This Sword Cultivator is Somewhat Dependable Chapter 1710 56: Where Does the Smoke of War Not Rise? (Part 2)

He pinched the chess piece between his fingers, pressing heavily on the table surrounded by six dignitaries, as if making a move.

It seemed as if an invisible wave of energy spread out instantly.

In that moment, the winds surged and clouds churned, with anomalies appearing in the skies over the Northern Barbarian King City.

Out of nowhere, a brilliant light sword descended from the heavens, crashing down towards the armory.

Yet when it was merely a hair's breadth from the rooftop, the light sword halted precisely, neither dispersing nor fading, like the Sword of Damocles hanging above the heads of the venerable ones.

"Is this 'sword' high enough?" Luohu picked up the black chess piece from the table again, playing with it in his hand, a smile on his face.

"You..."

"When..."

"Did this happen..."

On the scene, the six Demon Lords of the Northern Barbarian all turned pale.

"Next, can we have a proper discussion about the detailed deployment plan?"

The next moment, the previously tense atmosphere in the armory, where a falling out seemed imminent, seemed to have never existed. Here and now, the armory was calm and peaceful.

Luohu smiled indifferently, speaking to himself in his heart.

This second war between the Dao and the Demons, he was both the opening move and the conclusion.

.......

Outside Yumen Pass.

A towering figure swept back through the air, momentum like a rainbow, landing atop the city wall.

The young Sect Master asked solemnly, "How is it?"

A man who was the embodiment of a clan spoke with an unpleasant expression, "Confirmed, the War Venerable has left."

Lu Qingshan's lips tightened.

The War Venerable and the Chi Venerable brought immense pressure to them on the front battlefield, often requiring the combined forces of Cang Xiu, Yu Canghai, Ji Chuan, and himself to keep these two supreme Demon Lords in check.

The problem was, the War Venerable and Chi Venerable's levels exceeded their own.

So whether it was sustained combat ability or recovery power, they surpassed the four of them, thus, in the short term, they could barely maintain a balance on the front, but as time dragged on, defeat seemed inevitable.

Of course, as long as Xia Daoyun's injuries improved and she joined the battle, the Human Race would regain the advantage at the top combat level, forcing the Demon Race to rely solely on their vast numbers of Demon Lords to maintain balance.

When quality is lacking, quantity compensates, just like how the Human Race is currently using four to fight two.

This is the significance behind Lu Qingshan's earlier decision to spare no effort in slaying the Ming Venerable.

The Chi Venerable and War Venerable clearly understood this reasoning too, unwilling to give the Human Race even a sliver of hope. Hence, during this period, they launched relentless assaults, like a violent storm, aiming to crush the Human Race before Xia Daoyun's combat power was restored.

At this juncture, how could the War Venerable leave so easily?

Even after several days without seeing the War Venerable make a move, the Human Race still suspected it was probably just a Demon Race trap, a bluff.

It wasn't until Cang Xiu personally used their divine skills to test the waters that they could truly confirm that the War Venerable was indeed no longer on the front lines.

Cang Xiu, who risked entering a trap to obtain crucial intelligence, seemed to want to say something, but when the words reached their mouth, they didn't know how to start.

Lu Qingshan smiled wryly and spoke first, "When I asked Xue Wujian to take people away, I faintly guessed there would be a day like this. That's why I didn't want Xiao Jian to go along, especially since she's your only child."

Both understood that if anything could draw the War Venerable away from the central battlefield, it would be Xue Wujian's group currently active behind enemy lines.

Cang Xiu was silent for a moment, then exhaled heavily, "When I agreed to let Xiao Jian leave with Xue Wujian, I had already made... the mental preparation."

Lu Qingshan's lips moved slightly, his expression unclear, but in the end, he still didn't say anything more, only silently gazing out beyond the pass.

The significance of sending Xue Wujian, this "sword," into the heart of the Demon Race was to seize that fleeting initiative.

The truth was, Xue Wujian had indeed achieved it.

But he felt no joy in his heart, only an endless heaviness.

Cang Xiu slowly walked to the ramparts, standing shoulder to shoulder with Lu Qingshan, quietly gazing southward, as if he could see the Demon Race's hinterland through the layers of demonic tides.

"Your Sword Sect Peak Master died, and my Zang Clan, likewise, we are all ready to die," he said softly, seemingly comforting Lu Qingshan, or perhaps comforting himself.

Without waiting for Lu Qingshan's response, Cang Xiu turned and left, smiling as he spoke to the young Sect Master with his back facing him, "I suffered some injuries, I'll head back to recuperate first."

After sending Cang Xiu off, Lu Qingshan, having handed over matters to Yu Canghai who had just arrived, also returned to Qingshan Palace for some rest.

No one could sustain such high-intensity combat indefinitely, not even a cultivator.

Back at the Qingshan Palace alone, Lu Qingshan suddenly leapt onto the rooftop of the highest tower, sitting cross-legged, gazing southward.

"Are you all alright?"

If everyone died over there, there wouldn't even be a single word of farewell left, let alone any remains.

Lu Qingshan looked up at the sky.

The clouds of the second watch, the moon of the third watch, the heavens of the fourth watch.

Time slipped away, watch by watch.

Lu Qingshan suddenly felt a damp trail run down his face from the corner of his eye, and instinctively wiped it with his hand.

"It's raining..." he murmured to himself.

At some point, the chilling autumn rain, tinged with hostility, had begun to fall with the wind, then continued ceaselessly.

Lu Qingshan folded his hands in his sleeves, gazing at the unending rain in a daze.

Amidst the rain, a soft footstep was heard.

Lu Qingshan turned to look at the sound, the corner of his mouth rising.

The pallor had faded from her face, and dressed in crimson, Xia Daoyun's figure slowly passed through the rain, walking towards him.

Around her seemed to be an invisible protection, for none of the rain touched her.