Ze Tian Ji Chapter 562

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

Chen Changsheng did not notice that the sky had suddenly turned dark.

Because he was currently in a state of shock.

Liu Qing was the third-ranked assassin in the world and he had been taught in swordplay by Su Li. His talent was incredibly high, his cultivation incredibly deep. Crucially, his will was tenaciously firm. Back in Xunyang City, he even dared to assassinate Zhu Luo, dared to stab at him with the sword. Why was it now that he was on the verge of death, yet still did not dare attack this middle-aged scholar?

Could it be that this middle-aged scholar was more powerful than Zhu Luo, more terrifying?

Zhu Luo was one of the Storms of the Eight Directions. Those on the continent stronger than him could be counted with two hands.

Was the middle-aged scholar Bie Yanghong? Nan Tie? Or perhaps he was the Elder of Heavenly Secrets?

No, this middle-aged scholar bore no similarity to any one of the Eight Storms.

“Could it be His Majesty the White Emperor?” Tang Thirty-Six said with an ugly expression.

In truth, there was no need to carefully think. The true answer was already obvious, it was just that nobody in these mountains could have expected it. There was simply no reason for such a powerful figure to appear at Mount Han, to appear here, to appear on this side.

By the stream, there were a few more people besides Liu Qing—Xiao De and ten-odd demi-human experts that seemed to be his subordinates.

The ten-odd demi-human experts were scattered on the grass by the stream, but Xiao De stood within the stream itself.

This demi-human expert who used his irritable appearance to conceal his inward arrogance, whose calm and composure exceeded the imagination, who was absolutely a realist, finally shed all his pretense when staring at the back of the middle-aged scholar before him. Vigilance and wariness were written all over his pale face, and his pupils glowing with tawny light reflected naught but despair.

His body bore a sword slash. Liu Qing, who had inflicted this wound upon him, was seeping blood from the corner of his eyes under the august pressure exerted by the middle-aged scholar, unable to even attack with his sword. Xiao De was keenly aware of just how vast and enormous the gap was between him and the middle-aged scholar, thus his despair.

But despair did not mean surrender. His body was being shrouded by an increasingly fierce will to fight.

He was truly worthy of being a true expert ranked fifth on the Proclamation of Liberation. On the mountain path, he had given a performance far inferior to his reputation, but now when confronted by the true shadow of death, when he faced off against this darkness that enveloped all of Mount Han, he displayed his fearless determination.

Xiao De’s gaze rested on Liu Qing’s right hand.

Liu Qing’s hand held a sword and was shuddering and shaking as if lacking any strength.

Xiao De was waiting for an opportunity.

He knew that only by joining hands with this blue-clothed expert of the sword that had injured him could there be the slightest hope of seizing a nearly impossible chance to survive in front of this middle-aged scholar. This blue-clothed man was even less willing to give up. No matter how fiercely his hand holding the sword shuddered, there would come a point at which it would descend with smoothness and stability.

Regretfully, the middle-aged scholar did not give them such a chance.

Just as Liu Qing’s hand gradually became steady and Xiao De’s breathing gradually grew stronger, the middle-aged scholar turned around.

A moment before, the middle-aged scholar was holding his hands behind his back as he gazed at the lantern-like persimmons, like an official that had retired to his hometown.

In the next moment, the middle-aged scholar turned to them, his expression calm, returning to his identity as a peerless expert.

This middle-aged scholar’s appearance was very difficult to describe with words, because even for two peak Star Condensation experts like Liu Qing and Xiao De, it felt like his face was shrouded in a faint layer of darkness, making it impossible to see clearly. As for Chen Changsheng and the others on the mountain path, they were utterly incapable of seeing this man’s face.

They could only see that on this middle-aged man’s face…was the world.

On the middle-aged scholar’s face, bright words were written and drawn all over it were mountains and rivers. One moment, it was a boundless waste of yellow sand; the next, it was the surging and billowing sea. With the arching of a brow or the curve of a lip, all things of the world moved. The sights were all incomparably vivid, but they carried an aura of absolute cold stillness.

Because in the multitudinous sights of this world, not a single person could be found.

Not a single person.

Everyone was dead.

Upon seeing the middle-aged scholar’s face, Liu Qing confirmed his speculations. His face became even paler and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his lips.

He had bitten his own tongue. Only this method would allow him to preserve his mind.

In the depths of Xiao De’s eyes that were already beginning to wildly transform, a smear of blood appeared. This was a sign that he had used one of the secret blood techniques of the demi-humans!

Their conjectures had been verified, so even if they were to join hands, there would still not be even a chance of survival. They were forced to use their most secretive, most powerful techniques to put everything on the line against their opponent. Moreover, what filled them with sorrow was that even if they put everything on the line, it would still be impossible for them to continue living in this world. They could only stall for time so that the Saints would learn of what was happening by this little stream. Only this way could they die without complaint…fine, to be killed by such a powerful figure, no matter how they thought about it, they would be able to die without complaint.

The middle-aged scholar cared nothing for the thoughts of Liu Qing and Xiao De. He didn’t even glance at the two, even though they were both peak Star Condensation cultivators and were prepared to put their lives on the line.

His gaze rested on the distant mountain path, on Chen Changsheng’s body.

With this single glance, snowflakes began to fall from the gloomy sky, falling on the mountain path and also on Chen Changsheng’s body.

In the eerie light of this darkness, the snowflakes descending from the sky were exceptionally white, yet incredibly dangerous.

The temperature of the mountain path rapidly dropped, becoming extremely cold. Chen Changsheng and the others felt like their bodies had suddenly frozen stiff, and even their true essence was circulating through their meridians at a much slower speed. If they allowed this situation to continue, in a few breaths of time, they would find it a challenge to even walk, let alone battle.

After feeling such a horrifying danger, they naturally wanted to flee, but ahead and behind on the mountain path was snow and there was nowhere to run. This was because although each snowflake seemed gentle, in reality, each thin piece of snow contained an unimaginable amount of the force of the heavens and earth.

At this moment, a very secretive ripple of Qi appeared on the mountain path.

At some point, the steward of the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets had used his spiritual sense to touch the secret treasure hidden his sleeve, preparing to send a warning towards the depths of Mount Han.

With a plop, the Qi sent out by the secret treasure was smashed to pieces by the descending snowflakes, and the right arm of the steward was immediately mashed into a pulp!

“There’s an enemy!” Filled with despair and anger, the steward yelled out towards the depths of Mount Han.

Before his yell could travel far, it was sliced into pieces by the slowly descending snowflakes, drifting to the ground like dust.

Simultaneously, blood shot out from the steward’s lips, instantly freezing into countless tiny beads of deep red and bouncing all over the mountain path.

The steward’s body slowly toppled over, no longer breathing.

Cries of alarm arose from the mountain path.

The cultivators participating in the Boiling Stone Summit all turned in anger towards the middle-aged scholar by the stream.

They could not make out the middle-aged scholar’s face, but they could sense the middle-aged scholar’s apathy and indifference.

To cause snow to fall at a glance, set up an array to entrap all the people on the mountain path, and then casually kill a steward of the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets—to this person, all this really did seem like a trivial concern.

From the moment his gaze fell upon him, the middle-aged scholar had been staring at Chen Changsheng.

What did this mean?

……

……