Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

Wind preceded the descent of the fierce divine energy.

Howling gales stirred the sand in the courtyard, casting it in all directions, making the place seem like a wasteland.

The Demon Lord stood in the sandstorm, his eyes extremely dark, his face extremely pale.

Not out of fear, but because he had brought his blood to a boil in an extremely short amount of time, causing it to fiercely blaze.

An extremely cold and thick Qi surged out of his body and into the sky.

His black hair scattered behind him, dancing in the wind like thousands of snakes.

A faint light suffused his robes, heatless flames seemingly burning on their surface.

As the cold flames spread, Demon Breath rapidly occupied the center of the courtyard.

The clearest sign of this was the descent of darkness.

This darkness was frigidly cold and imbued with the Qi of gloom and extinction, representing a most bleak and cruel order.

That light energy, in contrast, was blazingly hot. It was not only holy, but also bursting with limitless vitality.

This courtyard neighboring the Xiang clan estate occupied a significant area, but in comparison to these two mighty Qis, it was not even worth mentioning.

In an instant, the courtyard was completely occupied by these two Qis.

One side was infinite darkness.

One side was infinite light.

And then they met.

Logically speaking, the meeting of these two opposite Qs should have led to the grandiose sight of the world collapsing.

But this did not happen. On the contrary, everything was quiet, even peaceful.

Even the fish in the stream at the base of the cliff outside the courtyard were unaffected.

Though the goats on the mountain slopes did look in confusion at the sky, wondering why both noon and midnight had simultaneously appeared.

These two Qis were the purest in the world.

This visible grandeur had its source in the most subtle and intrinsic of differences.

The true competition was taking place in the smallest of places, like a grain of sand or a wisp of wind.

For at least a short while, it would be hard to see any magnificent sight.

But this did not mean that there was a true peace.

The danger hidden in those tiny places would most likely lead to destruction the moment they were visible.

Chen Changsheng knew this, as did Linghai Zhiwang and the others, but they did not care, because it was evident that the strength of light currently had the advantage.

But they did not understand why the Demon Lord had chosen this method. Did he really think that his demon techniques alone were enough to contend against the Li Palace's grand array?

A crane cried.

The White Crane was an immortal bird and possessed an extremely powerful spiritual sense. It sensed the dangers of the courtyard and took flight.

A zither strummed.

The blind zither player held his ancient zither. His toes gently pressed against the ground, and then he rushed several dozen zhang forward, his sleeves flying.

The notes of the zither suddenly went higher, a sound like ripping silk.

A crack appeared in the darkness shrouding half the courtyard.

The light Qi of the Li Palace array circled around the zither player's body.

From a distance, he looked like a celestial crane charging into the Netherworld.

He was no longer that passerby growing old in Wenshui City, nor was he that walking corpse with a heart of withered wood.

He was that Grand Elder of the Longevity Sect from one hundred years ago, of brilliant talent and profound cultivation.

The zither strummed once more.

Several dozen invisible waves flew out from his fingers, left the zither strings, and reverberated in all directions.

A tear had already been made at the edge of the darkness, and now these invisible zither notes were widening the gap.

The moment the darkness descended, the Demon Lord's body rapidly began to blur as if he was about to escape into the darkness.

Everyone was well aware that even with the Li Palace's grand array formed, once the Demon Lord entered the darkness, it would require a massive amount of energy to force him out.

Even more importantly, it would take more time.

No one knew who would end up winning between the White Emperor and Madam Mu, and no one knew whether the winner would stop the Orthodoxy from killing the Demon Lord.

They had to do this as quickly as possible.

Of the human experts outside the courtyard, the blind zither player was unquestionably the strongest.

So his reaction was the fastest.

Where the zither notes fell, the darkness became slightly fainter, and the Demon Lord's blurry figure became somewhat clearer.

Several dozen extremely fine rays of light flashed across the Demon Lord's eyes.

These were the projections of the invisible zither notes on his mind.

And then, ten-some black dots appeared in his eyes.

These were the projections of pitch-black shields on his eyes.

Countless hacking and slicing sounds rang in the air.

Ten-some pitch-black shields swiftly revolved around the Demon Lord, leaving not a single gap.

The invisible zither notes and the attacks of the zither player that followed them were all blocked by these shields.

Several hundred dense spatial tears appeared on the shields, then vanished.

The flying yellow sands were painted black by the darkness and as they drifted toward the shields, they were sliced into even finer powder.

Several cries rose from outside the courtyard.

"The Seventeen Netherworld Armors!"

As the master of the continent's north, the Demon Lord naturally had certain things he could rely on, that he would dare to come to White Emperor City alone.

He might have carried many divine artifacts like the Seventeen Netherworld Armors on his person.

The blind zither player was not surprised. Surrounded by countless rays of light, he continued his attacks.

As he watched his opponent break through the darkness, the Demon Lord appeared unmoved. He stretched his hand out and removed a sword from the darkness.

This sword was pitch-black and seemed to lack any sort of edge, yet it seemed to absorb all light and vision.

There were no cries of surprise.

Those who recognized this sword were already too shocked to speak.

The Setting Sun Sword.

It was the previous Demon Lord's personal weapon.

This sword had met the Halving Blade and the Frost God Spear outside Luoyang.

Compared to this sword, Nanke's Southern Cross Sword was barely worth mentioning.

Compared to this sword, the Seventeen Netherworld Armors were completely lackluster.

The Setting Sun Sword slashed down.

All the darkness seemed to follow the Demon Lord's movements, descending several hundred zhang.

An unimaginable pressure descended upon the blind zither player.

Chen Changsheng did not know if the zither player would be able to block the power of this famous demon sword, nor did he need to know.

When the Demon Lord slashed his sword, Chen Changsheng had used his own swords.

His right hand remained gripped on the Orthodoxy's Divine Staff, maintaining the Li Palace array to suppress the darkness and prevent the Demon Lord from escaping.

He did not need to hold the hilt of his sword, only needed to think for countless swords to emerge.

Around seven hundred swords howled as they shot out of the Vault Sheath, instantly crossing over a hundred zhang to assault the Demon Lord.

He wanted to kill the Demon Lord today, so he naturally used his strongest move.

Awe-inspiring sword intent filled the world, seeming to pierce through both light and darkness.

The seven hundred swords reflected light and linked together from end to end, pressing forward with indomitable fortitude.

In the Garden of Zhou, Chen Changsheng had once formed ten thousand swords into a dragon.

Later on, for a variety of reasons, he was no longer able to use such a powerful sword technique.

But today, this attack of his now had some of the might and feel of that dragon.

Countless metallic grinding sounds rose from the gloomy darkness.

Seven hundred sword intents, several times sharper than the zither player's zither notes, cut apart everything between the heavens and earth.

Even the blind zither player had to retreat to the side for a moment to wait for that torrent of sword intents to finish their descent.

Shards flew in every direction, creating an uncountable number of deep and small holes in the ground.

The closest wall silently crumbled into pieces, the winds whisking away the last traces.

Both the sound and image were so strange that it made the hairs of onlookers stand on end.

After a moment, the storm of seven hundred swords came to a temporary halt.

The pitch-black armors around the Demon Lord were nowhere to be seen.

Just like that, the legendary demon artifact that was the Seventeen Netherworld Armors was destroyed.