Chapter 120: The Vanished Swords

Gu Ning’an’s indifferent words hit Qiu Qianren like a sledgehammer, leaving him momentarily stunned.

To Qiu Qianren, the mysterious, otherworldly figure behind the Immortal Sword Manual was invincible, an existence beyond comparison.

Yet here came this green-robed gentleman, speaking so casually, even disdainfully, about that figure!

Even more unsettling, Qiu Qianren had wielded the ghost sword and still failed to detect Gu Ning’an’s presence at first.

Could it be that the person before him was indeed stronger than that existence?

Qiu Qianren clasped his hands respectfully, forcing a smile. “Mr. Gu, since you have no interest in the sword manual, why not leave the mountain?”

Gu Ning’an chuckled. “No rush. Ying Du and I have a wager to settle, and we still need your ghost sword to sustain this nightmare formation.”

“In the meantime, why don’t you take me to meet that ghost cultivator?”

Seeing Gu Ning’an’s calm demeanor, Qiu Qianren gripped the ghost sword tightly but hesitated to act.

“Mr. Gu, that existence does not welcome the living. If you—”

Before he could finish, Gu Ning’an interrupted with a question: “Do you think I’m negotiating with you?”

Snap!

Qiu Qianren slapped the ghost sword at his side with force, shouting, “Allow me to witness your esteemed skills first, Mr. Gu!”

Snap!

“Draw the sword!” Qiu Qianren struck the ghost sword again with vigor.

The sound of his voice echoed through the pavilion, but the ghost sword remained unresponsive.

Gu Ning’an lightly tapped the table, smiling. “Are you trying to use the ghost sword’s techniques?”

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Rings of black swordlight began to form, circling toward Qiu Qianren.

Pale-faced, Qiu Qianren tried to swing the ghost sword, only to find it astonishingly heavy. What once obeyed his commands like an extension of his arm now felt immovable, as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

As the swordlight drew closer, Qiu Qianren panicked and cried out, “Mr. Gu! I’ll take you there! I’ll take you there!”

Gu Ning’an stood up and smiled. “Then let’s go.”

“But, sir!” Qiu Qianren hesitated briefly before reminding him, “Under this formation, Ying Du and the others might not survive…”

Gu Ning’an waved dismissively. “No matter. I have my plans.”

The dark yellow river flowed steadily, the two narrow canoes still docked at the riverbank. The remaining martial artists stood or crouched on the ground, frowning in frustration.

When they first entered, there had been nearly a hundred of them. Yet before even passing the first trial, more than fifty had perished!

The martial artists had tried various tactics: loading six people onto a single boat, sending both boats out simultaneously, seating people only on one side of a boat, or even stacking the two boats together.

But every attempt ended the same way. The ghostly entities in the river devoured anyone who dared venture out.

Even more chillingly, after capsizing or dislodging the boats, the ghosts would push them back to the riverbank—as if courteously inviting the “prey” to try again.

“This is bullshit! What kind of ‘Immortal Trial’ is this? It’s no different from the gates of hell!” Lu Ming collapsed onto the ground, pointing angrily at the sky. “Qiu Qianren, I’m done with this! Let me out!”

“Yeah! Let us out!” others chimed in.

The martial artists’ frustration and fear boiled over into resentment and a desire to retreat.

In the previous arena battles, they had at least been pitted against other humans. Each knew their own capabilities, and victory had been within the realm of possibility.

But now, faced with a river teeming with an unknown number of malicious ghosts, they were utterly helpless.

120: The Vanishing Sword (2/2)

Not far away, Ying Du quietly asked Liu Feixue, “Miss Liu, can you swim?”

Liu Feixue frowned. “Yes.”

“Then let’s swim across!” As soon as he finished speaking, Ying Du dashed toward the riverbank.

Liu Feixue called out, “Hey!” instinctively trying to stop him.

Their commotion quickly drew everyone’s attention.

Seeing a familiar face, Lu Ming shouted, “Hey! Young Master Ying, don’t do anything reckless!”

Splash!

Water sprayed everywhere as Ying Du dove headfirst into the river. A moment later, Liu Feixue hesitated briefly, locked onto the spot where Ying Du had entered, and jumped in after him.

The crowd of martial artists widened their eyes, staring intently at the river’s surface.

One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.

After ten breaths, Lu Ming sighed heavily. “Such a tragic pair of lov—”

“Pah!” Ying Du emerged from the water, spitting out a mouthful and paddling to stay afloat. He looked around and shouted, “Miss Liu! Where are you?”

Splash!

Liu Feixue broke through the water’s surface and responded, “Here!”

“Let’s go!” Ying Du called out and began swimming toward the opposite shore. Liu Feixue followed closely behind.

“They’re fine!”

“Go, go, go! Follow them!”

Lu Ming reacted first, grabbing his brothers and rushing to the riverbank.

Splash! Splash!

One after another, the martial artists dove into the river like dumplings being dropped into boiling water.

Slap!

Ying Du was the first to reach the opposite bank. He placed his hands on the edge, preparing to pull himself up, but the moment he did, he froze and immediately sank back into the water.

On the shore, ghostly figures with sinister eyes stared menacingly. Just touching the riverbank had drawn their attention.

Seeing Liu Feixue swimming closer, Ying Du paddled a few steps toward her and whispered, “Don’t go ashore. Follow me. Let them go up first.”

Although puzzled, Liu Feixue chose to trust Ying Du and allowed him to guide her to the side.

Soon, the first group of martial artists climbed onto the shore.

As Ying Du had expected, the moment they stepped onto land, the ghosts pounced on them, biting and tearing at their flesh.

Screams of agony echoed along the riverbank. Ying Du watched the gruesome scene, trying to figure out how to break the stalemate.

Suddenly, Liu Feixue frowned slightly and said, “Ying Du, where’s my sword?”

“Huh?” Ying Du’s eyes narrowed as he exclaimed, “Right, where are your swords? None of you have swords!”

Liu Feixue furrowed her brow. “I’ve always carried my sword on me, and I don’t recall anyone taking it. But just before I blacked out, I didn’t feel anyone touch it.”

“And with so many martial artists here, it seems none of them noticed anything either…”

Splash!

As if realizing something, Ying Du dove into the water again. He swam toward the clusters of dark shadows he had noticed below.

The closer he got, the more he realized he couldn’t make out the shapes of the shadows clearly. From a distance, he could vaguely discern their eerie, terrifying forms, but up close, they became a blur.

The missing swords… the indistinct ghostly faces… the fact that swimming across the river avoided ghost attacks…

It was all so absurd, as if trapped in a dream.

Whoosh!

Ying Du opened his eyes again, finding himself in the dimly lit, claustrophobic halls of the square-shaped Sword Pavilion.

He jolted upright, looking around before spotting Liu Feixue slumped over a table.

“Miss Liu! Miss Liu!”

Calling out several times to no avail, Ying Du lifted her limp body, gritting his teeth as he muttered, “Forgive me, Miss Liu!”