the very epitome of youthful beauty, possessing a magnetic allure that could captivate any who gazed upon him. His golden eyes, filled with an enigmatic depth, sparkled with a mesmerizing light that seemed to pull at the very soul. His long, black hair cascaded down to his waist, untamed by any tie, flowing freely in the wind as if dancing to a silent melody. In one hand, he held a gleaming silver sword, while the other rested casually behind his back.

Opposite him, on the other peak, stood an elderly man clad in black and red robes. His age was evident in the deep lines etched into his face, his hair tied up neatly at the back, resembling the neck of a crane. Yet, despite his advanced years, his eyes shone with a fierce vitality, a light that seemed to illuminate the entire area. His gaze was as sharp as a blade, capable of making even the bravest hesitate to meet it. In his hand, he wielded a massive, black sword—thick and heavy, with no discernible edge.

This formidable elder was none other than Dugu Yenchen, the First Elder of the Death Zen Sect.

For a long moment, Dugu Yenchen stared across the chasm at Dao Wei, his gaze piercing and unyielding. The air between them was thick with tension, as if the very heavens were holding their breath in anticipation.

"Little beast," Dugu Yenchen finally spoke, his voice cold and dark, "you are young, yet your strength rivals my own. Your mastery of the sword is something even I, after all these years, can only admire. But you have nearly destroyed my sect, and for that, I cannot allow you to live. Today, I will deliver justice for my disciples and elders."

Dao Wei's expression remained unchanged, his eyes as calm as still waters. His golden robes billowed around him, and his hair, dark as the night, danced freely in the gale. His voice, when he spoke, was steady and clear. "It was your disciples who sought conflict with me. Their deaths are the result of their own incompetence, not my doing."

Dugu Yenchen's laugh was harsh, filled with both anger and a grim resolve. "Incompetence? Very well! Let us see just how skilled you truly are. Show me the power of your Ninefall Lunatics Sword Art!" As his words echoed across the peaks, Dugu Yenchen raised his Heavy Iron Sword. A terrifying surge of Sword Qi erupted from the blade, shooting towards Dao Wei like a bolt of lightning.

Dao Wei's expression remained unchanged as he unsheathed his Celestial Sword with a fluid motion. The long, double-edged blade, about 1.3 meters in length and as wide as two fingers, gleamed with a blinding white light. With a swift, precise thrust, Dao Wei unleashed his own Sword Qi, the force of it so immense that it seemed to tear through the very fabric of reality as it sped towards the incoming attack.

The two jets of Sword Qi collided in mid-air with a thunderous explosion, the impact sending shockwaves rippling outwards. The sheer force of the collision dispersed the lingering mists, revealing the destruction it had wrought on the landscape below.

Without hesitation, both Dao Wei and Dugu Yenchen leapt from their respective peaks, charging towards each other with blinding speed. They met in the air, their swords clashing with a flurry of strikes that was almost too fast for the eye to follow. The sounds of metal on metal echoed like the tolling of a thousand bells, each strike sending out waves of Sword Qi that gouged deep scars into the earth and obliterated anything in their path. Buildings crumbled and fell, crashing down the ground as the two warriors battled with relentless ferocity.

In the span of a few breaths, they had exchanged hundreds of blows, their movements a blur of deadly precision. Finally, they separated, each retreating to the peak of their respective buildings. Both were visibly worn, their once-pristine clothing now tattered and torn, their breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps.

Dugu Yenchen's face had grown dark and somber, his eyes narrowing as he spoke through gritted teeth. "Your sword is fast—faster than any I have faced. It is no wonder that none in Lower Asura can stand against you. But it is not enough to defeat me." He paused, his expression growing even more severe. "If we continue like this, it will be impossible to determine a victor. Let us end this with our strongest strikes."

With that, the First Elder unleashed a terrifying wave of power, his aura exploding like a colossal sword piercing the heavens. The sheer force of it was enough to shake the very earth, sending tremors through the surrounding landscape.

Dao Wei's expression hardened as he, too, summoned his full strength. His power surged forth, meeting Dugu Yenchen's with an equal and opposite force that rippled through the air, splitting the clouds above and scattering the remnants of the mist. The winds howled in agony, their cries echoing across the peaks as the ground below trembled under the weight of the two combatants' immense power. Spectators, sensing the impending devastation, fled to a safer distance, hundreds of miles away.

As the two warriors' strength continued to escalate, the very earth seemed to respond to their might. Trees snapped and broke, flung into the air like twigs, while the ground itself buckled under the pressure. All around them, the environment began to unravel, the natural order disrupted by the sheer force of their power.

Dao Wei's Celestial Sword began to glow with a brilliant golden light, while Dugu Yenchen's Heavy Iron Sword was enveloped in a jet-black aura. The Qi swirling around them intensified, creating a vortex of energy that grew stronger with each passing moment. Soon, both men were completely obscured by the opposing lights—their forms swallowed by the overwhelming radiance.

Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, Dao Wei shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield with the force of a divine decree, "Ninefall Hoarfrost!"

His Celestial Sword vibrated with a terrifying Sword Qi, the golden light surrounding it growing ever more intense. His hair and robes whipped wildly in the wind as his body hovered in the air, exuding an aura of invincibility.

At the peak of their power, both men let out a roar that split the heavens, their voices merging into a single, earth-shaking cry. In that instant, the golden and black lights clashed with unimaginable force, the collision so intense that it seemed to tear the very fabric of reality apart.

For a heartbeat, there was no sound—only the blinding light of their combined attack. When the light finally faded, the battlefield was revealed once more, and it was clear that everything had changed.

Dao Wei and Dugu Yenchen had switched places, each now standing on the other's peak. Dao Wei's face was pale, his golden robes stained crimson with blood that flowed steadily from a grievous wound in his chest. Dugu Yenchen's sword had pierced through his heart, the fatal blow condemning him to an inevitable death.

But Dugu Yenchen had not emerged unscathed. His right arm was gone, severed cleanly at the shoulder, and the Heavy Iron Sword that had once been his pride now lay somewhere far below, lost to the depths of the cliffs. Blood trickled from his mouth as his pale face grew even paler, the life slowly draining from him.

Despite his mortal wound, Dugu Yenchen laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that echoed across the peaks. "Little beast," he said, his voice laced with a mix of regret and satisfaction, "with your talent, you might have surpassed me in a few years. But today, your strength falls short. In the end, you have been defeated by my hand." He sighed, a weary sound filled with the weight of countless years. "It is a sorrowful thing for an old man like me to see the funeral of a young genius like you. But however, I must do what I must to avenge my disciples."