Chapter 153: It Was You

Nine Infants…

The mist on the combat arena solidified into a great sword, but this name was like an even larger mist, enveloping everyone.

The black-clad youth's feet hovered slightly, his toes a hair's breadth from the ground. His black robe resembled extremely dark clouds, unfurling and shifting. The smile on his pale face was faint, yet it seemed to have been buried deep beneath the soil for millennia.

The mountain-guarding array of the Four Peaks, impenetrable even to peak Purple Court Realm masters in a short time, was, in his eyes, merely a permeable barrier.

"Nine Infants…" Jing Yangxia stared at the youth, utterly astonished. "How is this possible? You've actually resurrected an ancient fierce beast?"

Nine Infants folded his arms, saying coldly, "I am no fierce beast; I am a deity."

The Four Peak Masters collectively stared at the youth. The four immortal swords—Bixiao, Dongyang, Wen Yun, and Minglan—resounded in unison, as if ready to merge into a single mountain-guarding sword to suppress evil.

Nine Infants' black robe billowed without wind, and wisps of dark cloud-like energy emanated from his sleeves, hovering around him and forming various strange shapes.

He looked at the young man before him and said, "Are you… Fang Heguo?"

Ning Changjiu's expression remained calm. "Ning Changjiu," he corrected.

Nine Infants raised an eyebrow, recalling what Shiwu had told him on the way. He frowned, quickly understood the situation, and lamented, "Hiding your strength for so long, then stunning everyone by defeating the strongest disciple—you should be proud. But alas, your fate is truly unfortunate."

No sooner had Nine Infants finished speaking than he heard Shiwu's voice. "So you are Ning Changjiu. To escape from Liantian Town, you must indeed possess considerable skill."

Ning Changjiu ignored Shiwu. He stared at the fierce beast in the guise of a youth, observing his pale yet tender, newborn-like skin, and asked, "Why don't you go find your head?"

Nine Infants subconsciously touched his own head, his expression turning sharp. "How did you know?"

Ning Changjiu said, "You are indeed not the true Nine Infants."

The black-clad youth's expression instantly turned icy.

The people of Yu Jian Tianzong couldn't understand their conversation, but Shiwu's expression was extremely grim.

"Zhang Qieyu did not deceive me; you truly harbor a great secret within you." Shiwu's gaze was like a knife, as if intent on dissecting Ning Changjiu's body to unearth its hidden truths.

Ning Changjiu looked at the swords surrounding him and asked, "Are you here for a sword duel?"

The black-clad youth seemed somewhat taken aback. "You still have the courage to draw your sword?"

Ning Changjiu said earnestly, "Your realm isn't high; I can give it a try."

The black-clad youth frowned. His toes gently touched the ground, his feet landing on the array.

Levitating in the air was a skill typically possessed only by those in the Purple Court Realm. His earlier intentional display was to mislead others about his true realm.

But in truth, his levitation was an innate ability; as long as he willed it, every inch of space beneath his feet could become solid.

Just like the sky-filling mist swords, their essence was merely space containers shaped like swords that he had crafted to hold all the mist.

The black-clad youth asked, "Does our previous agreement still stand?"

Ning Changjiu nodded. "Yes, if you win, the Heavenly Soul Lamp is yours for the taking."

The black-clad youth's expression grew even more regretful.

Ning Changjiu turned his head, glancing at Lu Jiajia. Lu Jiajia had already moved to the very edge of the combat arena, the Minglan Immortal Sword at her side, ready to strike at any moment.

He gently shook his head at Lu Jiajia.

Lu Jiajia's pearly teeth clenched, and the light in her spiritual eyes condensed into a single point. She gave no response to Ning Changjiu's head shake. She knew Ning Changjiu must still be hiding some strength, but this black-clad youth was even more unfathomable. If anything went slightly wrong, she would disregard the agreement and immediately draw her sword.

Jing Yangxia also stared at the combat arena. A preposterous feeling arose in his mind. He knew this black-clad youth had not even reached the Purple Court Realm, yet for some reason, he had no inclination to draw his sword, as if the youth were unkillable.

The Peak Masters of Xuairi Peak and Huiyang Peak stood side by side, observing the youth, who was possibly the reincarnation of an ancient fierce beast. Their sword qi was ready to unleash at any moment.

Facing the killing intent of the Four Peak Masters, the black-clad youth showed not the slightest fear.

Space was his inherent talent; he could vanish at any time, leaving no trace, if he wished.

He was more interested in the white-clad youth named Ning Changjiu before him.

He didn't understand the source of the other's confidence. Did he believe that with the Four Peak Masters backing him, he couldn't be killed?

They both looked up, exchanging a glance.

The cold mist great swords, like sword-boats, had been suspended in the air for a long time. As the black-clad youth's gaze solidified, a sound like a snapping bowstring echoed in the air. In a huge roar, dozens of cold mist great swords smashed towards Ning Changjiu. At the same time, the black-clad youth flicked his wrist, and the surrounding space rapidly converged, forming a highly dense domain in his cupped hand.

That domain was invisible and intangible, held in his hand like a long sword.

A furious wind swept across the combat arena.

Disciples around the arena couldn't help but retreat, fearing being caught in the crossfire.

Ning Changjiu closed his eyes. His Qi Sea opened, and spiritual energy within it roared like a mountain flood, breaking through the celestial gate.

Without the distinct thresholds of each realm as markers, he couldn't determine his current cultivation level.

But after the Golden Crow became a spirit, his cultivation over these past months had been smooth and unimpeded, and the trials of life and death in the Hidden Peak had elevated his swordsmanship to a new level.

He didn't believe anyone below the Purple Court Realm within the Four Peaks, except Lu Jiajia, could surpass him.

Not even this black-clad youth.

The moment the cold mist great swords descended, Ning Changjiu's body slightly sank, then he abruptly leaped up. The sword in his hand ignited red flames, and the cold mist, in an instant, became like lit straw, transforming into a sea of red as Ning Changjiu's figure swept past.

A clanging collision resounded amidst the cold mist.

The fierce wind howled again, and all the mist and fire were instantly pulled away by an invisible great hand. Amidst the fragments of firelight, the white-clad and black-clad figures clearly appeared in mid-air.

Both figures landed simultaneously after the clash of swords.

Ning Changjiu's sword burned with flames that the fierce wind could not extinguish, while the black-clad youth's sword was invisible and intangible, emitting not a hint of sword intent, yet carried a massive, silent pressure.

Their first sword clash had already astonished countless people.

Fang Heguo watched this sword with surprise, realizing that Ning Changjiu had held back before.

The other disciples, witnessing the magnificent sword flames, couldn't believe this strike came from a peer.

This single sword could defeat any disciple in the arena, yet it did not harm the black-clad youth in the slightest.

After the cold mist great swords and sword flames were simultaneously shattered, their figures were like two colliding projectiles. After dozens of impacts, their forms converged like a Tai Chi symbol. At the point of convergence, sharp sword qi tore through the air like electricity, exploding in a short burst of light. Their figures intertwined and then separated again.

They landed and stood still. Ning Changjiu stood with his back to him.

Neither of them moved, yet crackling sounds erupted between them like firecrackers.

Those were their lingering sword qi.

Each wisp of sword qi was like a high-speed projectile, colliding in the air and shattering into sparkling light.

It was less a sword duel between Ning Changjiu and the black-clad youth and more a coordinated dance on a stage. Their movements were too similar; at a glance, they resembled black and white shadows separated by a mirror. The intertwining figures, the clash of swords—every movement was meticulously choreographed.

But those with profound cultivation were utterly tense. They knew that within this seemingly dance-like sword duel, the scythe of death had swung over Ning Changjiu's head many times.

The sword qi colliding in the air fell to the ground like slender streaks of fire.

"You are strong," the black-clad youth said, his expression also becoming serious.

Ning Changjiu remained silent, as if he begrudged praise.

The black-clad youth extended his hand, and the surrounding space once again solidified in his grasp.

Instantly, even the air in front of Ning Changjiu became muddy like a swamp, making every step difficult.

He was using his authority to transform the entire combat arena's space into a single great sword.

At that point, countless guillotine blades would hang over Ning Changjiu's head, leaving him nowhere to escape.

Ning Changjiu, of course, would not give him that chance.

He directly threw the sword in his hand.

Amidst the sword's hum, the solidified air around them was shattered.

The sword, released from his grasp, shifted into afterimages in the air; for every foot it flew, the sword shadows in the air doubled, and their rapid movement tore countless vacuum trails, smashing the solidified space into fragments.

The black-clad youth failed to solidify the entire combat arena's space.

But the sword in his hand was still mighty enough to be called a great sword.

The black-clad youth wielded the great sword like a massive fan, swatting away all the approaching sword shadows, which resembled mosquitoes and moths. Then, with an inertia weighing a thousand pounds, he swung it towards Ning Changjiu's position.

The air vibrated like water, and the domain formed by the array beneath their feet glowed like glazed porcelain.

But no one found it beautiful; it was a sign that the array, overloaded with immense power, might collapse.

As the great sword descended, it fragmented into countless pieces, showering Ning Changjiu like dense raindrops.

Ning Changjiu had no sword in his hand at this moment. Though all his sky-filling sword shadows were dispersed, his original sword still pierced through the air, striking directly at the black-clad youth.

Without the restriction of a sword lock on his movements, such a sword would not be particularly difficult to dodge.

The black-clad youth, moreover, wielded a portion of space's power, so he didn't even dodge. Instead, he extended his hand, and the moment white light shone in his palm, the space before him twisted unprecedentedly.

The sword vanished from his front, only to reappear behind Ning Changjiu, assailing his back of the head with even greater speed.

Swords surrounded him, from above and behind.

The white-clad figure seemed to be in the eye of a storm, on the verge of being riddled with holes at any moment.

Ning Changjiu attempted to use his movement technique to escape, but his figure moved several times in an instant, only to meet barriers everywhere.

The swords closed in.

Amidst a rushing clamor, countless sword qi swept across the ground.

Ning Changjiu's figure was both clear and blurry amidst the sword qi.

The black-clad youth's expression changed. "What kind of demonic art is this?"

Before his eyes, the sword qi passed through Ning Changjiu's body, but no blood appeared; it merely passed through an illusory shadow.

It was "Moon in the Water, Flowers in the Mirror," one of the incomprehensible cultivation methods.

In the past, Ning Changjiu had tried it several times in the inner peak but couldn't execute it. Today, with his cultivation perfected, he silently recited the daoist scripture and formed the daoist hand seals, and his figure truly became like moonlight held in water.

This scene astonished countless people.

The flying sword from behind his head passed through his illusory figure, and just as it reached his front, Ning Changjiu caught it in his palm.

Boom! He emerged as if from another world; the mirage-like phantom solidified, and the sword in his hand thrust forward. It was unclear if the sword was carrying the person, or if the person was wielding the sword.

The white shadow streaked across the combat arena.

The black-clad youth flicked his fingers, and several spatial barriers erected around him, layered upon layer, as solid as gold.

Ning Changjiu's magnificent sword light leaped up like countless carp, bringing with them snow-white waves.

But these waves were still blocked before the "Dragon Gate."

The sword tore open a spatial rift but failed to pierce through.

As the sword momentum waned, the shields and swords transformed into each other, and the spatial barriers once again became great swords spanning the air.

Ning Changjiu could not see these invisible swords, but he could sense the source of their killing intent.

The swords struck, but he did not retreat.

The black-clad youth's childishness completely faded from his face. He hadn't expected to exchange so many blows with this youth named Ning Changjiu.

He had been reborn today with the intention of destroying everything, and he never imagined he would be stopped by a mere sixteen-year-old youth.

Ning Changjiu's sword seemed to cut through the extremely narrow gap.

His opponent was taking a dangerous gamble, and he, of course, would not yield.

Moreover, he had a true trump card—eight lives.

How could an opponent who gambled with his life ever win?

Ning Changjiu's figure slipped perilously through the gap between the two great swords. The swords crossed, and if they had been a bit faster, they could have cut down this heedless person through the waist.

But Ning Changjiu's speed was too fast; it was a speed even a peak Longevity Realm master would struggle to achieve.

The spiritual energy in his Qi Sea burned rapidly.

With a whoosh, his white robe billowed high, and as his arm snapped forward, sword qi shot out like a long dragon.

The black aura surrounding the black-clad youth solidified into a real sword.

He gripped the sword, his figure growing taller, and the black great sword descended from the sky.

The white long dragon was severed by his single strike.

As the wisps of sword light, scattered as if by a hurricane, cleared, Ning Changjiu's figure appeared, and a black great sword pierced in, sending his entire body flying backward.

Ning Changjiu grunted, his body flinging backward like a sandbag. In mid-air, he continuously swung his sword to parry, severing the sword qi that pursued him like maggots attached to bone.

In Linhe City, Ning Changjiu had trained with Zhao Xiang'er for a month. Through repeated sparring, his close-combat swordsmanship and fist-and-foot techniques had become several times stronger than before. He was equally confident in blocking all of the black-clad youth's attacks.

After landing, Ning Changjiu did not even retreat half a step; his body merely swayed slightly before immediately stabilizing.

They stared at each other from a distance, as if returning to the very beginning, neither making any further move.

The red glow on the overloaded array also gradually faded.

Shiwu's smile had completely vanished, and the two Dao Lords behind him also looked up, watching the battle with full concentration.

Those within the Four Peaks were closer, utterly dumbfounded by the techniques and realms they had just witnessed.

Disciples who had previously felt some discontent towards Ning Changjiu now harbored no other thoughts.

"He's using what kind of sword technique?"

"Is that a sword move from Yu Jian Tianzong? It doesn't seem like it…"

"Master said that masters should not be confined to rigid moves when sparring. Could this be… a true master?"

"Xiao Ling, Xiao Ling, did you know your senior brother was so formidable? Or have you been keeping it from us all this time?"

Ning Xiaoling did not reply. The hand gripping her sword trembled uncontrollably. She stared at the center of the combat arena, not daring to blink, silently praying for her senior brother in her heart.

Lu Jiajia was like a snow lotus blooming on a cliffside; no one could discern her emotions. But her toes were pressed tightly against the edge of the arena, ready to launch like an arrow of ice and snow at the slightest anomaly.

"End it quickly."

After a long period of standoff and quiet, Shiwu sighed softly, breaking the silence.

These words were like a judge's brush, writing the character for death on the great paper of heaven and earth.

It was rare for the black-clad youth to meet such a formidable opponent, and he had originally wanted to exchange more blows, but now a greater task awaited him.

He slightly turned his body. His black robe, which had always billowed without wind, now stilled. Faint, bluish veins appeared on his pale skin, and his pupils were devoured by darkness.

"What is that?"

Someone on the combat arena cried out in alarm.

Behind the black-clad youth, eight colossal pythons appeared.

They weren't complete pythons; they were more like the extremely long necks of some creature, or perhaps giant inverted octopuses.

The eight giant pythons that appeared behind him seemed cast from the same mold, identical in length and demeanor, and even their movements were synchronized.

Jing Yangxia could no longer bear it. The Bixiao Sword leaped from its sheath, hovering above the combat arena. "Audacious demon! How dare you run rampant in my Sword Sect!"

Shiwu said coldly, "Peak Master, are you trying to break the rules?"

"It is only right and proper for immortals to slay demons!"

The black-clad youth said, "These are my innate spirits. How can innate spirits be categorized as righteous or evil?"

Jing Yangxia had lived for many years and possessed sharp discernment. He knew these were not innate spirits at all, but rather Nine Infants' true form transformed.

He had originally intended to strike with his sword immediately, forcing the youth out of the peak.

But Ning Changjiu glanced at him and gently shook his head.

Nine Infants' appearance was also something he had long anticipated.

"You are indeed incomplete," Ning Changjiu said.

The black-clad youth said, "I am complete as I am now."

Ning Changjiu said, "Nine Infants lacks its most crucial part, so it created you as a substitute, to be its brain. This is a good idea, but have you considered that once Nine Infants' central head is found, you will lose your value?"

The black-clad youth sneered, "You think a few words can sow discord? You are indeed very clever, but the Ninth Infant has long since died. Even if its bones are found, it would only make me complete; it could never replace me."

Ning Changjiu thought of the black python in Liantian Town and said, "I've seen the Ninth Infant Spirit. Although it was severely injured, it's still alive and has its own consciousness. Shiwu lied to you; you're merely a temporary replacement."

The black-clad youth's expression turned grim.

Shiwu frowned and immediately said, "Once we find that last Infant Spirit, I will personally let you slay it, and then you shall take its place."

With that, Shiwu bit his fingertip and drew it across his palm.

A clap of thunder, a deafening roar.

It was a sign of a blood oath being formed.

Only then did the black-clad youth's expression ease somewhat. He should have thanked the youth before him, but for some reason, he was furious, and even more wanted to grind him to dust.

Nine Infants' dharma-body stood towering, almost filling the entire combat arena. Some timid disciples even cried out in fright and fled towards the inner peak.

This towering dharma-body also brought immense pressure upon Ning Changjiu.

But this pressure quickly vanished. Inside his Purple Mansion, the Golden Crow let out a sharp cry, unable to resist wanting to burst forth from it.

The black-clad youth, holding a black blade, leaped into the air and stepped onto one of the heads. His figure descended along with the giant python-like body, and as the black blade cleaved down from the sky, the other seven dharma-body heads also descended simultaneously as if they were solid.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The impact sounds shook the heavens.

The colossal heads landed on the unbreakable array, smashing many huge holes into it.

These holes also formed a large array.

Ning Changjiu's figure was trapped at the center of the grand array.

The black blade, the black-clad youth, the black dharma-body head—it was a whirlwind descending from the sky, sweeping the entire firmament along with it.

Everyone held their breath.

Lu Jiajia couldn't think of a way to break free. She had originally intended to disregard everything and directly draw her sword to interrupt the duel, but Ning Changjiu's consistently calm face made her suppress her killing intent.

The next moment, everyone witnessed a scene they would never forget for the rest of their lives.

The python-like head of Nine Infants crashed to the ground.

Ning Changjiu grasped one of its heads with one hand, pressing it to the ground, while holding his sword in the other, clashing it against the black blade.

The black blade was thrown aside, and Ning Changjiu's sword also broke into two.

But with this broken sword, he stabbed downward into the head he held firmly.

The sword cut into the dharma-body.

Both the Nine Infants dharma-body and the black-clad youth let out cries of pain.

No one could understand how such an enormous head could be held effortlessly beneath his hand, or why that head truly dared not move a single inch.

Even Shiwu couldn't comprehend it.

After recovering from his shock, he noticed a crow with dark golden feathers standing on the neck of the giant python-like Nine Infants head. The crow's head was adorned with a stamen-like crest, and its three legs were long and slender.

It looked so fragile, yet at this moment, it was like a golden-winged great roc that fed on dragons. It stood proudly on one of Nine Infants' heads, and as a result, the other seven heads dared not stir.

The black-clad youth stared at the Golden Crow, as if memories were breaking through the dam of history, rushing forth like a flood.

"It's you! It's actually you! You're not dead either… you're still not dead!!" The black-clad youth shrieked at Ning Changjiu like a madman.

No one had time to guess who the "you" he referred to was; they only knew that the black-clad youth had inexplicably gone mad, and his inner fear had stirred up boundless killing intent.

The Golden Crow shattered heaven and earth, and the Nine Infants dharma-body fragmented. The black-clad youth suffered a severe backlash, spitting out blood, but he still did not retreat.

He suddenly stretched out his hand, and space solidified, once again forming a sword. He gripped the sword fiercely and slashed towards Ning Changjiu.

Ning Changjiu, clutching his broken sword, also slashed towards him.

The clang of blades resonated again.

No one had ever seen a sword so fast.

The sword was purely fast, without much movement, nor flashy techniques. Each rise and fall of the sword seemed to follow the simplest laws, striking the enemy after traveling the shortest path.

Even the maddened black-clad youth was utterly suppressed and forced into a disadvantage by such speed.

"This… is this really our sect's swordsmanship?" Jing Yangxia's gaze trembled.

"Could it be the lower volume of the Heavenly Mandate Sword Scripture?" Xue Xunxue asked.

"Impossible! When I was young, I was fortunate enough to witness Master perform a move or two from the lower volume of the Sword Scripture. That sword was also fast, but it was a different kind of fast," Jing Yangxia said.

"Then what kind of sword is this?!" Xue Xunxue felt like she was losing her mind too.

Xue Lin, who had originally intended to comfort his sister, suddenly looked up and saw Lu Jiajia standing motionless, all killing intent vanished without a trace.

Lu Jiajia's ink-black hair was loose, stray strands clinging to her cheeks. Her clear, peerless face showed watery eyes, brimming with tears.

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, it dissolved into a self-deprecating laugh.

It was as if heavy rain had begun to fall between heaven and earth; the helplessness and despair of that day once again lingered in her mind.

So it was you…

I should have known…

No… I clearly did know, but what was I trying to avoid?

Complex emotions welled up in her heart.

Only then did she realize how much unpayable kindness she had received.

Was she avoiding these lifelong unpayable debts of gratitude…

She looked at the white-clad figure's back, grateful that he hadn't turned around to see her embarrassing tears.

"This is the Heavenly Mandate Sword Scripture!"

Suddenly, above the Four Peaks, Jing Yangxia's uncontrolled exclamation rang out.

Everyone heard it.

And Ning Changjiu's rain-like sword stopped. All the sword shadows converged into a single sword, whose posture was extremely strange, like a comical circus act.