HCAW 155

Chapter 155: A New Edge First Tested

Two Hanguang Swords sliced through the northern wind, trembling and howling like tigers roaring and dragons rising, their force shaking the skies.

Fang Jingyu stared at the face that so closely resembled his own, and couldn’t help but recall the past. He thought of those days in Penglai, Yingzhou, and Daiyu—how he had escaped under a forest of blades and halberds, how countless people had bared their hearts and spilled their blood alongside him in battles against the Yu Ji Guard and Gu Bi Guard. Every scene played vividly in his mind. Now, this final battle stirred his soul—

He stood face-to-face with a legend from times past, another version of himself resplendent in glory.

Under the rising sun, swordlight flared brilliantly, dazzling the eyes. As blades clashed back and forth, Emperor Bai, Ji Zhi also felt his mind drift beyond the world. He looked at Fang Jingyu—once as frail as a reed in the wind—now matured into a resolute youth, cleansed of all impurities.

Ji Zhi suddenly thought of the Tianfu Guard. All this time, that sole peer had dared cross swords with him. And now, Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang were clearly the heirs to that man’s legacy. At this moment, in Fang Jingyu’s eyes, he saw the same starlike fire—unyielding, fierce, awe-inspiring.

“Come, Fang Jingyu,” Emperor Bai called lowly. “Let me see what you’re truly capable of!”

In an instant, cold dust swept the ground, snowflakes flew wildly. The two clashed together, every move exquisite and sublime, stirring awe in all who watched. Fang Jingyu unfurled the sword technique taught by Langgan Guard—his blade aura leapt like a soaring dragon, crossing and weaving with immense momentum!

Yet Emperor Bai was a battle-hardened master; his every action seemed capable of toppling the heavens, his presence vast enough to swallow a thousand leagues. His sword style opened and closed with sweeping might, sending winds surging—those too close felt their guts churn. Worse still, he was another Fang Jingyu. Whatever stirred in Fang Jingyu’s mind, he could perceive at once.

Fang Jingyu gripped the Hanguang Sword tightly, right foot drawing back, hands gathering strength. Emperor Bai laughed, “Your next strike is ‘Song of the River’, isn’t it?”

Before the words even faded, Fang Jingyu swung his sword, his form graceful as if stepping among cranes and phoenixes—indeed, it was ‘Song of the River’. Yet, because it had already been anticipated, the attack was caught before it even landed.

Emperor Bai’s sword danced, gleaming like cold frost. He laughed again: “And next—One Inch of Gold!”

Fang Jingyu’s heart jolted. He tried to pull back, but it was too late. That strike rang out sharp and true, whistling through the air, its cold gleam splitting light like the moon itself—it was the One Inch of Gold sword technique. Emperor Bai met it effortlessly, then called aloud:

“Golden Threads!”

“Jade Flask’s Water!” “Rainbow Above the River!”

Each of these was a technique passed to Fang Jingyu by Langgan Guard. But since the two men were exchanging blows in a blink, once Emperor Bai called out the names, there was no time for Fang Jingyu to switch moves. He felt dread seize his chest—Emperor Bai had seen straight through him.

Clashing steel rang out endlessly, sparks bursting in midair. Gritting his teeth, Fang Jingyu stopped trying to be unpredictable and focused instead on brute strength. Veins bulged on his arms; in an instant, dark veins flared over his body like fire. His blade howled as it lunged forward, fierce enough to pierce the ninth heaven!

Emperor Bai barely managed to parry—his wrist joints creaked, and his stance nearly faltered. Still, he laughed, “What strength—like a wild ox! These old bones of mine can’t compare anymore.”

Fang Jingyu clenched his jaw. “This is the only advantage I’ve got over Your Majesty!”

In the next moment, the swords collided, their impact shaking the eight directions. The two leapt apart, coming to a halt on opposite ends of the ice field. Fang Jingyu locked eyes on Emperor Bai—and suddenly, the figure before him seemed to change.

Emperor Bai sheathed the Hanguang Sword and drew an ice blade. Its cold gleam stung the eyes. He assumed a stance—flawless, immaculate, like an unblemished jade.

Fang Jingyu was startled: it was the stance of the Yu Yin Guard.

With a flash, the cold blade tore through the storm, flying toward him like a firefly’s gleam. Fang Jingyu hurried to meet it, only to see Emperor Bai unsheath his sword again—its strikes winding and venomous, like snakes and dragons. Fang Jingyu reeled in shock—this was the technique of the Mohe Guard.

Now wielding both blade and sword, Emperor Bai alternated between sweeping strength and subtlety—sometimes surging forward with overwhelming might like the Yu Ji Guard’s ferocity, sometimes swift and piercing like the Yu Jue Guard’s meteor-like speed. Years of solitude in Guixi had left him ample time to reflect on his comrades’ styles. He had already mastered them all.

From afar, the crowd watched breathlessly, not daring to make a sound. Langgan Guard sighed long and low:

“His Majesty truly is a born genius—ordinary men cannot keep up with him.”

Fang Jingyu was pushed steadily back under the onslaught. Emperor Bai’s momentum filled the world, and Fang Jingyu couldn’t help but feel fear—as if facing the most formidable enemy of his life. But then he thought: none of those foes had killed me. Why should I fear now?

With a roar, Fang Jingyu charged like a maddened tiger from the mountain, throwing caution to the wind.

He unleashed the Frost Over the Courtyard technique that had once wounded the Yu Ji Guard, followed by a blade form he had learned from the Yu Yin Guard. Whatever move Emperor Bai used, he countered with techniques drawn from the countless life-and-death battles he had fought against the Xian Mountain Guards.

In that moment, swordlight shimmered like autumn waters. For the first time, he held his ground evenly with Emperor Bai.

Yet although Fang Jingyu matched blow for blow, he was clearly straining to keep up. He never once held the advantage.

Emperor Bai sneered coldly. “Fang Jingyu, is this all you’re capable of? Mimicking forms without creating your own style—and you expect to gain an edge against me?”

Suddenly, he kicked forward, landing a heavy blow to Fang Jingyu’s chest and abdomen. “You alone cannot bring me down!”

Fang Jingyu staggered back several steps, stabbed his sword into the ice to steady himself, but showed no panic.

“If one alone is not enough,” he said, “then what about two?”

At his words, Emperor Bai’s brow twitched, sensing something. Just then, a sharp whistling cry tore through the air. A blast of wind swept the crowd as they cried out in alarm. Emperor Bai turned quickly to evade, only to see an iron arrow embed itself in the ice wall behind him.

From the platform leapt a shadow—clad in embroidered sleeves and bamboo-patterned brocade, carrying Fan Ruo. His spirit was blazing. It was Chu Kuang. As soon as he landed, he stowed the bow and drew the Chengying Sword, wearing a wild grin.

“Your Majesty wants to discipline my little brother?” he called. “He’s not up to it. Let me handle him. Allow me to ask for a few pointers instead!”

At the sight of him, Emperor Bai’s expression softened, and he burst into hearty laughter. “You two are quite shameless! Ganging up on an old man—have you no pride?”

Chu Kuang retorted slyly, “That’s not fair, Your Majesty. One of us has a scrambled brain, and the other’s got no bones in his body. Even together, we don’t match your divine prowess. What are you afraid of?”

“Fine then! The two of you—come at me!” Emperor Bai laughed again, unbothered.

Even before he finished speaking, Chu Kuang shot forward like an arrow. The Chengying Sword darted like a lonely goose through mist, swift and sharp, slicing wind and snow as it flew toward Emperor Bai. Fang Jingyu caught his eye; they exchanged no words, but seemed to understand each other. They attacked in tandem—one in front, one behind—a perfect pincer assault.

Just then, Fang Jingyu heard a voice near his ear—it was Ruyi Guard’s: “Boy, aim for His Majesty’s lower flank!”

He turned and saw Ruyi Guard winking at him. He followed her tip and thrust forward. Emperor Bai was caught off guard, though he just barely parried in time. With a glance, he saw Ruyi Guard still gesturing, and he chuckled.

“Ruyi Guard, what’s this?” he said. “Whose side are you on, giving tricks to outsiders?”

Ruyi Guard placed hands on her hips and said boldly, “Your Majesty, I only saw that the match was clearly one-sided. If those two were beaten down too easily, where would the fun be? I’m just adding a little flavor!”

Having served Emperor Bai for years, she knew all his weaknesses and now whispered them freely to Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang. Seeing Fang Jingyu’s swordplay grow fiercer, Emperor Bai’s formation was briefly shaken—but he soon steadied himself and laughed:

“Pity, Ruyi Guard. You may know my sword, but I know my own thoughts. That boy Fang is me. How could I not know his next move?”

Then a voice rode the wind: Chu Kuang’s.

“If that’s so, does Your Majesty know my sword style?”

Suddenly, a black streak cut through Emperor Bai’s vision. The Chengying Sword roared, cleaving the air and piercing straight toward his chest. Emperor Bai’s heart skipped—he raised his sword to block, spun to counterattack—but Chu Kuang twisted aside mid-move and vanished into the snow.

A great gust lifted the snow, whitening the world. The distant palace and dead trees faded like ink on paper. Emperor Bai, eyes stung by the cold, shielded his face with a sleeve. In that instant, multiple sharp cracks split the air—plum-blossom sleeve darts mixed with ice shards flew at him from all directions. Clearly Chu Kuang’s handiwork.

Emperor Bai chuckled. “That devil-eyed brat! His swordsmanship may lack refinement, but his bag of dirty tricks is full.”

Calmly, he swept his blade to clear the air before him. Then with a sudden shout, his veins bulged, and dark lines climbed his face like spreading vines—he had activated the power of the Immortal Elixir. Inky black markings surged from his body like a spider’s web, spreading madly outward like countless tentacles, each one capable of sensing all movements and sounds.

He was using them to track Chu Kuang’s location.

But no matter how he searched—he found nothing.

In a flash of frustration, he plunged the Hanguang Sword into the ice. Cracks spread in every direction, revealing the mirror-like waters of the Ming Sea below. Even probing the water yielded nothing. In this frozen land, where could that rascal have gone?

Just then, he saw it—a reflection in the water.

Chu Kuang had thrust the Chengying Sword into the ice wall, clinging to it with one hand, draped like a flag. He gave a sly grin, then kicked off—launching at Emperor Bai like a flying squirrel, surrounded by swordlight.

Emperor Bai’s eyes widened.

But he was no stranger to battle. His expression sharpened, and he raised his other arm.

In that hand was a long ice blade. As he drew it across the wall, layers of ice shattered—revealing a hidden sword. The crowd gasped in shock.

It was a four-and-a-half-foot ancient blade, forged of red-gold from Mount Ying. Unsheathed, it seemed to rattle the stars, stir the sun and moon.

From afar, Langgan Guard’s heart leapt to his throat. Not good! he thought.

Chu Kuang’s face drained of color—he recognized that weapon. Even the near-invulnerable Yu Ji Guard had fallen before it.

This was the Vipashiyin Blade.

Emperor Bai slashed down.

Winds surged, clouds roared. The sword’s force was vast and deep, like waves crashing over a thousand miles, overwhelming all in its path. Many were knocked back, or left gasping in pain.

Chu Kuang felt ice creep through his limbs. He was nearly paralyzed under that might.

Then suddenly—a figure shot in from the side.

It was Fang Jingyu.

His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and with gritted teeth he met the descending blade head-on—using the broken Vipashiyin Blade in his own hand. At the moment of impact, cracks splintered outward beneath his feet, shards of ice bursting like fireworks.

Emperor Bai looked at him and grinned. “You blocked it with the broken blade I shattered myself? Good lad.”

Fang Jingyu’s wrists were torn and bleeding. Cold sweat drenched his face, but he grinned back, fierce as a wolf.

“Even this little fish-eye,” he said, “can sometimes outshine Your Majesty’s pearl!”