Chapter 1967: With My Body and Will, I Beseech the Evil God! (3)

Chapter 1967 - 1967: With My Body and Will, I Beseech the Evil God! (3)

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
“What’s wrong with him? He should have put up a fight. What a bummer.”
On the island, discussions were in full swing. Rao Yaoyao gazed ahead at the empty expanse, lost in thought.
Unquestionably, she was aware of that dark technique, the Sacrificial Spirit Forbidden Escape, an escape technique through self-sacrifice.
Nevertheless, she could not accept that, after finally making a breakthrough, she would be cursed by Five Decays of Heaven and Man—a curse that demanded the sacrifice of his own life.
Did his life hold no value?
Judging from Yama’s previous actions, Five Decays of Heaven and Man was a crucial member of Huang Quan, and it was unlikely that he would end his life in such a way.
So, this meant that he had a chance of survival with this spell?
What was it?
Rao Yaoyao could not figure it out, so she decided to stop thinking and instead recalled the last words left behind by Five Decays of Heaven and Man.
“Until we meet again, I’ll see you in hell… Meet again?”
“Heh, trying to drag me to hell? We shall see if you can survive this suicidal calamity!”
No more overthinking. Even if Five Decays of Heaven and Man had the ability to survive under multiple secret techniques, it would take decades for him to recover.
This person was utterly defeated. The only regret was that she could not extract information about Huang Quan from him.
Rao Yaoyao turned her gaze to the other side, where Xu Xiaoshou had last appeared.
There was still so much she needed to do.
As for the “Curse Upon the Gods”…
Perhaps an ordinary demi-saint would be concerned, considering it was a matter of life and death. But Rao Yaoyao did not care one bit.
For her last name was Rao.
“The famed sword emerges from the abyss, within the vast heavens and earth, wind and clouds gather as a dragon, soaring beyond the sky!”
“A stroke of green plum rain, its bitterness known only to oneself, in moments
of solitude, a realm is found, never say people are not fools.”
“In the city full of hidden feelings, nobody inquires; under the misty rain, one is trapped by emotions…”
“A hundred birds salute the phoenix, and people bow to the sword. If not for me, who else would you respect?”
In the First Hall of Sins, the battle of life and death unfolded, with various secret techniques being employed.
On the other side, two swordsmen engaged in a back-and-forth of sword poetry, passing through the Forest of Miracles, the Ghost City of the Netherworld, and reaching the edge of the Fallen Abyss.
“Damn, I’m tired. I need to take a break. No more pretending.”
Xu Xiaoshou, playing the role of Xiao Kongtong, could not hold on any longer.
He had nearly exhausted all of his reserves, even though his energy reserve and spiritual source were still abundant, his vitality and vigor were depleted.
Not a drop remained!
Never before had Xu Xiaoshou felt so distinctly that using the sword techniques of ancient swordsmen consumed his vitality and vigor.
Especially this combination of various first realm techniques.
He had made it thus far, relying on a passive skill called “Transformation,” which converted life force and spiritual sources into his vitality and vigor.
But even so, he had reached the breaking point.
Having traversed almost half of the nine extreme grounds, several exemption orders of “Bazhun’an” had been used up.
If there was any room for doubt in Rao Yaoyao’s mind about this battle, if there was even a hint of suspicion left, Xu Xiaoshou would write his name upside down.
“Huff, huff, you’re running out of steam already? Can you keep up, kid?”
Xiao Kongtong, disguised as Bazhun’an, struggled for breath in midair, his face drained of color, hands on his knees, yet his taunts remained unabated.
“How did you manage to memorize all these cheesy sword techniques from your teacher? Did he teach you?”
Xu Xiaoshou no longer had the strength to mock his opponent. He was left only with astonishment.
If he had learned the fundamentals of the Nine Major Sword Techniques from Master Siren, then undoubtedly, in this battle, Xiao Kongtong had taught him every sword style he should know.
This seemingly life-and-death struggle was, in reality, a staged performance, a battle of education in essence. Xu Xiaoshou had learned so much, far too much.
He was amazed that Xiao Kongtong could remember all of this, and even more astonished by the sheer madness of Bazhun’an in his younger days.
For an ordinary ancient swordsman, mastering the Three Streams of Red Plum Blossoms was already enough over a lifetime.
To think that Bazhun’an had left behind so many intricate swordplay combinations, and even managed to pair them with the phrase “With each poem, a sword; with each sword, a song”?