Chapter 417 The Strike That Is the Sum of the Assassin's Life

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

Zhu Luo had become like a moon in the water, transforming into an almost real copy of himself. Through this, he easily overcame those cracks in space created by Wang Po's blade and arrived at the other side of the rain. If he had directly attacked Su Li, then perhaps Su Li would die in the next moment, perhaps he would have ignored that Chen Changsheng was about to be stabbed to death. Then no changes would have occurred.

But Zhu Luo did not act this way. This was not a mistake. At the very least, in that instant, those people who did not anticipate what would come soon after did not believe Zhu Luo had made a mistake. They even felt that his response had been perfect without anything to fuss over. They sighed with emotion, thinking that this supreme expert of the human world had the entire situation under control the entire time. Thus, they all thought of that fine phrase: a storm envelops Xunyang.

Even Zhu Luo had thought his response to be perfect. Su Li would die, but he would not personally do the deed, and so the Zhu clan of Tianliang County would be able to avoid many troubles in the future. He also did not want to leave such a bright mark on the annals of history, even if the mark he left now would be somewhat duller than he wished. Simultaneously, he also did not forget the Li Palace's request to have Chen Changsheng survive.

A storm encroached upon the city, a moon hidden behind it. A moon in the water turned one into two, the real and unreal acting as one. His original body and copy were actually almost identical in terms of battle power, so he could put his mind to accomplishing three tasks. Like a god, he used the simplest method to solve the most complex problem.

The scene back then had truly been very beautiful and this matter should have concluded perfectly. This legendary human expert had no reason to not be self-confident, and yet he had forgotten one very important matter. Self-confidence in many cases indicated that one was underestimating the enemy. And what's more, it was only at the final second that he realized who his true enemy was.

That frigid sword pierced into Zhu Luo's ghost body.

Chen Changsheng had previously believed that this sword was not as frightening as he had imagined. It was only now that he realized that his opponent had been going easy on him. This sword truly was very frightening, so frightening that even someone like Zhu Luo could not avoid it.

There was a squelch.

Liu Qing's sword drew a bizarre curved line in the rain, like a tree branch in a moon pool. It cut the moonlight in the water into several pieces and at the same time cut through Zhu Luo's phantasm, deeply stabbing into it. (TN: A moon pool is, quite simply, a pool of water in which the moon is reflected.)

This was not the end, but rather the beginning.

Only after Liu Qing's sword had stabbed into Zhu Luo's phantasm did the sword begin to explode with its fiercest might. That icy sword suddenly became scalding hot and then it began to glow, began to blaze, and then it began to shoot out countless golden birds made of fire. Every one of these firebirds carried on its back a sun and the stormy street was suddenly lit up. Zhu Luo's phantasm was burned from the inside out!

This was a secret sword of Mount Li that was not meant to be circulated.

The Sword of the Golden Crow.

An infuriated howl arose from the other end of the street.

Zhu Luo ignored Wang Po's blade and watched that scene occurring several dozen zhang away, wrathful beyond belief. Liu Qing's sword had clearly pierced through his phantasm, but for some reason, his abdomen began to bleed.

It had already been several hundred years since he had stepped into the Divine Domain, and had anyone since dared to wound him? Had he ever bled before? He had already forgotten what it felt to be injured, much less that he could even be injured.

Until now.

However, his true wrath was not because of his injury, but because of that assassin's identity, as well as the fact that this assassin had actually used Mount Li's Sword of the Golden Crow. This made him furious and even gave him a vague sense of unease.

His angry roar resounded through the stormy street. Zhu Luo sent an attack slashing towards Wang Po, his sword intent massively increased. The dark clouds abruptly broke open and the moonlight instantly grew countless times brighter. Simultaneously, the sword glows on Wang Po's body also increased their number by many times.

Wang Po's blood poured down like the rain from his body, but his blade was still unwavering in the storm.

Zhu Luo's attack had slashed at Wang Po, but it had landed even farther away. At the moment he attacked, he had used his Moon in Water movement technique to appear as a phantasm at the other end of the street, and struck out at Liu Qing. Although it was a phantasm, it still contained a strength almost the same as his original body. Even if his opponent was the number three assassin in the world, how could he possibly block the might of this attack?

Liu Qing's ghostly and elusive figure was completely engulfed within the sword glow. There was a screech as countless harsh whistles rang out. In an instant, his body was covered in several dozen bloody holes.

If this were any other opponent, even an expert at the same level of cultivation as Liu Qing, under this sword of Zhu Luo's brimming with rage, they would only be able to die on the spot. There would be no surprises.

But Liu Qing was no ordinary cultivator. He was an assassin.

He was most skilled at killing others, so he was naturally an expert in not getting killed by others.

The seemingly rather ordinary and even rather impoverished set of clothes he wore on his body was actually woven from ghost silk and could block ordinary blades and swords. Of course, in this level of battle, this did not have much of an effect. More importantly, the undershirt he wore beneath his clothes was a suit of flexible armor constructed by the Wenshui Tangs. His ordinary and unremarkable face was actually a mask. Different from the white paper that Xiao Zhang wore over his face, this mask came from the Pavilion of Divination and had the defensive power of a suit of armor. Of course, this also really didn't mean much, but…if all it was added together, it had some sort of effect.

Its effect was that Zhu Luo's enraged strike could not kill him on the spot. It meant that he could still stand in the pouring rain and continue his attack.

Those harsh whistles transformed into the crisp clang of sword intent colliding with a firm object.

Liu Qing was covered in blood, yet he stood firmly.

At this moment, the assassin became a suicide soldier.

Because behind him was Su Li.

That sword that was like a branch in a moon pool had clearly exhausted all its sword energy, but it still moved forward a little bit more. This burning sword, shooting out countless birds of fire and emitting a boundless light and heat, exploded!

In Zhu Luo's phantasm, the sword exploded!

Boom!

The rain pouring down on the long street was sent flying everywhere by the explosion.

Zhu Luo's phantasm suddenly began to give off a blinding light, its edges faintly showing signs of damage.

And on the other end of the street, Zhu Luo's abdomen had actually become a mess of mutilated flesh.

He had silently followed Chen Changsheng and Su Li for several weeks and then in that previous moment suddenly exploded forth, causing Chen Changsheng to be drenched in blood. Only when Zhu Luo appeared on the scene had he finally revealed his true goal. He had not come to kill someone, but to protect.

This strike of his was perfect in every aspect, whether in terms of calculation or anything else.

It could be said that this strike was the sum of Liu Qing's life as an assassin.

It was a very bizarre strike, a very dazzling strike, a very patient strike, a very frightening strike.

This attack was so terrifyingly powerful that it was difficult to imagine.

But…it was still not enough to kill Zhu Luo.

Because this sort of perfection was still only the perfection of humans.

And of experts like Zhu Luo after they stepped into the Divine Domain, you could say that they were already inhuman!

Before the angry howl had ceased, it suddenly became a clear whistle, cold and solitary like the bright moon over the snowy plains.

Zhu Luo's phantasm in the onrush of the pouring rain seemed to waver, but it never scattered.

In the next moment, a ghostly sword suddenly appeared in the phantasm's hand.

The sword was sent stabbing towards Su Li.

Su Li emotionlessly looked at this sword. At some point, his right hand had come to rest on the handle of the Yellow Paper Umbrella.

For people like him, even if they no longer had the strength to battle, they would still like to die fighting.

It was probably this sort of meaning.

After Liu Qing made his attack, he could no longer hold on and tumbled down into the rain.

Blood spurted out of his body and face.

He was no longer capable of doing anything more.

Zhu Luo's sword had come, beautiful and desolate.

Because he was truly angry.

He was determined to kill Su Li. No matter who blocked him, they would die together with Su Li.

Suddenly, a dragon roar could faintly be heard on the stormy street.

Or perhaps it was a dragon cry.

Chen Changsheng was still on the scene.

Just when Zhu Luo was preparing to throw him to the street corner, Liu Qing's sword had come.

So he had fallen on the street.

The Dragoncry dagger was in his hands.

He stepped into the water and rose up, his dagger soaring upwards.

His attack was the dragon cry.

His dagger met Zhu Luo's sword.

The real Dragoncry dagger met with the unreal moonlight sword.

Comparing sword with sword, there was not much difference. The Dragoncry dagger could even be considered stronger.

But the difference in the people using the swords was truly too great.

Noiselessly, that illusory sword, like moonlight illuminating the snowy plains, easily overcame the edge of the Dragoncry dagger and continued forward.

And then, it was actually blocked by the dagger sheath.

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