Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Sword Emperor of the Northern Dipper
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Yue Yu, First Senior Brother of Chaoyang Peak.
At the early Dao Embryo stage, swordsmanship etched into his very bones.
This man was born a fierce warrior, a battle-madman by nature, much like Feng Wanhai, Tie Yi, and others of their ilk. He inherited both the swordsmanship and fiery temperament of his master, Tianfeng Daoist. His spirit was as fierce as blazing fire.
Yue Yu's pride soared high above others; within the Peach Blossom Sword Sect, aside from Gu Xijin and the already-defected Long Jinyi, he held no regard for anyone else.
This duel with Gu Xijin was, for him, the battle of a lifetime, a dream he had longed for with all his being. Today, it had finally arrived. Even knowing that Gu Xijin's swordsmanship had reached the level of bleeding steel and that he himself had no chance of victory, Yue Yu's eyes still burned with the fervor of battle.
Many cultivators felt sorry for Yue Yu, lamenting that he had crossed paths with Gu Xijin too soon. Yet, witnessing the fire in his gaze, they could not help but admire his resolve.
“First Senior Brother, go for it!”
The cultivators of Chaoyang Peak cheered for Yue Yu, making the atmosphere even more electrified.
On the other side, Gu Xijin needed no further introduction.
...
With a shout, as soon as they entered the arena, Yue Yu gave not a single greeting. He raised his massive sword, nearly six feet long, and brought it sweeping down. Golden radiance flowed over his body, pouring into the blade.
Boom, boom, boom—
Wherever the sword aura passed, the very air erupted in sonic booms. This strike contained an overwhelming force.
Though it appeared ordinary, in truth, it was one of the killing moves from the Meteor Sword Art within the Seven Swords of the Northern Dipper—Heaven’s Fall.
“Good!” Gu Xijin watched with a smile, offering praise, his expression relaxed. Today, he finally drew his sword.
His weapon was a slender, glittering silver sword, elegant in its length and grace, much like his own refined visage. The sword was called Silver Sovereign, a superior-grade magical treasure. It once followed the Celestial River Daoist to great fame, and now it had passed into Gu Xijin’s hands.
A casual point, and beams of starlight shot forth.
Among the Seven Swords of the Northern Dipper—this was the least aggressive but most defensive sword art, the Shifting Stars Sword Art, handed down within the White Cloud Peak branch.
Those star-like beams, once released, seemed almost sentient, swirling and dancing protectively around Gu Xijin.
Yue Yu’s powerful strike, brimming with force, seemed to be tugged aside by an invisible hand, veering off at an angle, as if Yue Yu himself had changed its direction. The bizarre sight made many cultivators’ scalps tingle.
...
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
The wind howled as the blows fell.
No matter how fierce and peerless Yue Yu’s Meteor Sword Art became, Gu Xijin’s Shifting Stars Sword Art neutralized it with ease. Not a single strand of sword aura landed on its target.
The onlookers blinked in astonishment, unable to decipher the techniques Gu Xijin employed.
Yue Yu, bearing the brunt, felt as if the space before him hid an invisible fish-dragon, its tail constantly stirring up mysterious ripples and batting aside his sword aura.
The sensation was both unreal and oppressively tangible, so stifling he could almost cough blood.
Gu Xijin, cloaked in starlight, moved with a mysterious, unspoken grace, his Silver Sovereign tracing arcs of shimmering silver.
“Gu Xijin… Truly, the Shifting Stars Sword Art, one of Peach Blossom Sword Sect’s most enigmatic techniques, lives up to its reputation. I wonder about that one art which no one has ever mastered…”
Nanguo Cheng and his two companions watched, eyes gleaming with admiration.
Among the inner disciples—Yuda, Ji Nujiao, Feng Jianmei, Fang Henqiu—all gazed on with envy.
Feng Wanhai, an outer disciple, watched with eyes even brighter.
...
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On the high platform of Immovable Peak, Fang Junmei’s pupils dilated in awe, his hands trembling uncontrollably. In this moment, he forgot all about the Yellow Springs Ghost Rain Sword Art; only sword techniques like Gu Xijin’s, brimming with the mysteries of heaven and earth, were truly worth pursuing.
Not only were his hands shaking; Fang Junmei felt even his sword bones and half-transformed sword blood within his body quivering.
“Junmei.” Fan Lanzhou’s voice suddenly rang in Fang Junmei’s mind.
Fang Junmei started, reluctantly tearing his gaze from the arena to look toward Fan Lanzhou, puzzled as to why he would transmit a message at this moment.
Fan Lanzhou did not look back, his eyes fixed on the heart of the battlefield. He continued, “Has anyone ever told you about the Seven Swords of the Northern Dipper?”
“No,” Fang Junmei replied.
Fan Lanzhou nodded. “The founding ancestor of our Peach Blossom Sword Sect was known as the Peach Blossom Daoist. Legend says the Seven Swords of the Northern Dipper were passed to him by a friend named the Northern Dipper Sword Sovereign, and he passed them down to us.”
Fang Junmei murmured in understanding.
“The Seven Swords of the Northern Dipper are divided into seven arts, all requiring at least the ‘Swordsmanship Etched in Bone’ level to use. They are the Falling Star Sword Art, Rocking Star Sword Art, Meteor Sword Art, Plucking Star Sword Art, Shifting Stars Sword Art, Flying Star Sword Art, and the final, Hidden Star Sword Art.”
Fan Lanzhou’s voice grew deeper, more profound.
“The first six are preserved at Immovable Peak, Taixu Peak, Chaoyang Peak, Rainbow Cloud Peak, White Cloud Peak, and Green Tree Peak. Only the last, the Hidden Star Sword Art, lies untouched, rumored to have gone unmastered for many years.”
Fang Junmei nodded again.
“If nothing has changed, the Hidden Star Sword Art should be kept on the fifth floor of the Sutra Library. When you go, choose carefully whether to select this divine art. Do not waste your opportunity, but neither overestimate yourself.”
With this final admonition, Fan Lanzhou gave his warning.
Fang Junmei’s eyes lit up, and he nodded seriously.
Fan Lanzhou said no more.
...
On the battlefield, Gu Xijin’s defense was flawless.
No matter how wildly Yue Yu attacked, even unleashing other magical treasures, Gu Xijin blocked every blow with a single stroke.
As time passed, it became clear to all that Yue Yu was doomed to lose. Even in terms of raw magical power, Gu Xijin surpassed him in the end—let alone the famed ‘Swordsmanship of Bleeding Steel,’ which Gu Xijin had yet to employ.
Yue Yu’s gaze grew gradually dim.
Clang!
Suddenly, Gu Xijin shot forward like lightning, his sword tip striking Yue Yu’s own blade. An unstoppable surge of force crashed through Yue Yu, making him spit blood as he flew backward, crashing heavily to the ground.
His strong body lay sprawled amidst the shattered earth, blood at his lips, eyes filling with defeat and desolation, as if suffering a devastating blow.
Indeed, it was so: Gu Xijin had not even used the Swordsmanship of Bleeding Steel, yet with perfect, unassailable technique, he had utterly crushed Yue Yu. That sense of being completely outmatched was enough to suffocate any opponent.
Yue Yu’s mind was in chaos, thoughts whirling.
Defeat.
Was this the gulf between an ordinary genius like himself and a monster like Gu Xijin?
No—that must be the difference in sword arts!
It must be because the Meteor Sword Art could not match the Shifting Stars Sword Art. If only I had cultivated the Shifting Stars Sword Art, I would not be inferior to Gu Xijin.
Yue Yu’s somber gaze flickered, but he neither rose to continue nor made any other move.
Seeing his lost, broken state, many elders shook their heads, especially his master, the “Chaoyang Sword Immortal,” Tianfeng Daoist. The old man’s face was especially grim; from his disciple’s eyes alone, he knew exactly what he was thinking.
...
“What are you brooding about? Stand up at once!”
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A thunderous shout rang through Yue Yu’s mind like a bolt of lightning.
Instantly, the valley fell silent.
Gu Xijin, at some point, had already approached Yue Yu, standing over him with a cold expression, his deep, obsidian eyes radiating authority.
“Either stand up and keep fighting, or concede with dignity. Who are you putting on this disgraceful display for?” Gu Xijin barked again.
Under the pressure of that imperious gaze, Yue Yu’s heart quivered, his face contorted with frustration, unwillingness, and a hint of contempt—a complex mix of emotions.
“You’re doubting your own swordsmanship, doubting the Meteor Sword Art, aren’t you?” Gu Xijin, ever perceptive, saw through him in an instant.
Yue Yu said nothing, the turmoil in his eyes deepening.
“If that’s the case, then recall the duel from a hundred years ago between me and Long Jinyi!” Gu Xijin’s voice was low and steady.
At these words, many cultivators, Yue Yu included, froze in surprise.
Fang Junmei again looked to Fan Lanzhou, who seemed to expect it and sighed, transmitting, “A hundred years ago, the First Senior Brother faced Gu Xijin for the title. Their battle came down to the Falling Star Sword Art versus the Shifting Stars Sword Art. Against the Shifting Stars, the Senior Brother’s performance was nothing like Yue Yu’s now—though he lost, the margin was slim.”
Fang Junmei nodded in understanding.
A low murmur rippled through the valley as many, unaware of the old story, began inquiring. Upon learning of Long Jinyi’s tale, thoughts grew ever more tangled.
“I never saw that look in his eyes. Did you truly comprehend the Meteor Sword Art to its utmost? And yet you so readily doubt one of your Chaoyang Peak’s most treasured arts?” Gu Xijin’s voice rang out, proud and resolute.
Even Fang Junmei could not help but feel a surge of respect for such a person—one possessed of such powerful charisma.
Upon hearing this, the turmoil in Yue Yu’s eyes gradually cleared, returning to the familiar steadiness of old.
“Thank you, Senior Brother, for your guidance. I concede this match.”
Rising to his feet, Yue Yu bowed to Gu Xijin, his eyes now full of respect and admiration.
Gu Xijin nodded with satisfaction.
...
Cheers and applause began in scattered patches, soon swelling into a roaring tide.
The admiration was not only for Gu Xijin’s breadth of spirit, but also for Yue Yu’s moment of awakening.
“This one knows how to win hearts. From now on, Yue Yu will likely follow Gu Xijin with unwavering loyalty,” Ouyang Ge thought privately from the high platform.
On the other side, Fang Junmei bitterly regretted missing the era of the great rivalry between Gu Xijin and Long Jinyi. That, he thought, was the most glorious of times.
“I must catch up. In such a wondrous era, how could Fang Junmei be absent?”
His gaze toward Gu Xijin grew fiercely passionate, his chest ablaze with a burning resolve.
Gu Xijin, sensing this, looked over as if the two shared a silent understanding.
Their eyes met in midair.
In that moment, time itself seemed to stand still.
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