Chapter 2: The Blade of Parting and Departure

Dugu Bieli remained calm and unruffled, showing not the slightest sign of fatigue. He walked forward unhurriedly, one step at a time, ascending the stairs.

The gathered heroes watched in silence.

As he reached the six hundredth step, the head of a great sect shouted angrily, “You are a martial artist as well—how can you act so willfully and seek to abduct the Saintess? You must understand, the existence of the Saintess has lasted through endless ages; every martial artist sees her as a spiritual pillar, the very source of faith. By doing this, you are destroying the future of all martial artists under heaven…”

“I have no other intentions, only a single thought!” Dugu Bieli interrupted in a resonant voice, then continued, “Taking away the current Saintess is not the same as destroying the Holy Palace. You can simply choose another Saintess.”

“But for hundreds and thousands of years, the Saintess’s legacy has always been passed down from above, one to one; unless the previous one passes, it cannot be continued. What you’re doing, Demon Lord, is utterly inconceivable,” another sect leader argued. “Heaven is round, earth is square—this is the very foundation of the great Dao. Without rules, nothing can endure…”

“Rules? Just change them,” Dugu Bieli frowned, finding it far more taxing to argue words than to determine victory with force. Even with a hundred mouths, he could not out-debate the tens of thousands present. Growing impatient, he shouted, “Stop wasting my time! My fists are the rules—speak further and I’ll kill you. If you want to fight, come at me. If not, then leave at once!”

“You—!” An elder’s beard and hair bristled with rage, his breath coming in snorts of fire. “Arrogant madman… Heaven, why do you not open your eyes and allow such a fiend to run rampant in the world…”

“Silence!” Dugu Bieli was infuriated, his menace doubling as he roared, “Get lost now, or I really will slaughter you all!”

“Demon Lord,” another elder stood tall, pointing at him and shouting, “Even if we are powerless to protect the Holy Mountain, letting you come and go as you please, have you considered whether the Saintess herself would agree to your wishes? If she is shamed, she will surely take her own life in apology—have you thought of the consequences? Why do you insist on taking the Saintess—what do you seek?”

Dugu Bieli snorted coldly, his expression full of disdain and mockery. “What the Saintess desires is what I desire. What do you fools know? Years ago, I owed my life to the Saintess’s grace. Naturally, I will do everything to fulfill her wish. My resolve is unbreakable—no matter the hardships, I will not falter. I will persist or die.”

“Nonsense, sheer madness! How could you possibly know the Saintess’s heart? You’re just a pathetic fool projecting your own desires, lost and stubborn.”

“Wake up before it’s too late…”

“Let go of your obsessions, return to the great Dao, and repent for your past sins beneath the Holy Mountain, or you will be tormented by karmic fire for countless lifetimes, never to escape.” A Buddhist master’s lion’s roar rang out, hoping to awaken the lost and reform the stubborn, seeking merit in halting the blade of disaster.

“Enough noise.” Dugu Bieli scowled, violence etched across his features like gathering storm clouds. With a flick of his sleeve, sharp as an arrow piercing the clouds, he shot toward the summit of the Holy Mountain. “More words are pointless, only adding to my irritation. Keep chattering, and I’ll kill every living thing within a hundred miles, painting the skies with blood.”

“Unrepentant to the end—our words are wasted. For such great evil, only execution can restore peace to the world and give our descendants a safe realm.” The Buddhist master raised his arm and shouted, all compassion vanished from his face. His internal energy surged like a tsunami, his brow fiercely set. “Today, we must fight with all we have—let us become guardians of the Dao in body and spirit, and eradicate this fiend. Everyone, attack!”

“Indeed—when words fail, only annihilation remains,” the Daoist leader also roared, his features twisted with fury. All pretense of serenity and nonaction was gone, and as his robe billowed, his sword sang out. “Those who are not with us, join forces now! Swear to eradicate this villain, grind his bones to dust. Kill! Kill!”

These two were mighty figures of their age, and with their rallying cries, the martial artists responded as one. No longer divided by their sects, they surged like rivers converging into the sea, once again blocking the mountain path and renewing the onslaught. Instantly, banners snapped in the wind, countless martial artists surged forward, blades flashing and swords ringing, murderous intent soaring to the heavens. The atmosphere grew chillingly grim…

…

The eight hundredth step.

Dugu Bieli wielded the Profound Nether Art with one hand, replenishing his strength, while the other hand became a blade. The gleam of his blade spun like a radiant wheel, forming a protective shield around him. As he moved swiftly, everywhere he passed was left awash in blood and shattered bone, with mangled limbs and bodies strewn about.

The blade had a name: Farewell.

Wherever the blade’s light fell, all things were parted. Any martial artist who met it faced certain death.

The sun had set, and the dusky sky remained tinged with crimson.

…

Eight hundred and thirty steps.

Eight hundred and fifty steps.

Nine hundred steps.

Within a span of a hundred steps, the ground was carpeted with the remains of flesh, bone, and sinew, leaving no empty space. The thick scent of blood hung so heavily that even the swift night wind could not disperse it. The surviving martial artists, though their minds trembled, seemed possessed—eyes bloodshot, oblivious to life or death, hurling themselves forward in relentless, united waves, again and again, without end.

“Beware the demon’s Farewell Blade! Do not approach—attack from afar!” Some with a shred of reason left shouted warnings to their companions.

“Kill… kill…” But most paid no heed. Driven by the fervor to destroy this demon and uphold justice in the martial world, martial artists of all strengths lost all self-control, throwing themselves into battle. Some, even knowing death was imminent, only hoped to leave a single wound upon the demon.

“The mortal world is boundless, Buddhist law infinite; flowers bloom and wither, life and death turn in endless cycle!” The Buddhist master’s inner power surged as he performed supreme Buddhist arts. Manifesting the Seal of Reincarnation with his great King’s body, a pure lotus bloomed atop his head, its fragrance wafting through the air. When all thirty-six petals unfurled, a sea appeared within—calm and still, yet containing unfathomable dread.

The Seal of Reincarnation, born of the lotus, ended with the sea. This sea was the sea of suffering, its power overturning yin and yang, deciding life and death. It transcended martial arts—reaching the realm of law itself.

The Buddhist master rapidly changed his hand seals, straining to hurl the lotus and sea toward Dugu Bieli.

“The Dao is infinite, the Three Pure Ones are free; Heaven and Earth are mine to command, and I alone reign supreme!” The Daoist leader, gripped by killing intent, unleashed his full potential without concern for his own mastery, casting the supreme Art of Heaven and Earth. In the sky, spiritual light gathered, forming a great hand that could pluck stars above or scoop ghosts below. Like a pillar holding up the heavens, it reached down with unstoppable force.

One art and one technique—both were utterly ferocious. Other experts, seeing this, no longer held anything back, unleashing their strongest attacks. For a moment, chaos reigned, dazzling light and color engulfing Dugu Bieli. Within every strike was the pure essence, energy, and spirit of its originator; their power soared, unstoppable. So long as their will endured, the assault would not cease. The combined willpower of the martial world—their resolve, their persistence, their relentless drive—was poured into this attack, unstoppable and relentless, leaving no room for escape.

In that instant, wind and cloud surged, and the world changed color.

“This time, the demon will surely be destroyed,” said a venerable martial elder at last, sighing in relief.

“Indeed. No matter how invincible he is in the mortal realm, within the martial world, he cannot survive such onslaught.”

“The great Dao will flourish…”

“Heaven’s eyes are open at last…”

…

“To think you could unleash so many techniques beyond the limits of martial arts—enough to threaten even me. You should feel proud,” Dugu Bieli murmured, but did not panic.

He cast aside his Farewell Blade.

Sweeping his hands, a strange vortex began to spin, a low hum like distant thunder resonating. Still unsatisfied, he pushed further—his blood and energy roared, surging without end, pushing the Profound Nether Art to its utmost, cycling a hundred times in a single breath…

Boom—boom—boom—

Thunder crashed, as if the heavens themselves raged. Yet its source was Dugu Bieli’s palms. There, two pitch-black holes had formed, bottomless.

In six years wandering the martial world, this was his first time facing such grave peril, tribulation, and terror. Under this life-and-death pressure, he actually broke through the hundredfold limit of the Profound Nether Art, and shattered the shackles of martial arts themselves, advancing toward the realm of technique, toward the realm of law.

Suddenly, a strange transformation took place.

The countless attacks, like rivers losing their course, were all drawn by an invisible force into the black holes, vanishing without a ripple. Even the pure willpower within—the combined essence and spirit of the martial world—was greedily absorbed and digested.

These two black holes were like open gates to hell itself, exuding immense force and profound presence, as if they could devour the heavens and earth, erasing all existence. Internal power collapsed, spiritual energy crumbled, and all pure will was, in an instant, fused into Dugu Bieli’s consciousness. His essence and spirit soared, as if he could transform into a deity or demon towering over the world.

And his consciousness underwent a bizarre change—he could now see his own flesh in minute detail; as his spirit grew stronger, he could practically see through his own skin, organs, sinews, vessels, and blood—nothing was hidden, all was laid bare before him.

Exhaling a long breath, Dugu Bieli’s body slowly rose, his gaze void of joy or sorrow, love or hate, looking down upon all living beings. When he closed his fists, he felt as though his strength could shatter the heavens and open the way to another world.

His wisdom, too, grew deeper and more unfathomable. The martial arts he once believed invincible now seemed, in hindsight, as childish as a game. Given enough time, he could create even greater arts.

Martial arts were never as shallow as the martial world imagined.

In his eyes, the light of wisdom flickered. Over his head, several rays of pure light shimmered—like three flowers, like five energies.

[Endorsed and recommended by Zhulang editors: Zhulang’s most popular novels are now live. Click to add to your collection.]