Chapter 72 — Using Your Son to Pay Off the Meal Bill

The Butcher's madness seemed to have passed into him along with the Slaughtering Blade technique; the Butcher's blade had always been a blade of madness, a blade mastered by the wielder's own passions! "You wield a blade?

" Fu Tingyue saw the chopping-board-sized weapon in his hand and laughed.

"What blade is that?

" Shen Mu's body shifted. The blade-light suddenly swelled outward as if exploding, like a surging sea, wave upon wave of blade-light stacking and crashing down at Fu Tingyue!

Fu Tingyue still kept both hands clasped behind his back and smiled coldly.

Ding, ding, ding, a cascade of violent clangs rang out; a streak of silver light clashed again and again with the Slaughtering Blade. That silver streak was a very small sword.

The sword was three inches long.

It was this slender sword that flickered up and down, coming and going like lightning; this sword too was linked by a thread of essence, and it was made to circle around Master Tingyue, appearing and vanishing like a ghost! Then seven more small swords flew out, blocking Shen Mu's storm-like assault, so that his blade could not break through.

His swords were essence-weapons: they could be long or short, large or small. As it was, his sword was three inches long, and a three-inch sword was harder to guard against, easier to control, and far more nimble!

Pouring essence into a three-inch sword could make it stronger and mightier! He had eight three-inch swords, governed by the Eight Aspects Divine Art, ghostlike and impossible to defend against.

The foremost martial artist of Crimson Dragon City truly lived up to his name!

He had been through more battles than he could count and killed more men than he could count; the aura of ferocious evil about him was such that ghosts and gods kept their distance! And yet Shen Mu's blade grew heavier and heavier, the power stored in each stroke stronger and stronger.

Ding-ding, clang-clang, the storm of slashes fell, and his small swords withstood it with ever greater difficulty. His sword-control art had been personally taught by the lord of Crimson Dragon City; the swordsmanship was exquisite beyond compare, or he could never have slain so many Wasteland warriors without ever meeting defeat.

His sword art could block Shen Mu's blade, but the force transmitted through that blade had gradually exceeded what he could withstand. This showed that the depth of Shen Mu's essence was far above his own.

That he had been able to hold out just now was because Shen Mu's essence had not yet been fully mustered; and as Shen Mu swung the blade more and more times, the essence he summoned grew greater and greater, stronger and stronger! Master Tingyue's face grew redder and redder, so red it seemed about to drip blood.

The force coming from Shen Mu's blade was too strong; the range his eight small swords could project grew shorter and shorter. The two men's blade and swords moved faster and faster, their feet moving too, their pace ever quicker, there at the center of the platform, spinning around each other, circling, striking, with a speed that dazzled the eye!

Suddenly, Shen Mu's body pressed close against Fu Tingyue's. Fu Tingyue's heart lurched, and his scalp went numb: "A sure-kill battle skill? " He knew of the sure-kill battle skills: to be pressed close by a warrior trained in them meant the man was about to unleash a killing blow!

"Not good! " In Zhenjiang Tower, Fu Yundi's face changed drastically. He rose at once, soared into the air, and hurtled straight toward the platform in the lake.

At the same instant, every muscle and tendon in Shen Mu's body leapt and throbbed like venomous dragons, like giant pythons, coiling and interlacing, granting his body incomparable strength. The leaping muscles and sinews let him sense every movement of his opponent's body, every summoning of force, every direction it took! Every gesture, every reaction of his opponent was mirrored in his heart.

A cold light flashed in Shen Mu's eyes.

The sure-kill skill of the Slaughtering Blade technique!

Blade raised, out through the palace gates. "Blade raised, I stride out through the palace gates; the chariots and horses thunder like rolling drums.

Alone I go into the imperial palace, to take the sovereign's head in my hand!

" Every muscle in Shen Mu's body leapt. The Slaughtering Blade dropped from his right hand into his left; he reversed his grip, lunged forward in a bow stance, and scooped upward, blade edge forward and hand behind, slipping between the two small swords, lifting the blade up from beneath Master Tingyue's crotch!

One simple upward cut: belly opened, guts spilled, exactly as one butchers a pig. The Butcher's Slaughtering Blade technique. At the same moment, two small swords stabbed at Shen Mu's eyes. Shen Mu flicked his fingers; the two fingertips were pierced through, but the two small swords were knocked aside as well.

Boom — behind Shen Mu, in Zhenjiang Tower, a world-shaking crash rang out.

The whole tower suddenly split to either side, cut in two by a force beyond all description!

The tall tower broke in half and fell into the lake.

The waters surged and boiled, snuffing out countless lanterns in the hands of the girls along the shore and raising a chorus of screams.

Fu Yundi stood livid on the ruins of Zhenjiang Tower, teeth clenched, a thread of blood at the corner of his mouth. In his panic he had struck out to save his own son, and before he could even leave the tower he had been intercepted halfway by the widow of the Dark Demon Cult's leader. Forced to take the blow head-on in haste, he had been gravely wounded by her!

His own injury was a small matter — but he had failed to save his son!

Across from him, the cult leader's widow raised a hand and lightly smoothed her hair, unhurried and composed, and smiled: "City Lord, it hardly seems proper for you to step in personally in a contest between juniors.

Fortunately I blocked you in time; the City Lord has avoided a grave error. " Fu Yundi's mouth twitched.

He forced down the blood surging into his throat, swallowed it back into his belly, and managed a faint smile: "The lady jests.

My son's skills were no match for his. .

. " The corner of his eye twitched, and his voice turned somewhat savage: "He deserved to die!

I was rash just now; I have made a spectacle of myself before you all.

" On the platform in the lake, Shen Mu sheathed his blade and straightened up. "My blade is called the Slaughtering Blade. " The leaping muscles of his body slowly stilled.

Calmly he said: "Master Tingyue, you are quite good — you made me bleed from two fingers.

" Before him, a line of blood appeared on Fu Tingyue's lower belly and spread upward, higher and higher, reaching his throat, his nose bridge, the center of his brow. Then his chest broke open, and the whole man came apart in two halves, blood smeared across the ground. Shen Mu strode toward the middle-aged man, who stood frozen in stupor, and seized the money pouch from the tray.

The man's face went the color of earth; he suddenly grabbed Shen Mu's hand and cried shrilly: "You've killed Master Tingyue. . .

" Chhk — Shen Mu raised his hand and struck; the man's head tumbled to the ground. He turned, flicked the Slaughtering Blade, shook the blood from it clean, sheathed it, and walked toward the now-collapsed Zhenjiang Tower.

Behind him came a splash: the middle-aged man's corpse had fallen into the lake.

Then the water churned and boiled, and the fish-monsters in the depths fought madly over the corpse, tearing it to pieces.

Shen Mu walked across the water to the leveled Zhenjiang Tower, looked up at the livid Fu Yundi, then glanced around at the astonished, aghast faces. The youth showed a plain, honest smile and held the money pouch out toward Fu Yundi.

"City Lord, here are one hundred dragon coins — my meal money. " Fu Yundi's eye twitched. He did not reach out.