70: With one elegant sword move, he kills with a circle, showing his composure!

“So, my enemy has arrived!” Lu Jiuyuan said slowly, gripping the Guhong Sword. “In your current state, are you a human or a ghost?”

“I have long been dead in the Jianghu, so I am naturally a ghost!” Zhong Wugu stood firm, his long sword drawn. “Sword Saint Lu, I quite like the title Sword Devil!”

“If you like it, then I will give it to you! But you must take it with your sword.”

“Good! I will take it!”

The last trace of human warmth in Zhong Wugu’s eyes completely extinguished, leaving only pure, burning Killing Intent.

There were no earth-shattering shouts, no flashy preludes.

The tall, black-robed figure vanished from his spot like a specter, leaving only a residual mark of suddenly torn mist.

The next instant, he appeared to Lu Jiuyuan’s front-left, the distance between them compressed to less than a zhang!

The sword’s edge sliced through the air, bringing not a sharp whooshing sound, but a dull, sluggish, strangely viscous sensation, as if moving through thick mud.

It was as if this was not a sword, but a heavy hammer imbued with an invisible mountain.

Heavy and powerful, like Mount Tai pressing down, yet the sword itself was incredibly light and swift.

In a dizzying flash, three distinct Sword Intents erupted from the dark, heavy sword edge!

One thrust straight at Lu Jiuyuan’s throat, swift as lightning, condensed like a needle, the ultimate expression of making light seem heavy. The tip of the sword, a cold star, pierced the air, carrying a sharpness that could penetrate anything!

One slashed diagonally at his left ribs, the angle insidious and tricky, yet the sword’s momentum suddenly became viscous and heavy, as if carrying a thousand catties of mud and sand, aiming to drag the opponent into the mire of the sword’s momentum—precisely the cunning of making heavy seem light!

The last was the most lethal: the sword tip, light and seemingly without force, pressed towards Lu Jiuyuan’s lower abdomen, silent and imperceptible, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. The sword body vibrated slightly, generating a strange, soft, winding force!

The harmonious and extensive nature of Wudang Swordplay, its Yin and Yang balance, was forcibly shattered by him, then re-forged with his own evil and ruthless Heart-Nature, transforming into this deadly strike of interweaving reality and illusion, lightness and heaviness!

The Dao of the sword, at this point, was the Peak of technique.

What was seen and heard was all false; what was needed and not needed was all real; and there was a fatal cold light, hidden behind layers of illusion!

Almost simultaneously with Zhong Wugu’s figure moving, Lu Jiuyuan also moved.

He did not retreat, did not block, and did not even make a single superfluous movement.

Facing this triple sword net, unpredictable in reality and illusion, in lightness and heaviness, and enveloping his vital points, his right hand, holding the sword, simply extended outwards and thrust, in an extremely natural motion!

The distinctly angular, four-sided sword blade instantly transformed into a pure, dazzling silver line!

There was no flashy light curtain, no complex sword flourishes, only a straight, cold “thrust” carrying the meaning of all things withering into dead silence!

It ignored the condensed cold star thrusting at the throat, ignored the viscous heavy pressure slashing at the ribs, and even more so ignored the soft and malicious winding force!

This thrusting silver line carried a decisiveness that severed Karma and extinguished life, as if born from ancient death.

It ignored all changes, all techniques, all illusions, pointing directly to the Origin... Zhong Wugu’s heart!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Three extremely crisp, yet ear-splitting metallic grating sounds exploded almost simultaneously!

One sword, three breaks!

With the purest thrust, it shattered all complex changes in the world!

Lu Jiuyuan’s sword was faster than common sense, and even surpassed all of Zhong Wugu’s understanding of “fast”!

He had never imagined that a person’s sword could be this fast.

It was the ultimate speed, abandoning all techniques and returning to the essence of slaughter!

He saw that fleeting silver glint and felt the instantly descending, Soul-freezing Killing Intent!

His proud, ultimate sword strike, a Fusion of his life’s learning, all its changes, all its reality and illusion.

All its transitions of lightness and heaviness, in the face of this absolute speed and pure killing will, were as fragile as a carefully constructed sandcastle!

All his contingencies, all his responses, were completely sealed by this single “thrust” in a flash of lightning!

It was as if the profound Dao of the sword he had studied his entire life had merely paved the way for the opponent’s return-to-simplicity sword strike!

“Pfft!”

The sound of a sharp blade entering flesh was soft and muffled, with a sluggish sensation of flesh, blood, and bone being forcibly pierced through.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

Zhong Wugu’s charging, imposing figure, imbued with a decisive Aura, stopped abruptly, as if nailed in mid-air by an invisible giant spike.

He lowered his head in disbelief, looking at the cold sword blade piercing through his chest.

Angular and distinct, stained with his own hot blood.

Fast! Unimaginably fast! It surpassed all his understanding of “fast”!

The opponent had not tried to decipher his intricate sword moves; the opponent had simply... thrust a sword.

At the Peak of his sword’s power, at its most varied, when he thought he controlled the entire situation, one sword pierced through all the techniques he was so proud of!

It even drew a circle on his heart, then pierced his heart from the center of the circle.

“Among all martial arts in the world, nothing is unbreakable, only speed is supreme! You are simply too slow.”

“Bang!”

His heavy body could no longer support him; his knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the damp, cold ground covered in rotting leaves, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The sword in his hand clattered to the ground, slipping from his grasp.

Zhong Wugu used his last strength to lift his head, staring fixedly at the proudly standing figure in front of him with a gaze as devout as if looking at a god.

With this sword, who in the world could not be killed? Even my Master, Daoist Mu, would surely die!

This kind of speed is simply beyond what a Mortal can touch or even fathom.

Zhong Wugu was a very proud man; to avoid distraction, he castrated himself to practice the sword, aiming for single-mindedness, a singular Heart-Nature, and a singular sword.

He knew Daoist Mu’s strength and always felt that his Master’s strength could be called unrivaled in the world, but even regarding Daoist Mu, in terms of the Dao of the sword, he respected but did not submit.

Yet at this moment, he submitted. That sword, after breaking through his three feints and variations, calmly drew a circle on his chest and still pierced his heart before he could react.

This wasn’t just a little faster; it was at least twice as fast.

In a contest between experts, being a hair faster means being superior, being a minute faster means being a class above. As for being twice as fast, that’s like a father fighting an infant—worlds apart.

Lu Jiuyuan slowly withdrew the Guhong Sword.

His movements were steady, without a trace of tremor.

The angular blade brought out a trail of blood beads, splashing onto the remaining fallen leaves on the ground, like specks of red plum blossoms.

He gave his wrist a shake, and the bloodstains remaining on the blade turned into tiny blood beads, dispersed by Internal Energy, fluttering down.

His green robes remained, unstained by dust, with only a dazzling crimson stain remaining on the sword tip.

Lu Jiuyuan’s gaze calmly fell upon Zhong Wugu, who was kneeling in a pool of blood, his eyes unfocused.

“Your sword is the most varied and skillful sword art I have ever seen. Even Celestial Flight, in terms of move variations alone, does not surpass yours,” he said faintly.

“If we only speak of technique, in my opinion, you can be called the strongest!”

“Why is it so fast? So fast it seems not to belong to the human world.”

“My speed, by its very nature, does not belong to the human world!

You are the first to witness it, and so far, the first to make me display it!”

Zhong Wugu’s eyes widened desperately, a hint of joy almost overflowing, then his head suddenly drooped forward, hitting the soft ground with a heavy thud, and he was silent.

The number one lay disciple of Wudang in three hundred years, the founding warlord of Black Tiger Hall, the original Flying Jade Tiger, known as one of the ‘Two Jades of the Northwest’ alongside Jade Rakshasa, Zhong Wugu, who once stirred up the Jianghu, thus met his demise.

Killed by a most primal, most pure, and also the fastest and most lethal thrust.

Lu Jiuyuan pulled a handkerchief from his embrace, covered his mouth, and a mouthful of blood soaked the handkerchief.

Heavenly Demon Disintegration Skill, triple speed! It was truly exhilarating!

To kill a thousand enemies but lose eight hundred of one's own—the saying was true, but the feeling of the world seeming to freeze under such extreme speed was truly tempting.

It’s a pity it’s an increase and not a stack with the Golden Finger; it’s addition, not multiplication, otherwise... He wiped the handkerchief on the Guhong Sword, then tossed it, covering Zhong Wugu’s head, and quietly shook off the bloodstains from the Guhong Sword.

He looked up, his gaze piercing through the mottled tree shadows, precisely aimed at the churning thick mist in the middle of the canyon.

That Gou Hun-like figure still hovered above the mist, seemingly real and illusory, like a silhouette projected onto the human world.

Across hundreds of steps, across the pervasive mist, two gazes silently collided in the air.

No words, no actions, only cold scrutiny and an invisible standoff.

“I see you!”

“You gaze into the netherworld, and the netherworld also gazes into you!”