The Lord God Descends into League of Legends - Chapter 16

(Acknowledgments: thanks to Shenyin灬Shenyin for the 1000 Qidian coins, “Nima, is this real?”, and other readers for their Qidian coin rewards.)

“Lord Ji Yi speaks the truth—this sort of contest is far too dull.”

At Ji Yi’s words, the eyes of the other young nobles lit up, each one shaking their heads in agreement.

What they wanted to see was bl00d, life-and-death struggle, not a meaningless one-sided slaughter. No matter how strong a fighter was, facing hundreds of elite soldiers barehanded could never yield much spectacle.

“I say—why not allow the guards to put aside their weapons, and then fight again? That would at least be interesting.” A black-robed young lord watched the hundred guards, arrayed in squads of nine forming a great battle formation, with dozens more in support. His tone was casual, playful.

“Barehanded? That’s not nearly as entertaining,” someone else muttered with a frown. What he craved was the thrill of bloodshed, not some empty-handed contest. No matter how dazzling the hand-to-hand combat might be, how could it compare with the gleam of steel piercing flesh, with hot bl00d spraying forth?

Mo Chen sat kneeling behind the low table, calmly watching the noisy young lords as though they were nothing more than performing clowns.

“Beauty, take my sword to that man.” Ji Yi, lounging, groped the half-clad beauty at his side, sniffing the lingering fragrance from his hand as he spoke languidly.

Her face flushed, the woman obediently carried a bronze sword—two inches wide, three feet long—across the floor, stepping lightly until she reached Mo Chen.

Luan Feng glanced at the noisy nobles and merchants, frowning slightly, then signaled his men to let her pass. In his view, even if Mo Chen held a divine weapon, the result was already certain. At most, some guards might die—but to sacrifice a few lives in exchange for a bl00d-soaked spectacle for the assembled sons of nobility was, to the Luan clan of Jin, a worthwhile trade.

The guards, seeing Luan Feng’s nod, dared not stop her. She walked straight through their encirclement, placed the sword respectfully before Mo Chen, and withdrew.

“Buzz—”

Mo Chen regarded the weapon. With a flick of his finger upon the tip, a clear, ringing hum filled the hall.

“A fine blade. I wonder, what is its name?” Mo Chen’s eyes shone with admiration. In this age, this sword was without doubt among the finest in the world.

Ji Yi’s face showed satisfaction at the sound. “This sword is called Inverse Scale. In the hands of a swordsman like you, it will not be disgraced.”

Mo Chen smiled faintly. “You’re interesting. We’ve never met, and yet you know I am a swordsman?”

He was genuinely curious. Although Ji Yi’s cultivation was not weak—half a step into the innate realm—such strength should never be enough to see through him.

“Instinct,” Ji Yi replied, closing his eyes, his expression intoxicated. “The instinct of a swordsman. You are not only a swordsman—you are a true master of the sword. Even with my eyes shut, I can feel it: that aura about you, deep and sharp.”

At first sight of Mo Chen, Ji Yi had known—this was one of the world’s peerless swordsmen. To see such a man, stripped of his weapon, beaten to death by mere numbers—that, to Ji Yi, a lifelong devotee of the sword, was intolerable.

“You know I am skilled with the sword, yet you hand me such a treasure. Do you not fear I will slaughter them all?” Mo Chen’s calm gaze swept across the guards encircling him.

At that glance, the guards’ hearts tightened, their knuckles whitening on their blades. They felt as though some savage beast of the jungle had fixed upon them as prey.

Even Luan Feng felt his chest constrict, cold sweat beading his brow. For an instant, he felt as if invisible blades were already piercing his body. Pale, he quietly withdrew several steps, regretting bitterly. If he had known how dangerous this man was, he would never have allowed Ji Yi to hand him a sword. But it was already too late.

“To die beneath the blade of a supreme swordsman is a blessing,” Ji Yi said gravely, standing from the beauty’s arms. “A swordsman lives for the sword and dies by the sword. The moment they first took up their weapons, their lives ceased to belong to themselves, and became the sword’s.”

Mo Chen rose, sword in hand, a half-smile on his lips. “Then tell me—how many moves do you think it will take for me to cut them all down?”

“Within a hundred exchanges… but no less than fifty,” Ji Yi answered, eyes fixed upon him with a solemnity as though gazing at a peerless beauty unclothed.

For in that moment, Mo Chen was no longer a man—he was a divine blade that could shake heaven and earth. The pressure he exuded was even greater than that of Ji Yi’s own master, Duan Yuan, the number one swordsman under heaven.

Mo Chen’s expression grew stern, silver light flickering deep in his eyes. The true essence within his body surged and boiled.

“If you are wrong—if you lose—what then?” he asked quietly.

Ji Yi laughed madly, seizing a wine cup and draining it, his hand trembling. “If I lose, then today I will acknowledge you as my friend. Prove it—with your sword!”

“Kill!” He smashed the cup to the floor, the sound like steel drawn from its sheath.

At his signal, Luan Feng nodded. The guards advanced, their formation steady, blades gleaming as they closed around the pavilion.

But Mo Chen only stood, eyes closing. Sword in hand, he looked for all the world like a man awaiting death.

“Wuwu… Yanz is going to die! Yanz doesn’t want to die hungry!” The little girl flopped onto the table, cramming pastries desperately into her mouth, cheeks bulging, tears running down her face. At last she hesitated, holding up the final sweet with tear-filled eyes. “Master, do you… want a bite?”

“Haha! What an amusing little one,” the young lords laughed from afar, watching her as though she were a starving ghost reincarnated.

“Don’t be afraid, little beauty,” a middle-aged noble called, eyes gleaming strangely. “Come to uncle, and I’ll give you something even tastier.”

Because of her antics, the deadly tension of the hall was broken, replaced with mocking laughter and merriment.

Then suddenly—

Mo Chen opened his eyes.

Twin bolts of lightning blazed out, the very air cracking as though torn apart. The nobles instinctively raised their arms against the searing light.

“Lightning born of emptiness…” Ji Yi gasped, rising to his feet in astonishment.

Even his own master had only barely touched the threshold of such a realm. Yet this man displayed it effortlessly. With such power, the hundred guards could, at worst, delay him for a time—but his life was never in danger.

“To kill them…” Mo Chen’s silver-lit eyes were cold, inhuman, like Heaven itself gazing down upon ants. “One strike is enough.”

His sword flared, radiant as the Milky Way—deep, dazzling, infinite.