Chapter 744: The Rainbow In The 12th Year Of The Qing Calendar (2)
Chapter 744: The Rainbow In The 12th Year Of The Qing Calendar (2)
Translator:Nyoi-Bo Studio
Editor:Nyoi-Bo Studio
The rain slowly struck against the straw hats. The Ascetic Monks knelt with pale faces on the wet ground, staring in a daze at the blind youth with a black blindfold. They could not make any reaction for a long time. They were originally the Qing Emperor's last line of defense. Previously, the dozen Ascetic Monks had joined together and almost killed Fan Xian and the Shadow. Thus, their power was evident. Faced with Wu Zhu, would they attack?
The Emperor stood beneath the long corridor in front of the palace. The fine and cold rain in the sky blew past where he stood, soaking through each strand of the whiskers on his chin. His eyes narrowed as the coldness grew in his eyes. Coldly, he said, "Useless things, a mere traitor of the temple has you all scared like this."
Strangely, the Emperor did not seem worried that the Ascetic Monks would betray him. Many years ago, an emissary had come out from the Temple and formed an agreement with the Emperor in order to clear away all traces of Ye Qingmei in this world. It was from that day on that the Ascetic Monks of the Qing Temple, who traveled throughout the South, began to see the Emperor as the one truly chosen by heaven.
Between the person chosen by heaven and an emissary, what choice should be made? At least at this moment, the Ascetic Monks were silent. They had already gradually grown old They knew of the oracle the emissary of many years ago had announced. They knew that an emissary had fallen from grace, but they didn't know if that emissary was this person in front of them.
The Emperor also didn't pay any attention to these Ascetic Monks kneeling in the rain. He just looked quietly at Wu Zhu in the rain and said after a moment of silence, "There is no god in the world. I am not one Lao Wu. You are also not one."
Wu Zhu's leg had already been smashed. Using a posture that made one's heart ache, he barely managed to keep his body standing. A person from the temple had returned to the world. Faced with the most powerful gathering of martial force in the world, he dauntlessly killed his way through alone. Yet, he had paid a heavy price. The Emperor was correct. He was not a god. Thus, after the series of betrayals this year, after being injured by a weapon that did not belong to this world, his injuries had lingered. He was no longer at the standard when he was at his peak. Wu Zhu, at this time, had reached his most broken and weakest stage.
In a battle between these two extraordinarily powerful figures, who would win and who would lose? Plus, Ye Zhong had already arrived with soldiers and surrounded Wu Zhu. Could he still kill his way out and stab the metal rod in his hand through the Qing Emperor's throat?
The Emperor's cold gaze landed on Wu Zhu's tattered clothing and broken left leg held together by just some skin and flesh. There was not a glimmer of emotion in his eyes. He thought, At such a time, you're still not coming out?
Gradually, a wave of complicated emotions rushed into the Qing Emperor's eyes. There was some self-mockery, a glimmer of admiration, and a sliver of dissatisfaction. Wu Zhu was already heavily sieged. No matter how powerful he was, he would not be able to turn the tables. Yet, Fan Xian had still not made an appearance. Such cold-hearted endurance was truly terrifying.
In a eunuch outfit, Fan Xian seemed to be very far away from the front doors of Taiji Palace. In reality, he was very close. He carefully hid all traces of himself. Using the state of mind he had honed over these two years, he controlled his breathing and slowly crept closer to that side under the cover of the unhurried wind and rain and the heavy and tense breathing of countless people.
From the moment he saw the Emperor cough, Fan Xian confirmed the secret intelligence he learned on the road South. The Emperor's health seemed truly to be on the decline. It had been almost a year since he saw this powerful ruler. Looking at him distantly through the rain, it seemed that his face had become much older, the whiskers on his chin had grown much longer, and his energy seemed much more tired.
The Emperor had stepped down from the altar, but he still stood calmly under the eaves of Taiji Palace, watching as Wu Zhu approached step by step. He still appeared powerful, to the point that any who dared to try and challenge him unconsciously lost a third of their confidence.
Fan Xian could see the wretched condition Wu Zhu was in. He had never thought that Uncle Wu Zhu could be injured so heavily, just as he had never thought that someone could break through the defenses of the Qing Royal Palace head-on, directly killing thousands of soldiers to arrive in front of the Qing Emperor. His gaze swept over Uncle Wu Zhu's broken leg. Forcefully suppressing his violently jumping heart and the panic, worry, unhappiness, and ache in his heart, he remained hiding in the shadows of Taiji Palace, coldly and valiantly waiting for the opportunity to attack.
Uncle Wu Zhu had reached the most dangerous moment, but Fan Xian still didn't act. He knew that before the direct clash between Wu Zhu and the Emperor, any action by him was meaningless. A battle between Great Grandmaster was not something mortals like him should interfere in as they wished. He didn't want to disappoint Uncle Wu Zhu's shocking attack, so he had to resist.
Ye Zhong was still present. Eunuch Yao was somewhere unknown. No one knew if the Ascetic Monks would attack. The Royal Palace was still filled with powerful aces. Fan Xian had to place the hope of drawing everyone's attention and wasting the Emperor's strength on his failing Uncle Wu Zhu, who had suffered wretched injuries.
No matter who, including the three strange creatures were already dead or gone, if they suffered the heavy injuries that Wu Zhu had suffered, their only possible path would be disappointment and death. However, Wu Zhu remained standing. This gave Fan Xian confidence and put a boundless pressure on the people in the Royal Palace.
Through the black cloth, Wu Zhu looked at the bright yellow figure on the stone steps dozens of feet away, at the man who was far older than he appeared in his memories. For some reason, an endless ache and pain and disgust and disdain rose in his heart.
After the Dong Mountain incident concluded, after he had listened to Fan Xian rant drunkenly on the roof of the manor in Jingdou all night, Wu Zhu silently stepped onto the path to find himself. He wanted to know who he was, so he returned to the Temple.
In the instant he entered the Temple, he remembered many things. He also deduced many things. Although the Temple forcefully wiped away his memory, following Fan Xian's arrival at the Temple, Wu Zhu did not completely recover his memory. But, the deepest emotion he had before the wipe had been left behind.
This emotion was more powerful and direct than his feelings for Fan Xian. It directly drew him into looking quietly at this Royal Palace for two days and kill his way into the Palace directly through the square outside the Royal Palace. Even though he couldn't remember what had happened in the past, he still remembered the man wearing the dragon robe on the stone steps. He remembered the intent in his heart to kill that man.
Fan Xian wanted Wu Zhu to follow his heart. Wu Zhu's heart was filled with boundless and endless pain. Particularly after he saw Xiao Lizi, this pain seemed to have found a channel to give vent to. He wanted to kill him. He only remembered this.
Thus, Wu Zhu moved. He dragged his crippled leg and leaned on the metal rod in his hand for support. With great difficulty but sufficient killing aura, he dragged himself forward step by step. His uninjured leg was unable to wait and seemed to want to leap as he walked toward the Emperor on the stone steps.
At the moment Wu Zhu moved, the Qing army aces surrounding him also moved. With an earth-shattering cry of "Kill!", countless long weapons pierced toward his body.
The Ascetic Monks who had been kneeling by Wu Zhu's side finally could no longer endure such great pressure and also moved. Some of the Ascetic Monks floated back into the wind and rain while some of them stood in front of Wu Zhu's body.
With this scene, one could see the supreme position the Qing Emperor had in the hearts of the Ascetic Monks. Even though they knew that Wu Zhu was an emissary of the temple, with one word from the Qing Emperor labeling him as a traitor, there were still some Ascetic Monks who chose to believe the Emperor.
Wu Zhu moved, and the situation immediately changed. No one noticed that when most of the Ascetic Monks caught between the Emperor and Wu Zhu retreated back into the wind and snow and cleared the path from Wu Zhu to the Emperor, an Ascetic Monk wearing a straw hat and hemp-clothing floated diagonally and back, accidentally or not, disrupting the military aces' attack.
Gathering all of the zhenqi in his body, Ye Zhong, who sat astride his horse with his spear like a martial god, acted the moment Wu Zhu moved. Killing intent flashed brightly through his eyes. He kicked his horse, which let out a cry. His long spear moved like lightning, aiming straight for Wu Zhu's slightly inclined back.
Of all the people present, only Ye Zhong had experienced what happened in Jingdou many years ago. He knew better than anyone how terrifying Wu Zhu was. He was an extraordinary warrior who was not at any disadvantage when he went against Uncle Liuyun face-to-face. Once he made up his mind to protect the Emperor, he gathered all of the ability in his body and left nothing behind. He knew that unless he defeated Sir Wu in front of him in one strike, it was impossible to obstruct his seemingly stumbling steps.
With a roar, a silvery spear light as nimble as water pierced toward Wu Zhu's back. Ye Zhong attacked with the most powerful strike of his life. All of his focus and spirit were focused on this attack, so he didn't notice that the Ascetic Monk who floated back into the wind and rain seemed to be a bit too close to his body.
Ascetic Monks never used weapons. But, at some point, this Ascetic Monk that was closest to Ye Zhong took out a poisoned dagger from his sleeve. Without a sound, just like a sliver of rain hidden in the rain, he gently stabbed Ye Zhong's waist. Ye Zhong stabbed at Wu Zhu's back while the Ascetic Monk stabbed his waist.
With a swoosh, Ye Zhong's attack, which he launched after building power, flew out without any fanfare. Without seeing any resistance, it pierced right into the stone slates in front of the Royal Palace that had been washed clean by the rain as if it were a piece of tofu. The tip of the spear sank ruthlessly into the ground, to the depths of over a three feet.
However, the poisoned black dagger had pierced into his waist at the moment he released his spear.
Ye Zhong's spear went wide. It brushed against a strip of cloth by Wu Zhu's broken leg and pierced into the ground. Immediately after, a wretched roar rang out in the rain. Ye Zhong abandoned the spear and turned back with his palm, slapping it down on the Ascetic Monk's shoulder. With the Coffin-Breaker Technique, the shoulder of that Ascetic Monk immediately shattered.
The Ascetic Monk did not make a sound of pain. He was like an unfeeling wooden man and simply accepted this attack by Ye Zhong, a superior ninth-level warrior. As he sprayed out fresh blood, he pressed forward again with the dagger in his hand, completely breaking through Ye Zhong's heavy armor and slamming into his abdomen.
A powerful ripple of energy exploded between the two of them, shaking the Qing military aces beside them to the ground. The two of them were like a wooden bird. Its shadow immediately flew off the horse and crashed decrepitly through the rain. Who knows how many layers of rain they shattered as they shot into the distance?
Ye Zhong was done, at least for now. The person who had attacked was the Shadow. When that Ascetic Monk silently fooled the eyes of all the Qing aces present and used the rain to move closer to Ye Zhong, Fan Xian, who was watching everything from the shadows, immediately sensed a strange atmosphere. This was an innate acuteness that people in the Overwatch Council possessed. Probably only he and the Shadow could use it to such an extent.
After Fan Xian entered the capital, he hadn't contacted the Shadow. Even he didn't know where the Shadow had been hiding. He did know that the Shadow was certainly dissatisfied. The top assassin in the world would want revenge for Chen Pingping. Thus, during the mass chaos in the Palace, Fan Xian knew for sure that the Shadow, wherever he was, would find an opportunity to act. He had not thought that the Shadow would be mixed in among the Ascetic Monks.
A year ago, the two of them had been involved in a large battle against the Ascetic Monks. Fan Xian had no idea how the Shadow had managed to make his way in among them. However, the Shadow successfully removed the foremost ace by the Emperor's side and pulled the chances of victory heavily toward them.
If this had been any mission in the past, the only thing that could make the Shadow act was the most important target in the mission. This was something that even Fan Xian could not fight him for, just like the last attack when they entered the Palace to carry out an assassination. Now, the Shadow had silently retreated and voluntarily chosen Ye Zhong. He realized that the first Commissioner of the Overwatch Council, Sir Wu, had returned. The Shadow, who had always seen Wu Zhu as an idol, naturally chose to cooperate with Wu Zhu.
This was actually also a form of trust.
Fan Xian's gaze only brushed over the figures of Ye Zhong and the Shadow crashing through the curtain of rain and flying endlessly further from the battle before he turned his eyes back to the battlefield in front of Taiji Palace.
In the moment Ye Zhong was attacked, it was inevitable that the people in front of Taiji Palace would become panicked, disrupting the attack aimed at Wu Zhu. The only person that didn't panic was the Emperor. He completely ignored the Ascetic Monk's attack and just kept his eyes fixed on Wu Zhu's hand. The Emperor only had eyes for Wu Zhu.
The incomparably hard metal rod had become twisted, damaged, and flattened. It now looked like a common fire poker. However, this fire poker pulled along the rainwater in front of Taiji Palace as it splashed through the air heartlessly.
With a slap, the metal rod pushed aside a long spear in front of Wu Zhu. Within the shortest possible time, it followed the most logical direction and slapped against the wrist of the person holding the spear. In that instant, the skin on the wrist of the person holding the spear split open, the tendons shattered, and the bone poked out, unable to ever hold a spear again.
With a clack, the metal rod slid up the surface of a sword. A heavy pressure pressed down the head of the sword. The blade-less metal rod touched the bump on the sword and leapt up fiercely. It then landed heavily, striking against the forearm of the swordsman, directly breaking the forearm into twisted firewood.
An Ascetic Monk swung his palm and came to stand in front of Wu Zhu. The head of the metal rod, which had been rubbed smooth, pierced ruthlessly into his palm and pinned it against the rain-filled ground. Then, the metal rod swung up and struck heavily against the Ascetic Monk's head. The straw hat, filled with rain, shattered into countless pieces with a snap as a blood mark appeared on the Ascetic Monk's smooth head. His neck cracked, and he collapsed into the rain.
Each time the metal rod moved, it was just as accurate and heavy. The long blunted metal rod had become a metal stick in Wu Zhu's hand. It struck aside the dense mass of swords in front and shattered countless joints. The blood mixed with the rain water and scattered through the air.
The metal rod could no longer pierce into the throats of the countless Royal Palace aces, but it could shatter their throats. Walking through the rain with difficulty, it seemed that Wu Zhu could fall at any moment. In the end, those who fell were the aces that bravely stood in front of the Emperor.
Wu Zhu seemed to have become the stern teacher on the precipice. Each time he struck, the wooden stick would land accurately on Fan Xian's body. No matter how Fan Xian dodged, he could never succeed. Now, the wooden stick had become a metal one.
With a muffled thud, the cartilage of an internal court guard's knee was shattered by the metal rod. He knelt by Wu Zhu's side. The metal rod swung down again and threw the person beneath the stone steps, sending up a spray of rainwater.
Wu Zhu finally stood in front of the Emperor.
Without stopping, cursing, or any communication of the eyes, Wu Zhu raised his hand. The metal rod in his hand moved toward the Emperor's face.
No one in the world dared to hit the Emperor's face, but Wu Zhu aimed to do so. Furthermore, he did it very matter of factly. It was as if he was disciplining an unfilial son but also like he was beating up a heartless rat.
When Wu Zhu stood in front of the Emperor, the Emperor's eyes shrunk slightly. Some kind of light suddenly emanated from his seemingly old face. He then he raised his hand.
In an instant, before even the rain could tremble, the Emperor's right hand, which had hung by his side, suddenly appeared to the side of his face with his palm facing outward, stopping the metal rod.
In the same instant, the Emperor's right hand squeezed into a fist and smashed ruthlessly against Wu Zhu's chest.
His most terrifying hands, white as snow, seeming to never be stained with dust and never to be bloodied, stopped Wu Zhu's metal rod and landed on Wu Zhu's body.
The first cross of swords between the two last extraordinary warriors in the world, who had abilities beyond human bounds, was as simple as this. They respectively swung a rod, stopped an attack, and sent out a punch.
If it had been anyone else other than the two of them, it would have been impossible to stop the metal rod and struck that punch.
The Emperor's terrifying fist smashed ruthlessly against Wu Zhu's chest. In this moment, the air seemed to congeal. Wu Zhu's body seemed to stop and hover in the air for this strange moment. Then, like an arrow, he was ruthlessly smashed out. Like a heavy and hard meteorite, he flew out from the stone steps.
Wu Zhu's body smashed into countless Qing Kingdom aces who had pursued him. Only a black shadow was seen passing the Taiji Palace, with blood and flesh flying wildly.
With a muffled thud, Wu Zhu's body finally landed heavily on the ground dozens of feet away, setting the world around him trembling.
…
…
Everyone present sank into a strange silence. There were not many people who would be able to survive this, to be able to stand up after this. In front of Taiji Palace, on the stone steps, in the light rain, the lonely and proud Emperor continued to maintain his posture with one hand held out in front protectively and one fist extended into the air.
To be able to knock down Wu Zhu with one punch was something worthy of the Qing Emperor to be proud of. But, there was no glimmer of emotion on his face. On the contrary, a coldness appeared in his eyes.
Wu Zhu's attack with the metal rod shattered the powerful zhenqi covering the Emperor's hand and struck ruthlessly against the Emperor's face.
The Qing Emperor's face was very white, but there was a red and swollen patch on his left cheek. Blood dripped from the corner of his lip as if he had been slapped heavily on the face.
He slowly drew back his left hand and lowered his head to look at the mark the metal rod left behind on his palm. Only now did he think to himself that Wu Zhu's metal rod had bent.
Wu Zhu, lying in a puddle of blood, suddenly moved. He then bent over and rose with unusual difficulty. The metal rod in his hand stood in the ground, trembling, supporting his swaying body as he stood in the rain.
It had taken him great hardship to walk so far to have reached the Emperor, yet he had been struck back by the Emperor with one punch. This was enough to make anyone lose hope. He just dragged his even more crippled left leg, using an even more difficult posture, and moved at an even slower speed once again toward the bright yellow figure in front of Taiji Palace.
The rain that had been falling since the morning suddenly stopped. The layers of clouds in the sky also gradually thinned as visibility gradually cleared in the Royal Palace. It was as if everything had become clear.