Ze Tian Ji Way Of Choices Chapter 652 – White Moonlight

Chapter 652 – White Moonlight

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

In Xunyang City and the Myriad Willows Garden, Zhu Luo had suffered two successive blows and was no longer at his peak, but when he unsheathed his sword, he was still an expert of the Divine Domain, accompanied by a storm.

Tonight, the torrents of rain had poured down for a very long time. Even now, there was still rainwater flowing down from the mausoleum. This rainwater gathered in the shallow ca.n.a.ls of white, gradually muddying the waters in them.

Suddenly, the turbid waters of the ca.n.a.l became a pure white akin to snow.

Not because they had been cleaned, but because of the reflected light.

A extremely bright and clear splendor appeared at the base of the Mausoleum of Books.

This splendor came from the sword in Zhu Luo's hand.

Next, a sphere of pure white light appeared amidst the scattered clouds and stars. Everyone knew that it was fake, but it seemed so real when they looked up at it.

Zhu Luo's sword slashed towards the Mausoleum of Books.

A streak of moonlight followed.

A streak of moonlight simultaneously appeared in the night sky.

The waters in the ca.n.a.l shone with incomparable brilliance, so white as to be somewhat dazzling.

The Divine Path paved with white jade also shone a pure snow-white.

A streak of sword intent and two streaks of moonlight, the opening strike and the follow-up attack, came like a tide.

This was that most powerful sword technique Zhu Luo had become enlightened to several centuries ago when he saw the moon of the demons on the snowy plains to the north.

He had relied on precisely this sword technique to behead the then-second-ranked Demon General, thus establis.h.i.+ng from then on his transcendent reputation.

Tonight was his final night and this strike was presumably his final strike, so this was naturally his most powerful strike.

The entirety of the Mausoleum of Books was awash in moonlight. For this transcendent expert of Tianliang County to push his sword intent to such a level while so heavily injured was truly awe-inspiring.

Yet…such a powerful and masterly strike was not even able to enter the Divine Path, much less reach the summit of the Mausoleum of Books.

The instant his two streaks of moonlight rose up to follow his sword intent, another stream of light exploded from the base of the Mausoleum of Books.

This stream of light was brighter, purer, harsher than Zhu Luo's moonlight.

It was a sword glow.

This sword glow like a snowstorm enveloped the world at the base of the Divine Path in an extremely brief amount of time.

These two extremely powerful sword intents clashed.

The water in the ca.n.a.ls boiled, spraying countless crystalline drops of water into the night sky that were promptly cut in two.

The firm plain of black stone was scored with countless extremely straight sword slashes, at least several feet deep.

The world was filled with the shrill and abnormally terrifying sounds of slicing.

Were the two streaks of moonlight able to drive away the snowstorm, or would the snowstorm ultimately obscure the moon?

Suddenly, the extremely grating sound of metal being broken was heard!

In a gale of wind and snow, the moon in the night sky was scattered and smashed, the streaks of moonlight in front of the Divine Path annihilated along with it!

Zhu Luo's figure suddenly dissipated.

In the next moment, he had returned in front of his wheelchair.

His face was extremely pale, the sword in his hands already broken.

His gray hair danced in the night wind. Occasionally, a few stalks would snap off.

He had carried a resolve to die as he slashed at the Mausoleum of Books. He had been incomparably determined, so he would naturally not choose to retreat.

He had been forced back by the snowstorm of sword intent.

The Tianhai Divine Empress had still not struck, so whose sword intent was so powerful?

Zhu Luo's body began to faintly tremble as if the wind was about to blow him onto the ground.

Guan Xingke glanced at him.

Zhu Luo slowly shook his head. He slowly placed his broken sword back in its sheath and then slowly raised his head to look forward.

He could have performed these actions much more confidently and easily but he did not. He did everything with great gravity and slowness because he knew that this was the final time he would be able to sheath his sword.

The sword intent akin to a snowstorm gradually dispersed, revealing a vague picture of the base of the Divine Path and the pavilion there.

In the pavilion sat a man.

Zhu Luo gazed at it and ruefully sighed, "I did not expect that you were already so powerful."

With a soft rip, the front lapel of his gown was cut open, revealing a clear and deep wound out of which blood gradually seeped.

"Two years ago, Xun Mei met his death while seeking the Dao, moving me. On that night, I decided to break through. From that moment on, I was already this powerful."

A ancient voice emerged from the pavilion.

This voice had come from the suit of armor, as if dyed by the scent of time pervading the dust and rust upon the armor.

As the words fell, dust gradually rose, and then came the sc.r.a.ping of metal.

Then, the pavilion collapsed, dust rising up in a plume. Amidst this dust, a mountainous figure was faintly visible.

He had sat under this pavilion for six hundred years. Tonight, he finally stood up.

He was the guardian of the Mausoleum of Books.

The first ranked Divine General of the continent, Han Qing.

Seeing the suddenly collapsed pavilion, seeing the figure amongst the dust, everyone was shocked, their expressions extremely grave.

None of these experts that had come to the Mausoleum of Books would forget the existence of this legendary figure, but they had grown used to treating him as a sculpture or symbol.

Having guarded the mausoleum for six-hundred-plus years, Han Qing, the number one Divine General of the continent, had obtained the respect of the entire world. Even the Storms of the Eight Directions would not dare look down on him.

Everyone knew that if he had not sworn an oath to guard the mausoleum, he might have stepped into the Divine Domain many years ago.

Yet only tonight did people discover that he had already broken through!

He stood before the Divine Path, his left hand holding his sheath and his right holding a sword. Although he was just one man, an entire army seemed to stand there.

"When His Majesty Taizong returned to the sea of stars, you once swore an oath that you would not enter the Divine for your entire life."

Zhu Luo did not pay any attention to the gradually deepening wound on his abdomen. Staring at Han Qing, he asked, "Now that you have broken your oath, how can you have the face to meet His Majesty in the future?"

Besides Zhu Luo, Guan Xingke, Bie Yanghong, and other experts of the Divine Domain, no one else knew of this matter, nor did anyone understand why Emperor Taizong, on the verge of death, had made Han Qing swear this sort of oath.

Even the Qiushan clan head did not know of this secret. His face turned pensive.

Han Qing was silent, not responding to Zhu Luo's words. The shadow of his helmet obscured his face, making the expression on his face a mystery.

"The old men of the past, those old-fas.h.i.+oned oaths—none of it is important."

Zhu Luo sorrowfully sighed and continued, "That's right, in Xunyang City, even I broke my oath to the starry sky and attacked w.a.n.g Po, so what right do I have to demand anything from you?"

Saying this, he slowly seated himself back on his wheelchair and then slowly closed his eyes.

The blood seeping from the wound on his abdomen suddenly began to change color. It became sparkling and translucent as if mixed with the fragments of many crystals.

This crystalline blood dissolved in the night wind, transforming into countless specks of splendorous light.

His body also transformed into countless specks of splendorous light, just like that moon that was hanging over the snowy plains of the demons several centuries ago.

This light was gradually scattered in the wind, drifting away in all directions until nothing remained.

Only a vacant wheelchair remained.

Zhu Luo had died.

Regardless of what evaluation the common people had of him, especially after that rainy night in Xunyang City, he had still been a major personage of the continent.

Although he had been handed consecutive miserable defeats by the Holy Maiden of the south and Su Li, he was still a supreme expert of the Divine Domain, a grandmaster of humanity.

When he was young, he had gone several times to the snowy plains of the north and achieved enormous merit, was able to compose poems while drinking, and was an extremely confident and easygoing person, the idol of mult.i.tudes.

When all was said and done, he was the Sect Master of the Emotion-Severing Sect, the patriarch of one of Tianliang County's most prestigious clans, and a Storm of the Eight Directions.

Under normal circ.u.mstances, the death of such a major figure was certain to be a major event that shook the entire continent.

Tonight, his death seemed ordinary.

Not merely because he had died too calmly, but more because when many people saw his death, their reactions were not very exaggerated.

This was a sign that everyone had already mentally prepared themselves for the fact that these sorts of events would continue, these sorts of scenes would continue to appear.

It was inevitable that more experts of the Divine Domain would die.

They just didn't know if it would be another of the Storms of the Eight Directions or the Saint at the peak of the Mausoleum of Books.

Tonight was truly a terrifying night.

Clap.

The sheath in Han Qing's hands fell to his feet, splas.h.i.+ng water about.

The turbid waters in the ca.n.a.l jumped up as well then fell back down, returning to stillness, not daring to move.

Two extremely profound eyes peered out of the gloom under the helmet and looked around the Mausoleum of Books.

A voice also came out from the gloom, transmitted to all of the Mausoleum of Books.

"All who step upon the Divine Path will die."

This was the order the Tianhai Divine Empress had given him before bringing Chen Changsheng to the summit of the Mausoleum of Books.

No one dared to respond, leaving only silence.

Guan Xingke silently gazed at the empty wheelchair. At some point, his bamboo hat had been removed, revealing his ordinary and unremarkable face.

Bie Yanghong had a solemn look on his face. Wuqiong Bi stood at his side, the horsetail whisk resting in the crook of her arm still drooping down to her waist. Her hands clenched extremely tight until they were pale.

Although Zhu Luo had been heavily injured, he was still one of the Eight Storms.

And if what Han Qing said was true, that he had only stepped into the Divine Domain no more than two years ago, then logically speaking, his understanding and control of the world's laws and principles should have been far inferior to Zhu Luo's.

Yet he had only used one strike to kill Zhu Luo.

This was a fact that they found very difficult to accept, that caused their hearts to somewhat sink.

But no matter how difficult it was to accept the fact, it had already occurred. That which should be done still needed to be done.

The three Storms could already vaguely perceive that the Divine Empress's soul was already somewhere else—only her person was still standing on the Mausoleum of Books. Moreover, she had just suffered a drop in cultivation from helping Chen Changsheng defy the heavens and change fate, and had even suffered a psychological a.s.sault from learning the fact that Chen Changsheng was not Crown Prince Zhaoming. It could be said that she was at her weakest state in the past two-hundred-plus years.

This also meant that now was the time with the greatest chance for the Divine Empress to be defeated.

They could not miss out on this chance.

If they wanted to step on the Divine Path and battle with the Tianhai Divine Empress, they first had to defeat Divine General Han Qing at its base.

Moreover, others did not know, but they knew of Han Qing's greatest secret and so they yearned even more for Han Qing to die.

Wuqiong Bi's expression grew increasingly nervous, a hint of fear occasionally flas.h.i.+ng across her eyes, ultimately replaced by madness.

She who was evaluated by the Divine Empress as being foolish and incompetent, almost an idiot, was still an expert of the Divine Domain. Her Dao heart might suffer setbacks occasionally, but they could not completely influence her mind.

"Han Qing must have been injured. This is our chance. Let's quickly ascend!" she sternly said to Bie Yanghong.

The small flower tied to his pinkie finger lightly swayed, seeming to follow its own cadence. As it bobbed in the wind, it seemed very beautiful.

Bie Yanghong was silent, not complying with his wife's words.

The rain had long since stopped. The clouds had parted and the stars glimmered. Suddenly, the vast sky of stars seemed to grow brighter.

It gave the feeling that all the stars in the sky had drawn closer to the ground.

By the wheelchair, Guan Xingke's figure was no longer there, only his bamboo hat in the rainwater.

The innumerable stars in the sky, seeming both real and fake, came to the Mausoleum of Books, sweeping towards where Han Qing stood along with that figure.

Han Qing slightly raised his head, and that face which had been obscured in the gloom of his helmet for six hundred years was finally illuminated by the starlight.

It was an incomparably elderly face.