Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Shattered Blade… and the Equation of the Heavenly Sword
The sky above Tianlong was no longer an open expanse—it had become a field of overwhelming spiritual pressure, one that threatened to crush the buildings below.
The flying vessel of the Heavenly Sword Sect was no ordinary ship. Known as the Cloud-Cutter, it was a floating fortress forged from Spirit Sycamore Wood, grown in soil saturated with dragon blood. A blade-sharp aura radiated from its hull, cleaving clouds apart as it passed, leaving trails of vacuum in its wake.
At the prow of the vessel stood a single man.
His hands were clasped behind his back. His eyes were closed.
He carried no sword—because he himself was the sword.
This was Chi Feng, the Cold Executioner—the number-one elite disciple of the Northern Continent, a man rumored to have once severed a waterfall of time with a single strike.
"Tianlong…" Chi Feng murmured as he opened his eyes, revealing nothing but a cold, metallic gleam.
"A place that reeks of detestable calculations. Where is this 'advisor' who dares tamper with the balance of power?"
Below, on the palace balcony, Zhou Fan observed the vessel calmly. His green robe did not flutter under the oppressive sword aura descending from the heavens.
To him, Chi Feng was neither hero nor legendary swordsman—merely a kinetic variable with extreme acceleration and a highly concentrated spiritual density.
"Zhang Song. Ling'er. Remain behind the central array," Zhou Fan said, his voice echoing like a silent equation reaching resolution.
"The sword you see is not matter—it is a programmed will designed to sever molecular bonds. I will show you how such a will is zeroed."
Zhou Fan took a single step into the air.
Instead of falling, a small geometric array of blue light formed beneath his foot—then another, and another—allowing him to ascend skyward as if climbing an invisible celestial staircase.
The Confrontation Above
Zhou Fan halted a hundred meters from the flying vessel.
Chi Feng opened his eyes fully and looked at him with disdain.
"So you are Zhou Fan? The advisor hiding behind numbers? I came to reclaim the dignity of the Cosmic Senate—and to place your head beneath my blade."
"Chi Feng," Zhou Fan replied coldly, the nebulae in his eyes already dissecting the structure of his opponent's sword intent.
"You wield a blade known as Probability Severance. You believe you kill before your enemy moves because you can see their future. What you fail to realize… is that you operate within a closed system. In my system, there is no future for you to observe—because I have not calculated it yet."
"Nonsense!" Chi Feng roared.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished.
This was not mere speed—it was a spatial leap, driven by pure sword sharpness.
He reappeared behind Zhou Fan, a blade of pristine white light already in motion.
Heavenly Sword Art: First Strike — Sever Eternity!
The blade surged toward Zhou Fan's neck at many times the speed of sound. To the cultivators below, all they saw was a white flash splitting the heavens.
Yet—at the moment Zhou Fan's head should have fallen—
The sword bent.
Yes. The light itself curved around Zhou Fan's neck, as though encountering an immense gravitational lens.
Vector analysis complete.
Deflection angle: 180 degrees.
Spatial refraction constant modified.
"What?!" Chi Feng screamed as he retreated.
"I severed space itself! How did my sword bend?!"
"You cut space, Chi Feng," Zhou Fan replied calmly as he turned,
"but you forget that space is governed by geometry. I have rendered the distance between your blade and my body an infinitesimal infinity. You may cut forever—you will never reach me. You are walking within a closed numerical loop."
Chi Feng went mad.
He raised his sword high, and the Cloud-Cutter behind him blazed violently as he drained the vessel's entire energy core into a single, final strike.
Forbidden Art: Absolute Annihilation Sword — Matrix Erasure!
The sky turned pitch black.
A colossal blade hundreds of meters long manifested—an edge steeped in death itself. This strike alone was enough to erase an entire city from existence.
Below, Ling'er collapsed under the pressure and screamed:
"Zhou Fan! Run!"
But Zhou Fan did not flee.
Instead, he spread his arms.
The Lost Celestial Calculations burst forth from his chest, expanding into a colossal gate. Its pages flipped wildly as symbols surged outward, forming a vast computational mesh that covered the sky above Tianlong.
"You wield a single sword," Zhou Fan whispered,
"while I possess the database that created it.
Chaos Derivation: Atomic Deconstruction of the Equation."
When the annihilation blade collided with Zhou Fan's mesh, there was no explosion.
Instead—the sword began to disassemble, starting from its tip.
White light turned into numbers. Taoist runes within the blade rewrote themselves.
Chi Feng felt his sword dissolving—not from heat, but from loss of meaning. Its energy was being reprogrammed… downgraded into a cold breeze.
Within seconds, the strike meant to erase Tianlong vanished completely.
Zhou Fan clenched his fist.
The scattered symbols condensed into a small black dagger in his palm.
"This is the essence of your sword," Zhou Fan said, examining it.
"I have compressed your entire cultivation—every drop of effort—into this single number. And now… I will subtract you from this world."
He flicked the dagger toward Chi Feng.
It was not fast.
Yet Chi Feng realized in terror that he could not move. The space around him had been computationally sealed.
"No—!" he screamed as the dagger pierced his forehead.
No blood spilled.
Instead, Chi Feng's body warped geometrically, folding inward upon itself until it became a single point—then vanished with a soft click, like a switch being turned off in an ancient machine.
The flying vessel Cloud-Cutter, having lost its spiritual engine, began to collapse and burn midair.
Zhou Fan raised his hand.
The wreckage transformed into raw material and was instantly absorbed by Tianlong's defensive array.
Silence descended.
The cultivators watching from afar—the spies sent by distant sects—fled in absolute terror.
Today, Zhou Fan had proven that the sword was nothing more than a mathematical function…
and that the one who held the pen that defined this function was the true god of the battlefield.
Zhou Fan turned to Ling'er, who stared at him in reverent shock.
"The Heavenly Sword has fallen," he said calmly.
"Now they will understand that Tianlong is not a city—it is a breach in their world system. And I am in the process of widening it."
The Lost Celestial Calculations began to glow with violet light.
A new page appeared—its title written in ominous script:
(Continental Modification: Terrain Reconstruction in Progress)