Chapter Forty-Nine: Slaying the Saint and the Venomous Dragon

At this moment, Chen Yuxuan finally began to move. Whether it was fear of the demon’s colossal hand or some other reason, the fine sword aura that had been rapidly circling around the Rootless Pine suddenly vanished, drawn back into the ancient blade in an instant. It was as if a sword, after resonating in defiance for ages, had now grown weary, drained of its last strength, and was about to lose its final splendor—forever buried in the endless passage of time.

Meanwhile, the momentum of the black, poisonous dragon arm—like the hand of a demon—was already overwhelming the brilliant radiance that Chen Yuxuan exuded, advancing step by step. It resembled a celestial dog devouring the sun: the light faded gradually as darkness descended, yet beyond the shadow, the moonlight would still shine, no longer as dazzling as before, but at least not yielding to eternal night.

By now, Chen Yuxuan had vanished within the black torrent, but Qian Zhouliang’s forward assault showed no sign of slowing.

He Anjian and Liao Hailong, having not yet joined the battle, continued to observe the clash between Qian Zhouliang and Chen Yuxuan from afar.

Liao Hailong, his scarred and perpetually expressionless face unchanged, remarked, “I never imagined that boy from the Chen family would amount to so much.”

Back then, the Liao family had not been blameless in those affairs, or they would never have risen to prominence so swiftly.

He Anjian shook his head, smiling with a languid air. “If you do not root out the weeds, the spring breeze will bring them back to life. Again and again, the spring breeze breathes new growth.”

To this, Liao Hailong only curled his lips slightly, saying nothing more.

A sudden exclamation broke the moment.

“Heavenly Thunder Technique—The Descent of Man and Thunder!”

On the pier square, Chen Yulei unleashed the third form of the Thunder Technique. His robust body abruptly transformed into a slender bolt of lightning that split the air, striking directly at Qian Jiashun as he was about to engage Chen Yulei once more.

With a resounding crash, the lightning bolt struck Qian Jiashun, hurling him onto the stone pavement of the pier square. The impact echoed across the plaza, raising clouds of dust that obscured the scene. Yet, from beneath the settling dust, deep scars crawled across the ground like earthen dragons, leaving spiderweb-like fissures—vast compared to any simple web—etched into the plaza’s stone.

After a long silence, a faint cough sounded from the direction of the fallen bodies. As the dust cleared, the scene gradually came into focus, though not fully. Within the growing clarity, two figures could be seen—one slighter, lying flat on his back, the other more powerfully built, standing with one foot planted firmly on the other’s chest.

A faint crackling, the aftershock of lightning, still danced at the point of contact between their bodies.

Chen Yulei, his foot unyielding on Qian Jiashun’s chest, lifted his gaze to the battle between Qian Zhouliang and Chen Yuxuan. He narrowed his eyes, for over there, the black torrent had completely swallowed Chen Yuxuan, and soon, he would have to face Qian Zhouliang’s true poisonous dragon hand.

Pinned beneath Chen Yulei’s foot, Qian Jiashun’s lips bled. He forced his head to the side to watch the distant battle, then looked up at his captor, baring blood-stained teeth in a bright, mocking grin. “Hahaha... You will lose.”

Irritated by these words, Chen Yulei pressed harder with his foot, drawing a howl of pain from Qian Jiashun.

Under the watchful eyes of all five present, Qian Zhouliang’s poisonous dragon hand was about to strike, its force looming over the torrent, ready to fall upon the unseen Chen Yuxuan.

At last, a change flickered within the black flood. To the astonishment of all five, a speck of light burst forth from the darkness, like the brightest star in the night sky—indeed, the only star. In a heartbeat, this star expanded into a long, curved white crescent, tearing a gaping rift through the yellow-black surge. Soon, the crescent transformed into the shape of a sword three feet long—enormous beyond compare—cleaving the black torrent neatly in two.

Qian Zhouliang was not surprised to see his attack split in half; he had committed himself fully, expecting the unexpected. The other four, too, betrayed little shock, as though they had foreseen such an outcome.

Yet, what followed riveted their attention, for the true climax was still to come. The next exchange would not only decide the battle’s course tonight but might also offer them rare insights. At their level of cultivation, progress was hard-won, but a single moment of enlightenment—seized at the right opportunity—could equal years of arduous practice. There was a reason why the Grand Debate flourished throughout the Divine Continent.

“Three Slashes of the Supreme Unity—The Saint-Slaying Cut!”

Before the man himself appeared, Chen Yuxuan’s voice thundered across the pier square. In the next instant, the three-foot blade that had sundered the darkness surged with light, unleashing thousands of sword auras that, almost as quickly, returned to the blade. Then, with all the gathered force, the Rootless Pine descended upon Qian Zhouliang and his raging poisonous dragon hand.

The great sword, bearing the power of countless blades, swept through the sky in a radiant arc, like a white crescent moon.

Now, above the pier, Qian Zhouliang soared with his poisonous dragon arm and the boundless black tide, while Chen Yuxuan, wielding the Rootless Pine and its overwhelming sword force, struck down upon him. The atmosphere churned, the energy of both men conjuring twin whirlwinds around them.

At last, under countless gazes, the luminous crescent and the poisonous dragon arm collided in midair. The resulting torrent of energy once more swallowed both combatants from view.

As the two clashed, the pier square shuddered. In the next moment, the flagstones fractured under the spreading shockwave, shattering into small pieces that radiated outward in perfect concentric circles—a unique spectacle across the plaza.

The four spectators, unmoved as the shattering line reached their feet, stood firm. The flying debris, for all its fury, could not harm them.

Yet, when they looked again to the battlefield, their eyes narrowed in surprise, for they saw Qian Zhouliang beginning to falter. They had always known Chen Yuxuan was no ordinary opponent, but Qian Zhouliang was even less so—a cunning and ruthless soul, not one to be easily defeated.

But facts are facts, regardless of their wishes.

With a heavy thud, Qian Zhouliang—driven back by Chen Yuxuan’s Saint-Slaying Slash—retreated a dozen paces, his feet pounding the shattered flagstones. The poisonous dragon hand collapsed, shrinking back into his withered, skeletal right arm. The black torrent was swept away by the single stroke, vanishing without a trace.

He staggered several more steps before finally halting.

Now, Qian Zhouliang was once more gaunt and shriveled, like a tiger recently roused, suddenly reverted to a sickly, cowering cat. His white hair, disheveled from the battle, obscured his features, leaving the others unable to discern his expression. After a long pause, he finally lifted his face, revealing a withered countenance. Staring at the now-landed Chen Yuxuan, he gave a smile even more terrifying than before. “Young one of the Chen family, you never cease to surprise me.”

Chen Yuxuan raised the Rootless Pine, pointing it at Qian Zhouliang, his smile cold and mocking. “I don’t believe the wily old patriarch Qian would ever run out of tricks.”

He had spent years waiting for a chance to settle this old grudge and knew Qian Zhouliang’s cunning better than anyone.

As the saying goes: “Know yourself and your enemy, and you will never be defeated.”

Qian Zhouliang laughed. “But of course.”

The next moment, Qian Zhouliang gathered his strength once more.