Nightfall
chapter-597

When Jun Mo walked into the back of the Lanke temple, the yellow-garbed monks on the stone path gathered around him as they chanted with Buddhist words. They threw the metal pestle and copper bowls in their hands at him. Some cultivators who were more powerful pulled out their flying swords.

A fast response was not necessarily a good thing at moments like this.

Jun Mo waved his sleeves, and the aura of Heaven and Earth in the courtyard turned chaotic. Several pestles and copper bowls flew back to where they came from; the monks were hit by their own Natal Items and began to bleed. Many of them looked as if they were about to die.

Then, he looked at those who had a high cultivation state and reacted quickly. The cultivators felt a pressure entering their bodies and dozens of flying swords fell in the autumn rain. Some cultivators even died, because their sense of perception was shattered.

Miserable howls rang on the stone laid grounds, with broken limbs flying all around and blood flowing like a river. Even if the autumn rain started to pour, it would be unable to wash the blood away at once. A strong stench of blood tore through the peaceful aura in the ancient temple.

Ye Su looked at the wooden sword in silence. Rainwater landed on the surface of his sword, washing away the two white lines left behind by Ning Que’s Two-Horizontal Talisman. Then, he looked up at the man who was wearing a high crown.

Jun Mo saw that the black horse carriage had disappeared from the stone steps in front of the temple. He looked at the chessboard in front of Master Qi Shan serenely. He sensed a ray of light and turned to look at it, meeting Ye Su’s gaze.

The two men did not speak, and they both looked indifferent.

There was a sliding sound, and Ye Su’s wooden sword was removed from its scabbard. It traversed through the rain and pierced towards Jun Mo.

It was just then, when Jun Mo finally drew his sword.

Jun Mo had not drawn his sword as he tore all the way, from breaking the Light of Buddha’s big tactical array to entering the temple, where everything that stood before him was tossed up into the air. He had not used his sword because he had not met anyone worthy of it. Ye Su was the Haotian Taoism’s World Wayfarer. He was a cultivation genius who had broken through the Life and Death Realm more than ten years ago. He was worthy of Jun Mo’s sword.

Jun Mo wore his high crown. His robes were lose, so one could not guess where he kept his scabbard.

But when his sword appeared, everyone in the temple could see it.

Because his sword was different from the ones owned by all Sword Masters in the world. His sword was broad. It was so broad that it was beyond imagination. It did not look like a sword at all, but rather a square piece of metal.

The square metal sheet was eye-catching; it was difficult not to see it.

Jun Mo’s sword was meant to be seen by everyone.

Mr. Second of the Academy had finally met the sword of the Taoism Sect’s World Wayfarer in the autumn rain at the Lanke Temple.

Ye Su’s sword was unblemished and silent. It was devoid of emotion and discernment; when it traveled through the autumn rain, it seemed to have become the rain, and could moisturize things in silence. Whereas it did not have the mercy as the rain had for life.

Jun Mo’s sword was large and it traveled straight through the rain, drawing squares. When it reached the end of a line, it would violate the rules of Swordsmanship and turn backward while still going in a straight line.

Ye Su’s sword was the slightest cold breeze and the autumn drizzle, which was able to slide into every crack in the world.

Jun Mo’s iron sword was straight and square, blocking all rain and wind.

In an extremely short time, the wooden and iron swords clashed multiple times in the rain. However, it also felt as if they had not collided even once. The autumn rain was forced to divert and fall around the two powerful forces.

Suddenly, Jun Mo’s expression cooled down. He turned around and ran to the Buddhist temple without hesitation.

Ye Su’s wooden sword was waving in the autumn rain and just came thirty feet away from his back.

Jun Mo looked at Qi Nian who was inside the temple. His face was pale, and he waved his wide sleeves behind him.

The large broad iron sword flew toward the western walls with a buzz. It did not draw squares anymore, but simple straight lines instead. Therefore, it seemed more sturdy and powerful.

Ye Su watched Jun Mo who was walking around in the temple. Then, he turned around indifferently, not looking at Jun Mo anymore, but at a wall of the courtyard belonging to the back temple. He looked at the roofs of the temples at the foot of the hill with lightning in his eyes.

Jun Mo walked towards the ruins of the Buddhist Temple. Ye Su looked at the cornices of the courtyard walls. They were both powerful people in the younger generation, and were both proud. If they wanted to look at each other, they would look straight in the eye; if they did not, they would turn around.

Light appeared through the rainclouds above the Lanke Temple. Lightning fell and thunder roared. The wooden sword that had traversed through the autumn rain seemed to have been struck by lightning, and glowed with a sheen. It continued towards Jun Mo with the power of lightning!

The iron sword and wooden sword finally clashed, which could be seen by naked eyes.

The autumn rain dispersed, and thunder roared!

Ye Su’s sword had understood the logic of the world and had almost stepped into the Tianqi State.

Jun Mo still did not turn around and continued running toward the Buddhist Temple.

He did not have his own rules, nor did he possess the ability of borrowing power from Haotian like cultivators. But he and his iron sword had an indestructible belief in rules. In a sense, that rule even had become his own rule, which was order.

His iron sword’s protection was absolute order.

Qi Nian’s lips were slightly pale and were soaked in the rain. However, they still appeared dry. When they moved slightly, they were like withered white leaves, lightly trembling in the rain.

Those who were surrounding the stone steps in front of the temple were shocked. Their expressions were altered because they knew that they were about to see the legendary Silent Meditation being broken.

The Buddhism Sect’s World Wayfarer, Qi Nian had cultivated in Silent Meditation for 16 years and had never stopped. He had not stopped even in the snowy forest by the lake of Chang’an when faced with the secretive Devil’s Doctrine leader, the Twenty-Three-year Cicada Cultivation.

It was thus evident what breaking his 16 years of Silent Meditation meant.

Qi Nian’s lips parted by a fraction, and one could vaguely see the torn shreds of his tongue. His expression was serene and he uttered a single word. It was garbled because he had not spoken for a long time.

“Disease.”

He said it casually, and one could not sense that it was the first word of someone who had not spoken for 16 years. It was very different from what they had expected.

It was silent in the back temple of Lanke.

The stone statue of Buddha on the peak of Tile mountain seemed to have heard what he said. The stone carved face suddenly became lively, and seemed extremely sympathetic.

The right palm of the stone statue which faced the foot of the mountain had a hole in it, caused by Ning Que’s Primordial Arrow. There was no change to the hole; instead, the Light of Buddha that shot out of the palm seemed to taper off.

The Light of Buddha appeared on Qi Nian.

His gaze landed on the chessboard.

The grounds of the ancient temple began to shake violently. The monks and cultivators who had fallen into the bloody pool were tossed up into the air. Cracks appeared on the walls of the middle and front hall of the temple.

Somewhere outside the temple beside a plum tree, was a swaying bell. It suddenly stopped, hovering in the air. Several dense cracks appeared on the surface of the bell, and suddenly, it burst apart like a flower!

The bell cracked like tiles!

The plum tree was pummelled into snow!

In the autumn rain, Second Brother’s black hair was dancing behind him and his belt flew wildly, as if it was angry to the extreme.

Then, he did something no one could have imagined. It was something even Ye Su, who was equally proud, could not imagine.

He reached out and recalled his broad iron sword, ignoring the Taoist Sword behind him which was carrying the power of wind and thunder. He threw the iron sword toward Qi Nian, angry roars behind him.

Jun Mo’s act was like leaving his back to Ye Su.

He was the proud and mighty Mr. Second of the Academy. But he had given his back to Ye Su who had already taken a step toward the Tianqi State. This was no different from committing suicide!

Ye Su looked at the courtyard walls of the temple, as they were drenched by the rain. He sensed the changes happening behind him, and he froze. He thought in shock, “This man’s will is so powerful!”

Jun Mo had recalled his sword, which was inviting Ye Su to kill him. He was betting on Ye Su not daring to kill him.

Ye Su sighed and withdrew his sword.

Jun Mo had won, or perhaps, one could say that he had won the bet.

However, other than Second Brother of the Academy, who else would dare to bet on things like this?

Or perhaps, Jun Mo had predicted that Ye Su would definitely recall his sword. So was this still a bet?

The wide straight iron sword left Jun Mo’s hand, rubbing against the air at a high speed, bringing with it a ray of bright light. The stone steps became distorted and cracked under the force of the blade; no one could stop it.

This toss of the sword was slightly similar to Liu Bai’s sword that had come from the skies.

The iron sword arrived just as Qi Nian’s gaze was about to reach the chessboard.

The iron sword interrupted his gaze and landed on the chessboard.

After 16 years, the word “disease”, which Qi Nian had uttered, was still waving in the autumn rain inconspicuously.

The autumn rain was silent, but the temple’s collapsing was not.

The Buddhist Temple collapsed under several loud roars, turning into a pile of rubble.

Clouds of smoke and dust rose into the air and were quelled by the rain.

Jun Mo walked into the ruins of the former Buddhist Temple. His face was pale, and his robe slightly dirty. His usually ordered eyebrows, which had exactly the same strands of hair in both of them, were slightly messy. ( )

He did not see the chessboard.

After a moment of silence, he picked up some iron swords that had been deformed due to the bricks and gravel hitting on them. He straightened the iron swords with his bare hands. While they were not that straight, they were straight enough to cut someone.

Then, he looked at Qi Nian.

The president of the Commandment Yard from the Xuankong Temple panted, and regained a little of his cultivation powers. His left hand shook and he picked up the Yue laan Bell left by Buddha, which was placed in the bloody pool in front of him. Then, he tossed it toward the stairs.

Jun Mo did not even glance at it. He reached out with his left hand and caught the bronze bell as it flew in the air.

The Yue laan Bell held the spirit of Buddha. It sensed the disrespect in the hand that caught it, and began to shake angrily.

Jun Mo’s left hand was very stable. His finger joints were long and the Light of Buddha emitted by the bronze bell shone through the cracks.

His finger joints were turning slightly white, and he pressed down.

There was a cracking sound, and the Yue laan Bell turned into a piece of useless metal in his palms.

Ning Que could not touch the Yue laan Bell because Buddha had decided that he was evil. Second Brother could touch the Yue laan Bell because, while the aura left behind by Buddha could sense his disrespect, it could not determine that he was evil.

Jun Mo was confident because he was on the path of righteousness. He would not be seduced by anything of the secular world. Furthermore, he hated Buddha all his life, and he thought that if he was evil, then what was Buddha like?

Being a holder of the bell, Master Boshu was heartbroken by the destruction of a sacred object from the Buddhism Sect. His Buddhist Heart had also been greatly impacted, so his face turned extremely pale as he yelled in anger, “Jun Mo, how dare you!”

Jun Mo glanced at the president of the Commandment Yard from the Xuankong Temple. He tightened his right hand which was gripping the iron sword.

There was a slashing sound; the rest of Master Boshu’s left arm was cut off and fell in the autumn rain.

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