Translated by: Hypersheep325
Edited by: Michyrr
Bie Yanghong had once passed all he experienced in the battle between the Divine into Chen Changsheng's mind.
The language of the Sacred Light Continent was somewhat similar to Dragon language.
When he was a child and memorizing the final book of the Daoist Canon in Xining's old temple, he had learned from his master how those words should be pronounced.
In the cavern beneath New North Bridge, he had spent a very long time learning Dragon language from the little Black Dragon.
The Demon Lord could understand the words of the Angel of Sacred Light, and Chen Changsheng could also understand a little.
Although the meaning was not terribly precise, he did know that the Angel was not calling him a stealer of fire.
The meaning of those syllables was something like 'descendant of light', or 'inheritor of light'.
But what did this mean?
Chen Changsheng did not understand.
The change in the Angel's eyes, the appearance of cruelty, harshness, and terror, did not arise from the Angel's stance to Chen Changsheng, but from a sort of vigilance.
Suddenly, the Angel appeared outside the storm of swords.
There was no sound, no action. Without even moving, it seemed to have left its original place.
The sheer bizarreness of the sight could make one tremble in fear. It was like the Angel could completely disregard the highest laws of the world.
The Angel gazed at Chen Changsheng in the storm of swords and raised the spear of light.
Chen Changsheng stood in front of the blind zither player.
The blind zither player knew what he wanted to do.
The wind brushed against his white hair.
His fingers touched the strings of his zither.
Biting and mournful notes rose from the zither, bursting with extreme reluctance.
If he had not been ambushed by his sect master, he probably would have been in the Divine Domain by now. Even if he were still no match for this Angel of the Sacred Light, it would still have been enough for a proper fight.
Truly reluctant!
But so what!
The zither notes suddenly increased in pitch, all the reluctance transforming into a will to fight that slashed at the Angel!
Agitated by the zither notes, the swords in the sky began to buzz, vibrating so fast that they became impossible to clearly make out.
The howling winter winds stirred the yellow sands, but they were not able to make it one foot off the ground.
The area above this one foot of space was filled with zither notes and sword intents.
The blind zither player was burning all his true essence to unleash his strongest attack.
The array energy of the South Stream Temple sword array was also being pushed to its maximum output.
The Angel did not care, much less attempt to dodge. It simply stood there, calmly observing Chen Changsheng.
The zither notes and sword intents disappeared.
Chen Changsheng and the blind zither player had been staring at the Angel the entire time, so they knew that it had done nothing.
Even if this Angel had a divine body of unimaginable perfection, how could their attacks not leave even a single blemish?
Could the sword intents and zither notes that filled the sky have possibly missed?
How was this possible?
Chen Changsheng suddenly noticed a streak of light in the darkness.
This was an extremely faint light, like the embers of a bonfire that had been burning for an entire night.
But this streak of light was exceptionally clear. It clearly followed some sort of order, traveled in some sort of direction.
He thought of a possibility and his expression flickered.
Could it possibly be that the moment those sword intents and zither notes struck, the Angel retreated into the darkness and then came back?
It was like what had happened at the rear gate just a few moments ago.
If this expert from another world truly was so fast, how could it be defeated?
The Angel calmly looked at Chen Changsheng in the sword array, its eyes changing once more.
This change was very slow, yet it had a grand momentum, like the seas transforming into mulberry fields, the sea of stars into a grave of light.
The harshness, the cruelty, and the terror once more transformed into indifference, but this indifference was now tinged with a few indistinct things.
Chen Changsheng felt a chill run through his body when he saw the eyes of the Angel.
It was not fear, but the effect that a fear from many years ago had left on his heart.
When he was ten, the lonely mountain in the Cloud Grave had exploded with the mad howls of many monsters.
While his senior brother Yu Ren was fanning Chen Changsheng by the bed, he would occasionally turn to look at that distant mountain.
Chen Changsheng remembered very clearly that whenever his senior brother turned his head, his eyes would have this same emotion.
The Angel raised the spear of light and stabbed it into the storm of swords.
The swords naturally responded, the sword array flowing like a cloud to tightly lock down the entire world.
There was a boom, and all the sand on the ground jumped up at once, breaking past that one-foot line.
It looked like the ground of the courtyard had been raised by one foot.
And also like Chen Changsheng and the blind zither player had sunk one foot into the ground.
What was beneath the ground? The abyss, or the prison of gods?
The fierce gales blew toward them and were sliced into wisps by zither notes.
The blind zither player lowered his head, his hands flying across the strings. The wound on his left shoulder burst open, sending blood flying as well.
Chen Changsheng's spiritual sense was connected to the sword array, so he instantly paled.
The spear of light stopped outside the storm of swords.
But in the very next moment, a sharp and bright spear point probed out of the void, deep within the storm of swords!
Only when he saw that bright spear point before his eyes did Chen Changsheng realize that his South Stream Temple sword array simply could not truly block this Angel's attacks!
Snap!
The strings of the zither snapped, curling up like the whiskers of a dragon and tightly wrapping around this spear point!
All of the blind zither player's fingers were instantly ruptured by the terrifying strength in these strings, sending blood splashing everywhere.
Chen Changsheng raised his sword and held it horizontally in front of him.
There was a clap as the middle of the Vault Sheath blocked the spear.
There was an ear-aching screech.
It was not the screech of the spear against the Vault Sheath.
It was the sound of bones incessantly trembling in his body.
There seemed nothing special about this spear point probing out of the darkness besides its brightness.
But Chen Changsheng and the blind zither player were able to sense the weight placed upon it.
This weight could not be described with mountains.
This weight was the world.
This was the might of the world.
Could humans endure it?
Chen Changsheng had a stainless constitution and had been bathed in the true blood of a dragon. A body with this level of toughness would be hard to find, even if one scoured the world.
But he found it impossible to endure the power transmitted by this spear point. He neared collapse, neared his death.
The swords were connected to his mind, so they sensed the danger he faced, yet they could offer no aid.
They were blocking the spear of light in the Angel's hands and the pressure they endured was even greater.
The storm was slightly disordered.
The South Stream Temple sword array was also slightly disordered.
If not for the fact that the Angel seemed wary of some of Chen Changsheng's moves, perhaps the sword array would have already been pierced through by the tyrannical spear.
Even so, Chen Changsheng and the zither player were already at their breaking point.
The Demon Lord quietly watched all of this play out. He did not act according to the style of Xuelao City and lightly say, 'Farewell forever, Your Holiness', because he knew that Chen Changsheng still had cards left to play.
It could be the Garden of Zhou, the Green Leaf World, or perhaps something else.
Until those cards were thoroughly exhausted, he would not believe that Chen Changsheng could die.