A Man in the Snow: Starting with a Sword Challenge to the Northern Liang Prince's Palace

One person on each side blocked the ten beast gods.

One incense stick. Two incense sticks. His sword was so fast that the blade was invisible, only the gleam of the sword could be seen.

Each sword strike forced back one beast god, but the beast gods wouldn't retreat. They fought in a relentless battle, one retreating only to be replaced by another, giving Zuo You no chance to catch his breath. Bloodstains began to appear on Zuo You's white robes, first on his shoulders, then his waist and abdomen, and finally his chest. It wasn't his blood; it was the beast gods' blood, but some of it was his own.

Ye Yun leaned against the battlement, looking at the backs of those around him. He wanted to stand up and help, but his legs gave way and he knelt down again. His spiritual energy was depleted, his luck value was zero, and the four flying swords hovered beside him, their light dim like candles about to go out. Chen Ping'an helped him up, lifting him up. The swords Chu Yi and Shi Wu hung above his head, their blades full of nicks, but they were still spinning.

"Boss Ye, you need to rest," Chen Ping'an said. Ye Yun shook his head and didn't say anything. He couldn't rest; if he did, he might never be able to stand up again. But he really couldn't stand up; his legs were shaking, his hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking.

Chen Qingdu descended from the highest point of the city wall. The old man walked slowly, step by step, his old robe clinging to his body in the wind, covered in patches. He stopped in front of Ye Yun and Chen Ping'an, looked at Ye Yun, then at Chen Ping'an. His gaze was calm, as if he were looking at two juniors, or perhaps two swords.

"Listen up," Chen Qingdu said, his voice not loud but steady, "I can't hold out much longer. Once I make my move, you take your men and retreat."

Chen Ping'an was stunned, his eyes instantly reddening: "Boss Sword Immortal, you—"

Chen Qing waved his hand, as if shooing away flies: "Stop talking nonsense. I've lived for thousands of years, that's enough."

He turned, facing out of the city. Outside the city was a million-strong demon army, with ten beast gods attacking from both sides. In the distance, the aura of the Demon Ancestor could be heard, pressing down on everyone's hearts like a mountain. Chen Qingdu stood on the battlement, his white hair disheveled by the wind, his old robe fluttering in the wind. He drew his sword; the blade was snow-white, dazzlingly bright. He had used this sword for eight thousand years; the blade was full of nicks, but its light remained sharp, sharp enough to cut through heaven and earth.

"You demon brats!" Chen Qingdu's voice carried far, echoing throughout the entire battlefield, "Let me show you what a sword immortal is all about."

He drew his sword.

The sword light flashed—not just one, but ten thousand. Ten thousand sword lights erupted from Chen Qingdu's body, like the sun exploding, like the first light at the beginning of time. The sword light swept across the entire battlefield, and wherever it passed, the demon army was reduced to ashes. Not dead, but evaporated. Before they could even scream, the hundred thousand demon soldiers were gone, like a wheat field slashed by a giant scythe, falling in unison.

Five of the ten beast gods were struck by the sword light. The tiger beast god's body split in two, the two halves falling in opposite directions. The snake beast god's head flew off, its vertical pupils still gleaming with fear. The horse beast god's limbs were severed, its body crashing to the ground. The sheep and deer beast gods, close together, were simultaneously cleaved in two by the sword light. Five peak-ascension realm demons were killed with a single strike.

A moment of deathly silence fell over the city wall, then erupted into deafening cheers. The sword cultivators shouted "Boss Sword Immortal!" until their voices were hoarse. Some knelt down, some wept, and some raised their swords and roared to the sky.

But Ye Yun saw it. He saw Chen Qingdu's face turn from rosy to sallow after he drew his sword, then to deathly pale, like the oil in a lamp being suddenly drained. The old man swayed, only managing to steady himself by grabbing the battlement. His hands trembled, his sword trembled, and the light on the blade dimmed.

That sword strike exhausted most of his cultivation.

In the distance, a terrifying aura stirred. The Demon Ancestor.

The Demon Ancestor emerged from the depths of the demon army. He was a man who appeared to be in his thirties, with a handsome face and cold eyes. He wore a long black robe, his long hair was loose, and he was barefoot. Each step he took seemed to tread on empty air, with black lotus flowers blooming beneath his feet. He did not walk fast, but each step covered several miles, and he reached the outside of the city wall in just a few steps.

The Demon Ancestor raised his hand, and a beam of black light shot out from his palm, too fast to see. The black light pierced through Chen Qingdu's chest, entering from the front and exiting from the back, bringing with it a cloud of blood mist.

Chen Qingdu groaned, his body leaning back, but he didn't fall. He gripped his sword, the tip embedded in the battlement, using it to support himself. Blood gushed from his chest, flowing down his old robe, dripping onto the city wall and the bricks with a soft pattering sound.

"Boss, Sword Immortal!" Chen Ping'an rushed over, but Ye Yun grabbed him. Ye Yun shook his head, his eyes deep. He couldn't go. Going would be pointless.

Chen Qing looked down at the hole in his chest, blood gushing out uncontrollably. He raised his head, looked at the demon ancestor outside the city, and smiled. His lips parted, revealing teeth stained red with blood.

"That's it?" he said.

The Demon Ancestor remained expressionless, raising his hand to unleash another beam of black light. Chen Qingdu swung his sword to block, the blade deflecting the black light, but he was still thrown back several steps, crashing into the crenellations of the city wall, spitting out a mouthful of blood. A crack appeared on his sword, extending from the hilt to the tip.

Chen Qing coughed twice, coughing up blood-tinged foam. He wiped his mouth, looked at the Demon Ancestor, his gaze still calm.

The Demon Ancestor spoke, his voice soft, but everyone heard him clearly: "Chen Qingdu, you've grown old."

Chen Qingdu laughed: "My sword isn't old yet."

He drew his sword again. The sword light was not as dazzling as before, but it was still sharp. The sword light transformed into a white dragon, roaring as it pounced towards the Demon Ancestor. The Demon Ancestor raised his hand, and black light transformed into a shield, blocking the white dragon. The white dragon crashed into the shield, exploded, and turned into countless specks of light.

Chen Qingdu's body swayed even more violently, blood flowing from his chest down to his feet, soaking the bricks beneath his feet and making them slippery. But his sword was still there, and his hand was still gripping the hilt.

The Demon Ancestor gave him no chance to breathe. He took a step forward and appeared in front of Chen Qingdu. He struck out with his palm, and black light surged forth like a tide. Chen Qingdu swung his sword to block, but the cracks on the sword widened, and the blade began to fracture, like porcelain about to shatter.

The Demon Ancestor struck again. Chen Qingdu's sword shattered. The blade broke into countless pieces, falling like snowflakes. Chen Qingdu was left with only the hilt.

The Demon Ancestor's hand passed through Chen Qingdu's chest and grasped his heart.

Chen Qingdu's body stiffened. He looked down at the Demon Ancestor's hand piercing his chest, at that hand clutching his heart. His expression showed no fear, no pain, only an indescribable calm.

"Chen Qingdu," the Demon Ancestor said, "you have guarded this place for ten thousand years; it's time for it to end."

Chen Qing coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at the Demon Ancestor and smiled. It was a hearty laugh, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"The end?" he said. "The Great Wall of Swords... will never end."

With his last ounce of strength, he plunged the hilt of his sword into the Demon Ancestor's shoulder. The hilt had no blade, but Chen Qingdu's sword energy remained. The energy erupted from the hilt, piercing the Demon Ancestor's shoulder and drawing a spray of black blood.

The Demon Ancestor winced in pain, his brow furrowing. He crushed Chen Qingdu's heart.

Chen Qingdu's body went limp. His hand loosened its grip on the sword hilt, which slipped from the Demon Ancestor's shoulder and fell to the ground with a crisp sound. His eyes were still open, and that smile still lingered on his lips.

His body fell from the city wall. He fell from the hundred-foot-high wall, his old robe fluttering in the wind, his white hair spreading out like a white flag.

"Big Brother Sword Immortal!" Chen Ping'an rushed out, pounced on the edge of the battlement, and stretched out his hand.

He couldn't reach it.

Chen Qingdu's body slipped through his fingertips and continued to fall. Chen Ping'an could only watch helplessly as the old man who had guarded the Great Wall of Sword Qi for eight thousand years plummeted towards the mountain of corpses below.

He caught Chen Qingdu's sword. The hilt. The blade was shattered, only the hilt remained. The hilt still held Chen Qingdu's body heat, warm, like a human hand.

Chen Ping'an knelt by the battlements, clutching his sword hilt, trembling all over. He didn't cry out loud, but tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, dripping onto the sword hilt and onto the city wall.

On the city wall, all the sword cultivators knelt down. Thousands of people knelt in unison in the pools of blood, among the piles of corpses, and on the shattered bricks. No one spoke, no one cried out, only suppressed sobs and the rustling of flags in the wind.

Ye Yun knelt on the city wall, looking in the direction Chen Qingdu had fallen. The old man was gone, swallowed up by the corpses and dust below, nothing could be seen. Ye Yun lowered his head, his forehead pressed against the cold bricks, and kowtowed three times. His forehead was cut open, blood trickling down his nose, but he didn't wipe it away.

He remembered what Chen Qingdu had said. Once, the old man came to the tavern for drinks, and around midnight, he suddenly said, "Young Ye, where do you think people go after they die?" Ye Yun said he didn't know. The old man smiled and said, "I don't know either. But I'm not afraid."

I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid even if I die.

In the distance, the Demon Ancestor stood atop the city wall, clutching his shoulder where a sword hilt had pierced him; black blood seeped from between his fingers. His expression was cold, like a block of ice. He glanced at Chen Qingdu's corpse below the city, then at the sword cultivators kneeling on the city wall, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Who's next?"

The sound wasn't loud, but everyone heard it. It was like a knife piercing everyone's heart.

Chen Ping'an stood up. He tucked Chen Qingdu's sword hilt into his waistband, drew Chu Yi and Shi Wu, and the two flying swords hovered at his sides, their blades reflecting his tear-streaked face. His eyes were red, but not from sadness; they were red from murderous intent.

Ye Yun also stood up. He was unsteady on his feet and had to hold onto the battlements to steady himself. Four flying swords hovered beside him, their light dim, but they were still spinning. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and looked at the Demon Ancestor with eyes like knives.

He sheathed his sword and retreated to Chen Ping'an's side. His white robes were now stained red with blood, a mixture of his own and the Beast God's. He glanced at Chen Ping'an, offering no words of comfort, but simply gripped his sword hilt tightly.

Ah Liang also walked over, the grass he'd been carrying in his mouth had fallen out, and his face was now grim, the usual playful grin gone. Ning Yao also approached, her hand gripping her sword trembling, but her eyes were resolute.

Several people stood in a row, facing the Demon Ancestor.

The Demon Ancestor looked at them as if they were a few ants.

"You guys?" he said.

No one answered. Chen Ping'an gripped the first sword tightly, Ye Yun gripped the sword of law tightly, drawing the sword from its sheath with both hands, and A Liang spat out the grass stalk in his mouth.

On the city wall, the war drums sounded once more. The drummer had changed; the original drummer had died in the first wave of attack. The new drummer was a young swordsman, his arm still wrapped in bandages, but he swung his drumsticks, striking the drums one beat at a time, the deep, muffled sound like a heartbeat.

The banner of the Great Wall of Swords still fluttered in the wind, and the four characters "Swords Endure Forever" on the banner were half stained red with blood, but the characters were still clear.

Chen Ping'an took a deep breath and turned to look at Ye Yun beside him.

Ye Yun also glanced at him.

Neither of them spoke, but they both saw the same meaning in each other's eyes.

Today, I'll die here, even if it means death.