The World Of Swords Volume 1 Chapter 4

Clink!

The sword was finally out of the scabbard, splitting the air toward the monk.

Doukong used his hands to defend. With each beat, his wide robe was full of Qi, and the endless strength rushed out to fight with the sword.

The young man’s sword movements were swift and quick, like a shadow, coming and going at a special angle, too unpredictable to be guessed by the audience, though the sword was heavy and caused strong gusts as it cleaved through the air.

“What a heavy sword!” somebody in the hall cried out with surprise.

They started to admire the young man.

“His moves are so artful, even with such a heavy sword.”

“It looks like the Tianxiang Sword Art from the Jianzonglin Clan.”

“Are you joking? The Jianzonglin Clan was a small family, and their sword art was rather poor.”

“One cannot overlook any clan.”

The people coming from outside were talking in low voices as they watched the fight. Though those monks were quiet, their minds were not empty. Some of the little monks were also shocked, saying, “Who is this young man? He has the ability to fight with Uncle Doukong.”

Doukong was the leader of the Fighting Hall. His power was on par with the leaders of the top clans, and well-known in the world.

“Little alms-giver, your power is well cultivated, and the use of this sword was an eye-opener to me. How about we stop here?”Doukong asked in a clear voice.

“We have not yet fought to a conclusion. How can we stop now?”

The young man turned slightly at the waist; the sword gained speed and with it, strength as it swept towards Doukong. His whole body and the air around was covered by the light of the sword strikes.

Doukong shook his head once and fell back to avoid this onslaught.

“Monk, use your real power, or you will be defeated by me and won’t be able to protect your temple’s stele.” The young man was unsatisfied that Doukong did not use his full powers, though the audience already felt the fight was hard and risky.

“Then, as you wish.” Doukong nodded. “Forgive me.”

He suddenly threw back his palms, and then pushed out with full power.

The air before him became an eddy and was pushed by his palms to the young man.

“That’s it!” The young man’s twisted eyebrows spread.

He stomped on the ground with his left foot; the ground was crushed like soft mud under his foot, and he rushed out after a quick crunch. The sharp sword was trying to rend the whirlpool in two.

Boom!

The two strengths met each other in the air.

The overflowing strength flew to the walls and ground, leaving cracks everywhere. The audience was frightened and quickly ran out, fearing that they could be split into pieces by that power as well.

“What a horrible fight!” Some of them sighed outside.

“The Empty Palm Art?” some monks were surprised to call out. This Palm Art was the most powerful one of the Fighting Hall.

“This young man has the power to defend against Uncle Doukong’s Empty Palm?!”

They became more serious, their faces stretching taut.

They had never seriously considered the possibility that their Uncle might be defeated by a young man. But now, this was not impossible. Their powers were evenly matched. Even the people from the outside understood this.

“Great power! And great Sword Art!”

Doukong praised his compet.i.tor from his heart.

Then he tried again to collect his inner strength, and this time, the strength was more powerful and his whole face swelled and became red, like he had changed into another person.

“Again!”Doukong yelled.

“My pleasure!” Di Hongtian cried out loudly.

Then, another clash of their strengths.

Boom!

Boom!

Soon, they had exchanged nine hits.

“The Buddha defeats demons. . . ” Doukong called out the name of another hit. With this shout, two strengths flew out from his palms, like two dragons roaring toward the young man.

The young man was panting; he tried his best to swing his sword from the air to ground to slice the two dragons.

Another meeting, and the walls around them shattered, with tiny stones shooting out and hurtling toward them, but stopping outside the shielding created by their strengths and obscuring them from the audience, who could not see clearly through.

When the stones finished falling and the dust settled, people found the two sides had already separated from each other.

“You let me win. Thanks!” Doukong said politely.

The ground surrounding Di Hongtian was hard to discern and he stood straight, with a line of black blood trickling from his mouth.

He was staring at Doukong, turning his wrist down and pushing the sword into the ground in front of Doukong.

“You win! It’s yours.”

When he spoke, his tongue and teeth were b.l.o.o.d.y.