665: Chapter 666 A zhang long

A dark cyan Sword Qi shot forth from the tip of the sword.

A mere Zhang in length.

Placed on a battlefield where Sword Qi spanning thousands or tens of thousands of Zhang flew about, this Sword Qi was as pathetic as a single grain of sand in the vast ocean, as minuscule as the claw swiped by an ant at a Dragon.

Yet, this Sword Qi, so minuscule it was almost negligible—

It moved.

Neither fast nor slow, neither biased nor shifted, neither hurried nor hesitant.

It was like a chess piece dropped by an old monk on a mountain peak, like a silk thread hanging from the depths of the firmament, like a stroke already destined in the River of Fate—appearing understated, yet in reality, it calculated through the ages, sealed off the Eight Desolations, and locked away every possibility.

It passed through the Void Realm.

It was fast to the extreme, fast enough to transcend the shackles of time, fast enough that at the very instant it set off, it had already reached its destination.

Yet, in the eyes of everyone, it was breathtakingly slow—as if, during its passage, it was peeling back the skin of time layer by layer, drilling into the crevices of every inch of time, absorbing a wisp of power at every time node, and stacking a layer of sharpness.

Like a snowball rolling down from the primordial era, with every rotation, it wrapped itself in a layer of new snow, growing larger, heavier, and more unstoppable with every roll.

When it finally forced its way before the three Bronze Masks—that Sword Qi of mere Zhang in length had already condensed the power of countless tens of thousands of time nodes.

It was no longer just a Sword Qi.

It was a Mountain of Epochs built from countless instants, a Cone of Destruction compressed at the sword tip from the River of Time, a verdict condensed from the ages of antiquity.

The three Bronze Masks turned around simultaneously.

In perfect unison, like Puppets pulled by the same chain, they raised their hands and unleashed their moves simultaneously. Deep within their three pairs of pitch-black pupils, a trace of human emotion surged for the first time—

Shock.

It was as if they had seen a primordial divine mountain collapse, as if they had seen the Laws of the Heavenly Dao shatter inch by inch, as if they had seen the truths they had firmly believed in for countless epochs—suddenly kneel before this sword.

Three gray-black beams of light shot out simultaneously, colliding with the dark cyan Sword Qi.

Each beam contained the Origin power of the Law of Endings, and each was enough to completely erase the name of an Immortal from the Book of Existence—not killing, but erasing, tearing that page straight off the line of Karma.

The three combined were enough to make the Heavenly Maiden dare not take it head-on even while fighting for her life, and enough to make the entire Void Realm tremble and submit.

Then.

The Sword Qi collided with the beams of light.

There was no roar.

No explosion.

No earth-shattering noise, no blinding flash that eclipsed the sun and moon.

Only a sound so soft it was almost inaudible— "Hiss."

Like a red-hot blade slicing through solidified fat, like a scalding iron rod piercing into the heart of solid ice, like a drop of molten lava falling onto fresh snow.

The Sword Qi pierced through the three beams of light.

Understated, like a needle piercing paper, like a knife cutting silk, like an arrow passing through gauze.

The absolute kill barrier condensed from the three powers of ending was, before this dark cyan Sword Qi—fragile as a joke.

The Sword Qi did not diminish in momentum, slashing horizontally toward the faces of the three.

The three were greatly alarmed.

With their expressions changing drastically, the three figures reacted instantly—dodging left, avoiding right, retreating backward. The three used three completely different methods, attempting to snatch a path of survival from beneath the edge of this Sword Qi.

But that Sword Qi, as if it had grown eyes, traced an arc that could be called perfect, sweeping across the right shoulder of one of them.

A muffled sound.

Gray-white bone was exposed from the upturned flesh, a gash deep enough to see bone opened between the scapula and the collarbone, and within the crack, a fine line could be faintly seen spreading.

At the edge of the wound, dark cyan flames suddenly shot up.

Primordial Fire.

Flame of Chaos.

The ancestor of all fires, capable of burning up Laws, igniting Karma, and burning through Reincarnation, was currently drilling madly into that wound, like venomous snakes, tearing at his flesh, devouring his Meridians, gnawing at his bones, wanting to burn him into nothingness, inch by inch, from the inside out.

That Bronze Mask let out a muffled groan.

It was very soft.

But in this deathly silent Void Realm, this muffled groan was more deafening than thunder, more piercing than raging waves.

He slammed a palm onto the wound, gray-black mist surging wildly from his palm, tearing furiously at the dark cyan flames, unfolding a silent yet extremely tragic tug-of-war on his shoulder.

His movements slowed by a beat.

Just this one beat. But it was this difference of a beat that caused his aura to suddenly wither by two points, the gray-black light gathered in his hand to rapidly dim, and his reaction speed to visibly slow down.

One move.

One sword strike.

Three terrifying existences capable of besieging the Heavenly Maiden and suppressing the entire battlefield so that it could not lift its head—were simultaneously forced back by a Sword Qi of a Zhang in length, one injured, their auras greatly damaged.

This was not a reversal of the battle situation.

This was a dimensional reduction crushing.

Like a Dragon looking down upon ants, like a deity looking down upon a Mortal, like the giant axe that split open the Chaos countless ages ago, raised high once again.

The Nether Maiden's face turned deathly pale as paper in an instant.

All the blood in her body seemed to have been drained in an instant; her lips trembled, her pupils constricted, and her body staggered half a step backward uncontrollably.

Her gaze was nailed firmly onto that dark cyan figure; deep within those gray-black eyes, for the first time, surged an emotion she thought she would never have again—fear.

True fear.

Not wariness toward the Heavenly Maiden, not vigilance toward the Sword of Causality, but that most primitive, most instinctive trembling from the depths of the Soul when facing an existence that completely transcends cognition.

Like an ant looking up at the collapsing firmament, like a moth facing a falling sun, like a venomous scorpion that had rampaged unchecked in the abyss for hundreds of millions of years, suddenly looking up and seeing an eye that had opened from the primordial era.

She recognized that power.

No…

Impossible…

That existence… should have burned out long ago in the eternal night, should have turned to ashes and smoke with the destruction of that era—

Yet this power was truly and surely lying before her eyes.

This figure was clearly standing above the Void Realm.

This sword was clearly pointing at her head.

Her legs went weak, cold sweat drenched her back, her heart pounded wildly in her chest, each beat feeling as if it were about to jump out of her throat.

She wanted to flee.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to turn and run, to run to a corner where no one could find her, to run to the deepest part of the abyss where this dark cyan light could not reach—

Yet she could not take a single step.

It was as if her feet had taken root, as if she had been nailed firmly into the Void Realm by something, and even the strength to move a toe had been drained away.

The three Bronze Masks looked at each other.

In their three pairs of pitch-black eyes, almost at the same instant, the same decision flashed—retreat.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

Not even half a breath of dragging.

The three withdrew their hands simultaneously, with a tacit understanding as if they were three Clones split from one person. The killing Formation that trapped the Heavenly Maiden collapsed with a roar; the dark blue Formation patterns shattered in an instant into fluorescent light like stars filling the sky, dissipating silently.

One of them suddenly reached out, grabbing the Nether Maiden's shoulder, five fingers clamping down like iron tongs, the force so great it almost crushed her scapula.

Yet the Nether Maiden seemed not to notice, her whole person like a Puppet whose Soul had been drained, allowing that person to lift her up like a chick.

The other two cleared the path ahead, their arms unfolding simultaneously, ten fingers dancing like butterflies. Gray-black runes poured out from their fingertips like a rainstorm, weaving into shields before them, then instantly exploding into fragments filling the sky, turning into the fiercest offensive, tearing a passage straight through the Void Realm ahead.

The three carried the Nether Maiden, falling madly toward the Bronze Immortal Palace.

The speed was to the extreme.

Fast enough that the River of Time could not catch up to the corners of their garments, fast enough that those shards of time that had flowed for hundreds of millions of years were stretched into twisted ribbons of light behind them, emitting shrill shrieks.

The Void Realm collapsed, reorganized, and collapsed again madly beneath their feet. Every step that landed left a cracked spatial fissure, like hideous spiderwebs, blooming hideously in the endless darkness.

Flee.

Like a stray dog.