Chapter 335 – Truths and Lies (XXI)

Chapter 335

Truths and Lies (XXI)

Long Tao watched the light fade from the Sage’s eyes, eyes shorn of grudges, hate, or anger. It was someone who accepted their demise and willingly submitted to the darkness.

A rather rare epiphany to achieve, especially if someone had touched Nirvana.

But he hardly had the time to focus on the man–though they ‘won’, his body was currently being annihilated from within. Even with all his preparation, using the Divine-Scourge Lock Formation to severely limit the man’s capabilities, he still had to resort to using Dao to deal the final blow.

No matter how many ordinary strikes the man took on, if they simply kept at it like that, he would have realized they had no means of wounding him; once the shock of recognition wore off, before him would lie a remarkably simple truth: they were still just children, and he was a god.

As such, Long Tao resorted to infusing the most minute trace of Sword Dao he could, but even that proved to be too much. In fact, he was entirely ready to fall into a deep coma through the Sutra of a Sage when he recognized something… impossible.

His body… was being repaired.

It wasn’t the extremely high-quality healing pills or his own innate constitution–it was singularly Master’s Surging Spirit Art. Something that Long Tao had already considered heaven-defying proved to defy his set of beliefs even further.

Perhaps the most common knowledge of the universe that was accepted as indefensibly true by everyone was that wounds inflicted by Dao can only be remedied by Dao. No mortal pill, no divine pill, no blessed art of any kind would be able to heal a wound of Dao.

… and yet, he was bearing witness to that impossibility. Surging Spirit Art… was healing him. Not at a rate that outpaced the ravaging of his body, forcing him to suffer exponentially still, but at a rate quick enough that he didn’t have to go comatose just to survive. If he ‘merely’ endured the pain, he would be fine.

For most, wounds of Dao would result in mental breakdowns–the pain was such that it fundamentally broke everyone, but as someone who had been wounded and scarred by the Laws of Dao literally tens of thousands of times in his life, he was one of the few, even among Emperors, who could reasonably endure the pain, if just for a little while.

Even so, it wasn’t something that could be endured.

Blood rushed through his throat, black as tar, and began to pour out of him as the platforms he built in the void grew entirely unstable and disintegrated. He fought desperately to keep circulating the Surging Spirit Art for just one moment longer, holding onto the last thread of consciousness just long enough to feel a pair of rather sturdy arms catch him.

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Looming over him was a worried and angry face of his Master, just long enough to capture a fleeting sense of anger within the man’s gaze before he could hold on no longer.

Every vessel in his body was being repeatedly shattered and rebuilt, every organ in a perpetual state of decay yet maintaining minimal functionality. Even his bones were being melted and hardened over and over again, like eternal torture pressed upon him.

**

… I’m so angry.

Looking at his body, it barely even seemed human at the moment–his skin was melting, folding into strange layers, exposing flesh and bones below… and then being rebuilt anew. Over and over and over again.

One second, he weighed what a normal boy should–the next, he was a hundred pounds lighter.

Even as Dai Xiu and Wan Lan landed next to me and started dragging me out of the lake by my shoulders, I couldn’t let go.