jdhmnovel Chapter 380 Five Elements Sword Immortal Body (Page 12)
Chapter 380 Five Elements Sword Immortal Body (Page 12)
Zhou Ping's white robe fluttered, not from the wind, but from the boiling sword energy around him.
Every fold of his robe reflected a chilling light, as if it were not fabric but a battle robe woven from thousands of fine swords.
His hair stood on end, with visible dewdrops of sword energy condensing at the tips, which, when they dripped, carved deep, bottomless holes into the ground.
"sword!!!"
The long roar shattered the clouds within a hundred miles. The seemingly ordinary three-foot-long sword in Zhou Ping's hand now displayed the phantom images of mountains and rivers on its blade.
Where the sword's edge slices through, space is not simply torn apart—it is cleaved into the concept of "nothingness."
Within those shattered fragments of space, the flow of starlight from another dimension can be faintly seen.
"Arrogant!" The golden mask of the God of Yellow Sands shattered with a roar, revealing a face that flowed like lava.
When the sandstorm barrier he hastily conjured was pierced by the sword energy, every grain of sand underwent millions of slashes in an instant, eventually turning into crystal-clear raindrops that fell softly.
Before the divine blood spurting from the severed arm could even land, it was sculpted in mid-air by sword energy into a bewitching crimson ice lotus.
Fengshen Xiu's six wings suddenly twisted and deformed, and the wing bones groaned under the strain.
Those curse runes, which were said to be able to corrupt gods, melted away like snowflakes hitting a branding iron.
Ironically, his prized "Bone-Corroding Poison Feathers" are now being re-entered into his body, one by one.
The chains of Amun broke inch by inch, and every face froze in horror.
The sword marks on their throats form an ancient poem of god-slaying, the words of which are burning away the very essence of divinity.
But at this moment.
"Click——"
The cracking sound emanating from Zhou Ping's body was like the sound of an entire jade mountain collapsing.
Spiderweb-like cracks appeared beneath his skin, each crack oozing silver flames—the overflowing of the laws that bound his body.
Most terrifyingly, his pupils had become completely crystalline, reflecting not the figures of the three gods, but the most vulnerable points of their divine nature.
"Teacher!" Lin Qiye and the others exclaimed in surprise, and the eight of them rushed forward at the same time.
The black flames on Lin Qiye's straight sword surged, his eyes filled with anxiety: "Stop! Your body can't take it!"
Cao Yuan immediately activated his Black King state, his entire body enveloped in black baleful energy: "Teacher, let us do it!"
An Qingyu's eyes, behind her glasses, flashed with cold, analytical data: "The body's collapse rate has reached 67%. If this continues..."
Zhou Ping slowly shook his head and raised his hand to stop them from getting closer.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the rampaging power of the laws within him, his voice weak yet firm: "Step back... This is... my battle..."
Then Zhou Ping laughed.
After his blood-stained sleeves burned away, what was revealed was not a body of flesh and blood—but an "arm" composed of countless miniature sword arrays.
Each sword pattern plays a different sword song, and together they form the melody of "Guangling San".
"This sword strike—"
Zhou Ping's voice suddenly echoed in every grain of dust, even the sunlight was cut into tiny musical notes.
His figure exists simultaneously in the past, present, and future, and every step he takes leaves deep, bone-deep sword marks in time and space.
Those sword marks were not static, but rather moved through the void like living things, forming a net of sword intent that covered the heavens and the earth.
"—Named Red Dust."
When the last two words came simultaneously from millions of time and space nodes, the entire battlefield suddenly fell into an eerie silence.
The falling grains of sand froze in mid-air, each one reflecting Zhou Ping's sword-wielding figure.
The pupils of the three gods contracted violently—they saw their divine bodies simultaneously undergoing three states: intact, broken, and annihilated.
"No...this is impossible!" Countless cracks suddenly appeared on the golden body of the God of Yellow Sand, and silver sword light seeped from each crack.
He tried to reverse time, only to find that his divine power was being rewritten by some higher-dimensional force.
Fengshen Xiu's six wings suddenly disintegrated on their own, each feather turning into a tiny blade that pierced his own body.
The most terrifying thing is that his proud immortality is being erased by some kind of conceptual-level sword intent.
On the thousand-faced divine figure of Amun, all the faces suddenly screamed in agony at the same time.
Those tormented souls who claim to be eternal and indestructible are now being eliminated one by one by a purer concept of "annihilation".
"Click——"
Suddenly, a crisp sound like porcelain shattering came from Zhou Ping's body.
His right arm was the first to dissipate into points of light, revealing the galaxy sword intent flowing within.
Next was the left leg, which emitted a clear, resonant sword-like sound as it disintegrated.
The most horrifying thing was his chest—a transparent hole had appeared there, and you could clearly see his heart crystallizing, spewing out tiny sword-shaped fragments with each beat.
"Ha...hahaha..." Zhou Ping laughed at this moment, a rare smile curving his blood-stained lips.
His remaining left hand suddenly formed a sword shape with his fingers together, and a drop of crimson blood condensed at the tip of his finger—that drop of blood contained the complete sword intent of the mortal world.
“Watch closely, this is…” His voice began to distort, as if it came from a very distant place, “...the correct way for mortals to slay gods.”
As the last word fell, the drop of blood suddenly exploded, transforming into countless strands of mortal sword energy as fine as hair.
These sword energies disregarded all physical laws and pierced directly into the most fundamental divine essence of the three gods.
It's not about destruction or annihilation, but about fundamentally "denying" their existence as gods.
The three gods simultaneously let out inhuman screams as their divine bodies began to disintegrate at the atomic level.
But what's even more terrifying is that they are being "forgotten" in horror.
Their beliefs, legends, and records are disappearing from the world at an alarming rate.
However, Zhou Ping's body was ultimately too weak, and the Sword Laws were only recently introduced.
The three gods could not be erased in an instant.
They escaped with their lives despite being severely injured.
And Zhou Ping...
His body had dissipated down to his waist, the remaining parts resembling shattered glass artworks.
But those eyes remained as bright as ever, pulsating with a resolute sword intent that would make even the gods tremble.
"Zheng——"
When Zhou Ping's blood-stained fingers touched the sword hilt again, the entire world trembled.
His tattered white robe suddenly moved without wind, and as the hem fluttered, a strange phenomenon of stars disappearing appeared.
The ground beneath their feet began to crack, but instead of collapsing downwards, countless sword energies surged forth from the earth's veins, shredding the sand and gravel within a hundred miles into shimmering jade dust.
Just as the sword was about to be drawn, a dark shadow suddenly cut into the sword energy field.
Zhang Yun, dressed in black, seemed to have stepped out of the river of time, the hem of his black trench coat still stained with the ripples of time.
He stood before Zhou Ping with one hand in his pocket and the other casually resting on the hilt of the sword that was about to be drawn, forcefully suppressing the god-slaying sword intent.
"Teacher." Zhang Yun tilted his head, his black sunglasses slipping down his nose to reveal his vertical pupils, which seemed to be burning with the flames of a candle dragon. "You're not satisfied until you've ruined yourself, are you?"
As he spoke, the solidified sword energy around him suddenly came to life, swirling around him like docile fish.
Most astonishingly, those sharp sword intents, capable of slicing through gods, couldn't even tear the hem of his clothes.
Zhou Ping's blood-stained lips twitched slightly.
He could feel his internal organs crystallizing, and with each breath, sword-shaped fragments were coughed up from his trachea.
But when he looked at Zhang Yun, a rare soft light appeared in his cloudy pupils:
Don't worry about me.
"I know my situation..." His voice was hoarse, like the scraping of a rusty blade. "My body's collapse... is inevitable..."
He trembled as he raised his wrist, now nothing but bone, a faint glint of sword light gathering at his fingertips: "Let me... one last time..."
"Stop!" Zhang Yun suddenly rolled his eyes dramatically, his sunglasses sliding down to his lips and hanging there.
“Who said I’m worried about you?” He reached out and brushed off non-existent dust from Zhou Ping’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be dancing on your grave.”
Zhou Ping was taken aback, and the sword intent in his eyes slightly dissipated.
This reaction sent chills down the spines of the three gods watching from afar—they had never seen the Sword Immortal Zhou Ping display such a human-like expression of bewilderment.
"Tsk, looks like he's badly injured." Zhang Yun suddenly dropped his teasing expression, his black trench coat fluttering even without wind.
He slowly removed his sunglasses, and the crimson flames burning in his vertical pupils caused the temperature of the entire battlefield to rise sharply.
"Teacher, you'd be lucky to die in front of me." A wild, arrogant smile played on his lips. "Even if you're the so-called Immortal Swordsman of the Mortal World—"
"Look at me!"
The moment the last word fell, Zhang Yun unleashed a terrifying pressure that distorted space and time.
The ground beneath his feet suddenly melted into crimson magma, but instead of flowing downwards, it defied the laws of physics and rolled upwards, forming a fiery curtain that blotted out the sky behind him.
Most astonishingly, countless phantoms of candle dragons swam within the curtain of fire, each dragon scale engraved with creation runes.
"Illuminating the Nine Netherworlds—The Ritual of Creation!"
As Zhang Yun formed hand seals, an ancient bronze lamp suddenly appeared on his chest.
The flickering flame in the lamp wick is not an ordinary flame, but the solidified law of "life".
The instant the fire appeared, all the withered plants within a thousand miles suddenly sprouted new branches, and even the yellow sand blossomed into magnificent flowers.
The three gods retreated simultaneously.
The wings of the wind god Xiu flapped wildly, creating a devastating hurricane:
"Stop him now!"
But the hurricane disintegrated on its own before it even got close, turning into a sky full of fireflies.
"Go." Zhang Yun flicked his finger, and the flame of the lamp wick suddenly transformed into a miniature candle dragon, which swam merrily toward Zhou Ping.
Wherever it passed, even the broken spatial rifts began to repair themselves.
Zhou Ping did not dodge.
He stood quietly in place, letting the candle dragon enter his body through his nostrils.
This action nearly caused Lin Qiye, who was far away, to crush the hilt of his sword—that was the primordial fire capable of burning even gods!
But the next second, a miracle happened.
"This is...?" Zhou Ping's eyes suddenly widened. A crisp, clinking sound came from inside his body, and his crystallized internal organs were softening again.
Even more astonishingly, silver liquid sword intent began to seep out from the cracks on the skin's surface—not a loss, but a more condensed reorganization!
Zhang Yun stood in the rain of fire, hands in his pockets, grinning like a child who had just pulled off a prank: "Even Laozi used the Eight Trigrams Furnace to refine Sun Wukong, but I'll just give you a deluxe spa package."
As the candlelight traveled through Zhou Ping's body, it emitted a clanging sound like divine iron being forged.
His bones began to gleam with a jade-like luster, and his broken meridians were recast into starlight-like silver lines.
The most awe-inspiring part is the heart area—the shattered sword heart is being reborn, and each beat produces a clear and melodious sword sound.
"Teacher, how does it feel?" Zhang Yun suddenly leaned closer, a mischievous flame burning at his fingertips. "How about we add a special effect of being engulfed in flames? I guarantee it will be even more thrilling than undergoing tribulation."
Zhou Ping did not answer.
He was looking down at his newly grown palms—what flowed beneath his skin was no longer blood, but a liquid galaxy of sword energy.