Deep within the serene reed thickets, Ji Yanqing, sprawled face-down in the mud, dragged his aching body forward. Pain surged through him, every bone feeling as if it had been shattered and driven into his flesh.
Heroine Ji lived up to her reputation as the infamous “Ji Yanqing Killing Machine.” With a casual toss, she nearly sent the third-layer Qi Condensation cultivator straight to the afterlife.
The Heir of the Wei King sighed inwardly. Thanks to the system enhancing his constitution to top-grade, he’d survived. With that impact, an ordinary person’s spine would’ve snapped.
Beneath the night sky’s canopy, a gentle breeze stirred the valley. The clash of metal from sword and saber echoed relentlessly, the battle fierce.
By the game’s timeline, Ji Qingyan had just entered the Transformation Realm, lacking experience in life-or-death combat.
The Imperial Censorate’s Thousand Household, Liu Hu, exuded a menacing aura and robust spiritual energy. Even if not mid-Transformation Realm, he was surely among the best in the early stage.
This thought sparked worry in Ji Yanqing.
Sitting cross-legged, he channeled spiritual energy according to the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art, extending his divine sense.
The valiant red-clad heroine wielded the famed sword Shadow Bearer, her attacks swift as a tempest. The two fought like lightning, their movements too fast for the naked eye to follow.
Sparks flew from clashing blades, their edges radiating brilliance, reeds scattering like a blizzard of goose feathers.
“Fine swordsmanship, little girl. In ten years, I’d be no match for you…” Liu Hu remarked.
“Less talk, taste my sword!”
Ji Qingyan struck like a falcon on a rabbit, a glint of light flashing before her sword aura soared. This was the Rakshasa Ancient Sect’s ultimate technique—Lone Goose Mourning Autumn Shadow.
In an instant, the world seemed to dim, the move executed in a blink.
Liu Hu’s saber style was bold and open. At such close range, he couldn’t adjust to parry. The sword grazed his brow, nearing his chest. If he couldn’t block, it would pierce his heart.
Yet, Liu Hu showed no panic, a scornful smirk curling his lips. He thrust out his left hand, hidden beneath his black robe.
Crack!
His hand, clad in black iron claws, gripped the blade like a vice. Ji Qingyan, airborne with no footing, could only fall to the ground.
Seizing the trap, Liu Hu twisted his waist, leaning back, and launched a steel-whip-like kick, his robe flapping fiercely in the wind.
With the force of his kick, even a stone wall would shatter.
In a clash between top-tier experts, victory hinged on a split second.
Shock flickered in her phoenix eyes. At the critical moment, Ji Qingyan stepped onto Liu Hu’s right arm, twisting her sword to aim for his neck.
A muffled thud echoed through the valley.
Shadow Bearer flew from her grasp. Ji Qingyan, with her ancient sword case, was kicked several zhang away like an arrow, crashing deep into the reeds. She stopped only upon hitting an odd rock, letting out a faint whimper.
To her surprise, the expected agony didn’t come. The landing felt strangely soft, the impact cushioned.
“I… I’m barely hurt?” she said in disbelief.
At that moment, a weak voice came from beneath her. “Heroine Ji, please get up. I’m really about to die.”
Ji Yanqing, who had been sitting cross-legged, had sensed her flying toward him with his divine sense but couldn’t react in time. Just as he stood, the girl crashed into him, slamming him to the ground.
“Young Master Ji, are you alright?”
Ji Qingyan gasped, scrambling to her feet, looking with concern at the youth, already wounded and now freshly injured.
“Don’t worry about me. The Censorate’s hounds aren’t dead yet…” Ji Yanqing squeezed out the words through gritted teeth, using his last shred of strength.
Before he finished, a domineering saber intent flattened the reeds like a tidal wave. Amid the swirling white fluff, Liu Hu, in his blood-patterned black robe, approached slowly, dragging his nine-ringed saber.
Each step intensified the suffocating pressure.
“Exhilarating! The thrill of pain is exhilarating. It’s been ages since prey injured me even slightly.”
Liu Hu emanated a dark red blood mist, like a bloodthirsty beast. In moments, the two-inch gash on his neck healed completely, leaving no scar.
“Blood Demon Secret Art—you’re from the Fire Worship Demon Cult!” Ji Qingyan’s heart leapt to her throat. She instinctively reached for her sword, but…
Shadow Bearer was gone!
Panic surged. The Fire Worship Cult’s demons were sinister and ruthless. Even with her sword, she’d have only a slim chance. Now, weaponless, she and Young Master Ji were fish on the chopping block.
Her pale, delicate palms glistened with sweat.
“Demon Cult?” Liu Hu touched the Thousand Household badge at his waist, lost in memory. “That was long ago. Now I serve the court. Judging by your style, you’re from an orthodox sect. Why play lapdog for the Wei King’s Mansion?”
“I’m no lapdog of the Wei King’s Mansion. I just can’t stand you Censorate hounds bullying others!”
Ji Qingyan’s lips tightened, her hesitant gaze turning resolute. “Spirits of the righteous, forgive my expediency.”
She tapped the bottom of the sword case, and with a thud, a dark purple ferocious sword flew out, gripped firmly in her hand.
Sealed for years, its edge still gleamed, both sides shimmering with cold light. The blade’s eerie carvings exuded an ominous aura.
For some reason, seeing the dark purple sword stirred unease in Liu Hu, but his years of living on the edge didn’t let him hesitate long.
His tyrant saber struck, its five-foot blade glinting coldly.
Liu Hu dragged his saber seven steps, then flipped his wrist, sweeping horizontally. Reeds fell in swathes, his strength overwhelming.
Ji Qingyan moved to parry, but a sharp pain shot through her waist. She hadn’t realized Liu Hu’s earlier strike had injured her internally.
Clang!
To Liu Hu’s shock, his high-grade Earth-tier Nine-Ringed Tyrant Saber shattered inch by inch, fragments flying, while Ji Qingyan’s sword remained unscathed.
A resonant sword hum pierced the heavens, its edge unmatched, exuding the aura of a sovereign. The ferocious sword [Nightmare] saw daylight once more.
Liu Hu hurriedly used advanced lightness skill, retreating ten steps, and asked gravely, “What’s that sword’s name?”
“Demon Cult scum, you don’t need to know.”
With that, Ji Qingyan thrust her sword, giving him no room to maneuver. Her master had taught her, “Against Demon Cult scum, the key is to finish them off—drive the sword in hard, or those sneaky bastards will eat poor little Qingyan alive.”
But before her blade could pierce the black robe, a torrent of blood mist erupted from Liu Hu’s sleeve, the bloodfiend aura surging.
Enveloped in the mist, Liu Hu’s form flickered like a moon in water, a flower in a mirror, before vanishing completely.
Suddenly, a powerful palm strike came from the right. Unprepared, Ji Qingyan coughed up blood, her face contorted in pain.
Though Liu Hu excelled with a saber, as a Transformation Realm expert, his hand-to-hand skills were formidable. His palm strikes were fierce, each blow damaging her internally.
Under the heavy blood mist, Ji Qingyan’s senses were sealed, unable to track Liu Hu. She could only take hits.
Back, waist, arms… despite guarding her vitals, after dozens of blows, she was covered in wounds, blood crusting at her lips, still seeping.
Hidden in the mist, Liu Hu didn’t rush for a killing blow. Like a cat toying with a mouse, he reveled in tormenting his prey.
The thrill of slaughter excited him. He wanted to beat his prey to death… then tear it apart.
It had been so long, but recalling that exquisite thrill drove Liu Hu mad.
Yet, as he savored the moment, a flash caught his right eye—a bolt of lightning.
“Supreme Clarity Five Thunder Method: Palm Thunder!”
The Fire Worship Cult’s Blood Veil Secret Art was clever, but it paled before the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art. Though Liu Hu blended into the mist, his every move was clear to Ji Yanqing’s divine sense.
The moment Liu Hu solidified to attack was his moment of vulnerability.