Chapter 137 The Strongest Sword

"What shall the subject of our painting be?" Fan Li asked.

"This..."

Master Yichuan desperately wanted to choose the subject himself, as that would give him a significant advantage.

However, the crowd around them was restless, and even with his thick skin, he had limits and dared not seize the right to choose.

If Fan Li were to choose, Master Yichuan feared he would be at a disadvantage.

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon the Holy Lord of Cold Moon.

This woman seemed to possess some extraordinary treasure, as even he could not see through her cultivation realm.

Yet, Yichuan could at least tell that Cold Moon was a sword cultivator, clearly not well-versed in Confucianism.

With a smile, he suggested, "How about we ask this young lady to give us a subject, and then we paint? What do you say?"

The Confucian scholars saw that the Holy Lord of Cold Moon was accompanying Fan Li, and thought this suggestion was reasonably fair.

Fan Li cared the least.

He nodded and said to Cold Moon, "Sorry to trouble you, please give us a topic."

"Me?"

Cold Moon frowned.

She knew nothing about Confucian cultivation, let alone what kind of subjects Fan Li excelled at painting.

Though she wanted to help Fan Li, it was awkward to ask him directly.

"Just pick whatever you like," Fan Li said with a smile, sensing her hesitation.

The Holy Lord of Cold Moon nodded.

After a moment of thought, she finally named a single word according to her own preference: "Sword!"

The subject of the painting: Sword?!

Master Yichuan smiled.

The sword was the weapon of a gentleman, and also the weapon of a king.

Among the Confucian cultivators of the world, there was hardly anyone who did not know how to use a sword.

In other words, the higher a Confucian cultivator's realm of cultivation, the more thorough their comprehension of the sword.

Master Yichuan was at the first grade of the Hedao Realm, while Fan Li was merely at the third grade of the Foundation Establishment Realm; the gap between their realms was as vast as heaven and earth.

To paint with the sword as the subject—was the outcome not already decided?

"Bring me the brush!"

"Bring me the ink!"

"Bring me the paper!"

Full of high spirits, Master Yichuan ordered Zhu Ziyang around mercilessly.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he began to wield his brush and paint.

He truly lived up to his reputation as a cultivator of the Hedao Realm!

The moment his brush and ink touched the tip of the paper, sword Qi instantly surged, and the endless sound of clashing metal echoed through the air!

The surrounding Confucian scholars gasped in secret, thinking that Master Yichuan possessed genuine mastery after all.

And what about Fan Li?

He stood with his arms crossed, head lowered in deep thought, without making a single stroke for a long time.

Time ticked away, drop by drop.

In the blink of an eye, half an hour passed. Master Yichuan's painting was already taking shape, while the rice paper spread out before Fan Li remained entirely blank.

Master Yichuan cast a sidelong glance at Fan Li opposite him.

Hah!

This brat!

Ultimately, he was still too young; how could he possibly match the years of deep cultivation and foundation of an old man like him?

Seeing that Fan Li had yet to make a move, Cold Moon grew anxious as well.

She wanted to voice a few words of encouragement to Fan Li, but seeing him furrow his brows in deep thought, she feared interrupting his train of thought and had no choice but to endure.

In truth, Cold Moon's worry was entirely unnecessary.

With the merged memories of his past and present lives, how could Fan Li possibly have an empty mind?

Quite the contrary.

With the sword as the subject, it wasn't that he had no ideas, but rather that he had too many, and didn't know which one to choose.

Ten steps to kill a person, keeping no trace for a thousand li?

A hall full of drunken guests intoxicated by flowers, a single frost-cold sword across fourteen states?

My sword, is your—ah, never mind that one.

Suddenly!

A light went off in Fan Li's heart!

Since the subject was the sword, why not paint the most powerful sword in this world?

However, did this feel a bit like cheating?

Considering that his opponent was Master Yichuan, Fan Li felt zero psychological burden about cheating.

He cast a sympathetic look at his opponent, thinking to himself: Old man, running into this Duke today can only be considered your bad luck.

"Painting complete!"

"Everyone, this is the 'Hundred Weapons Paying Homage to the Sword' painted by this old man."

Almost at the exact moment Fan Li began to paint, Master Yichuan had already finished his masterpiece!

In an instant!

Within Luming Academy, the ringing of swords echoed without end.

Several illusory figures flickered in and out of view in the sky, all holding long swords, looking down upon all living beings in the world like monarchs.

The Confucian scholars finally saw the painting clearly.

Within the painting.

Hundreds of weapons from various schools of thought were either shattered or broken, utterly ruined.

Only a single long sword was thrust into the peak of a towering mountain, its sword tassel fluttering in the wind, fully displaying a monarch's serene and relaxed demeanor.

"Clang~~~~~~~~~~~!"

The sound of clashing metal emanated from the painting.

A massive golden long sword used the scroll as its scabbard, slowly 'drawn' out and standing erect between heaven and earth.

"This is the sword of a gentleman!"

"And also the sword of a king!"

Master Yichuan laughed aloud, seemingly holding victory in the palm of his hand.

The scholars gazed up at the giant golden sword, genuinely feeling an impulse to drop to their knees and worship it.

The gap in their cultivation realms was immense; they had all been subdued by Master Yichuan's painting.

"Congratulations, Teacher! All praise to Teacher!"

"With the appearance of 'Hundred Weapons Paying Homage to the Sword', even the greatest scholars in the world could hardly produce a painting to surpass yours, let alone this brat!"

Zhu Ziyang was the first to offer flattery, and Master Yichuan's laughter grew even more unrestrained!

Among everyone present, only Fan Li and Cold Moon remained completely unaffected.

Cold Moon glanced briefly at the giant sword's illusion, let out a cold snort, and her heart was filled with utter disdain.

A gentleman's sword? A monarch's sword?

With the third-grade Mahayana Realm understanding of the Sword Dao that Cold Moon possessed, this was at most the self-indulgent fantasy of pompous scholars regarding the Sword Dao.

A sword was merely a weapon of slaughter.

The Sword Dao was simply the Dao of slaughter.

With a sword in hand, pressing ever forward, breaking through everything—that was all there was to it!

The Holy Lord of Cold Moon held absolute confidence that if Master Yichuan were to duel her with the sword at the same cultivation realm, she could execute him within a hundred moves!

That was the difference between a true sword cultivator and a Confucian sword-scholar.

"Has Fan Li finished painting yet?"

Cold Moon stopped paying attention to the giant sword illusion and cast her gaze upon Fan Li's artwork.

The next instant!

Her body swayed, and she actually lost her footing?!

Fan Li's painting caused Cold Moon to feel as though her foundational Dao of the sword was suffering a massive shock, throwing her mind into temporary disorder!

"What are you painting?!" Cold Moon could not help crying out in alarm.

Her voice immediately drew countless gazes from those around them.

Yet before Fan Li could reply, a heavenly phenomenon had already formed!

In the sky, the sea of clouds was as if hacked and slashed by knives and swords, actually splitting into four distinct parts!

Each section of the cloud sea was scarlet red, as if stained with blood.

Deep within the cloud sea, countless giant figures seemed to appear, all adopting dying postures and emitting shrill, piercing screams that sounded both distant and near!

The scholars could not help but suspect that the sky above was no longer the yearning immortal realm, but a vast expanse of mountains of corpses and seas of blood?!

A violent gale arose abruptly, stinging people's faces.

The monarch's sword that had been floating mid-air was crushed into powder, overwhelmed by the aura overflowing from Fan Li's painting!

Within the scroll, four piercing sword intents seemed ready to break free from the constraints of the paper at any moment.

"You... what have you painted?!" Master Yichuan asked, shocked and enraged, unable to help staring widely to look.

The others also craned their necks to look anxiously.

Compared to the dramatic changes in heaven and earth, Fan Li's painting looked utterly plain.

Across an entire sheet of rice paper, he had merely drawn four precious swords of similar design.

This did not even look like a painting.

It looked more like blueprints of sword molds used for forging!

For each of the four swords, Fan Li inscribed a title beside the blade.

"Zhu... Lu... Jue... Xian..."

The Holy Lord of Cold Moon read out these four characters with difficulty, enduring the sensation of an impending headache, and looked at Fan Li with a questioning gaze.

What did this mean?

Fan Li glanced at her calmly, then swept his gaze across the surrounding crowd.

"I ask you all to appreciate these: this is the Executioner Sword, the Slaughterer Sword, the Extinction Sword, and the Trapper Sword, collectively known as the Four Swords of诛仙 (Zhu Xian)."

Pausing slightly, Fan Li chanted a poem:

"Neither copper nor iron nor forged steel, once hidden beneath Mount X弥."

"Without the chaotic refinement of Yin and Yang, how could water and fire temper their keen edges?"

"The Executioner brings sharpness, the Slaughterer brings doom, the Trapper stirs a crimson glow on all sides."

"The Extinction possesses infinite miraculous transformations, dyeing the robes of Great Luo Immortals with blood."