Chapter Sixty-One: A Sword That Slices Through the Waves

Qin Yi was utterly engrossed, so much so that he failed to regain his senses for a while. Just as he was gazing, dazed, at Old Jiang's imposing figure, the old man, who had already raised his battered black oil-paper umbrella and was facing Jiang Fengnian, suddenly turned his head, beamed at Jiang Yao, and said cheerfully, "Little girl, watch closely!"

Jiang Yao nodded earnestly. If she could witness something extraordinary, it would be a blessing; if not, it didn't matter. In many things, she and Qin Yi shared the same temperament—they never took anything for granted.

Seeing her nod seriously, Old Jiang turned to Qin Yi, the corners of his mouth lifting into a sly smile. "Boy, I really want to see you scared out of your wits."

Qin Yi replied unconcernedly, "Impossible. If your sword truly frightens me, I'll call you Grandpa and study swordsmanship under you in earnest."

"Grandpa, now that's something I wouldn't mind," Old Jiang's eyes widened as he let out a hearty laugh. Then his expression changed as he looked at Jiang Yao. "But you can forget about me teaching you swordplay seriously. If not for this girl, I wouldn't even want to teach you. I don't want to ruin my reputation."

Qin Yi couldn't help but twitch his mouth. "Old Jiang, your sharp tongue is even more formidable than your sword skills."

Old Jiang scoffed, "We'll see if you still dare talk like that in a moment."

Qin Yi eyed the battered black umbrella in Old Jiang's hand, feeling uneasy. "Old Jiang, you don't even have a sword. Can that tattered thing really do the job?"

Old Jiang turned away, leaving Qin Yi staring at his tall, broad back, and replied without a trace of flattery, "For someone like you, I could defeat countless with this so-called tattered thing."

Qin Yi grumbled at the sight of Old Jiang's imposing figure, "Tch, he's full of hot air."

Not far away, Jiang Fengnian watched Old Jiang standing on the waves with his battered black umbrella, as steady as a mountain amidst the sea. He spoke in a calm but earnest tone, "Senior Jiang, if you're ready, then I'm coming."

Even before he finished, the tide behind him surged even more, as if answering his call.

Old Jiang looked at the roaring surge behind Jiang Fengnian, unperturbed, grinning, "Back when I took up arms and charged into battle, you were nowhere to be seen, brat."

The next moment, he gripped the handle of his battered black umbrella a little tighter. At that instant, Qin Yi suddenly sensed that what had seemed a worthless, tattered umbrella now exuded a chilling coldness, as if it were a peerless sword.

None of those present showed surprise at the sight. They knew that such a presence was attainable as soon as one entered the path of the sword.

Then, Old Jiang stepped onto the sea, sending out a ring of ripples centered on his toe. Using the force, he leapt and glided above the waves, still gripping the battered umbrella. Suddenly, a sharp sword energy shot from its tip.

At this, everyone present frowned slightly. Old Jiang's strike seemed all too ordinary—compared to the tidal wave behind Jiang Fengnian, it was not even worth mentioning. The strike was not only slow but also lacked any visible power; it looked like nothing more than a simple, mundane swing, entirely devoid of sword intent.

Wang Hong frowned at the sight. "Father, this...?"

Wang Haoran also frowned but said nothing. With far greater cultivation and experience, he remained composed in the face of uncertainty.

Everyone present frowned in confusion, not understanding what was going on.

Perhaps the only one whose expression remained unchanged was Jiang Fengnian.

Qin Yi stared for a long while, unable to make sense of it. He watched as Old Jiang finished gliding above the sea and landed lightly on the surface. After both feet touched down, Old Jiang slowly lowered the battered umbrella in his hand, then decisively turned and walked toward Qin Yi and the others, not bothering to answer Qin Yi’s earlier question.

The next instant, everyone’s eyes widened in utter shock as they stared at Old Jiang’s sword strike.

As they looked on in disbelief, the speed of that strike suddenly surged, leaving only a slender streak across the sea. But this alone was not what left them stupefied. What truly shocked them was the sudden, bone-chilling sword intent that swept over them.

A flurry of changes on the sea left them all dumbstruck.

With a roar, just as Old Jiang turned away and the speed and intent of his sword surged, a thin crack appeared on the surface of the sea. As the strike continued, the crack widened and lengthened until it split the sea in two, leaving a yawning, inky chasm that seemed bottomless and sent a shiver down everyone’s spine.

The chasm was so deep it defied the eye. The waters on both sides surged away, forming two waves far vaster than the original tide—an awe-inspiring spectacle.

“A thousand-layered wave,” Jiang Fengnian murmured, as if he had expected this, though he was still taken aback. For the first time, he raised his hands, palms upward, and with that gesture, the tide behind him rose with his flowing sleeves, lifting slowly until it towered dozens of yards high. Then, Jiang Fengnian slowly rose into the air and stepped lightly atop the crest, his white shoes untouched by a single drop of water.

He stood once more, hands behind his back, atop the surging tide, and with a thunderous roar, the wave rushed toward the sword strike.

On the sea, the towering tide met Old Jiang’s sword, accompanied by the two monstrous waves summoned by that single stroke.

The moment the two waves and the great tide collided, the forces crashed together with overwhelming power.

By then, the Wang clan’s men, who had been observing from the shadows, had already retreated far away.

“Father, that sword…” Wang Hong was utterly stunned by the force of Old Jiang’s blow.

Wang Haoran squinted at the sword's power, then after a long moment, spoke with certainty, “He is a true master—of that I am sure. And far, far stronger than Lord Nan Shen.” He gazed at the distant clouds and waves, his expression complicated; that was the realm he had always yearned for. After a while, Wang Haoran turned and left, leaving only one sentence behind: “Lord Nan Shen will lose.”

Jiang Yao’s eyes sparkled as she watched Old Jiang’s sword.

Chen Yuxuan was equally moved.

Qin Yi stared, his gaze complicated. He was certain that, even at the peak of his previous life, the might of his greatest sword was worlds apart from this casual stroke of Old Jiang’s.

He Yongde, witnessing the scene, suddenly laughed with understanding. “Only after seeing such a sword today do I realize we are all frogs at the bottom of a well… Frogs in a well, indeed.” However high his former achievements, in the face of such effortless, boundless might, He Yongde knew he was unworthy.

Suddenly, the sea erupted with change. Jiang Fengnian, arms spread, staggered backward. His white robes and shoes, once untouched by moisture, were now drenched.

As he retreated, the towering tide split cleanly in two.

On this day, Old Jiang split the Southern Sea with a single stroke.

The greatest prodigy of the human race, Lord Nan Shen, was defeated by a nameless swordsman of his own people.