Chapter 592: Don't Mess Around

A piercing scream rent the heavens.

The storyteller desperately clutched his head, watching the masked man’s body being directly impaled. He completely lost control.

Whoosh!

Just then, the ground suddenly trembled.

Moments later, the Yousi Sword re-emerged from the ground.

Chih!

With another piercing sound, this time the masked man was sent sprawling and then directly lifted high into the sky.

The storyteller’s screams, which had almost subsided, spiraled out of control once again upon seeing the masked man suffer a second injury.

Cen Qiaofu grimaced and covered his ears, the two screams almost causing his eardrums to bleed.

“What’s going on?”

Unable to stop any of this, Cen Qiaofu had witnessed the entire sequence from the side.

This sudden black sword had no master; why could it pierce the Chief’s chest a second time?

“What happened…”

Clang!

Before he could think further, the masked man, who had been carried into the sky by the Yousi Sword, was now plummeting and firmly pinned to the ground by the fierce sword.

His body slid further down.

Injured a third time, the pain finally jolted the masked man awake from his unconscious state.

Pfft!

A large mouthful of blood was spat out first. Then, confusion finally appeared in the masked man’s clouded eyes. He saw the black silhouette that had harmed him: “Y-Yousi Sword?”

Cen Qiaofu was startled.

The Yousi Sword?

This black sword, it’s the Yousi Sword?

In a flash, he lunged forward.

But someone was even faster than him.

The storyteller took a quick stride and darted to the masked man’s side, extending his hands as if wanting to help but afraid to touch.

“Brother!”

“Brother, are you alright? Does it hurt…?”

“Nonsense.” The masked man was annoyed; his lips twitched a few times, finally forming into a strained, trembling sentence: “F-first, help me pull out the sword.”

“I can’t help!”

The storyteller’s hands moved back and forth, stretching forward as he squatted and stood again. “This is the Yousi Sword! Its malevolent aura… I can’t handle it!”

“You…” The masked man gasped in pain, feeling the boundless malevolent energy furiously pouring into his body, as if it intended to completely break his frail frame. “If you don’t hurry, I’m really going to die!”

“I, I…” The storyteller hesitantly stretched out his hand, about to grab it.

“Are you crazy?”

Cen Qiaofu, with a flash of movement, swatted his hand away. “Have you forgotten about spatial power? Is the Yousi Sword something you can easily touch?”

“Oh, right.” Only then did the storyteller regain a bit of his composure.

Cen Qiaofu couldn't stand it anymore.

“Move aside, I’ll do it!”

He pushed the storyteller aside and swung the small axe in his hand backward. Then, under the masked man’s horrified gaze, he chopped fiercely and horizontally.

Clang!

How could the Yousi Sword withstand such force? It was immediately flung away!

But as the sword was flung horizontally, it did not detach from the masked man’s body. Instead, it carried him, spiraling wildly dozens of times in the air, before being “clang-ed” back into the ground.

“I…” The masked man’s bulging eyes couldn’t retract. He only managed to utter a single word before being pinned down and knocked unconscious again.

The storyteller’s roar echoed through the heavens a third time. He jumped up frantically and accused, “Old scoundrel, look what you’ve done!”

Cen Qiaofu was completely dumbfounded. This outcome, where the sword and the man were flung away together, was something he had never expected. Shouldn’t a single axe blow have sent the Yousi Sword flying away? How could it be? Did it have some kind of suction power that could pull a person along too?

“Brother, Brother!” The storyteller once again ran to the masked man and knelt beside him, tears streaming from his eyes. “You can’t die, Brother…”

He finally remembered the Yin-Yang Life-Death art, quickly flipped through it, and with a single decree, he intended to make the Yousi Sword detach from this space.

But…

Buzz!

The Yousi Sword seemed to sense an external force interfering with it and began to tremble furiously. The high-frequency vibrations, almost every second, caused the unconscious masked man’s body to convulse violently, waking him up only for him to lapse back into unconsciousness.

“How could this be?” The storyteller was stunned and immediately stopped using the power of space.

“It won’t come out?” Cen Qiaofu was also startled. Does this Yousi Sword have a grudge against the Chief, staying stuck in his body?

Or perhaps… Watching the masked man’s entire face gradually darken, Cen Qiaofu realized something was wrong. He knew how terrifying the Chief’s sword intent was. This Yousi Sword was so malevolent, it was probably furiously absorbing vital energy at this moment. Could the Chief’s frail body withstand that?

“Move aside, I’ll do it!” Cen Qiaofu was about to push the storyteller aside again and step forward to pull out the sword himself.

The storyteller wouldn’t have it. “Old scoundrel, if you want to murder my brother, just say so! I won’t let you lay a hand on him today!”

“Can you pull it out?” Cen Qiaofu immediately retorted angrily.

“I, I can’t pull it out…” The storyteller paused, surprised, then retorted, “Can you?”

“Get out of the way!” Cen Qiaofu had no time to argue with this peculiar man. This guy was simply panicking out of concern. If this dragged on any longer, the Chief wouldn't be killed by the black sword, but he’d be driven mad by the malevolent energy.

With a wave of his hand, the storyteller was instantly banished from the spot. Cen Qiaofu immediately stepped past him and stood before the masked man. After a moment’s thought, he directly grasped the sword with one hand.

“Old scoundrel!” In a flash, the storyteller shattered the space, but it was too late to stop him. He could only watch as Cen Qiaofu grasped the black sword with his bare hand.

Buzz!

The Yousi Sword trembled violently again. The black malevolent energy split into two paths, one pouring into Cen Qiaofu’s body.

“Mad, mad…” The storyteller instantly recognized that the amount of malevolent energy was extraordinary. Back in the Ancient Tome Space, even when Xu Xiaoshou transformed into Saint Servant Second, the level of sword intent he displayed was probably less than one ten-thousandth of what it was now!

“Why did it suddenly go mad?” The storyteller was on the verge of a breakdown, covering his forehead with his hand and opening his mouth.

“Shut up!” Cen Qiaofu immediately snapped. He couldn't focus on pulling the sword while also paying attention to the storyteller’s yelling.

“Let go, you hear me!” Gritting his teeth, even though his right arm was completely saturated with black, Cen Qiaofu still didn't give up and pulled the hilt upward with all his might.

Chih!

The sword’s body lifted from the ground. But to his despair, the masked man was still arched backward and was lifted up along with it.

“This…” Cen Qiaofu was dumbfounded. “What now?”

He resorted to using his foot, pressing it against the Chief’s chest. “Forgive me!”

Bang!

With a loud bang in the air, the masked man’s chest was thoroughly caved in. But the opposing forces finally allowed Cen Qiaofu to pull out the Yousi Sword.

The storyteller couldn't hold back any longer. With tearful eyes, he looked at his brother’s caved-in chest and couldn't stop the murderous intent rising from the depths of his soul. “Old scoundrel, I’ll kill you!”

“What are you doing?” Cen Qiaofu tightly gripped the fierce sword and pointed its tip at the storyteller. “If you act up again, I’ll chop you first, believe it or not?”

“Arghhh!”

“Stop yelling!”

Pfft!

“Ah—huh? Brother, Brother, are you awake?”

The masked man was finally jolted awake by the pain again. As soon as he opened his eyes, he instinctively covered his chest with his hand. But he found nothing to cover.

“I-it’s gone?” The masked man’s gaze dropped, and he froze on the spot. Even when the Yousi Sword pierced through his chest just now, the wound wasn’t this big!

The next second, he belatedly began to gasp in cold air.

Hiss. The intense pain radiating from his chest almost caused him to die on the spot.

“What’s going on?” Cen Qiaofu had no intention of explaining. He held up the constantly trembling Yousi Sword, which seemed to want to return to the Chief’s body to absorb more vital energy, and asked aloud.

“What’s going on? You dare ask?” The storyteller roared, then turned his head and tearfully reported to the masked man, “It was him! That old scoundrel kicked open the injury on your chest! I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Enough!” The masked man waved his hand with difficulty, apparently having no intention of pursuing the matter. Under the intricate intertwining of sword intent at the torn chest wound, he regained his mobility in just a moment, pushed against the ground, and struggled to stand.

“What’s going on?” He ignored the black sword in front of him and turned his gaze to the storyteller. “You said earlier that the new wielder of this black sword is Wen Ming?”

“Mm-hmm.” The storyteller nodded vigorously, but then shook his head. “No, no, not the wielder. He only received the Yousi Sword’s initial recognition and could merely borrow a little of its power.” He glanced around with lingering fear. “It wasn’t this terrifying… If I had known this black sword was so terrifying, even if you killed me, I would never have given little Wen Ming a chance to fight. If it had unleashed this kind of attack back then, even if it didn’t kill him by exploding, he would have been killed by this annoying malevolent sword qi!”

“Where is he?” The masked man ignored the Yousi Sword, which was still furiously trembling, and took a step to stand before the storyteller. “The sword is here, but where is this Wen Ming you spoke of?”