Chapter Seventy-Four: Reversal!

"Heh!" Zhou Yi could not hear Mo Hu’s words; all that filled his ears was the roaring of flames. Yet he could sense his own growth, the increase in his strength, and, more importantly, the pressure from the wooden sword was becoming less and less.

"You’re insane!" Mo Hu’s voice could not reach Zhou Yi, and Mo Hu could not see the smile on Zhou Yi’s face, but he could see, once again, that familiar long blade appear in Zhou Yi’s hand.

It was a broadsword, an utterly ordinary blade—no engravings on its body, no adornments, just a plain, unremarkable broadsword, only slightly larger than usual.

An ordinary piece of iron, forged in an ordinary way, shaped with ordinary hands, born of ordinary poverty. This was clearly a poor man’s sword; lacking money, it bore no patterns, and for want of wealth, it carried no decoration.

And yet—why did it not have, why did it not bear the weakness one would expect from poverty? Why?

Staring at this blade—this blade of poverty—Mo Hu’s face was stricken with terror. His years of cultivated composure vanished utterly in this moment. Why, he wondered, how could such a simple blade be so powerful? Wasn’t it supposed to shatter at a single touch?

"Ah!" Mo Hu bellowed, his thoughts in turmoil. His fingers twitched convulsively, slashing out shadows, the wooden sword appearing again and again, striving to kill Zhou Yi, but each time, the humble blade in Zhou Yi’s hand blocked the attack, even as it paid the price of splintering itself. But in the end, Mo Hu still could not kill him.

Feeling the resistance against his wooden sword grow ever stronger, his attacks ever more futile, Mo Hu turned increasingly frenzied, his contorted expression nearly matching Zhou Yi’s in its ferocity.

"Die!"

The wooden sword appeared, brimming with murderous intent.

Bang!

It was blocked by the broadsword.

"Die! Why won’t you die? Just die already!"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The wooden sword vanished and reappeared, launching several attacks in succession.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The broadsword, as if possessed, appeared each time before the wooden sword, blocking its strike and then shattering apart.

Witnessing this, Mo Hu’s face twisted into yet greater madness.

...

Huang Yue watched numbly as Mo Hu’s face shifted rapidly, red and green hues blending, finally settling into a look of utter derangement. Dazedly, she turned to look at Zhou Yi, saying nothing.

"He’s lost his mind," the thought surfaced in Huang Yue’s heart.

"We’ve lost this match," came another thought, making her already numb gaze grow even duller.

...

The moment the idea of defeat occurred to her, it could not be stopped; nor did she wish to stop it. Deep down, she knew: even if she wanted to act, she had no idea what to do, what could possibly be done to reverse the situation.

Sigh. This battle had been full of twists and turns, as winding as a mountain path, unpredictable as the wind and clouds. Now, at last, the outcome was clear. In this moment—she did not know why—Huang Yue suddenly felt a weight lift from her heart.

This realization startled her. How could she think such a thing?

"He’s won, and we are about to die. Having realized this, why do I feel relieved?" Huang Yue tried to laugh, her vacant eyes fixed on Zhou Yi, but no smile came. She wanted to cry, but could find no reason for tears.

...

For a long time she was silent, then looked again at Mo Hu, who had fallen into utter madness, raving like a lunatic. After a moment’s daze, she sighed softly.

"He’s truly gone mad."

If it were only a matter of defeat and death, Mo Hu, with his years of cultivation, would not be so undone. He could accept it, even face death with composure. After all, at his age, death was no great matter, nor was defeat anything to be ashamed of.

But after having hope dangled before him, only to have it turn to despair again and again, tossed back and forth like a roller coaster, Mo Hu finally lost his mind.

It was to be expected. Facing all this, Huang Yue found she could accept it with surprising ease.

Boom! Boom boom! Boom boom boom!

Bang! Bang bang! Bang bang bang!

Mo Hu sent the wooden sword flying at Zhou Yi again and again, each time blocked by the broadsword that appeared out of nowhere in Zhou Yi’s hand.

Yet even after repeated failures, Mo Hu would not give up. He hoped—Zhou Yi was only human, and no one could defend perfectly forever. So long as he persisted, eventually Zhou Yi would slip, just once, and if his wooden sword landed a single blow, he would win.

Now, Mo Hu was like a gambler, betting on a single mistake from Zhou Yi. If it came, he would win; if not...

...

Name: Zhou Yi

Spirit: 30

Body: 267

Qi: 30,000

Intention: Intent of the Mountain

Cell Count: 9,999 (second metamorphosis)

Energy: 8,200

...

Martial Arts: Leaning Mountain Blade 15/100

Leaning Mountain Heart Method, Fifth Level (Blue Mountain Realm) 45/100

Out of the corner of his eye, Zhou Yi glanced at his attribute panel, at the numbers trailing each statistic—especially those for Spirit and Body. His gaze was calm, but his heart was surging with excitement.

The battle had raged for some time now—not long, but not short either. Compared to the years he had lived, it was a mere blink, barely worth mentioning.

Yet, in this brief span, Zhou Yi’s strength had undergone a complete transformation. Since breaking through to Innate, his power had experienced a rebirth.

Now, his strength had reached a level that even he found astonishing, for he was now standing firmly upon the ground.

Both feet planted solidly, Zhou Yi relished the feeling of being grounded more than ever before.

Mo Hu’s wooden sword—whatever artifact it was—had not diminished in power, still as formidable as ever.

But Zhou Yi was standing on his own two feet. Even if he could not yet fully withstand a strike from the wooden sword and was still driven back repeatedly, at least he was no longer sent tumbling through the air—just staggering back across the earth. That alone said everything.

If the sword’s power had not waned, then it meant Zhou Yi’s strength had increased. This was certain.

Now, facing the wooden sword’s attacks, he could deal with them far more easily; though still battered, he was no longer quite so desperate.

Most importantly, his energy continued to grow, the rise showing no sign of slowing. This meant his strength was still climbing!

If he could just hold on a little longer, he could break free from this predicament.

He had returned from the sky to the earth. His power had gone from that of an amateur who had just entered the Innate realm to that of a seasoned veteran. Battle is the greatest teacher, and the terror between life and death is profound indeed.

The saying could not be more true.

If only Zhou Yi understood the divisions within the Innate realm, he might even dare to dream that he had reached its very peak.

This was not arrogance, but simply that the feeling now was too wonderful to be anything else.