122: Chapter 122 I, Bu Jingyun, have come to reclaim what belongs to me.

The wind in the Gobi Desert whipped up gravel, stinging the faces of those it hit.

But for the two people currently traveling, it didn't even count as a tickle.

The person in front, clad in black with black hair, had a cold and stern silhouette that looked like a moving tombstone. With every step he took, the surrounding sand and dust consciously retreated.

That was Jian Yi.

Normal, aloof, fitting every fantasy of a peerless Sword Cultivator.

But the one following behind him had a style so drastically different it made one question reality.

A burly, muscular man could be seen sporting a head of blue, curly long hair that looked just like instant noodles fresh out of the pot.

The volume was staggering, the fluffiness at maximum, dancing wildly in the wind as if a bunch of blue seaweed had gained sentience.

He wore a glaringly red long cape that draped over his body, its bright, vivid red creating a tragic visual conflict with the gray-yellow Gobi Desert all around.

His upper body was clad in tight black leather armor, yet it was deliberately designed to expose his left arm.

That arm was terrifyingly thick, muscles coiled and veins bulging, tattooed with some inexplicable, strange patterns that looked full of destructive power.

With this look, let alone in the Cultivator world, even in the Monster Realm, it could probably scare little demons to tears.

Jian Yi finally couldn't take it anymore and stopped in his tracks.

He turned around, his eyes—which remained calm even when facing thousands of troops—now filled with the word 'disgust.'

Although he had long known that Tang Xun had a method for disguise.

Although he had been struck by his looks as an old man, an old woman, or even a pregnant woman in the past.

But this time, it still broke through Jian Yi's psychological defense line.

It was too ugly.

Ugly with such impact.

'What is this act now?'

Jian Yi pointed to the lump of blue instant noodles on Tang Xun's head, his tone laced with a deep sense of powerlessness.

Tang Xun—or rather, the blue-curled burly man—slowly raised his head.

He didn't speak but first struck a pose.

Left leg slightly bent, right leg straight, left hand on his hip, right hand balled into a fist, looking up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle, his eyes melancholy and profound.

The red cape cooperated by billowing behind him, snapping in the wind.

'Do not call me Tang Xun.'

His voice became low and hoarse, as if his throat contained two pieces of charcoal, full of a sense of vicissitudes.

'That name has already drifted away with the past.'

'From today on, please call me—Bu Jingyun.'

The corner of Jian Yi's mouth twitched.

Bu Jingyun?

What kind of nonsense is that.

'Or...'

Tang Xun turned his head, staring at Jian Yi with his dead fish eyes, a wicked and arrogant sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

'You may also honor me as—Sword Twenty-Three.'

'Clang!'

A crisp sound of a sword ringing suddenly echoed in the air.

That was Sword Qi leaking from Jian Yi; he hadn't controlled it.

For a pure Sword Cultivator who viewed the sword as his life, the name 'Sword Twenty-Three' sounded like a provocation.

It was twenty-two more than 'Jian Yi.'

What was this implying?

'You do not use a sword.'

Jian Yi coldly pointed out this fatal flaw.

'From head to toe, aside from that brute flesh, there is not a trace of Sword Qi.'

Facing the challenge, Tang Xun didn't panic at all.

He flicked his blue instant noodle hair, his motion so dashing it made one want to hit him.

'Superficial.'

'Too superficial.'

Tang Xun extended that thick qilin arm and pointed at his own chest.

'Who said it just now? When the sword is in the heart, all things can be a sword.'

'Although I have no sword in my hand, I have a sword in my heart.'

'This arm of mine is the sharpest sword in the world.'

'This is called—winning without a sword.'

'Do you understand Realm?'

Jian Yi was choked up.

These words were indeed what he had just said.

He hadn't expected this guy to use it as a shield so quickly, and so righteously at that.

This feeling of lifting a rock only to drop it on his own feet made Jian Yi very unhappy.

But he couldn't refute it.

After all, reasoning with a prankster was just insulting his own intelligence.

'As you wish.'

Jian Yi snorted coldly and turned to continue on his way.

He decided to ignore the flashy red-and-blue eyesore behind him.

As long as he didn't admit to knowing this guy, it wouldn't be embarrassing.

'Hey, wait for me!'

Seeing Jian Yi leave, Tang Xun immediately dropped his melancholic expression and strode to catch up.

That qilin arm swung with a whoosh, and every step he took on the ground could leave a crater.

'Isn't this look of mine cool?'

'Just think, when we get to a place like Falling Demon Valley where all sorts of people are mixed together, if we are too low-key, we will definitely be treated as soft persimmons to be squeezed.'

'But if I stand there like this, I look like a pervert who isn't to be messed with.'

'This is called—subduing the enemy without fighting.'

Jian Yi ignored him.

But he had to admit, Tang Xun had a point.

In the Cultivator world, especially in the Loose Cultivator circle, judging people by their appearance was the norm.

The weirder and more arrogant a person was, the less people dared to provoke them easily.

Because you didn't know what trump cards were hidden behind such a madman.

'Why did you choose that name?'

After a long while, Jian Yi still couldn't help but ask.

'Which one? Sword Twenty-Three?'

Tang Xun chuckled, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

'Because it sounds stronger than yours.'

'You are Jian Yi, I am Sword Twenty-Three; it sounds like I am from your ancestor's generation.'

'...'

Jian Yi stopped.

The temperature of the surrounding air plummeted.

The gravel on the ground began to move without wind, hovering in mid-air, each grain emitting a cold Sword Intent.

'Let's fight.'

These three words were squeezed out from between his teeth.

'No, no, no!'

Tang Xun immediately admitted defeat, raising his hands above his head, that blue curly hair trembling in the wind.

'Just a joke, to liven up the atmosphere.'

'Look at this vast Gobi Desert, other than sand and rocks, it's so boring.'

'Besides, we are partners now.'

'Wind and Cloud combined, invincible, get it?'

'I am the 'Weeping God of Death' Bu Jingyun, you are the 'Poker-faced Sword God' Jian Yi.'

'If our combination debuts, we will definitely sweep the major rankings in the Cultivator world.'

Jian Yi took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the urge to draw his sword and hack someone.

These ten-plus years of self-cultivation were as fragile as paper in front of Tang Xun.

This guy always had a knack for making people want to vomit blood in just a few words.

'When we get to Falling Demon Valley, shut up.'

Jian Yi coldly threw out a sentence and suddenly increased his speed.

He transformed into a streak of black light, instantly widening the distance.

He was afraid that if he kept listening, he would suffer Qi Deviation first.

Tang Xun looked at Jian Yi's slightly flustered back and whistled triumphantly.

The joy of teasing an honest person was something ordinary people could never understand.

However, jokes were jokes.

The smile in Tang Xun's eyes gradually faded, replaced by calm calculation.

This trip to Falling Demon Valley was not for a vacation.

The essence of earth core li fire was a must-have.

Three days later.

The outskirts of Falling Demon Valley.

The sky was gray and hung very low, as if it could collapse at any moment.

The air was filled with a faint smell of sulfur and the stench of rotting blood.

The distant mountains looked like rows of black fangs, hideously piercing the sky.

Thousands of Cultivators had gathered at the valley entrance.

There were members of the Human Race, the Yao Race, and even some ghost Cultivators wrapped in black robes, full of ghostly aura.

There were no rules here.

Might made right.

Just then, the crowd suddenly became restless.

'Look! What is that?'

Someone pointed to the sky in the distance and exclaimed.

A blue and red streak of light was crushing over with an extremely arrogant posture, rumbling loudly.

Wherever it passed, dust flew, and the momentum was as grand as a Vicious Beast in heat.

'Boom!'

The figure slammed heavily onto a giant rock at the valley entrance.

The giant rock shattered into pieces instantly.

The dust settled.

Revealing the man with the peculiar look inside.

Blue instant noodle hair, bright red cape, and that ridiculously thick qilin arm.

The scene was dead silent.

Everyone was shocked by this never-before-seen look.

Which god was this?

Tang Xun stood on the pile of rubble, very satisfied with this crowd-pulling effect.

He slowly scanned the circle, his eyes indifferent, carrying three parts mockery, three parts coldness, and four parts nonchalance.

Then, he extended that qilin arm, and toward the bottomless Falling Demon Valley, issued a declaration full of chuunibyou vibes.

'I, Bu Jingyun.'

'Have come to take back what is mine.'

In the crowd.

Jian Yi, who had arrived long ago, silently moved a few steps to the side and turned his head to the other direction.

He did not know this person.

Absolutely did not know him.