37 Sword Exchange
The girl's fears were not without cause. As a veteran of the Houtian Realm, the elder could scatter their cultivation with an errant flick of his sleeves.
Though it was difficult to determine the precise extent of his qi reserves, Miao Ying estimated he had to be a adept at the 5th stage at the very least.
He knew all too well the terrifying might a Houtian expert could bring to bear. Once their meridians were fully opened, qi essence would surge through their limbs in an unceasing torrent. This qualitative transformation granted them truly prodigious strength - even the weakest among them could pulverize boulders to dust with their bare hands.
Holding back his qi and curtailing just the might of his physical strength would do little to blunt the elder's overwhelming power. For anyone below the Houtian realm, trading blows with him would be nothing short of a living nightmare.
But even so, Miao Ying harbored no delusions about his chances. Defeating the elder was a pipe dream, Devourer Rune or not.
However, if it was to be a contest of pure swordsmanship, he dared to dream of a draw. He felt confident in his Sword Intent's ability to bridge the gap in their strength.
After all, he sensed not even a flicker of Sword Intent emanating from the elder.
Miao Ying strode forth to face the elder. After offering a crisp salute, he wasted no time in drawing his spirit sword.
"I am in your care, Elder."
The instant those words left his lips, Miao Ying's Qi Seed exploded outwards. The earth shook with the force of the detonation, lightning-imbued sword qi billowing out in chaotic waves that raked across the desolate landscape. The ground cracked and buckled, the very air twisting in upon itself from the violence of the release.
Jue and Xue Qingcheng were sent stumbling back several steps by the shockwaves, staggering as they fought to contend with the immense pressure radiating from Miao Ying in addition to the stifling sword aura saturating their surroundings.
The elder's Dao robes and hair whipped about wildly in the gale-force winds kicked up by the sudden deluge of qi, but his eyes gleamed with open appraisal.
This was power on a scale utterly unthinkable for a 2nd stage Qi Establishment disciple...Perhaps even beyond what most half-step Houtian juniors could hope to achieve.
When one stopped to consider that this same youth had slain a Spirit Realm demon-beast as a mere 1st stage cultivator, his unnatural rate of growth became marginally less shocking - but only just.
Dropping into a time-honored stance, the elder summoned his own spirit sword with a flourish, the blade seeming to drink in the ambient light as he leveled it at Miao Ying.
"Come," he invited, voice ringing with the clarion call of clashing steel.
Miao Ying exploded into motion, his feet barely skimming the frost-rimed ground as he hurtled towards the elder with blinding speed, leaving behind faint afterimages that shimmered in the air.
His sword, a gleaming blade of pure spirit steel, lashed out at the elder's neck with deadly intent, hungering for blood. The very fabric of space seemed to quail before his onslaught, warping and buckling around his blade as though reality itself was being trampled beneath his advance.
Behind him, Jue and Xue Qingcheng gaped in astonishment, their eyes wide and disbelieving. This speed was even greater than what he showcased in Xue Qingcheng's duel!
To them, Miao Ying was little more than a blur of motion, a streak of silver and white that danced across the wasteland with impossible grace and speed.
Jue, with her fiery red hair and piercing amber eyes, had always prided herself on her own combat prowess. She was a prodigy in her own right, a rising star within the Blazing Sun Sect. But as she watched Miao Ying move, she felt her inadequacy rise even further.
Xue Qingcheng, in contrast, was a picture of icy composure. Her alabaster skin and jet-black hair gave her an air of ethereal beauty, but it was her eyes that truly captured the attention – a startling shade of pale blue, like glacial ice beneath a winter sky.
As she tracked Miao Ying's movements, her gaze was analytical, and assessing. She was a scholar as much as a warrior, always striving to unravel the mysteries of cultivation.
But the elder remained unmoved, his weathered face a mask of perfect serenity. His own sword, a magnificent blade that radiated an aura of ancient power, leaped from its sheath to meet Miao Ying's assault head-on.
There was something profound in the elder's stance, an inherent rightness that spoke to an instinctive mastery over the fundamental tenets of reality. His blade moved as an extension of his very being, utterly assured in its supremacy. It was a strike to shatter continents, to sunder the gates of heaven themselves.
Miao Ying's eyes widened fractionally as he felt the overwhelming might behind the elder's sword. Though the elder refrained from infusing his blade with qi, the sheer perfection of his technique still exuded an aura of utter invincibility, as if it would pierce through any obstruction without the slightest resistance.
In that instant, Miao Ying heightened his spirit sense to an almost preternatural degree, pushing his Sword Intent to its utmost limits. His perception expanded, the world slowing to a crawl around him.
What others might have overlooked, he perceived with stark clarity—a minute disturbance in the air currents, a subtle imperfection in the sword stance that introduced the barest hint of vulnerability.
It was there for only a fraction of a heartbeat, a fleeting opportunity that most would have missed entirely.
But Miao Ying was not most people.
At the instant of impact, Miao Ying twisted his wrists at an infinitesimal angle, his Sword Intent flaring to unprecedented heights. Guided by an instinct beyond thought, beyond reason, he slid his sword into the one chink in the elder's peerless defense, meeting the insurmountable force with a feather's touch.
Sparks blazed from the point of impact, two inviolable wills grinding against each other in a contest of absurd impossibility. The screeching of metal against metal rose to a deafening crescendo, a sound that set teeth on edge and sent shivers down spines.
Miao Ying gritted his teeth as a jolt of numbing force raced up his arm, his bones shuddering as if they would splinter into a thousand singing shards. The jarring impact threatened to rip the sword from his grasp through sheer concussive force, but he held on with grim determination, refusing to yield.
The elder fared little better. Incredulity flashed across his features as he felt his flawless stance waver, the sublime resonance he'd struck with the world suddenly thrown into discord.
His sword slash, a textbook Houtian technique that could have sundered peak Qi Establishment cultivator without resistance, had failed to exert its full, overwhelming might. All because of Miao Ying's impossibly precise timing and angling.
For a single, breathless moment, the two swords remained locked together, the air around them shimmering with the heat of their clash.
The wasteland seemed to hold its breath, as if the very world was waiting to see who would emerge victorious from this titanic struggle.
At this moment, with lightning-like speed, appearing as a blinding flash to Xue Qingcheng and Jue's eyes and even Miao Ying's, the elder spirit's sword precisely parried Miao Ying's spirit sword.
Another grating clash of metal howled, the discordant sound ringing out across the barren landscape like the toll of a funeral bell.
Miao Ying fiercely gritted his teeth, the muscles in his arms straining as he poured every ounce of his strength into keeping his spirit sword from being ripped out of his grasp.
His spirit sword just barely managed to lock with the elder's spirit sword again, the two blades grinding against each other in a shower of glittering sparks that illuminated the wasteland like a shower of falling stars.
But the elder's face remained impassive, his expression as unchanging as the mountains in the distance. With a movement as swift and precise as a striking serpent, he disengaged from Miao Ying, his sword blurring into a whirlwind of gleaming arcs that seemed to fill the air with a web of deadly air.
Miao Ying's eyes widened in shock as the elder's counterattack came at him with blinding speed, a storm of airwaves that seemed to swallow the world.
Each strike was a masterpiece of the Houtian realm, a testament to centuries of dedication and refinement.
