Ninth-level fairy

As the blood energy gradually dissipated, the lake water fell from the sky again.

At this time, the grass on the meadow seemed to have been drained of its life force. It was like a huge vine, dead, withered, and fell to the ground, and then turned into waves of dead gray breath.

The phantom coffin finally fell.

This time, Chang Qingzi finally saw clearly that there was a young man sitting cross-legged in the coffin where the golden light and mist had dissipated.

His face still had a childish look, but his limbs were much stronger than before. He exuded a green vitality.

Chang Qingzi looked at him in surprise:

He simply couldn't believe that the horrible monster sitting in the coffin was actually Du Fang who was sucked into the white paper.

How could an ordinary monk survive after his body was crushed into a piece of paper?

'Did he recreate his body in the tomb?'

His eyes suddenly looked at the black air sword hanging above Du Fang's head.

It was a completely black hilt without a single bright spot. There were nine golden-red blood grooves on the ridge of the sword, and two seal characters on the hilt:

——Chengying

Chang Qingzi's whole face suddenly became as still as a wooden chicken, and his hands, body, and legs all began to tremble.

As a sword cultivator, Chang Qingzi knew that the Qi sword above Du Fang's head was the sword spirit of the magic sword in his hand. A ninth-order magic weapon of this level must contain an extremely ferocious sword spirit, the kind of sword intent that irrigates the world with murderous intent.

The sword in my hand is just the shape of a sword.

It's a dead thing.

Without the god and the spirit, this ancient divine sword is no longer a divine weapon.

Only when the two are combined into one can one obtain the divine sword that Lingxiao has been planning for thousands of years and that countless martyrs have dreamed of.

And at this moment, the sword spirit is on his body.

Looking at the nine golden-red blood grooves on the Qi Sword, Chang Qingzi's eyes flashed red. One blood groove represented a level of sword cultivation, and nine blood grooves—was this the ninth-rank divine sword in the hands of the Human Emperor?

Chang Qingzi bit his lip. In the nine divine continents, all Ku Moli had was an ordinary divine weapon that didn't even have a sword spirit. Lingxiao had been established for a thousand years, but it didn't even have one.

Chengying! Chengying!

The legendary sword spirit was finally born.

Chang Qingzi's hands were shaking, his fingers forming claws as he grabbed the hanging black air blade, his face full of greedy desire.

As his fingers touched, a strong smell pushed him away.

The aura was vast and majestic, as if there was an evil god hidden within the sword spirit.

Chang Qingzi snorted coldly. This sword spirit was so powerful that as long as the two were combined into one, it would be an unparalleled divine weapon. Taking it out would be a major event that would shake the Nine Continents.

He was just about to swing the sword over and merge it with the sword spirit.

Suddenly, the dead ashes under my feet rose again, and the scene was exactly the same as before. Under the ashes, countless small grasses grew out and began to grow wildly into towering vines.

Far above, the lake water flows back again and merges into the vast blood energy.

This is the second time.

Chang Qingzi's face began to look ferocious.

He vaguely guessed that Du Fang was practicing some extremely evil martial arts, and that his body and face grew vigorously as the trees withered and died. With each reincarnation, he grew one or two years older and his body grew taller.

When the third round of grass and trees began to grow wildly again, Changqingzi finally decided to take action.

The expression on Du Fang's face and his limbs had become those of a young man of twenty-five or twenty-six, and the childishness on his face had been replaced by a firmness.

What was even more exaggerated was his body, which was surrounded by a jade-like luster, with a faint black aura around him, and his naked body was muscular and strong.

Chang Qingzi finally made up his mind. He had already vaguely felt a dangerous aura lingering from the black air.

The words that the head teacher once said once again lingered in my ears after one hundred and eighty years:

The body of an immortal is a body of disaster, which brings chaos to the world and harms all living beings. It can only be used, not placed with high hopes. The rise of my Lingxiao cannot be left to an immortal alone, but must focus on the disciples of our sect.

Also, if necessary, it would be best to eliminate the immortals after obtaining the magic sword in the tomb, as this would also be a blessing for all living beings in the world.

The head master had died long ago, but Chang Qingzi remembered every word of those words.

When he was young, he witnessed with his own eyes the scene of immortals slaughtering the world: all the people in the entire city were turned into green smoke in an instant because of a beautiful woman in green clothes.

The bustling metropolis became a dead city in almost the span of a stick of incense.

At this moment, another black fairy flower broke through and rose before his eyes.

Chang Qingzi gritted his teeth. He would never let the immortals wreak havoc on the world again, and he was determined to get the sword spirit in Du Fang's body.

Watching Du Fang constantly breaking through the realm, Chang Qingzi's face turned fierce. He gritted his teeth and immediately sat cross-legged on the ground. A dark green Taoist diagram began to appear above his head.

He began to chant strange spells, and at the same time, he moved his middle finger to the sky and his four fingers to the ground, and the dark green Taoist diagram completely enveloped his body.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked at Du Fang in the coffin.

At this time, Chang Qingzi's pale face had already changed. No one knew what kind of magic he used, but under the suppression of the avenue in this divine tomb, he was able to display the cultivation of an eighth-level swordsman.

The face has completely turned into two colors.

Half green, half black.

From a distance, Chang Qingzi's face was extremely terrifying, and the black sword in his hand changed with his expression, turning green on top and black on the bottom.

The surging Eight Realms Sword Dao aura instantly cut through all the surrounding vines and trees, and they fell to the ground.

Chang Qingzi's originally thin body suddenly became like a great master, with a deep and majestic aura, and the murderous aura of a strong man continued to spread from his body.

He is waiting for an opportunity.

Before they were halfway across the river, they attacked the middle stream.

At this time, as the surrounding grass and trees grew, a black and red sword of energy slowly rose from the dragon spine of Du Fang's body.

Chang Qingzi watched the phantom coffin slowly falling, began to concentrate his mind and gather his energy, and pointed his sword technique directly to the sky.

Suddenly, the tiger roared and shouted, "Hurry!"

Countless cold air that was lingering on Chang Qingzi's body emanated from the sword, carrying a chilling murderous intent, and pierced towards the center of Du Fang's eyebrows in the coffin.

At this time, Du Fang still had his eyes closed, sitting cross-legged in the coffin, completely unaware of the impending danger.

Chang Qingzi's sword, which was filled with murderous intent, was intended to cut off the wisps of black energy between him and the divine sword.

Suddenly, the Chengying sword pierced into the black air with ruthless force, and suddenly the sword backfired, and the black air bounced the sword back like a bowstring.

Chang Qingzi was caught off guard and let out a long, shrill scream. His body was knocked away by the sword light and flew backwards dozens of meters.

In an instant, Chang Qingzi's face turned pale and his heart was broken.

He really tried his best. This was the most powerful sword strike he had ever made in his life in the Tomb of the Gods, but he still failed to cut the sword spirit in half.

When Chang Qingzi thought of this, he just sat up and suddenly, a mouthful of black blood spurted out from his nose and mouth.

Heartbroken, helpless, and in agony, countless feelings tore through his heart and lungs. Chang Qingzi was very unwilling and roared to the sky:

"Why...why doesn't God favor me? Why isn't the divine weapon mine?"