Chapter Fifty-Six: The Formation of Nine Swords

One person produced a magical instrument resembling a dressing table, upon which three pieces of colored glass mirrors were displayed. When it was directed at Xu Xing, the three-mirror dais showed no reaction at all.

“What?”

The nine people were utterly shocked, their faces frozen in indescribable expressions.

“How is this possible? He’s a mortal? Hasn’t even begun cultivating? How could that be?”

“Impossible! If he were just a mortal, how could he withstand our Nine-Sword Array? He must have some special technique!”

“It seems this boy below isn’t the one we’re seeking after all. He’s just a wandering swordsman—we’ve got the wrong person.”

“Why didn’t he say so earlier? Then none of us would have wasted our efforts.”

“Seems he was trying to explain at first, but we didn’t listen. Never mind…”

But when the three-mirror dais reflected upon Ziyan, a strange scene unfolded.

From the first mirror, a bodhi tree appeared, faintly visible; seven dazzling new stars emerged from the ground mirror; and from the third mirror, a dark green flute materialized!

“What? This is bad! This woman must have succumbed to demonic influence—she’s become a demon herself. Quickly, form up!”

Their leader shouted, and they moved into formation, the sword array reassembling. They poured their spiritual energy into it, and the formation radiated with brilliance, a powerful, blinding light flaring forth.

Yet Ziyan seemed not to care for them. She had already reached Xu Xing, and was cradling his fallen form, weeping softly.

The airborne nine looked on in stunned silence at the sorrowful scene, until one asked:

“Could it be we really have made a mistake? Or what’s going on?”

One among them, a brutish man notorious for drunken brawls in the city, spoke up:

“Don’t let your guard down—strike first! People have feelings, demons do not. If we let this woman counterattack, she’ll break our formation!”

The sword array’s bindings slowly revolved, white lines like a spider’s web standing out starkly—their method of channeling spiritual power into the array.

“Formation!”

“Nine-Sword Array, First Form: Cold Sword Shard Rain!”

In an instant, countless swords condensed within the array, falling mercilessly like a deadly rain, each trailing a gleam of light as they stabbed toward Ziyan.

“Silly junior brother, why must you always bear such suffering alone?”

Ziyan wept as she cradled Xu Xing’s bloodied head, her tears streaming down to wash the blood from his face like a clear spring.

The rain of swords crashed down, sword-qi raging like a thousand arrows piercing the heart. Ziyan did not let go of Xu Xing, using her own soft body to shield him from the assault.

Her clothes were gradually torn, her body covered in sword wounds. One gash on her arm was especially long and deep. Ziyan sobbed.

At that moment, the earth trembled. Where the skies had been clear, thick clouds now rolled in, the oppressive air making it hard for the nine cultivators to breathe.

“Why?! Why do you not even spare a wandering swordsman of pure heart?”

Ziyan’s raw, hoarse cry echoed. Unbeknownst to her, the blood on Xu Xing’s cheek transformed into a rosy glow that entered her body. From within, it was as if a wild beast roared.

The sound was earth-shattering, enough to terrify even the spirits.

“What?! What’s happening—why is this woman so powerful?”

Time itself seemed to halt. Swords that had been spiraling down through the air suddenly stopped, suspended as if frozen.

“Ah!”

Ziyan shrieked in fury, blood trickling from the corner of her eye. Her beautiful features were streaked with black marks, and a misty aura swirled around her. Her dark hair turned white in an instant!

She seemed a completely different person. Even the airborne nine were dumbfounded; perhaps they had never been so stunned by such a display.

“What in the world is going on?!”

“Now this is the kind of powerful plaything we can enjoy!”

“Brothers, bring out the divine artifacts and channel them into the array! Judging by her strength, this woman is at the peak of Foundation Establishment—hurry! Only then can we break her cultivation and have our way with her!”

The suspended swords instantly vaporized into wisps of white mist.

Alarmed, the group quickly produced their divine artifacts—swords all—and planted them at the corners of the formation.

The array seemed to ascend to a new level, shining as bright as the sun.

Its rotation grew ever faster, activating the carved runes within. In the heart of the array, a sword of two hundred feet was summoned, its blade glowing red-gold.

The sword cleaved the air, a piercing shriek rising from the horizon. As it descended from the array, it was like thunder crashing from the heavens, and the earth below echoed with forlorn howls.

“Fool, you always protected me—this time, let me protect you!”

Ziyan gently laid Xu Xing on the ground and kissed his forehead.

She drew forth a jade-green flute and played a gentle melody. It was as if spring had arrived, and peach blossoms bloomed all around.

The graceful music formed visible notes in the air. To Xu Xing, it was a prayer for resurrection, but to the nine in the sky, it was a demonic tune that shattered their spirits.

“All listen to me! Seal the demoness! Save the people! Ancestors, grant me divine power—Nine-Sword Array, Second Form: Grand Celestial Sword!”

The giant sword surged forth, aimed directly at Ziyan. Its passage caused the very space around it to ripple, dazzling light streaming from the runes arrayed along its blade.

“Demonic Flute, Purifying Sound.” Ziyan now floated level with her opponents, her voice soft.

A mournful, heroic melody arose, and from the flute, the notes gathered, coalescing into a spectral flute mirroring the one in her hand.

The Nine-Sword Array’s second form clashed with the flute, and the two forces locked in stalemate—neither sword nor flute could overcome the other.

Ziyan’s music grew ever more piercing, blood trickling from the nine men’s ears as they clutched their chests, feeling as though they might burst.

“Summon your spirit-root trees—gather spiritual energy, hurry!”

Behind each of the nine appeared a towering spirit-root tree, nearly a hundred feet high.

With such power channeled into it, the sword seemed to gain the upper hand. Ziyan tried to summon her own spirit-root tree, but she could not.

So they remained locked in a deadly struggle, time slipping by. Half an hour passed, and Ziyan’s face was slick with sweat, the veins in her alabaster limbs standing out. She cursed:

“Damn it, why are these people so strong?!”

“No matter if you’re human or demon, today the nine of us will have you. Such fine looks mustn’t be wasted! Tonight you’ll serve us well, and if we’re pleased, maybe we’ll let you go.”

The brutish man spoke lewdly, looking entirely at ease, having noticed Ziyan’s failing strength.

“In your dreams, you bastard!”

Ziyan held on desperately, uncertain how much longer she could last. She glanced down at Xu Xing and her resolve only grew stronger.

Though she was being overpowered, she looked stubbornly at Xu Xing and said:

“You fool! This time it’s my turn to protect you! If there’s ever another chance, you’d better hold the umbrella for me on rainy days!”

Time ticked slowly by. Ziyan’s spiritual energy was nearly depleted; the jade flute she conjured was already growing dim.

She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out, or if she could last until Xu Xing awoke.

Then, rain began to fall from the sky.

With a crash, the jade flute shattered, scattering into motes of starlight across the ground. The colossal sword, still carrying the force to split a mountain, hurtled toward Ziyan.

Her energy exhausted, Ziyan could no longer remain airborne. She plummeted to the ground, unwilling to accept defeat. Staring at the oncoming sword, she cried out in despair:

“No!”